#if i manage to doodle him some more before i get my computer packed up that would be so poggers but i cant promise anything :')

[bonetrousledbones]

i am the only one who understands this but. sludge saturday baby

#(it is 2:34 am on a tuesday) #trousled arts #undertale #papyrus #sludge #and someone else! #dont worry about it! #atbb #pro tip. you can post spoilers if nobody knows what the hell is going on #the actual scene in my head im basing this off of is so much more intense and fucked up. but hes sillyy 😌 #im really annoyed tho bc i was gonna post this with a buncha other doodles and then i hyperfixated on this one for nearly three full hours #if i manage to doodle him some more before i get my computer packed up that would be so poggers but i cant promise anything :') #does anybody still say that ... eh who cares I still say it!!!!!!!! #ahem. i am going to bed now

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Best Lies || Max Burnett

Summary: The first time you met Max you were a cyber security specialist for your family company, a leader in the tech industry. Max was the reason that life was shattered and your career down the drain. When Max returns to your life in need of your help you find yourself needing to decide whether people truly deserve second chances. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, where to begin...there's criminal activity (cyber crime, trafficking, conning), violence, sexual themes, plot twists. WC: 9.4k

You looked around the auditorium and saw which students were paying attention and which were busy doodling in their notebooks. Wrapping your knuckles on the podium, a few heads darted up and you pinned them with a knowing look before continuing your lecture. “The brain is a complex computer that is constantly uploading information from the world around you, mostly subconsciously. It’s function is to keep you alive, and that means it is searching for signs that something is amiss.

“There is a reason people trust their instincts, it is the brain accepting the information it has received and deemed something to be safe. But, with some manipulation and understanding, the brain can be lied to.

“Now, who can tell me what the best lies are?”

The bell indicated the end of the lecture and the students all began closing their books or packing away their laptops. There was no keeping their attention for a minute longer and you spoke louder so they could hear you over the noise. “Next week we will be discussing how to lie to the brain, so read up on the material that will be emailed out to you this evening.”

Most of the students had already disappeared before you had unclipped the microphone from your lapel and you gathered the textbook you had used for reference only to find a man sitting comfortably in the front row. He definitely wasn’t one of your students, with his expensive cashmere overcoat and shiny loafers. He screamed ‘investment banker’ or ‘hedge fund manager’.

“The ones that hold a kernel of truth,” he said as he stood up. “To answer your question.”

“Yes, Max, I don’t need to be reminded that you are the best liar I had the displeasure of meeting.” You closed the textbook with a little more force than was needed before taking a deep breath as he closed the distance between you. 

He turned up the charm as he smiled at your reaction and his eyes darted to your lips. “From what I remember, there was a lot of pleasure involved.”

You shoved the book into your satchel and zipped it shut before crossing your arms. “Cut the bullshit. You didn’t come here for a stroll down memory lane.” 

“Aw, I mean, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to really relive those nights,” he said with an arrogant snicker as he ran his knuckle across your cheek. When he received no reaction from you he dropped the act and stepped back with a sigh. “I need your help.”

A laugh erupted at the admission and you held a finger up to stop him talking further. “So let me get this straight. You, Max Roberts, the man who single handedly ruined my life, wants my help?”

“It’s Burnett, actually, and I wouldn’t say I ruined your life, professor.” He spun around with his arms out and looked at the huge auditorium that had only minutes earlier been packed with hundreds of students. “Things worked out pretty well for you.”

“Of course, not even your name was real.” You scoffed to yourself. “I’m doing so well; I’m only estranged from my family, unable to form any meaningful relationships because I trusted the wrong man and in therapy twice a week. Yeah, it worked out really well.” You rolled your eyes and turned away but he caught you by the hand and stopped you. 

His thumb caressed your knuckles and a flash of surprise flitted across his features before he hid it. “You still wear the ring.”

You tore your hand from his and shoved it in the pocket of your blazer but it was too late. “It serves to keep me from making the same mistake twice. Now leave before I call security.”

“You know, it wasn’t all a lie.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. His fist uncurled and your breath hitched at the diamond wedding band that matched the engagement ring on your finger. “I wouldn’t have bought this if it was.”

You shook your head vehemently as the spotlights hit the diamonds and they sparkled brightly. “You’re still lying.”

“Did you ever take it to a jeweller?”

“Why would I do that?” you asked with a scoff. “So they could laugh at me too when they tell me it's worthless.”

“Look, I know I’m a terrible person, I won’t argue with that, but I messed up.” He looked genuinely guilty as he dipped his head and peered sheepishly through the long dark strands that fell over his eyes. “I was…myself when I was with you.”

A familiar burn of resentment grew when your foot lifted to take a step forward but you caught yourself before you could move closer to him. Like the sun, it was impossible not to fall into his orbit but you fought the pull of gravity. “I think you are starting to believe your own lies.”

The doors at the back of the room opened and Professor Stafford walked in with his briefcase and an arm full of textbooks to prepare for his lecture of Criminology 401. The arrival brought back your common sense and you swung your bag over your shoulder before jerking your head to the other exit. 

“My office,” you ordered, knowing delaying the conversation would only mean he found you at another point in time. You would give up your free hour between lectures in the hopes you wouldn’t have to see his face ever again.

Max looked curiously around the room, lingering on the bookshelf, before he dropped into the chair across from your desk and crossed his ankle over his knee. Those intelligent blue eyes took in everything and you could practically see the cogs in his brains turning with what he was learning in the silence. 

“What do you want, Max?”

He let a small piece of his perfect facade fall away so you could see the fear in his eyes as he leant forward. “I have a problem, one that is time sensitive, and you’re the only person that can help me.”

You should have outright refused, in fact the words were on the tip of your tongue but instead you asked, “And if I don’t?”

Max licked his lips and tried to smile but it was constricted to a small twitch at the corners. “Then my lawyers will be in touch to settle my estate and you will once again be very, very rich.”

“It’s the least you could do after what you did to my family,” you growled but the words tasted bitter at the thought of him being dead, even though you had wished for that very thing on your darkest nights.

“I know, I know.”

“Your little posse of thieves could surely help you out, you were awfully chummy with them. What do you need me for?”

Max sucked the air between his teeth and pursed his lips. You were suddenly nervous and reached for a pen to fidget with while you waited for him to speak. “I had a job lined up with a bank, but the man I had on the inside had an accident. He was a security analyst.”

The pen in your hand lost balance and tumbled onto the desk as you bolted to your feet.  “No, no fucking way, Max! I am not a con artist, and I’m not going to be a part of this.”

He pointed to the wall of framed qualifications as he argued, “You know it all already, you studied this. Freud, Festinger, Bandura.” He listed off the authors of the works that filled your bookshelf.

“And before this I was an expert in cyber security but it still didn’t stop what you did to me. It was humiliating, Max, you ruined my name. Do you understand that? Do you even stop to think about the innocent people you have hurt while you play dice with their lives?” You already knew the answer as you spun your chair to look out over the campus beyond the window. “I only studied Cognitive Psychology so I could understand how you could make such a fool of me.”

Max’s shoes were quiet on the carpet as he rounded the desk and turned your chair to face him. Dropping to his knees, he bowed his head until it rested against your knee and your fingers itched to run through his hair just to see if it was still as soft as it used to be. 

“I’m sorry,” Max murmured, the words so foreign from his lips that you couldn’t comprehend he had even said them until he repeated himself over and over. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You didn't want an apology. In all the years since he had ghosted you and left behind a steaming pile of muck you only wanted one thing, an answer. “Why?”

Max sat back on his heels and wrapped his arms around his knees as he looked up at you, his lips parting only to close again as he struggled to formulate the words. “I was scared.” You waited for him to expand but the silence dragged on until you cleared your throat and lifted your brows, spurring him to continue with a proper explanation. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not to me,” you growled, angered by the question.

“I fell in love with you, goddammit. It wasn’t meant to happen, but it did and…I ran.”

“You ran, that’s the understatement of the century,” you huffed as a headache began to form at your temples. 

“I know it's not what you want to hear, but the reason you believed everything I told you was because too much of it was the truth.”

Those were the best lies. And goddamn if it wasn’t working again as you felt the instinct to believe him even after all he had done. No matter how well one trained the brain, the heart was still easily betrayed. 

“Your life is really in danger?” you asked quietly as you worried on your bottom lip. “No lies.”

“Cross my heart,” he said with a morose nod as he drew his finger across his chest. 

The debate in your head was far shorter than you would have liked for such a monumental decision but you couldn’t stand idly by knowing you might be able to save him from whatever mess he had got himself into.

“If I do this, I never want to hear from you again. If you see me in the streets, you pretend you don’t know me.” He looked ready to argue but another glare kept his lips sealed before he nodded. “Okay, tell me what you need me to do.”

The cheap polyester pantsuit itched your legs with each step into the Hartmont Brough Bank and you tugged your lanyard out to show your staff ID to the security guard. The sleepy man barely looked up from his newspaper before hitting the buzzer to let you into the office space behind the tellers.

“You must be the new cyber security analyst,” a portly gentleman greeted with a smile while looking for your name tag. 

“Ashley Jenkins,” you lied smoothly.

Confidence, that was the key. If you looked shady or uncomfortable the alarm bells would start ringing in the manager's head. 

“Welcome to HBB, Miss Jenkins. I’ll show you to your cubicle and get you introduced to the team. It is rather small but they are close knit.”

He continued to rattle on about the office dynamics and where to find the bathrooms and the staff room. You barely paid any attention as you scanned the office space and watched the other staff interacting.

“Here you are.” He finally came to a stop at an empty booth and gave him your thanks as you stepped inside to open the laptop that was ready and waiting. “Email should be set up already but if you have any issues call down to IT.”

“I think I can take it from here,” you said, probably knowing more about fixing computers than the IT team anyway. 

You were left to settle in and run through a checklist of audits, scanning each system for any malware or vulnerabilities. With a name like Hartmont Brough it was no surprise the clients of the bank were the top 1% of the wealthiest men and women in America and they expected their money and investments to be protected by the best.

It was worryingly easy to slip back into the life you had left but if you had used your real name there was no chance the company would have hired you. The entire tech industry used your family name as a cautionary tale or, more appropriately, a horror story. All because of Max and the sweet lies that rolled off his tongue like honey.

The modest apartment that had been rented under your fake name smelt like heaven when you opened the door. After the long day spent learning the names of everyone in the building the last thing you wanted to do was cook but you lost your appetite at seeing Max standing in your kitchen. 

Hearing the door open, he looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Welcome home, sweetheart. How was your day?” 

You dumped your handbag on the table and shrugged off the blazer before crossing your arms. “What are you doing here, Max?”

“Making your favourite,” he said, showing you the contents of the frying pan before tossing them expertly in the air to catch them. 

Your scowl softened as you sashayed towards him, his bottom lip tugging between his teeth as he watched your hips swaying intently. Reaching past him, you turned the stove off and ran your hand up his arm to his chest. A smirk grew on his lips and he stepped back as you gently pushed him out of the kitchen. 

Max walked backwards past the table and the curve of his lips only grew as he came closer to your bedroom door. There was only a moment of surprise when his feet crossed the threshold and he turned to see you had led him to the hallway before slamming the door in his face. 

“Thanks for dinner!” you called out as you shoved the deadbolt across and went to enjoy the hot meal he had made. 

It was late by the time you had finished creating a fake social media presence in case anyone at work looked into ‘Ashley Jenkins’ but the next job couldn’t wait until tomorrow. 

All the hardware stores that you drove past were closed but you found what you needed at Walmart and made your way back to the apartment to change the barrels in the door lock. Knowing Max, he would have no qualms about letting himself in again and you would probably wake up to find him lounging on his side of the bed.

No, not his side of the bed. The other side of the bed. He didn’t have a side anymore.

A headache was forming from lack of sleep and the coffee from the staffroom was nowhere near strong enough to survive on. Your nights were spent recording lectures and readings along with marking papers and answering questions that your students emailed in. It had only been two weeks and you weren’t sure how you were going to keep this up when Max had given no timeline on when his con was going to be complete. 

“...what can I say, happy wife, happy life,” a familiar voice trickled through the office and you shook your head. 

“Great, now I’m hearing his voice,” you muttered under your breath before taking another gulp of the burnt filter coffee. 

“It was nice to meet you, Mr Jenkins.”

The headache seemed to explode from your head and manifest into a 6 foot man that was grinning as he carefully waved to your manager, two takeaway cups of coffee in his hands and a brown paper bag tucked under his arm. 

“That had better be a triple chocolate muffin,” you grumbled as you took the bag from him. The mouthwatering scent of the freshly baked treat wafted up as soon as you opened the bag and a moan slipped past your lips when you confirmed it was exactly what you had been hoping for. 

Max bent over you to place one of the barista coffee cups on your desk and his cheek brushed yours from the closeness. “Now why don’t you introduce your husband to your colleagues, sweetheart?”

You controlled the burst of anger that rose in your chest and suppressed the urge to roll your computer chair over his toes as you adapted to the new information he had conveniently left out in all the conversations you had. “That wouldn’t be very professional of me, honeybun.”

Unfortunately, the others in the office were drawn to the smell of strong coffee and baking and their heads popped up one by one but there was one in particular that Max zeroed in on. 

Brent Mathers, Relationship Manager and the answer to the question you had been wondering since you arrived. Brent was the mark. 

You locked your computer before pushing the chair back and felt the warmth of Max’s hand on the small of your back, a familiar weight you had once leaned into and almost did on reflex. The heat grew as his hand remained fixed to you while you introduced him to your team, making your way closer to the mark. 

He had obviously done his research, but you expected nothing less from Max, and he casually managed to work Brent’s interests into the conversation until they were chatting like old friends. It was a reminder of how easy it was to fall under Max’s spell and the wake up you needed to move away from his electric touch.

“No way,” Max gasped with false surprise and threw his hands up. “I have season tickets to the Knicks but Ash won’t come with me and I hate going on my own.”

“I would rather waste my time doing anything other than watching basketball. And, on that note, I am going back to work.” You pressed a quick peck to Max’s cheek before heading off.

“See what I have to deal with,” Max joked, earning a laugh from Brent. 

“Well, if you ever want some company I won’t turn down a seat at the game.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Here, lemme get your number, there’s a game Friday if you’re up for it?”

And he was in. Game, set, match. Max had won and Brent didn’t even know it.

“You’re a natural, baby,” Max purred in your ear as you walked him to the elevator after he had successfully wormed his way into Brent’s life. “Improvising like that isn’t easy. I’m proud of you.”

You wished you could blame the tremor in your hands on the caffeine in your system but you wouldn’t lie to yourself. Especially not when the elevator arrived and Max dipped his head to yours and kissed you with lips that were just as soft and full as you remembered. 

Brent wasn’t the only one in trouble.

Your finger hovered over Max’s phone number and you chewed your bottom lip as you debated tossing the phone from your reach but common sense lost and you pressed the green button. If you had changed your mind it would have been too late as he answered on the second ring.

“It’s late.”

“Can’t sleep.” 

There was a constant hum in the background and you wondered if the call had dropped from how long he was silent for. Maybe he was watching the same window to the past when you would call him during your night shifts, or maybe he was distracted by whatever life he had outside of the con. 

“You called me,” he finally said before you heard the squeal of tires and a honk of a car horn. 

“I know. I,” you caught yourself and sighed as you stared at the phone, the seconds of the call growing, “nevermind, I shouldn’t have done that. Goodnight Max.”

“Wait,” he called out, a thud echoing in the background. “I’m outside.”

The buzzer rang a second later and you tossed the blankets back to answer the door, still not quite believing it was Max on the other side until it swung open. The phone was still pressed to his ear and you both flinched at the high pitch whine they made before ending the call and you laughed nervously. 

“I didn’t think you would come.”

Max stepped inside with a lopsided grin and kicked the door closed. You had been frozen at his arrival but his entrance had left his body almost flush to yours and he closed that distance by curling his arm around your waist and tugging you against him. 

The words about to fall from your mouth were stolen as his lips crashed against yours and you forgot what you were going to say when your hands came to rest on his hard chest. Your lips parted as he deepened the kiss and you ceded control to him when his tongue danced with yours. 

Clothes disappeared with each step towards your bedroom and you lost yourself as your hands acquainted themselves with Max’s body. 

“This was a mistake,” you whispered to the dark room, unsure if Max was still awake or not while you lay in his arms, your head on his chest. 

“People like us don’t make mistakes, we make choices and we stand by them. You knew what would happen if you called me and you still did it,” he murmured back with a deep, sleep-laden voice. His arm curled tighter around you as he rolled onto his side and tipped your head back so you could see his eyes boring into you in the dim moonlight. “But if we had to choose a mistake, mine would be that we didn’t do this sooner.”

You closed your eyes and brushed your lips softly against his before speaking, “It won’t happen again anyway. You’ll be gone soon, off to your next con and I will go back to my real job.”

He caught the hint of bitterness in your tone and propped his head up on one hand while the other traced delicately along your spine until goosebumps prickled across your skin. “Can you go back, after this month, could you really go back to being a boring professor? You can’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed the thrill.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said as you sat up. “It’s wrong.”

Max groaned and flopped back on the pillow. “You can’t cheat an honest man.”

“That hurts,” you grumbled, grabbing your silk robe to cover yourself and put space between you both.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean you.” He crossed the room and trapped you between his body and the wall. “You were never the mark, sweetheart.”

“I was just collateral. Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Max sighed and dropped his forehead to yours. “I’ve apologised already, what else do I have to do to make it right?”

You took a deep breath and looked him dead in the eyes. “Tell me everything.”

Max sucked in his bottom lip as he pushed off the wall and walked over to the window to see the city sprawling below. “Only if you quit. Quit your job and work with me.”

“I can’t just quit!” 

Max’s frown reflected on the glass before he faced you. “You can, you just don’t want to. You’re afraid.”

“I am not,” you argued before sighing in defeat. “Okay, maybe a little, but the last time I trusted you it bit me on the ass.”

Max’s shoulders dropped and he took a heavy seat on the edge of the bed. His fingers laced together and he leaned forward on his elbows deep in thought. 

“Brent isn’t the mark.” You blinked dumbly at his admission, waiting for him to continue. “He has two clients who have amassed their considerable wealth by trafficking sex workers to Europe using their shipping companies.”

“You’re suddenly a philanthropist?”

“God no,” he scoffed. “I’m not planning on taking them down. I just need to get their contact details and pass it on to the people who want it, badly. They can deal with them.” 

You nodded in understanding. “The people who are threatening you.”

“I’m going to clone Brent’s phone at the game Friday night, give it to the boss and get the hell out of New York.” He finally looked up from his hands. “I want you to come with me.”

Friday Evening

“It will be highly encrypted so the cloning could take a while, half an hour at the most, and the devices need to remain close to each other, working 2-3 feet,” you explained again to make sure Max fully understood the parameters of the clone phone. “If they are separated, the copying will pause for up to 30 seconds. If they don’t come back within range in that time then you will have to start again.”

Max straightened the cuff links at his wrists before centering his tie and nodded. “I got it. How do I look?” 

You slipped the phone into his pocket and plucked a wayward piece of lint from his shoulder before flattening his collar a little more. “Criminally sexy.” 

Max smirked and patted his pockets to feel his keys, wallet and phone. “The game should be finished by 9.30 and I’ll meet you at the Rose Park Motel at 10.”

“Be careful,” you murmured as your stomach twisted in knots. 

“Always,” he said softly, cupping your cheek in his palm. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” You swallowed the lump in your throat as he walked out of the apartment that had been boxed up in a matter of hours last night. If everything went to plan you wouldn’t be coming back here again. 

You sat in front of your laptop, the last item waiting to be packed and finished what you had been typing before hitting enter and closing the lid. You zipped the bag shut and slung it over your shoulder ready to leave for the last time before feeling your phone ring.

“Mr Hansen?” you answered, confused at the call out of work hours.

“Oh, Ashley, thank god you answered,” he rushed out. “I really need your help. Can you come to the office?”

“Yeah, of course, I can be there in 15 minutes.”

“Good, great, thank you,” he stammered before hanging up in a hurry.

Head office should have been empty when you arrived but most of the cyber security team, the senior leadership team and the bank’s lawyers were bustling about when you pulled your chair up. 

“…no ransom yet…”

“…targeted every weakness…”

“…could it be Anonymous?”

You peered across at Floyd in the cubicle next to you and found intricate lines of code filling his screens as he searched for the hacker that had compromised the bank's software. “Do they really think Anonymous hacked the bank?”

Floyd barely looked up from his screens as he continued to type and talk, “No idea but, if it is, it makes you wonder who the rich folk are that use this place. Anonymous don’t waste their time looking into petty crime if you know what I mean.”

You scooted closer and whispered, “You think there’s dodgy stuff going on?”

“Who knows?” he said with a shrug before pausing to turn to face you. “I just know that we have dealt with black hat hackers before but this has the suits proper scared.” 

Floyd focused on something over your shoulder and spun back to his screen as the heavy feet of Damien Hansen arrived. “Ashley, I need you to focus on the Online Portal system and make sure it hasn’t been compromised, as I’m sure you’re already aware of the situation.”

“On it,” you confirmed as he ran a handkerchief over his clammy forehead and rushed into the conference room where the lawyers were waiting. 

Cracking your knuckles, you logged into the computer with your credentials and got to work. Two hours passed by in the blur as you checked the code of the Online Portal system for any tampering and just as the clock was about to strike 10pm a cheer rose from Toby’s desk opposite. “It’s gone!” 

The entire office seemed to swell as one of the owners and his posse of lawyers surrounded the small cubicle while Toby explained the virus had ‘expired’. 

Floyd leaned back in his chair and stuck his head past the privacy barrier between your desks. “No one makes a program as complex as that and sets a timer for it to end.”

“It makes no sense,” you agreed despite checking the lingering trace yourself and seeing that was exactly what had happened. “Unless it’s a warning?”

“You there, Miss, what do you mean ‘a warning’?” Mr Hartmont asked as he fixed his eyes on you from Toby’s desk.

You looked around and shied away as all the attention was suddenly on you before clearing your throat and giving your opinion, “Well, there was no ransom and it didn’t target the personal details of the clients. What if it was just getting a layout of the system as a whole?”

The co-owner narrowed his eyes and you looked at Floyd for backup. 

“Imagine a military operation,” Floyd said. “Before launching an attack they do the reconnaissance work so they know what they are heading into.”

You mouthed ‘thank you’ to Floyd as Mr Hartmont’s eyes widened in understanding. “That is something we will certainly take into consideration when we decide our next move.”

The hoard of suits retreated back to the conference room except for Mr Hansen who came and thanked each of your co-workers. “We will need some of you to work through the night, just while we are on high alert, but you will be well compensated.”

“Shotgun!” Floyd called with a grin at the thought of a bonus pay followed by Jessica and Danny. 

“No thanks,” you said with a yawn. “My husband will be waiting up to tell me all about the Knicks game. Actually, on second thought I’d rather work than hear about that.”

The guys laughed and shook their heads but Jessica gave you a look of commiseration before waving you off. 

“Thanks again for coming in,” Mr Hansen said as he walked you and Toby to the elevator. “You are both real assets to the company. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, see you on Monday.”

You parted from Toby in the staff car park with a polite goodbye before racing to the motel Max would be waiting at. 

Your palms turned clammy against the steering wheel and your pulse quickened at the nervousness that was festering. 

You were running late. 

What would Max think?

Your phone had been tossed into the East River as you crossed over so your location couldn’t be traced. Someone would surely start looking when you didn’t show up at Hartmont Brough Bank on Monday morning, not that they would find anything. 

You pulled into the Rose Park Motel and looked for Max’s sleek Mercedes but found most of the spaces empty and the others had rusted, beat up cars in them. 

Your watch said 10.22pm.

“Where are you, Max?” you asked under your breath before walking to the motel reception. “I’m looking for my husband, he booked a room here. Maxwell Roberts?”

The woman sitting behind the desk rolled her eyes and tucked her strangely hair behind her ear. “If your husband booked a room here it ain’t to bring his wife.” She pointed to the sign on the wall that had the room charges per hour. “Sorry, honey.”

She gave you a look of pity but you ignored it as you reached into your pocket and placed a few crumpled notes on the table. “I’ll take one for an hour, please.”

There was no surprise she didn’t take any of your details down, not when you saw a hooker stumble into the reception with a client. They wouldn’t want to use the motel for their illegal soliciting if they had to leave a name and credit card for ID. 

Taking the key that was slid across the chipped formica countertop you made your way to the room, only stopping to grab your laptop from the car. 

The room was as dank as you expected and you chose to use the rickety drawers as a stand up desk rather than sitting on the bed and risking whatever bugs and fungi lurked in the blankets. The wifi was insecure and slower than you were hoping but it would be enough to find what you were after. 

Max would have thrown his cell phone away before he even got to the game and kept only the clone phone that held all the information he had surely been successful in stealing. There was no way he would have discarded it already so you were going to find it, and find him. If he thought he could leave you high and dry for a second time, he had another thing coming.

You jumped at the knock on the door and grabbed a bread knife from the kitchenette before looking through the peephole to find Max with his hands in his pockets and a bored look on his face. “Open up, sweetheart, it’s chilly.”

“What the hell?” you hissed as you opened the door and closed it quickly behind him. “You were meant to be here an hour ago.”

“Brent kept taking calls, some emergency at work,” he explained as he kissed your forehead and saw your laptop open. “Had to take him out for a drink to finish the cloning.”

“I was about to start looking for you,” you admitted much to his amusement. 

“You thought I’d run?” he guessed with a pout, his eyebrows crumpling together as he tugged you by the hips and into his arms. “I thought you trusted me?”

“I do,” you hurried to reassure him and erase the sad look in his eyes. “I do trust you, or I wouldn’t be here.”

Placated, he released you to grab the go-bag you had brought into the motel and shut your laptop lid. “We should go, the handover is in a few hours and we have a drive ahead of us.” He left it at that and went to check out of the motel while you climbed into his car.

In this side of town without wheel locks your car was almost guaranteed to be stolen and the sooner that happened the better. It would be one less thing to dispose of that was linked to Ashley Jenkins.

Max was grinning as he slipped into the driver's seat and his happiness was infectious. He reached over the gearbox and laced his fingers with yours as soon as he was on the road, his fingers moving to the beat of the indie music playing on the radio.

“You should sleep,” Max suggested as the city light disappeared and the houses turned to farms. “We won’t be there for a while yet.”

“Where exactly is there?” 

He spared a second to glance at you away from the road before giving the answer, “Boston.”

His clipped tone gave you the impression he wasn’t interested in the conversation or answering anymore questions so you fell silent and rested your head against the window to try to sleep. Exhaustion won and you only woke up when the car came to a stop outside a stripclub.

“Um, what are we doing here?” you asked as you unbuckled your seatbelt like he had and grabbed your bag from the backseat. 

“Wait here, Y/N. I’ll be back in a minute.” He was already out of the car without waiting for a reply and you gave him two seconds head start before climbing out after him. He licked his lips as you caught up and looked ready to give you another order but was interrupted by a very large bouncer. 

“You're late,” he growled in a voice that was far softer than he appeared to be. 

Max waved a hand in your direction. “Women, what can I say? Tell him I have what he wants.”

“Tell him yourself,” the bouncer replied as he opened the velvet rope and jutted his head to the stairs that were sign posted as ‘Staff Only’. 

You were halfway up the first flight when Max turned and stared down at you with pursed lips. “What didn’t you understand about ‘stay in the car’?”

“I didn’t just work hard for a whole month so I could stay in the car at the end.” You pushed past him and continued to climb the stairs until you reached the first floor and paused to see where Max would go but he was still where you left him, tapping a finger to his lips deep in thought. “You’re already late, remember?”

His head fell back with a groan before he took the stairs two at a time until he reached you. “Fine, but keep your head down.” He curled his arm around your waist and turned down a corridor. “These men don’t mess around.”

They proved him right the moment Max knocked on the door and stepped into the large room with a glass wall overlooking the stripclub below. Two more burly guards stood just inside and a devilishly handsome man sat behind the huge mahogany desk. 

With just a flick of his ringed finger, the boss set his men into action and one tore you away from Max while the other sent a hard punch to his gut. 

“You’re late, Max,” the boss said as he rose to his feet and buttoned his suit up with deft fingers. “We had a deal.”

“Dev, I’ve got what you want,” he countered as he pulled the cloned device from his pocket and clutched his stomach. “It just took a little longer than expected.”

Dev took the phone with a small laugh. “You think I didn’t have eyes on you? I have been watching you the whole time.” He threw the device on the ground and stomped his heel on it until the glass crunched under foot. “Bring me the girl.”

“No, no, leave her out of it.” Max moved to intercept you as the guard dragged you closer to Dev but he was quickly winded by another punch. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Dev ran his finger down your cheek and you shivered at the strangely intimate touch. “She’s very beautiful, isn’t she, Max. Do you actually care for her or is she another distraction while you make deals behind my back?”

Dev reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stack of photos, tossing them to the floor at Max’s feet. His face fell passive as he stared at the images of him shaking hands and smiling with some strangers, he didn’t even bother to deny the allegations.

“Now, where does that leave us?” Dev asked as he walked behind you and sent the guard back to the door. You dared not look at what the man behind you was doing as you felt his presence close, instead you locked eyes with Max and hoped to see some sort of plan forming in those depths.

“What do you want?” Max asked after breaking away from your stare. 

Dev sucked his teeth and you jumped as his large palms came to rest on your shoulders. “Those scumbags have been taking my girls, butchering the ones they don’t sell. Maybe I should give you a taste of how that feels?”

The grip on your shoulders tightened until a small sound escaped your lips and Max jolted forward. “Or, you tell me everything you know about them.”

Max raised his hands to try to diffuse the situation as he spoke softly, “I don’t know anything, I swear.”

You saw the faint sheen of dampness on his palms and his upturned collar fluttered slightly from the rapid increase in his pulse while his pupils dilated. Even after you had been threatened he was still lying, putting you at risk. You shouldn’t have been surprised. 

Something more powerful than rage hit you square in the chest, something you had felt once before - betrayal.

“He’s lying,” you uttered quietly, knowing Dev’s face was close to yours from the warm notes of whiskey that lingered on his breath. Dev’s fingers lifted in surprise and he spun you around to see your jaw clenched in anger, lips pressed to a tight line.

“Not the devoted, lovesick little girlfriend after all.”

“I have a thing about being lied to by him,” you said as you lifted your chin higher and stared back into the searing grey eyes of the boss. “Hurting me won’t get you what you want. He obviously doesn’t care.”

Dev chuckled and dipped his head closer to whisper, “We’ll see about that, won’t we.”

You were shoved away from him and into the arms of the guard who began to drag you from the room. The need to fight flooded you and you kicked your legs out, trying to grab anything you could, but it was fruitless. You couldn’t break the hold that kept your arms pinned and Max was blocked by the other guard. 

“Louis, take her to my private room,” Dev said as you passed the threshold, throwing you a wink before he shut the door. 

“Let me go, please, I have money.”

“I don’t need your money.” Louis laughed as he opened the door to the room next door and started to place you down gently. “Relax, Dev doesn’t hurt women.”

You stilled as your feet reached the carpet and you saw a window into the office. A one way mirror that you hadn’t noticed when you were inside the room. “It was a ploy.”

The guard pressed his finger to a button on the wall and Max’s voice came through on the vent that opened near the ceiling, “Look, I brought her into this but she had nothing to do with it. Let her go and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Surprise nearly knocked you off your feet as he bartered for your freedom and you stumbled away from the window and into a metal chair. 

You had spent years wondering if any of what he said to you was real, if he had even cared when he stole millions from your family and ruined your career. Then, again, when he showed up out of the blue in your auditorium, you had doubted his feelings for you. But finally, you had your answer. Only you weren’t sure it even mattered by now.

“Tell me first, then I’ll let her go. Unharmed, of course.”

Max ran a hand through his hair, messing the dark strands before unbuttoning his suit jacket and dropping into a leather recliner. “They know you want information about their boss.”  

“How did they know that?”

“Because I told them,” Max admitted with a tight-lipped smile. “And they gave me a tonne of cash for it.”

Dev tutted and took a seat at his desk. “Always thinking about the money aren’t you, Max.”

“Your boyfriend is a bit of an asshole,” Louis commented as he took a seat beside you. “What do you see in him anyway?”

“It’s none of your business,” you muttered as you watched Max tell Dev everything. He explained how he approached Dev’s adversary, figuring he could make some money out of the exchange as well as use the threat to draw you back into his life. Every word he spoke caused your stomach to drop further and you turned to Louis. “Did they really kidnap your dancers?”

Louis gave a tense nod. “They take homeless girls too. No one reports them missing or cares when they show up dead.”

You turned your attention to Max who was cold and unsympathetic to the horrible acts that were happening while he rolled in the cash playing both sides. He even had the audacity to look smug as he sat there comfortably. You suddenly realised that although he actually loved you and you had been slipping back into those feelings, it didn’t change the fact he was an asshole. An asshole you could no longer stomach spending the rest of your life with, no matter how thrilling an adventure it may be. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Louis asked as you shot up from your seat and stormed back to the office. 

The door slammed open and Dev cocked an eyebrow at your entrance while Max frowned in confusion. “You piece of shit,” you growled. “You lied to me!”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what they’ve said about me but you can trust me,” Max said softly, like he was talking to a skittish horse that was unbroken.

“They didn’t have to say anything,” you said as you stepped closer to Dev. “You did enough of that yourself.”

“I suppose I should’ve warned you how thin the walls are in this room,” Dev said with a smirk. 

You reeled in your fury as you pushed emotion aside to focus on the facts. “You told me you would be giving him the phone so they could deal with the traffickers.”

“I say a lot of things, sweetheart.”

“I know,” you said with a humourless laugh. “Trust me, I know. I guess that’s why I didn’t completely believe anything you told me. You always did tell the best lies.”

Max straightened up in his seat and his eyes narrowed as his head tilted. He was desperately running through the memories of the last month trying to figure out what the vague threat was. 

Turning your back to Max, you faced Dev and crossed your arms. “There’s a laptop in the car downstairs, send one of your men to get it and I will do better than just getting you contact information.”

“Y/N, no, what are you doing?” Max interrupted and tried to rise from the chair only to have his shoulders pinned by the guard behind him before he patted Max’s pockets to find the car keys. “What did you do?”

Louis caught the keys that were thrown his way before slipping from the room. 

The atmosphere spiked as Max squirmed under the pressure of the grip but you couldn’t find any enjoyment in his discomfort, even if he deserved that and more. 

“May I?” you asked Dev as you nodded to his empty chair. 

The seat was still warm as you took a seat and the scent of his cologne stronger like it had permeated the air around his desk from the long hours he spent working. You could already see he was a boss who cared about his employees, even if it appeared he was some kind of ring leader, and he looked exhausted beneath the confident stance and 5 o’clock shadow. 

The inquisitive stare was broken when Louis swept into the room with your laptop bag and carefully placed it on the desk, moving Dev’s keyboard aside for you. 

“What are you doing?” Max asked again, a hint of true fear in his voice as it peaked.

“I really hoped you had been honest with me.” You didn’t even look up as you continued typing. “I was ready to leave everything, go anywhere with you…but there was always that doubt.

“That’s what my lecture was about the day you came to my class. Instinct and intuition.” Dev circled around his desk to stand behind your chair but unless he understood coding script all he would see was lines of nonsense across the screen. 

“What is all this?” Dev asked as he leaned over the chair to look closer as if it would suddenly make sense.

You glanced up over the screen to lock eyes with Max. “Last night while you were with Brent I hacked the bank to trigger their security procedure.”

“Why?” he asked.

“In case you failed. I couldn’t just go digging around where I shouldn’t, it would’ve raised some red flags. But once they’ve been hacked? It’s a free for all to search every file, software, system.”

You hit enter and the window switched to the home screen of SAP; the accounting software that held all the information about every client of Hartmont Brough Bank from their name, address and tax code to their bank account number and balance. 

“Holy shit,” Dev said breathlessly. “Who are you?”

You held out your hand for him to shake as you formally introduced yourself, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

His eyes widened in recognition of your surname. “As in Y/L/N Enterprises?”

“Not anymore,” you huffed as you narrowed your eyes at Max who was fuming in the chair. “Give me their names.”

“You don’t want to mess with these people,” Max growled through his teeth.

“That’s what you said about him too,” you said as you gave Dev an appreciative once over, “but he seems pretty decent to me.” 

Dev smirked at the compliment and Max thrashed against the hold on him as he argued, “They won’t just kill you, they will make you watch every one you love die first before they gut you too.”

“Dev?” you prompted as your fingers hovered over the keys waiting to search the portal for a name.

Max gave up trying to get through to you and turned his attempts on Dev. “If you tell her who they are you might as well put a gun to her head now.”

That gave Dev pause and you were shown another glimpse of his moral compass. Placing a hand on his arm to get him to look away from Max, you gave him a reassuring smile and said, “They won’t be able to trace this to me. He’s just trying to save himself because the target will be on his back.”

His grey eyes scanned yours for a moment, searching for a hint of a lie, before he gave a small nod and stood up. “Adam Bethel and Kristian Svensek.”

You started with Adam and whistled at the bank balance that had put your family’s fortune to shame. “Would be a waste to just erase it.”

“Here,” Dev said as he opened his internet browser on his phone and found a charity that supported survivors of sex trafficking after rescuing women. “Give it to them.”

Max groaned and dropped his head at the thought of stealing all that money and not keeping a cent of it. The thought made you smile because he was right when he said you enjoyed the thrill of playing spymaster but being Robin Hood was even better.

You entered the banking details for Agape International Missions and made the donation anonymously before moving onto Kristian and giving his sum to Shared Hope International.

Sitting back, you stared at the screen and smiled with satisfaction, the final balance: $0.01. 

“600 million dollars,” Max grumbled and gave up fighting, falling back into the chair. “You just gave away 600 million dollars.”

“Nope, I just invested it,” you corrected as you exited the hidden backdoor you had built into the system while you were supposed to be scanning the Online Portal last night. “And if Adam or Kristian report the money missing then they will have to somehow explain where the money came, something I am sure they don’t want the authorities looking into.”

“There’s still billions more just sitting there! Why don’t you just take it?” Max pleaded and you saw the manic gleam to his eyes. He was hooked, like a heroin addict, he was addicted to this life and would stop at nothing for his next fix. 

“Because I’m not like you.” You realised that there would be too much temptation for someone to copy your code to keep the backdoor in place in the system so you erased it before closing the laptop shut. “It’s over, Max.”

“You really had me fooled,” he chuffed as he rose to his feet and this time the guard let him. 

“Doesn’t feel great does it?”

Max ran his tongue across his teeth before pointing to Louis blocking the door. “Are we done here or what? It’s been a long night.”

Dev nodded his head to Louis and the man moved aside for Max who paused on the other side. “I trust your new friend can help you get back to New York, forgive me for not wanting to take you there myself.”

“I can manage just fine on my own.”

“So I have found,” he muttered as he sauntered off down the stairs.

“Wait,” you shouted and rushed after him as you remembered something. “You should have these.” You pulled the engagement ring and wedding band from your finger and tossed them to where he had stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Sell them if you need the money that badly.”

He stared as the rings resting in his palms, the diamonds sparkling in the laser lights that escaped the door to the stripclub that was beginning to close. His shaking fist closed tightly around them before he threw his head back with a bitter laugh and tossed the worthless rings out into the street. 

“Goodbye, Maxwell Burnett,” you said as he turned to the dark streets and you watched his silhouette until it disappeared. 

Six Months Later

“Nature vs Nurture. What makes us function as we do? How is our cognitive reasoning influenced? Are we wired to behave the way we do through inherited genes or from the environment we are subject to? These are the questions I want you to think about before we return next semester. For now, enjoy your vacation and happy holidays.”

The classroom was far smaller than the auditorium you had lectured in at Fordham University but you had settled happily into life at Boston College. You closed your textbook as the room quickly emptied, each student eager to leave campus for the term. You couldn’t blame them, you were just as ready to take a break after the year you had endured.

Shoving your book in your bag, you slung it over your shoulder and pushed away the thoughts that encroached uninvited. Every now and again you wondered where Max was, what trouble he was getting up to. You couldn’t help it. He was your first love and no matter how many years passed he could still worm his way into your thoughts, perhaps he always would. So long as he stayed out of your life, you could handle the rest. 

The bang of the door closing had you jump and you spun around too quickly, your heavy bag throwing you off balance, but a strong pair of hands caught your waist and kept you upright. 

“Everything okay?” Dev asked with a frown before scanning the room to see if there was a reason you were on edge.

“Lost track of time in my own little world. I’m fine,” you reassured him with a quick kiss. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Dev pulled out his phone as he explained, “Your program got another hit, it found them.” A pixelated image of two young women appeared on the screen, taken from an ATM security camera, but the facial recognition matched the last two of Dev’s dancers that had gone missing months ago. “It was taken in Kosovo. Louis’ gone to check it out before he calls Agape but it will take him a while to get there.” Dev’s excitement was palpable as he pocketed the device and wrapped you in his arms. 

The bag slipped from your shoulder and thudded to the ground but you didn’t care as you threw your arms around his neck and squealed with joy. 

“I just had to come and tell you the news,” he murmured between kisses. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Max was right - you couldn’t just go back to the mundane life of a professor. But you couldn’t be like him either, cold and calculating without remorse. You chose to be better, you chose to do better. 

“I told you we would bring them home.”

Matt Bomer as Dev:

#max burnett #sebastian stan characters #sharper movie #max Burnett x reader

[drakenology]

How about when your working as a hotel concierge and one of the famous pro heroes (can be anyone u like, maybe Bakugou? 😉) comes in for a relaxin vacation from doing so many hero work. He doesn’t know us, but he will. 🥴

you are a genius, muah!

thank you anon for inspiring this piece.

Room Service! - Bakugo Katsuki

warnings: smut! (minors gtfo), oral (male receiving & female receiving), mentions of cum, size kink, mirror sex (cause it slaps), just a raunchy hook up between two consenting adults (so pro hero katsukiii)

Tonight was making your job really fucking annoying. You sat at your desk answering phone calls about which pro hero would be staying at your hotel (the only bane of your existence).

Of course you can’t disclose that information because of privacy but you didn’t even know that yourself. You sigh as you hang up the phone on yet another greedy fangirl trying to get closer to whomever would be staying here.

You start to wonder who it might be; that 7 foot tall red head or maybe the sexy blonde who could make you blow whenever he wanted.

It was no secret you’d been a fan of Mr. Dynamight since his earlier days of hero work; your coworkers often caught you doodling your name and his last name on a piece of paper like a high school girl with a monster crush. Your mind wandered, thinking of what you’d do-what you’d say if Dynamight walked into your lobby right-

“Yo. I’ve got a reservation under Katsuki Bakugo.” A raspy voice rang in your ears to snap you out of your daydream, making you jump in surprise. Holy shit, it’s him! Fuck. Stay calm.

“Oh! U-uh.. Welcome Mr. Dynamigh- I mean Bakugo.” You stutter, palms clammy and shaking as you look his name up in the computer.

“You new or somethin’?” Bakugo asked, red eyes peering over the counter and straight down at your body.

Even though this isn’t his first time staying here for vacations he’s never seen a hot little thing like you working the desk. All dressed up in an orange button up blouse and a black pencil skirt he could just lift up and have his way with you in. Damn you look good in orange.

You notice his gaze and turn your attention back to the computer, internally screaming as you realize Katsuki Bakugo is fucking staring at you.

“No. Actually this is my third month here. I usually work mornings but we’re unfortunately incredibly shortstaffed tonight so.. here I am.” You nervously laugh, spelling his name wrong about fifty times out of anxiousness before finally finding his name and room number.

“Room 202, sir. Would you like for me to escort you?” You question, standing from your seat and stretching your limbs since you’ve been sitting in that damned chair all night.

Bakugo drank the shape of your body in, following your curves with his eyes and licking his lips enough for you to see.

“Nah, I got it. You just sit your pretty ass down. I might call you for somethin’ later.” Katsuki says with a wink, hauling his luggage in those big strong arms of his off to the elevator, fuck.

Is he being hot on purpose?

You’re left at your desk hot and bothered. You couldn’t help it but your mind was just filled with all the filthy things you’d do to Katsuki. Thank god no one else came through the lobby for most of the night because with the way you felt right now, how could a girl focus on anything?

Almost an hour goes by quickly, your daydreams and fantasies haulting when you hear the phone ring. Sigh. You reluctantly pick it up, rolling your eyes as you brace to hear yet another fan girl’s screaming.

“Hello, This is Y/N. How can I help you?” You say monotonously, looking down at your nails.

“Hey, sexy desk lady. This you?” The same raspy voice that ached your pussy sang to you.

“Th-this is she.” You gasp, so entranced that you actually answered to the nickname.

“What’s on the menu? I hope all meals include sexy concierges.” He says, his smirk audible. “‘M hungry.”

“Oh. Well we do have a steak dinner I could bring up to you. How does that sound?” You stutter, hardly able to seem professional with his blatant flirting.

“Perfect. Oh and tell your boss or whoever the fuck you answer to that your shift is over. I want you in my room.” Katsuki declared, confidence dripping over every word.

“B-But sir, I can’t just-“ You try to speak, interrupted.

“Customer’s always right.” He teased before hanging up, making sure you got the point.

You take in a breathe, taken aback by how swiftly he can turn you on just by speaking to you. You stand from your chair, almost falling back down from the shakiness of your legs. Fuck it if Bakugo wanted you so badly, here you come. Stumbling into the kitchen you put in Bakugo’s order and tell your manager that the Pro-Hero wants you to deliver his food and keep him company.

“Shit! Hopefully he leaves a good tip. He’s gonna put in such a good rating for us and....” She rambled, the rest of her quarrel falling on deaf ears. You were too busy creaming in your panties at the thought of Bakugo grabbing you by the fucking hair and just-

“Order up!” The chef yells snapping you out of your mindless filth. He’s wheeling over the room service cart for you to take upstairs and shouting something about giving it to him hot.

“Smile, Y/N. Make a good first impression.” Your manager said, leading you to the elevator with one hand on your back.

The ride up felt like the longest elevator ride in history. The walk down the hallway seemed even longer as you look for his room.

200...201....202.

You stand at his door, heart threatning to leap out of your chest as you knock softly.

“Who is it?” Katsuki shouted through the door and some loud rock music.

“Room Service!” You manage, hoping you hid your nervousness well. You hear the music die down and the lock of the door click unlocked.

As the door swung open your eyes beheld the image of Bakugo’s toned and muscular torso without a shirt. His sweatpants hung lazily on his hips, the waistband of his boxers showing proudly. As your eyes unknowingly travel further down you get an eyeful of what he’s packing. And baby it is heat.

His dick-print was so prominent it was almost astounding . Is this him soft? You quickly look back upwards at the tall God in front of you and look at his handsome face. Gruff and just manly looking. His hair was tossed all over his head, eyes low and intense as he smirked at you. How on earth can one man be this attractive?

“Ah. Right on time. Get yer ass in here.” Bakugo rasped, groaning at the sight of you. You push yourself and the cart inside, swallowing the lump in your throat. Bakugo walks in front of you and puts out the joint he smoked just fresh out of the shower.

The employee in you told you to scold him for smoking in the building. But for now, hell, let him do whatever he wants. You push the cart into the small living area of his suite, Bakugo sitting on the loveseat in front of you.

“Damn. You look good behind that cart, ya know that?” He says, looking you up and down with those plush lips between his teeth.

You feel your body get hot, not a single thought behind your eyes.

“I-I u-uhm.” You choke. Katsuki stands from the couch and walks towards you like a lion who had just cornered a gazelle. His hands pull you towards him, face so close to yours he could kiss you if he wanted.

“Speak up, sexy. It’s no fun if you don’t talk back. Don’t tell me you’re nervous.” He purred, leaning into your neck and leaving a chaste kiss.

Your eyes flutter, moaning softly as his kisses become deeper. The trail he left led all the way up to your ear, gasping as he nibbles lightly on your earlobe.

“I-I’m sorry. I am a little ner- ah- vous.” You mewl, feeling like you might drop to the floor as his hands snuck down from your waist and onto your ass.

“Mhm. Just relax. I don’t bite. Well, from the looks of it you like a little biting don’t you?” He teased, letting his hands do more talking for him.

His hands knead and caress your body as he leaned down to kiss you. It was the hottest kiss you’ve ever experienced; his big hands exploring your body while nibbling your bottom lip as he pulled away for air only to dive right back into your mouth. He picked you up and led you to the loveseat; hands planted what seemed like permanently into your ass as he sat you on his lap.

He starts undoing the buttons of your shirt, eventually getting annoyed with the stupid blouse and just ripping it open. You gasp as all the buttons pop and fall on the floor, your bra on full display for Katsuki as he hissed.

“Fuck. ‘So sexy.” He huffs, pulling your tits out of your bra and taking one into his mouth. You’re turning into jelly in his hands, mindlessly grinding your aching pussy against his groin and moaning into the room.

“Shit. You’re an eager one, aren’t you?” Katsuki rasped, pressing a thumb onto your covered clit for you to grind on. Your breathing hitched, knowing he can feel how wet you are through your panties as he took your nipple back into his mouth. Suddenly he stops, causing you to whine from the loss if his mouth.

“Wait, baby. I wanna see what that pretty mouth can do.” Katsuki lulled, pressing his fingers in your mouth while you happily suck on them. You climb off his lap and situate yourself on your knees in front of him, pulling his sweats and boxers down without a second thought.

Fuck was he big. He had girth and length with these sickeningly prominent veins, his pretty dick already deliciously leaking pre-cum. You try not to moan at the upward curve in it, imagining all the spots he can hit with it in just the right angle. And it was heavy too, the spring of his dick leaving his briefs causing it to smack right on his abs. You look up at Bakugo’s eyes who haven’t left you since you got on your knees.

“Go on, sexy. Show me what you got.” He coos, sighing as you take him into your wet mouth.

You tease him a little, swiping your tongue over the head to lick up some of that pre cum. You’re staring at him with hazy eyes, sticking your tongue out and sliding your mouth down until you’re taking him into your throat. Gagging and drooling you bob your head, slurping a bit as he grabbed your hair.

“S-Shiit, baby.” He moans, your drool dripping all over the place as he fucked your mouth with a fist full of your hair. As he’s pulling you up and down on his cock you hollow your cheeks in time with his movements, tears streaming down your face and smudging your mascara.

“You look so fucking hot with my dick in your mouth. Fuck.” He hissed, letting go of your hair to let you get up and breathe. You take his cock out of your mouth with a *pop* and stroke him, all your slobber being the perfect lube as you pump and twist up and down with your hand.

Bakugo leans into the loveseat, his head hanging back into the chair as he cussed. You were making him feel so good, shit you were pretty close to making him cum.

“Want me inside you, baby?” He managed, your mouth and hands taking his breath away. You pull away from his dick again, blinking away your tears.

“Uh-huh.” You nod, the fastest thing you could say. Before you know it you’re scooped up and flung onto the bed, your skirt and panties discarded somewhere.

You don’t even ask him to return the favor. To be honest you didn’t need him to. But the way his tongue flicked your clit around was enough to intoxicate anyone. You can’t help the loud moans you let out, legs trembling as he stuck his tongue inside you. He teased your folds with his tongue, sloppily making out with your pussy until you’re completely blank-headed.

“Look at me, baby.” He hummed, immediately wrapping his lips around your clit.

Your eyes roll back, trying hard to look at his face as he devoured you. His fierce eyes caught your hazy gaze, a fucked out expression written all over your face as he quite literally sucked your orgasm out of you. Katsuki’s lips left your pussy, his chin glistening in your slick with a shit eating grin on his face. Maybe he should stay here more often.

“Heh. First time in my life a woman’s left me speechless.” He says sitting up, his dick standing at attention right above your cunt. The bastard starts tapping his cock on your already sensitive clit with a devilish smirk, biting his lip at your reaction.

Every tap made your eyes cross, your puffy clit throbbing at the sensation. Your whines become desperate, causing Katsuki to crave the satisfaction of your begging. With a raised eyebrow he pushed himself only half way inside you, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat.

“You want it? Hm? I’m talkin’ to you.” Katsuki teased, raising your face to look at him by your chin.

God you looked so sexy like this; legs spread, thighs quivering from all the pleasure, a tantalizingly dumb look on your face.

“Y-yes.. Katsuki p-please.” You plead, mewling when he starts moving but way too slow for your liking.

“All of it, yeah?” He further questioned, really enjoying teasing you. The look on your face as he plunged deeper inside you just enough to stretch you was priceless, a little shriek escaping you.

“Yess, god yes.” You bellow, desperate for your itch to finally be scratched. With a dark chuckle Katsuki slams all of his length inside your gummy walls, your head thrown back into the pillows at the brute force. And that dull stretch felt so good, as if Katsuki’s dick was made to fuck you.

“So biig- ngh!” You struggle to say, covering your mouth as you notice you’re screaming for him. Bakugo takes your hand off your mouth and pinned it above your head, smirking down at the dazed face before him.

“I know, baby. So good for me. So fuckin’ tight.” Bakugo rambles, rutting his hips into yours as he lifts your thighs up and throws them over his broad shoulders.

The new position sent shockwaves through your whole body, your cries so audible you swore you heard them echo in his room. His pace was slow but deliberate, that fucking curve hitting that spot over and over again.

“Oh my god! Oh my godd!” You chant, your wet walls clenching down onto his cock threatening to cum all over him.

“Thats it, cum all over my fuckin’ cock.” Bakugo urged, taking one hand and rubbing insane circles into your throbbing clit his thrusts becoming more brutal as you feel him hit your cervix in the most pleasurable way.

You say something about cumming for him or something, the sentence scrambled as you boil over. Your face was too sinful for words to explain, tongue hanging out as you pant and fat tears bubbling in your eyes.

“I’m not finished. Turn around.” Katsuki demands, smacking your thigh to get you to muster whatever strength you have left to turn around.

Next thing you know you’re bent over, Bakugo plunging back inside as if he had already missed the feeling of your sweet walls. His dick was made for this position, the upward curve hitting that sweet spot perfectly.

“God, look at you..” Bakugo says, his gaze meeting the full length mirror in front of his bed. “So fucking sexy.” He muttered, pulling you by your hair to make you behold what he was looking at.

Your eyes meet the glass reflection of you being absolutely railed senselessly by a man you’d desired since you were a teenager. And it all felt so good. You watch his movements, every flex of his muscles, every heave of his chest as he panted. He was so gorgeous. Even when he was pounding your poor pussy into submission; all sweaty and sticky he was really something to marvel at.

“Fuuck you’re gonna make me cum. That’s it baby, just like that.” Bakugo moans, grabbing a fist full of your hair and smacking your ass all while locking eyes with the mirror and back down again to where you both connect.

You’re so fucked out you can hardly speak, chanting filthy words to coax him into cumming while throwing your ass back on him in time with his thrusts. He’s cussing up a storm, his pace speeding up as he hummed nasty words back at you.

“Want me to cum, baby? Yeah? Shiit, you’re pussy’s so fucking good.” He groans, snapping his hips into you and biting a little into your shoulder. Soon you’re cumming for him again; you don’t know how or when but a mixture of his disgusting words and that big fat cock sliding in and out of you just pushed you over the edge yet again.

“Fuck.” Bakugo hissed, pulling out of your gummy walls to cum all over your ass. He’s pumping himself for a while, staring down at your glazed ass and moaning at the sight.

Bakugo nearly shoves himself back inside you when he sees you reach back and swipe some onto your finger and taste his cum.

“Shit.” You both gasp, panting and sharing the same high as Bakugo jumps up to get a towel. You lay limp and damn near lifeless on the bed as he wipes your ass off, smacking it once it was clean.

“That was the best fucking room service I’ve ever ordered.”

#bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #segsmail 🌈 #anon you da best #queue made me do it 🥴

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 5 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Since we’re on a roll and impatient as fuck, we decided to up our posting rate! Hope you enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet gave Trixie a heads-up about Fame’s dislike of the new collection, and moved into her new apartment--where she found some very welcoming neighbors.

This Chapter: All hands on deck as Fame demands a complete reconceptualization of their Spring collection.

***

Fame swept into the office on Monday, all business, barely looking Violet in the eye as she rattled off a waterfall of orders.

Fame pulled off her coat and dropped it, nearly letting it fall on the floor before Violet dove forward to catch it.

“Have you taken care of the messages I left you over the weekend?”

Fame seemed almost frantic, her energy all over the place.

“I’m almost done Miss,” Violet folded her coat over her arm, holding out her hand for Fame’s bag. “I just need to confirm wit-”

“Good.” Fame hung her bag on Violet’s wrist, the weight almost toppling Violet over if it hadn’t been for her hours at the gym. “Have you ordered the new fabrics I talked about?”

Violet nodded. “They are on their wa-”

“And what about my new assistant?”

“Yes-” Violet reached for her desk, a stack of resumes already printed out. “I’m starting the pre-interviews tomorrow-”

“Wonderful.” Fame completely ignored Violet and the papers she was holding out, instead walking towards her office. Violet quickly disposed of Fame’s coat and bag, putting both down on her desk so she could grab Fame’s coffee and the letters for the day before she followed her.

“Remember, only perfection is accepted,” Fame instructed, settling down at her desk.

“Yes, Miss.” Violet handed her the coffee, which Fame took a single sip of before she scrunched her nose and handed it back to Violet.

“I’d like a new latte and a medium fruit salad, no pineapple.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Is that the schedule for the day?”

Violet nodded and handed her the paper.

“Also, before you go. Get Raja up here. I need to discuss the collection. That’s all,” Fame said, turning to her computer.

It wasn’t for a few minutes that Violet realized how serious Fame was about the collection change. She was standing in line at the coffee shop, checking her email, when she saw that Fame had sent one to the entire senior management team.

Subject: URGENT

All hands on deck meeting at 3 pm today to discuss a complete re-conceptualization of our Spring collection. Bring your best ideas, ready to discuss, along with samples and visual aids. Be prepared to work late.  

Violet gulped, forwarding the email to all of the applicable assistants, when another one ticked in.

Subject: Violet - Get me Pearl

***

“This is interesting, try to get a sample of the skirt done ASAP and then spruce up the sketch,” Trixie said.

Trixie had been walking around the busy design floor, checking out what his team had come up with over the weekend. Ever since getting Violet’s text last Friday, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Fame was about to bring down a hammer, and so they needed to be prepared with new ideas.

Half of the team was working on changes and additions to their current collection. Half of them were working on entirely new concepts and ideas.

‘Remember guys,’ he’d said before they left on Friday. ‘This is a spaghetti against the wall situation. No bad ideas, time to explore everything. If it’s unique and innovative, that’s a plus. Pull out your passion projects.’

The truth was, Trixie had no idea what to expect. Fame had been silent all weekend, which made him even more nervous. Usually she’d send at least a few texts or emails. Ideas that popped into her head. A doodle on a notepad. Image references. But now, when she was allegedly questioning their whole collection? Nada.

Trixie walked over to where April was draping out an ornate sample dress in multiple shades of blue, telling her to carry on. Then he moved on to Alexis, scrutinizing the sketches on her desk with a critical eye.

“Some of these shapes are interesting, but I need you to redo them with different colors and fabrics,” he told her. “Remember, the color story is apparently the thing she’s most ambivalent about.”

“Got it,” Alexis said with a good-natured sigh, picking up a fresh pad.

“Um, Trixie?” Kandy looked up, a terrified look on her face as she hung up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Raja says to check your emails, don’t panic, and that she’s coming down to fill you in,” Kandy said.

Trixie pulled out his phone, stomach lurching as he read the email from Miss Fame, face going pale.

His worst fear had just come true: they were facing a complete reconceptualization. He looked up, forcing a smile in order to not terrify the design team even more.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light. “New plan...Blu, Jovan, Gia? Forget about the adjustments you were working on. We’re looking for fresh ideas, anything that you think could be a new signature piece. Everyone: the deadline is today at 3 pm.”

A small gasp rippled through the team as they realized how soon that was.

“Three pm?” Blu asked, the Irish designer looking like she might burst into tears.

“Yeah.” Trixie scanned the room again, hating the anxiety that he saw on everyone’s face, which he knew full well was not conducive to innovation. “And try to have fun. Remember, this is fashion, not heart surgery. No one’s gonna die.”  

“We might die,” Jovan muttered under his breath, ripping his current piece out of a sewing machine and tossing it onto the ground.

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie put a hand on Jovan’s shoulder. He was his oddest worker, the wrinkly brain he had coming up with the most beautiful, crazy, intricate ideas when he was left to his own devices. “I promise.” Trixie squeezed, trying to put as much conviction behind his words as he could. “Just do your best.”

***

Pearl had just settled into her chair, ready to see if anything exciting had happened on Twitter while she had been by the design department to give Trixie his lunch.

It wasn’t something she normally did, but Katya had been near heartbroken when she saw that Trixie had forgotten the lunchbox she had made him that morning, and since Pearl was a pretty damn good roommate in her own opinion, she had volunteered to deliver it.

Katya had given her a kiss and a hug as thanks before she hurried out the door, two tote bags and canvas under both arms. If Pearl didn’t love her so much, she’d be almost disgusted with how good of a human being Katya was, spending her summer as a volunteer art teacher at a community center in the Bronx.

Her beating heart was however also the reason that Pearl hadn’t been kicked out of the apartment she shared with her Trixie when he and Katya had started dating, so who was she to complain?

A polite cough came from the door just as Pearl was catching up on Olivier Rousteing’s Instagram. She turned around and came face to face with Violet.

Pearl smiled; it was always a joy to see Violet, the other always a sight for sore eyes with her almost impeccable beauty.

It was always fun to see what Violet would wear, the woman almost vintage in her style.

“Is that Gabbana?”

“Of course it’s Gabbana” Violet smoothed down her skirt, and Pearl smiled. She was the only person who Pearl knew that could wear a button up, and still look like someone begging to get fucked.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” Pearl smirked. Violet was fun to rile up, but Fame was her favorite, one of her very best days at work happening because she had agitated her boss on purpose.

“Is this about the collection? Trixie told me Fame has officially freaked.”

Violet didn’t say anything, and Pearl almost wanted to roll her eyes.

“I’ll take that silence as a yes.”  

Violet was an annoyingly good assistant, never saying a word against Fame, always holding her tongue even when it would have been more than fair to complain.

“She wants you in her office in 10.”

“So I’m not actually late?” Pearl turned around to her iMac, seeing that the small email icon on her screen was blinking red. “Ah.”

Pearl realized that Violet had just saved her from Fame’s disappointment, but there was no way she was going to let the other know of her gratitude.

It was too early in the game for that.

“Sorry for helping you.” Violet huffed, rolling her eyes. “Here-” Violet put a folder down on Pearl’s desk. “In case you want to actually prepare-”

“Thanks Vivi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

***

“Shit.” Trixie exhaled a groan of frustration as he dumped down in his chair. He had known the email was coming, but it had still felt like a punch to the gut when he’d actually seen it.

Raja had come straight from a meeting with Fame, and Trixie had known it was bad, real bad, when he had seen how Raja’s normally ice cold exterior was chipped.

Trixie sighed, burrowing his head in his hands for a minute. He hated having to push his designers, hated forcing them to deliver in extreme conditions. A few of them thrived on it, Betty always delivering excellent work, while Aiden almost always buckled when he didn’t have time to pay attention to his details.

Trixie reached into his mini-fridge, taking the lunch Pearl had stopped by to drop off for him. It was only 10:30, but he unpacked it anyway. Katya had packed two pieces of carrot cake, a can of diet coke and as Trixie opened the metal container, the lovely smell of Katya’s best mushroom and cheese blinis greeted him.

He opened his drawer, pulling out a fork as he turned his computer on, the promise of carrot cake the only thing getting him through the avalanche of worried emails he knew was waiting for him.

***

Raja heaved a sigh as she stepped off the elevator. She’d been trying to give Trixie a warning about Fame’s current state of mind without causing the EVP of Design to freak out, but couldn’t shake the notion that she’d failed, seeing the crease in his forehead deepen the more she spoke, until she’d finally just left him with a firm pat on the back. She entered her own suite, the rich fabrics and warm colors immediately soothing her, although her relief was short-lived, since Jaida was perched on Ivy’s desk, a stern look on her face.

“I need to talk to you.”

Jaida was the most recent addition to their management team. The bright, resourceful CFO joined them almost two years ago, when Patrick stepped away from the day to day financial management to focus on his own firm. She’d truly been a godsend—immediately understanding the need for creative flexibility in their budgets, and helping to streamline the company’s organization in a way that was incredibly effective even as they grew by leaps and bounds.

But now, Jaida’s beautiful face was about the last one that Raja wanted to see. She was well-aware that Fame’s email had caused mass panic, and Jaida’s mind was probably already spinning in 100 different directions, thinking about how their timelines would now completely change the budget for Fashion Week beyond the normal contingency plan.

Raja gestured to her office, resigned to have this conversation now, and Jaida immediately sailed in, settling on the forest green velvet couch that Raven had picked out. Raja turned to Ivy, requesting some herbal tea, before joining her.

“So, Jaida, what are you brightening my day with?”

“An entire reconceptualization, Raja?”

“I’m aware that-”

“Has she completely lost it? Can’t you talk to her?” Jaida implored.

“Fame has made up her mind.”

“Ughhh!” Jaida’s hand fell into her hands.

“What a mature response-”

Raja was cut off when Shangela burst into the office. One of their longest and most loyal employees, the Director of Operations usually never panicked, taking on every challenge with an almost annoying amount of enthusiastic joy.

It was possible, Raja supposed, that she was extra annoyed by Shangela because of their failed relationship, but she liked to tell herself that that was besides the point.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Shangela exclaimed, taking a seat across from Jaida.

“I was stalking Ms. Gemini here.” Jaida pointed with her thumb.

“Shangela, you’re in my office-” Raja began.

“Listen. I just want to make sure everyone understands the situation at hand. Bendela is already asking to double the staff in the tailoring department through September, and Alyssa says that this is going to potentially triple the budget for the media campaigns, and-”

“I know! It’s a shit show!” Jaida exclaimed.

Raja closed her eyes. Where the fuck was Ivy with her tea?

“I hear your concerns, however, we haven’t even had the creative meeting yet, so don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“But Bendela says-”

“Of course she does, Shangela.” Raja sighed. Shangela was always so dramatic, but she was irritatingly good at her job.

“Bendela’s been requesting to hire more tailors for months now. That doesn’t mean that her estimate is accurate and if she truly sticks to her guns, Trixie just interviewed potential interns. I’m sure some of them can be assigned to tailoring.”

Ivy pushed her way through the door, a tray with coffee and tea for everyone in her hands.

“Right, okay, but what about-”

“We’re going to get through today, listen to what Fame has to say, what ideas everyone comes up with, and then reconvene tomorrow morning,” Raja said, gratefully accepting the tea that Ivy handed over.

“Fine,” Jaida said. “But if I were you, I’d convince Miss Fame that the current collection is brilliant.”

“You don’t think I tried that?” Raja laughed.

“Fair enough,” Jaida replied, finally letting a small giggle escape.

“Another day in paradise,” Shangela added, rising up from the couch.  

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #pearlet #violet chachki #miss fame #trixie mattel #pearl liaison #raja gemini #jaida essence hall #shangela laquifa wadley

[skzrequests]

Orange Juice - Seo Changbin

anonymous said : “My pace 24 w changbin? uwu im a sucker for the idea of tattoist bin lmao”

24 ➝ “Is that a tattoo ?”

➵ Pairings : changbin x reader

➵ Warnings : explicit language ; mentions of blood

➵ Genre : tattoo artist!au ; fluff

➵ Word count : 4.3k

➵ Note : me too, anon, me too :’) thank you for requesting this, I’m a sucker for tattooist bin too and for real, I think you just cured my writer’s block, so I can’t thank you enough ! I hope the fic is okay, don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :)

You turned on your heels, looking around for the soy sauce brand you usually bought. Finally finding it, the familiar red and green colours of the label catching your eye, you extended your arm to grab it before you carefully placed it in your cart. Pushing it out of the alley and into the next, you thought about what you had written down on your list of groceries that—of course—you had forgotten on top of the kitchen counter before going out. 

What was missing ? You had eggs, milk, cookies, your favourite yogurt, your weekly stock of noodles, pretty much everything you needed. 

Orange juice ! Of course, how could you forget ? No orange juice in the morning, no functional you. 

Hitting your forehead with your palm at your own forgetfulness, you proceeded to turn around in the middle of the alley to go back to the juice section. 

Stopping in front of the numerous orange juice bottles and packs that the store offered, your eyes once more scanned the section for the one you always took. 

“Here” someone spoke next to you, but what you saw first was a hand extended to you, holding the bottle you had been looking for, with its childlike doodles of an orange in every colour of the rainbow. 

Your eyes widened slightly, brows arching in surprise and thankfulness at the action of—judging by the voice—the man who had somehow found what you’d been looking for. 

You looked up, surprised and wondering who it could be, although you did not expect it to be someone you knew. 

You were wrong. 

You almost didn’t recognise him. Not that his features had changed, he still had that same sharp jaw but soft curves on his face, but he gave off a totally different aura, to the point you weren’t even sure it was him anyway, no matter how much his face and soft smile left no place for doubt. 

He was wearing a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt that he’d paired with black distressed jeans and monochrome black Converse. Something you’d never imagined seeing him wearing. But some things never change, and the black ringed cap pushed so far down that it almost completely covered his eyes—it made you wonder how he could see anything—convinced you of the man’s identity. 

“Changbin ?!” you almost screamed in disbelief in the middle of the juice section, earning a few glares from the moms around, trying to shop peacefully, and some curious stares from their kids. You didn’t even notice though. 

He broke into a smile, cocking his head in the direction of his still extended arm holding the bottle of juice. 

“Your favourite, right ?” he asked and smirked when your mouth fell slightly open. 

Anticipating your question, he didn’t give you the time to open your mouth again as he explained : “You drank it all the time, back in high school” he said and you felt heat slowly rise to your cheeks, “Can’t remember a day when you didn’t have a bottle in your backpack” he laughed lightly. 

You didn’t know what to focus on : how he remembered your favourite brand of orange juice from high school, how much he had changed, how insanely good he looked ? It was way too much at once for your brain to process. 

“I- uh” you stuttered, not knowing what to say or where to begin. If your internal alarms could stop blaring in your head, it would be nice. “What are you doing here ?” you finally managed to get out but immediately mentally facepalmed yourself. He’s chasing a tiger, obviously. Come on, this is the grocery store, what could he possibly be doing here, y/n ? you scolded yourself.

He chuckled again, the sound ringing in your ears and bringing you back to reality. 

“Well, I guess I, too, need to eat sometimes” he joked and you forced a small laugh out of your throat. Nice job, y/n. 

You then just stood there and stared at him, mind completely blank, as if your internal program had stopped working and the computer needed a reboot. 

“So ?” Changbin inquired, making you widen your eyes at him again, brows arching, not understanding. “Are you gonna take it or not ?” He finished his sentence as he extended his arm even further. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry” was all you could manage to get out as you finally took the orange juice from him, your fingers brushing over his hand in the process. 

“It’s okay,” he laughed again, “I didn’t think you’d be that shocked to see me, though” he smirked once more. 

You rolled your eyes as you put the bottle down in your cart, next to the soy sauce. 

“It’s been years, Changbin, did you expect me to just go and have our super special handshake like that ?” you asked sarcastically. 

“We had a handshake ?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

You looked at him with an annoyed expression. “No, we didn’t, idiot” you said and he just let out a small “phew”, resting his now free hand on his chest as if he had been worried about it. You and him were barely friends in high school, it was more like you had common friends so you were aware of each other’s existence. You’d only talked to him for school projects, seeing he was a rather quiet kid, unlike you.

“Oh thank god, I thought I'd forgotten it” he said. Oh, so he really was worried about it then. 

You shook your head in disbelief. 

“Anyway,” he said as he clasped his hands together, signalling a subject change, “how’s life going ?” he asked and you scoffed. 

“I should be asking you that,” you said, “it was you who had no idea what you wanted to do”. 

He shrugged. “I guess I found it now” he smiled. “But what about you ?” he asked again.

“Me ? I’m good, I guess,” you started, your face felt hotter than before and you were starting to wonder if it were going to explode at some point if it kept going, so you took off your scarf and turned around to put it in your cart with your groceries while you spoke : “I mean nothing really exciting but I have a job at least” you said, back facing him.

“Hold on,” Changbin stopped you and you whipped around, worried by the tone of his voice, “is that a tattoo ?” he asked as he took a step closer, pointing his finger to the back of your neck where the black curves of music notes peeked out of your shirt. 

“Oh that ?” you asked back as he came closer and you turned again to let him see it, tugging your shirt down a little, “yeah it’s a tattoo, why ?” You asked again. 

He looked at it for a few seconds without speaking before he stepped back, allowing you to face him again. 

“I’m a tattoo artist now” he explained and your eyes grew bigger than they ever had in your life. 

“No fucking way ?” You shouted, “That’s freaking awesome !” you exclaimed again and he smiled, fake dusting off his jacket as you laughed and pushed him lightly. 

He laughed and spoke up again : “No, but for real, are you that surprised ?”.

You stopped and looked him in the eye. 

“Not really. You were always really good at drawing, but I didn’t think you’d have the guts to do it, with the whole marking other people’s skin permanently, you know ?” you told him, “thought the responsibility might have been too much, but I guess I was wrong” you smiled. 

You came to realisation that his whole body was covered by his clothes, but surely there was more to see under it all. 

“Show me !” You exclaimed as your hands flew to his jacket and you tried to take it off him, “Show me the art !” 

He brought his arms closer to his torso, trying to protect himself from your hands that were actually tickling him. 

“Y/n !” he called between giggles, “If you want to see me without my clothes that much, you could wait until we’re somewhere a bit more private” he said with yet another smirk. 

You instantly retracted your hands, only extending the right one again to hit his shoulder, earning a wince from him. 

“Seriously,” he said, “let’s go pay for all that and get out of here” he told you, walking behind you to push your cart towards the check out. 

“Oh wow, didn’t it hurt like a bitch ?” you asked as he showed you the intricate designs inked on his elbows, and you grimaced at the thought of the pain. 

He grimaced too, as if remembering it perfectly, “Yup, thought I'd never use my arms again and that my bones had gotten pierced by the needle, but here I am” he answered as he sat back down, facing you again. 

You nodded while still grimacing, imagining if you did it yourself. Elbows were one of the spots you never wanted to get tattooed for that very reason. 

“Wow, I can’t believe you changed that much in just a few years” you confessed honestly, not looking him in the eye as you shook your head down. 

“Hey, you changed a lot too,” he shot back, “and I never thought you’d ever get a tattoo but here you are” he said, gesturing his hand over at you. 

“I have more than one, you know ?” you said, smiling lightly. 

His eyes widened. “What ? More tha- and you didn’t tell me ?” he exclaimed and you laughed out loud, shushing him in the middle of the café—although you were just as noisy as him. 

“Yeah, I have one on my thigh and one on my ribs” you said, smiling proudly. 

“And you were saying elbows must have hurt when you got a tattoo on your ribs” he shook his head. 

“Right” you said, “I must have been crazy to do it”. 

“I’d love to see it” he smirked and you chuckled. 

“Maybe I'll show you one day, who knows ?” you grinned. 

“Oh, I’m sure I'll see it soon” he said and grinned back at you cockily as you blushed furiously and tried not to let it show, biting your inner cheek. 

“A-Anyway,” you said, trying to seem unfazed, “I’d love to get a new one. What do you say ?” you asked, a little expectant. You had seen some of the things he had tattooed on himself, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love his style. It was just... so much like him. It was beautiful, mesmerising even, how he turned every simple thing into a piece of art. 

Changbin’s eyes lit up and he cracked another smile at you. 

“You’d want a tattoo from me ?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised, but mostly flattered, coming from you.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously, duh ? It’s amazing, and besides, you’re an old friend, so that’d mean something else too, right ?” you told him. 

“What you got in mind ?” he asked. 

You shrugged. “Surprise me”.

After that unexpected encounter with him in the supermarket, and after you’d gone to a café and talked for hours, you were now headed to the tattoo parlour Changbin worked at, a week and a half later, ready to get that new tattoo you wanted so much. 

At this point, you were pretty much convinced of two things : one, this tattoo would definitely be your favourite out of all the ones you’d be getting ; and two, you were undeniably crushing on Changbin. 

You felt annoyed about it, because you felt like a living cliché walking around, falling for a guy you’d never talked to that much in high school after miraculously meeting him years later, after puberty had finally done its job (right). But you brushed it off, maybe it wasn’t the right time for you to get into a relationship yet, and nothing told you he was interested in you anyway. You’d probably been staying awake at night for the past days for nothing.

Still, you wanted that tattoo, and you liked Changbin’s company, so at least, you wanted to become friends with him. Who knew ? Maybe one day, he’d even offer you a free tattoo. 

Picking up your pace a little to escape the cold, you walked up to the front door of the shop and pushed it open, making your way inside. You sighed in relief when you felt the warmth on your cheeks, your whole body unfreezing little by little. 

You turned to the counter and greeted the girl behind it warmly and she returned a smile. 

“You’re here for Changbin, right ?” she asked and you blinked a few times, taken aback by the bluntness. “You’re y/n, right ?” she pushed further. You couldn’t do anything but nod. She smiled at you again, although it looked like a bit of a smirk, as she told you to follow her and walked to the back of the shop. 

She stopped in front of a closed curtain and pushed it to the side, peeking her head inside. 

“Y/n is here,” she said, “you ready ?” she asked him. There was no audible answer, but he must have said he was because she stepped back and pointed behind her with her thumb, indicating you to go in. 

You thanked her and pushed the curtain again, curiously eyeing the inside of the room before stepping in. 

Changbin was sitting in his work chair, smiling softly when he saw you enter. You smiled back, feeling your heartbeat pick up a little. 

“Hey” you greeted him, somehow your voice managed to crack, no matter how short that was, and you hated yourself for it. 

Changbin’s smile widened, “Hey” he said back. “Stressed ?” he asked and you shook your head in response. 

“No, it’s not like it’s my first time anyway” you joked and he bit his lip, looking down and away from your eyes. 

“Right” he commented, followed by a discreet chuckle.

You pursed your lips. Way to go, y/n. When would you stop making things uncomfortable ? Probably the day you died, because that was the only moment you’d finally shut up. 

Brushing it off, you cleared your throat, making Changbin look up at you again from his sitting position. 

“So, uh, what you got ?” you asked, feeling the heat from both the embarrassment and the fact Changbin looked like a god right in front of you in that very moment. It was hard to keep your gaze on him, and yet at the same time you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of his figure. 

“Uh ? Oh, yeah right” he came back to his senses and spun his chair around to his desk, pushing a pile of papers as he looked for his design. 

You waited as patiently as you could, feeling your guts twist a little in anticipation while he kept making a mess before you. 

“Ha !” he exclaimed as he picked a piece of paper and held it up, turning around with a proud smile on his face as he showed it to you. 

Taking the paper, your eyes widened at the pleasant surprise you found drawn on it. 

Pursing your lips again to try and contain your laugh, it was to no help as you burst out laughing, bending in half as you held your sides. 

Changbin watched you, smirking proudly. He chuckled when he saw you wipe the corners of your eyes from how hard you’d been laughing.

“Changbin, oh my gosh...” you trailed as you tried to steady your breathing, holding the paper in front of you so you could take a good look at it once more. 

“What ? You didn’t specify anything about the size.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Changbin, that’s not it,” you said, not taking your eyes off of the drawing before your eyes. 

“You don’t like it ?” he asked you, panic suddenly taking over him evident in his voice as he sat straight up. 

That’s when you finally ripped your eyes off the sheet, eyes wide as you thought it was obvious that was not it. 

“Are you kidding me ?” you said, not easing Changbin’s worries with the tone of your voice as he tensed up a bit more. “Changbin, I love it.” you stated and watched him slump back in his seat with a long sigh of relief. 

“My heart is beating normally again” he said, resting his right hand on his chest over his heart. 

“This is genius,” you continued, looking back at his drawing again. The carton of orange juice seemed to be looking back at you on the paper, although it had no eyes. There was even a small orange doodle on it, just like on the one you always bought. You chuckled lightly and Changbin smiled as he watched you. “I just... I never expected this but it’s perfect.” you spoke your mind and looked at him. He was a genius. That was the best thing he could have suggested. It was so much like him, so much like you, and it would mean so much more than anything else would have. 

You handed him the sheet back and he set in on his desk, smile never fading as he spun around to put it down. 

“Where do you want it ?” he asked as he spun around again to face you. 

That, you had not thought of, since you didn’t know what to expect. You shrugged. “Where do you want to tattoo it ?” you asked back with a sly smile.

He pursed his lips, still looking you in the eye, as he thought. 

“It’ll be your arm, then” he said and you smiled, nodding. “Get yourself ready” he motioned for you to take off your coat, “I’ll go get the stencil printed.” he instructed and left the room, leaving you alone as you removed your winter coat and scarf before hanging them. You sat down, looking around at the drawings adorning the walls of the room. You could see which ones were Changbin’s and which ones weren’t. He just had that thing, and it made everything he drew unique and easily recognisable. 

You rolled up your sleeve over your right arm, looking one last time at your skin before it got inked. 

Changbin stepped back in, startling you a little as you hadn’t heard him come back. He smiled at you again and showed you two stencils, two different sizes. Same drawing, though. 

“Which one ?” he asked as he held up both stencils next to each other. 

You thought for a second. “Maybe the smaller one ? It has to fit on my arm, after all” you said and he licked his lips, letting his hands fall down at his sides. 

“Let’s go then” he said.

He told you to stand up and you obliged. Changbin took his sweet time to put on some gloves and pour some liquid on a compress.

He rolled his chair over to you and rubbed your shoulder and down your arm with it. The cold contact made you shiver a bit, although you knew it was mixed with anticipation. You’d never wanted a tattoo so bad. 

“Ok, time for the stencil. You stay relaxed and remember to breathe or it’ll look weird” he instructed and you smiled.

“Yes sir, I know how tattoos work” you told him as your eyes shifted to your right to meet his annoyed ones. 

“Let me do my job, will you ?” he said as he prepared the design. You smiled to yourself. 

He applied the sticky drawing right under your shoulder, rubbing it lightly at the borders. He rolled back a little to look at it and gave you a thumbs up, satisfied. 

You looked at the blue drawing on your arm. This was gonna look so good. 

Changbin instructed you to sit down in his work chair as he turned to prepare the ink and needle. He rubbed your arm with another compress before taking his work tool in his hand and rolling back to your side, the noise the machine made making you bite your lip.

“Ready ?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows as he rolled your sleeve back up. 

“I’ve been waiting for this my whole life” you cracked a big smile.

Changbin cocked his head a little as he scoffed. “Let’s do this” he said.

He brought the needle down. 

You winced a little, reminding yourself to keep breathing and stay relaxed as Changbin ran the needle on (more like in) your arm repeatedly. 

It was almost over, and you knew it, but that was exactly why it hurt even more now. Your skin was on fire after getting pierced through for so long, and you’d been bleeding quite a lot. More than you and Changbin had expected. It was a surprise, because it was only the arm and it was just a small tattoo. Y/n, you weak bitch. 

There were only a few minutes left to endure. It hadn’t taken long, since it was small, and you were glad because somehow, it hurt a lot more than you had expected. Not as bad as the ribs, but worse than you’d thought. 

Changbin straightened up next to you, turning around to grab some paper towels and this unidentified refreshing liquid he poured on your arm before he rubbed it. You felt the pain ease, soothing you instantly. 

He looked at you, eyes shining and smiling brightly : “All done !” he announced, beaming with pride. 

You sighed in relief as you got up while he cleaned his tools next to you. 

“There’s a mirror right there” he pointed at the back of the room, opposite his desk. 

Seeing a small bit of tattoo flashing on your arm in your reflection as you moved closer to it, you couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face, only growing bigger when you turned to see it completely. 

It looked amazing. It was so simple, and yet so elaborate. You had no words for it. No words would do it justice, and no words could express how you felt at that very moment. 

You turned back when Changbin called you to wrap your arm up. As he placed the transparent food wrap around your arm, he asked : “So, anything to say ?”

You looked up at him, blushing at the proximity. Gosh, he really was insanely handsome. 

“I don’t know what to say, to be honest. I can’t find anything to say.” you told him truthfully. “Thank you, Changbin”.

He gave you a lopsided smile as he patted your arm after finishing. 

“It’s my pleasure” he said. 

You stayed there for a second, looking at him with a soft smile. 

“How much do I owe you ?” you asked, walking to your coat to take your wallet out. 

Changbin grabbed your forearm, careful not to touch you on your new tattoo. You turned around, quaking an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“You don’t owe me anything, let’s say it’s a high school reunion present” he said and flashed you an eye smile that melted your heart. 

“No way, I can’t let you do that ! It’s too much” you shook your head, turning fully as he let go of your arm. 

“It’s fine, really” he said as he got up to grab your coat and scarf before handing them to you and pushing you out, hand on the small of your back. 

You made your way back to the front desk, carefully sliding your right arm into your coat’s sleeve as you put your clothes back on before stepping out, Changbin right behind you. 

Flipping your scarf over your shoulder, you sighed. 

“Okay, then I'll get going” you said. “Thank you again, and uh, I'll see you soon I guess ?” you told Changbin, the last part coming out as more of a question as you felt unsure about it. 

He simply nodded and let out a small “Sure” and you awkwardly nodded back before you turned on your heels and stepped out, letting the cold wind hit your face with its blow. 

You could always come back to get another tattoo from him anyway. Maybe you’d meet again at the grocery store. There was a chance you’d run into each other on the streets. Or maybe your high school would finally organise an alumni reunion and you’d get to see him again. Was it going to end just like this ? You couldn’t stand the thought of it. 

You’d been walking a few metres only when you got interrupted in your train of thoughts by a voice calling your name. You turned back, curious. 

Changbin jogged up to your level, wearing only a t-shirt, stopping right in front of you. 

“Wait I-I uh,” he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I just realised uh, I don- I don’t have your number, so if you have any problems or-”

“Changbin,” you cut him off as he started fiddling with his fingers, “just kiss me already” you said bluntly. 

He gaped at you and stuttered something you couldn’t quite make out, but he stepped closer to you and took your face in his hands nonetheless, crashing his lips on yours. 

In the end, you were the one to be surprised. 

He pulled away and looked in your eyes. He seemed shocked at what he’d just done, but showed no regret in doing it. Where had his confident flirty self gone, though ?

His eyes were as wide as yours, not believing what had just happened himself. Still, he asked you : “Wanna do that again ?”

You nodded quickly, “S-Sure, but let’s get back inside before you freeze to death” you told him and he cracked a smile before laughing lightly. 

“I’ll go get my coat” he said as he turned around, “wanna go grab some orange juice at the grocery store ?” he shot at you.

You smiled. There it was. 

———

~admin zia (@jinniesmeow)

#stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #seo changbin #skz #skz writing #bang chan #kim woojin #lee minho #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #fluff #changbin fanfic #fanfic #jinniesmeow

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Breathe darling

Request

Pairing: Tony Stark x teen! reader

warning: mention of suicide, angst, sadness 

summary: reader is a girl and looks up to Tony and he visits her school and sees how smart she is and she has a good family but they aren't super close so he takes her under his wing and she becomes an Avenger and she's bullied so she comes home crying one day after hiding it for so long and Tony comforts her and she tells Tony about how she was thinking about suicide and he cries and helps her? 

Help me out buy me a lo-fi

He remembered the first day he saw her. He was picking up Peter from school the windows were tinted so no one could see him but he made sure Peter knew what car he was in. Soon as the school door opened she was the first one out the door speedily walking down the sidewalk clenching books to her chest as other students slowly trickled out of the building everyone else taking their time. Back then he didn’t think much of it maybe she had work or homework to do either way it wasn’t his business. He had to focus on Peter and his recklessness.

-

He remembered when he first took an interest in her. It all started with her notebook.

“awe man,” Peter said as he took out a notebook from his backpack.

“what’s up?” Tony asked not really caring but he felt the need to ask.

“My lab partner got and I our notebooks mixed up”

“just called Ned up and have him bring it over”

“new semester teacher changed the seating chart so we’ll have new partners. My New Partner is a girl name (y/n) I don’t have her number”

”oh... a girl,” Tony asked he was going to tease him to no end. Now he was happy he asked.

“no, not like that. She doesn't even talk to me unless it has to do with class and even that is rare. Although she is very smart. She’ll usually do her work by herself or whatever I say ... she agrees with me a lot... I guess I’m the leader of our team.”

As Peter rambled on about his new lab partner Tony picked up the notebook and flipped through it. It was amazing on the side of her notes she managed to make little blueprints for small devices to anyone else they would have looked like small doodles but Tony could make out everything and this girl was a genius.

“what’s her name again?”

“(Y/n), (y/n) (l/n)”

-

He remembered the first time they first officially met. After talking to Peter and looking through her notebook some more he decided he needs to meet her. Taking her notebooks he found out where she lived he went to meet her parents first.

“Hello, Mrs. (l/n)”  a woman came to the door she opened the door with her cell phone in her hand she didn’t even bother looking up to see who was at the door. She looked just liked (y/n) besides the hair and eyes, but her hair was obviously dyed. “ I’m here to talk to you about your daughter” she still didn’t look up “ I’m Tony Stark” That seemed to get her attention she immediately looked up and was shocked she put away her phone and smiled.

“Oh my, Mr.Stark to whom do we oh this visit too” she opened the door further waving him in

“um, your daughter (Y/n)”

“what did she do?” she said dread she imagined the worse but quickly changed her attitude now showing cheer “I mean, um, what did she do to get your attention?”

“nothing bad I can assure you,” He said as she leads him to the living room 

“How about I get us some snacks? be right back” as she rushed to the kitchen Tony looked around the room. There were no family pictures on the wall nothing to imply that they even had a child which was strange most families put up family pictures and if not they’d put up awards from there child there was always something to imply children or a child. It was strange there was no sign of her existing. 

“you have a beautiful home”

“Thank you. I hope you like sugar cookies and tea,” she said setting a trace on the coffee table. “now, may I asked how my daughter managed to get your attention? I mean she doesn’t do much”

“actually your daughter is very intelligent. My intern told me about your daughter and I decided to look more into her and your daughter is very gifted. I have this internship program I’d like her to be a part of.” and that’s how the conversation began.

Mrs. (l/n) seemed clueless of her daughter’s talent, not caring for her daughter much at all, and trying to steer the conversation elsewhere he always brought it back on topic or mentioned his soon to be wive Pepper.

It wasn’t until an hour later that (y/n) walked in the door completely exhausted and looked ready to pass out. Tony took note of her wet pants and the busted lip but didn’t say anything.

“Oh (y/n) sweetheart where have you been? someone is here to see you” Mrs. (L/n) mother didn’t notice her daughter’s exhausted and distressed look. “ Come have a seat, come and have a seat “ her mother encouraged. It wasn’t until she was seated that her mother noticed her appearances. 

“Oh, honey what happened?”

“walked to close to the curve and got soaked. And slipped on the stairs up to the subway. You’re Tony Stark” (y/n) took note of the celebrate sitting on the couch across from her.

“Oh yes. Mr.Stark is here to offer you an Internship. Someone put in a good word for you” her mother said squeezing her with excitement. 

“Do you know Peter Parker?”

“yes”

-

He remembered when she moved in it was a few months after she accepted the internship. He started noticing how she came in looking exhausted and when he took her how he noticed how her parents didn’t notice it. They were clueless about her struggles. It was then that he decided to move her and Peter into the Tower. Aunt May was hesitant at first but after a lot of convincing and promises she said yes as long as he called every day and visit home once a week.  (y/n) parents didn’t hesitate said yes immediately and started packing for her, much to both their daughter and Tony’s shock.

“They didn’t put up much of a fight,” Tony said as he leaned up against (y/n) new bedroom door as he watched her put up her belongings.

“yeah... My family is close we aren’t the lovey-dovey cuddly type. If I  tell my parents what’s wrong and ask for help they’ll deliberately ignore it or be clueless to the problem. That’s how my family is.” (y/n) said putting knick-knacks on her new dresser.

“well, I’m sorry to say this family is different. Your problems will be our problems and we’re always here to help” Tony said smiling “now excuse me while I got admire the Iron Man shrine in Peter’s room”

-

He remembered when she became an unofficial official Avenger just like Peter. She also found out he was Spider-Man.

 It was when they were on a mission when Friday stopped working. Everyone had become a bit clueless as to where they were going since Tony no longer had eyes and ears. (y/n) managed to hack into everyone's comms and helping out. Using a computer she pulled up the building blueprints and hacked into the security feed and began to give everyone instruction on where to go and what to do and how many enemies there were. By the end, everything went smoothly and everyone was okay.

“That was amazing (y/n), how did you do that?” Steve asked when everyone returned 

“I’m very good with computers, hacking, and my hands, “  she said 

“really?”

“Yeah, you should have seen her in the robotic competition she got second place. I’m pretty sure first place had connections to the judges so yeah. But her bot was amazing”

“Peter, how did you know I did the Robot competition?”

“teachers were talking about it. I may or may not have been snooping” Peter laughed and (y/n) blushed.

“(y/n) have you ever thought about being an Avenger,” Tony said surprising (y/n) and the others

“ I...um... I don’t have powers there’s nothing special about me. I couldn’t help”

“I don’t have power neither doesn’t Natasha, Clint, Rhodey, and Sam but we still help. There are other ways you could help”

And she did with the help of Tony she built weapons and iron suits for the team. With the help of Natasha and Clint, she trained in combat and weapons. Everyone on the team pinched in to help (y/n) and Peter, but mostly (y/n), train to become Avengers. Before long just like Peter, she was doing small missions and rescues in the city.

-

He remembered their worse day together the day she stopped hiding.

It was a rainy day the clouds gathered so tight it made mid-day look like early night. Everyone was gathered in the common room watching a movie when (y/n) rushed in and up the stairs to her room. Everyone noticed her arrive but didn’t say anything she was soaked to the bone from the rain and they figured she went to change. It was only Tony who noticed her red eyes and sniffling as she practically ran away.

Tony quickly followed her to her room “ (y/n), sweetheart, Babygirl” he knocked on her door hearing her sniffle “what’s wrong, what happened?” he slowly opened the door inviting himself in. She was sitting on the floor in front of the window her back towards him.

“I can’t take it anymore” he heard her cry and saw her shoulders shake “ I don’t want this anymore. I can’t do this anymore, I’m so tired. I tried I really did but I can’t....” 

Tony took a seat next to (y/n) on the floor he tried to pull her into a hug but she flinched away he was then he took notice of the bruises on her arms and face. “oh baby, who did this to you?”

“it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be here”

“you don‘t want to be here? do you want to go back to your parents?”

“No” she cried “ I don’t want to live “ she collapsed into Tony’s chest. He himself let out a sob as his own tears spilled out. He hugged her tight without hurting her. “ I don’t want this. I can’t I don’t know how anymore”

“y-you don’t have to not alone, just breathe,” Tony said crying with her. It broke his heart he loved (y/n) like a daughter and would never want anything bad to happen to her. Yet here she was struggling and he didn’t even notice. 

“I-I can’t -”

“you can I’ll help, I promise I’ll help. Please, breath darling breath” Tony cried as he held her close and kissed her forehead.

“It hurts, I’m so tired, it hurts”

“It’ll be okay, It’ll be okay,” Tony said kissing her forehead as she cried herself to sleep on his chest. And as she slept on his chest and the other watched a movie downstairs unaware of the distress and pain (y/n) was in. Tony promised he’d help his little girl and make up for being blind this whole time.

“Breathe ... it’ll be okay” now he’s just saying it for himself.

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#Tony Stark fanfiction #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark x teen! reader #fanfiction #teen reader #request

[lywinis]

I am...so fucking mad?

Okay, so. What a lot of people don't know about me, that I don't go out of my way to bring up, is that I was almost married once. I say almost, for a reason.

I don't often go into this because for one, it was a rather painful part of my life, and it triggered my homelessness that had me couch surfing for about a decade. I lost my job because I just didn't go, I was depressed enough to consider throwing myself into traffic.

I was accused of many things I don't do, my trust was broken, and private documents of mine were opened and read. Things that were not for consumption, but for me to work out private thoughts and feelings. My then-fiance then decided to use this information against me, in every way he could conceivably do, including but not limited to gaslighting me to 'make me sound crazy'. He wanted total victory in that fight, because it would prove, in his mind, that me asking him to get a better paying job and stop blowing our cash on trivial things was a ridiculous request. Basically, any time I stressed out about bills, he would shrug.

Key notes here: I was working double shifts, two jobs, coming home exhausted. He'd just gotten laid off as manager for one of the jobs I worked at (we worked at separate stores, no conflict of interest). He was pulling in half his checks previous, sitting at home and playing World of Warcraft, while I worked my ass off to suddenly pay for three other people, plus myself. (Our housemates also worked the same job and had all gotten laid off at once.) I was tired, irritable, and obviously Not in a Good Place.

He started this, because I would come home, shower, curl up the chair next to him, and ask how today's applications went. He would get shifty, not talk to me, or tell me he already told me. Things started to move around on me. He kept shifting bills, trying to hide finances. His favorite line?

"You sound crazy."

The breakup was ugly. He downed a whole bottle of Jack and crammed himself in the doorway (he's 6'3" and his hands are about four to five inches bigger than mine, I'm 6'1" and built like a truck). Telling me that I couldn't go, that I couldn't leave, that I wasn't making the entire effort.

I had been, for months. Seven or eight months of this, on top of working, maintaining a presence in an active raiding guild, paying for our half of the bills (split with his brother because we couldn't afford $1000/mo on my salary alone.) He was working as a minimum wage cook at Sonic, because he lost the job my dad got him for security at the casinos.

He tried to accuse me of cheating on him with our then WoW guildmaster. Because I wrote about how I was falling out of love/frustrated with how he was behaving, and how said Guildmaster listened to me vent and how I liked spending time with him. In a private journal, on the password locked partition of the computer that I built with my own cash, with no help from him. There wasn't a mention of cheating, there was no infidelity, I was working out my feelings in private, trying to quantify how I felt and make sense of things. He assumed that because I spoke fondly of someone else, I must be cheating, and that I was lying about it. He had no right to read what I was writing. It wasn't for him. He stole my password and broke into my side, without my consent.

We had a screaming match, I grabbed as much of my stuff as I could, and packed my shit and left.

All throughout this: "You sound crazy."

I moved back in with my dad and cut contact. I was with him for four and a half years. This went on for three. I didn't feel stable enough to leave on my own, not yet. I did what I could, and it's done with.

------

I told you that story to tell you this one.

Sunday, my 6-2 was my lead dispatcher, the woman who trained me. I trusted her enough to have her and her kid watch my cats while I went home for a week to see my dad. Nice enough, I had some issues with her, mostly because she likes to be crude and dropped the t-slur. Note, I'm not out at work, but I still went 'hey, that's not okay', and she waved it off like 'oh, I didn't mean it that way, you're overreacting.'

Fine, whatever, in the interest of keeping the peace, I dropped it. (Didn't forget, I'm not out at work for a reason.) She also has a habit of picking on people when they're not feeling great about something or are insecure. She likes to find that last nerve and tease.

Which brings us to Sunday.

When a Senior dispatcher changes shifts, they do what's known as a pass-on. We write down conflicts/occurrences in an email that's sent to Dispatch and the guard department. Now, some things, we need to be verbal on because they might become relevant to the incoming senior's shift that day. That day, we had a flat tire on the post, and the maintenance guy J told me to have [Our Emergency Tire Guy] fix it. The vehicle remains on site, so no need to move it or have the keys left in it. Guy from the company calls, says he will call back if he needs the keys. Obviously, this needs to be passed on verbally to the next shift.

Now, keep in mind, she's not my relief today. My relief is standing at the counter, I'm telling her all this, and she interrupts.

"I thought the Maintenance guy was named [Not J, but sounds similar]."

"No, it's [J]."

"No, I'm pretty sure it's [Not J]."

I pop open our contacts book and show her.

"Aw, whatever, I just wanted to make you sound crazy." She and the relief laugh. I get my stuff and leave. She later mentions to my regular dispatcher that I seemed off, who asks me later that night if I'm ok.

------

Fast forward to Monday. I had been left a voice mail, asking if I would hold over, and to call Dispatch and confirm, as we had another dispatcher call off.

We have one person training, so I thought this Lead, who trained me, and was training someone else at this time, was going to need me in the senior spot and that she would be catty-corner with the Y-jack and listening to calls. I had a vague voice mail that said to call Dispatch to confirm I was working. The shift lead at that time knew nothing about it. So I assumed I was working senior and left it at that after texting them both to try and get answers, with no clear response.

I'm chilling in the senior spot, I mention I'm hungry and I wonder aloud if our manager will let me pop next door (normally not allowed, we stay on site all shift) for food. This lead then snaps at me that I need to clock out, because I'm really relieving my dispatcher at 0800 and she needs the senior spot. She then huffily states that I'm eating into my OT. (We can only work 12s.)

O...kay. I do as she asks, gently explaining that I thought I was working senior so she could train. She doesn't say anything and just motions me off the station. Okay. Fine. I clock out and go get food, since I have half an hour.

I clock back in as requested, and all day long she's being super nitpicky? Like, asking if I'm ok, if I'm doing ok. The other person picking up my back half of the shift I'm working is coming in at 1130. Lead states "Oh, she wants her full hours."

Finally, after her messing with me the entire day, about ten she stomps hard on my last nerve and I snapped "I can go home, if you'd prefer." She looks at me like I bit the head off a live bat.

Like I'm being crazy. Treating me like I've snapped --because I never work day shift, and only see these ladies in passing, except the lead -- like I'm crazy.

"Do you want to go home?"

"I just want to finish this shift, that's all." We mostly talk about work after that, because it gets busy. My relief shows up at 1130. I've turned around, asked her if she wants me to stay until 12 so she has a chance to eat before she hops on, because we have a window of time. I explain that they made me clock out and the Lead takes issue with that.

She snorts really loud and puts on an annoyed voice. "I made you clock out, like I'm some kind of tyrant."

"I was just explaining to N that I have another half hour here if she needs me to be here, but I'll go home. It wasn't a reflection of you, I was just asking if she needed me to stay."

"...oh."

I pack up and get the fuck out of dodge. Dissociated for about twenty minutes in the car, because it's snowing hard and I need to let the car warm up. I snap to and see the snow's melted. I go home, crash and sleep until midnight. I don't think anything more about it.

------

Fast forward to this morning.

We have a bi-weekly meeting. Normally it just could be summarized by sending an email, but they're mandatory and I like getting paid $28 to sit there for ten minutes while our manager talks to himself. I get there about half an hour early because I stopped for breakfast, so I'm doodling in my bullet journal, sipping my iced coffee, and my boss comes into the conference room to talk to me. This is pretty normal; we talk about my performance because I'm not used to supervisory positions and I like to check my metrics. He asks me about my pass-on emails, and I admit that I have basically what amounts to memory issues due to trauma. So I used to write down everything on a note pad, but recently I've been scribbling everything down in the pass-on as it happens. He says he's noticed an uptick in how accurate my pass-ons have gotten (not that they weren't accurate, just that my timestamps are way more on the nose), and I show him my bullet journal and how I lay out my days. He says I'm very organized.

Then, he asks if I have issues with my lead.

Here's the thing. We don't talk to the manager unless we feel like we can't resolve stuff between ourselves. He's pushy and nosy and listens in on the cameras to see if we're discussing stuff. He likes to micromanage when he doesn't have a project, and it's irritating for almost everyone involved.

What she's done is escalated this upward, to the point where she hasn't spoken to me like she's got an issue, but he says she's been 'trying to hint that it bothers her' and I bluntly told him that if she wants to discuss it, she's gotta be up front with me because I don't do hints. You got beef, you gotta put it on my plate, cause otherwise I'm dealing with my own shit.

She's also the first to get the rumor mill churning by doing this, because she's just opened up the can of worms that is getting the manager involved. She works day shift so she can spread the news that she's being victimized the whole day long, and since I barely talk with 3/4 of the shift, I'm going to get tarred with another brush of 'mean to Lead'. I already have to deal with them talking shit about me because they think I'm a snitch when I'm in there talking to the manager about my own performance. (And that's not conjecture, I've gone and done my final walk of the day and heard people through the fire door because one of our buttons is right there. They aren't subtle.) The only time I've gone to the manager about another employee is when there's potential loss of life, damage to property, or danger to the company -- and that was once, and it was because I had touched the account as well, so he would have slapped around all our timestamps if I hadn't gone to him about it.

So, I lay out my history with my ex-fiance, tell the manager why I felt some kinda way, and that I've worked through it with rest and a hot shower and let it go. I try not to chew those bones unless I gotta, and even then they hurt my teeth. I hate fixating on this shit, mostly because it's pointless and ramps my anxiety to hell.

Then he tells me, and he's laying this out as though having an anxiety attack triggered is the same as being minorly inconvenienced, that this lead is irritated that I take so long to clock out on Mondays.

The thing is, I don't. Usually, I have my pass-on ready to go, and I am up and ready to go by 0725. More often than not, I've held over for her and the other senior who relieves me in the mornings.

The worst part is that I stress cry. It makes people think I'm way more invested in shit when I'm actually not, and you could see him back pedal when I started tearing up.

His response? "Well, she doesn't like waiting" and goes on about how we all have our own idiosyncrasies and whatnot, but I'm seeing red right now. Like, how is this even the same page with what I've gone through??

But, ok, we're talking about me, and not her. Okay. Fine. Cool. I've made it my mission now to get out of there asap now. No more holding over, no more overtime. 2330-0730, any other time isn't appreciated, so I'm not doing it.

I'm just so fucking...livid. Because she's painting me with the 'you sound crazy' brush.

I'm just there to work now, unless a better opportunity comes along. Being nice and doing for others is done now. How's that for crazy.

#I'm so far past done #I looped right back around to mad typing this out #IRL stuffs

[ofwolvesandbutterflies]

you don’t know

NCT’s Jaemin x Reader

Genre: soft angst (like is this even a genre)

guardianangel!AU

A/N: This was kinda a blurb to get my confusing feelings out so. Writing is going really slowly. Still in the process of writing the second part of headlines. Hope you understand, I really truly appreciate you all.

There was something uplifting about walking up to the front of a room and feeling his eyes on me. Something about the shift of his gaze from the random doodles on an article he was writing to me lessened the weight of everyone else’s stares and brought the steady pace of my beating heart up a notch.

Shuffling through my notes, I could nearly visualize the minuscule smile creeping up his lips as I struggled to find the first note card and reorder them. So much for practicing beforehand. Quickly glancing about the room, his deep brown eyes met mine and he flashed me a brief thumbs-up as if to cheer me on.

Recalling his positive feedback from before, I managed a small smile and inhaled deeply before setting my shoulders back, straightening my spine, and parting my lips to present my findings to the board of scientists before me.

“- due to the collective research found in both experiments conducted recently and conducted by other scientist, we strongly believe that the mountain yellow-legged frogs infected with B. dendrobatidis have a much higher probability of survival in higher temperatures as opposed to those in lower temperatures. Thank you for your time,” I finally concluded, thanking my classmates and the scientists for their presence.

A polite round of applause rose in the air as I did my best not to sprint back to my seat towards the back of the class. I took my seat just as the professor rose to dismiss the class, my heartbeat still beating erratically after my spheal.

“Thank you very much, ___ for presenting. The rest of you will go Wednesday. I will see you all then students, you are dismissed.”  

“Psst!” someone hissed from beside me. I swiveled around to see my dear friend’s wide smile. A flush rose to my cheeks and I reverted my attention to packing my notebook into my bag to try and hide the pink.

“Hey!” I spoke back giddily. “How did I do? Did I do good?”

Pushing my backpack out of the way, he wrapped his arms around me, squeezing lightly. My breath caught in my throat and my mind went blank. Though I had known him for so long, I had yet to get used to his random hugs. The beating of my heart only increased in speed when he pulled back enough to shoot me a genuine smile.

“Of course, you always do good.”

Day 10

She seems to like someone. I’ve noticed her heart beats much quicker when she’s around him. The object of her affection is a boy she’s known since fourth grade.

Other than that, she nearly fell tripping over someone’s backpack. I caught her. Someone’s frisbee almost hit her in the head, I was able to redirect it without it being too obvious.

So this is what it’s like. I’ve always wondered what it’s like being someone’s guardian angel.

Jaemin

“Yesss!” I shouted, throwing my arms up in the air in triumph. “I won! You lost! Finally!”

“Whoop dee doo, good for you.” My dear friend heaved an over exaggerated sigh, tossing his left over uno cards down into the pile carelessly. On his lips sat a relaxed smile, nonchalant and content as he watched me boast, dancing my victory dance around the coffee table.

“Calm down, ___,” he chuckled warmly, grabbing my wrist as soon as I neared him to pull me back down. “It’s just an card game.”

The light of the moon and stars combined with the illumination of my aged desk lamp to highlight all the right parts of his handsome face. The yellow-ish glimmer in his eyes from the lamp enhanced the deep coffee color of his irises. His dimples deepened the longer I danced around jovially. I danced around for a little while longer before plopping back down on the mountain of pillows I had scattered around the room and sighed.

“Okay, but you still promised me 10 dollars worth of junk food if I won at least once tonight.”

“Ahh…” His lax smile shifted into a sheepish grin once his promise was mentioned. “You remembered.”

I socked him in the shoulder, an unimpressed frown stretched across my lips. Rubbing the spot I hit him with one hand, he held the other one up in defense.

“I’m kidding, geez. Why are you so aggressive?”

“Because you promised me food and you aren’t giving me food. You of all people should know that food is my main priority in life,” I spoke matter-of-factly, crossing my arms childishly.

“You’re really something, __. You know that?”

Without warning, he reached forward and brushed a strand of hair out of my face, soft smile still present on his plush lips. His fingers trailed down my face, eyes following closely behind. He held my chin for a moment, regarding me with an unreadable expression sitting deep in his eyes. For that moment, it was as if all of nature held its breath. I knew for certain I was.

Nevertheless, as soon as I blinked, he clutched his hand back to himself as if realizing what he had done. His gaze switched away from mine as he laughed nervously.

“Uhh… Should we -uh- head out to get you some junk food?”

As astounded as I was, I shrugged away my surprise and sent him a mischievous smirk.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Day 15

Not only does she foster feelings for this boy, her feelings seem to be requited. I am always able to sense a hurried heartbeat and an increase in the blood flow to her face. Should I be concerned? Is the boy bad for her health?

As her guardian angel, I feel I should be especially aware of her physical health. His presence triggered all these unusual and quite possibly dangerous feelings in her, and he fed her extremely unhealthy sustenance.

I am not sure what to think about this boy.

Jaemin

A loud silence hung in the darkened room. I could hardly make out the outline of my hand in front of my face whilst we lay together, my head on his stomach, one of his hands absentmindedly running through my hair. The dim illumination of the glow in the dark star stickers on his ceiling offered little comfort as opposed to the warmth in the subtlety of the rise and fall of his breath.

Listening to the soft melody of our combined breathing, a secretive somewhat melancholy smile crawled across my lips. Would he ever know of my feelings? More importantly, would I ever find the courage to bring my feelings to light?

“Ooh, hey!” I spoke suddenly, pushing off his stomach as an idea for a short story I was working on came to mind.

“Oof, jeez,” he grunted, pushing himself up onto his forearms up while rubbing the tender spot on his stomach I had pushed up off of. “What’s got you all excited?”

“I just thought of something!” I hummed excitedly, drumming my fingers against his taut torso.

“Pray tell-”

“I think I just figured out how to end that one creative writing piece I’ve been working on for the past month! This would be perfect, I’d just need to wrap up that one section of dialogue, introduce the most obvious solution ever, and give the main characters a boost of confidence and everything should work out perfectly!”

I droned on, trapped in the enthusiasm that came with figuring out how to tie a plot off. Had I only been more aware while listing off all the things I was going to add on my phone, I would have notice the complete adoration in his eyes as he sat with head cocked, attention solely on me. A spellbound grin sat on his lips as he watched me spill my imagination.

Day 22

He feels just as strongly for her - if not more so - as she does for him. I think I’ve learned enough about humans in the past few days to know not to intercept with two teenagers in love.

Still though, I’m her guardian angel. Something tells me, just as it always does, that something is bound to go wrong and that __ will get hurt. I know it’s my job to make sure that doesn’t happen…

However, Jaehyun told me that some types of hurt, humans just need to experience on their own. I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that. I don’t want her to get hurt. She deserves to be happy.

Jaemin

“Urghhh…” I groaned, smacking my head down on the counter, nearly scratching my forehead against the edge of my laptop. My computer had crashed right before I could save my final draft and I was about ready to jump off my balcony. “Stupid. Freaking. Computer.”

“Hey __, is now a bad time?” Someone tapped my shoulder as a familiar, comforting voice spoke and I finally turned to look at something besides the computer screen. Dressed today in a pair of fitted joggers and a dark sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his beautiful smile peeked out from behind a large bowl of ramen and his eyebrows were narrowed ever so slightly in concern.

“For food and a break from being frustrated? Absolutely not,” I spoke, sighing through my gritting teeth. Just the sight of my dear friend was refreshing after staring at the same damn screen for the last couple hours. He sat beside me quietly and placed the bowl down between us. Resting his chin in his hand, he reached forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of my face. A deep cerise colored my cheeks at his close proximity.

“What’s wrong?” He murmured, dark eyes fixated on the section of hair he was fixing. “And don’t bother lying.”

Without a word, my arms stretched towards him and wrapped themselves around his lithe waist. Burying my face in his sweater, I closed my eyes, breathing in his unique scent.

“I’m so tired. I’m so frustrated. I don’t want to do this anymore. My computer crashed before I got a chance to save my work. I’m actually this fucking close to throwing this goddamn computer out the window,” I mumbled into his chest. For a moment, he just held me close, stroking my hair gently.

“How about we head over to the shop tomorrow morning? I’m sure it’d be way easier to fix a slow computer than it would be to fix one that was tossed out a window on the sixth floor of a building.” He spoke quietly, jokingly as he pulled back to look at me. I nodded slowly, more amazed by the simplistic beauty of his dark eyes than I had ever been before. His widening smile jump-started the familiar swarming of butterflies in my stomach.  

“How are you so patient with me? It’s like you’re literally a perfect - well almost perfect - human being,” I asked curiously, reaching up to brush the bangs away from his face.

The arm encircling my waist tugged me ever so slightly closer to him. Out of the ordinary and perhaps in the spur of the moment, he leaned down. His lips brushed against my forehead softly. In that brief happening, my breath caught in my throat and I could’ve sworn my heart stopped. Though my lips parted to express my pleasant surprise, I found my brain could not form even the simplest coherent utterances.

He pulled away, a light pink dusting his cheeks.

“I…uhmm.. I don’t know. I suppose it may have something to do with how beautiful you are.”

Day 28

It is becoming increasingly harder to do my job correctly when often times, so much of me wants to intervene before the chance of __ getting hurt turns up. I know I’m not supposed to feel the need to intervene, especially in the case of an emotional crisis… but I still want to.

She’s not supposed to get hurt. She’s supposed to know that she’s making herself very vulnerable. She’s putting her heart in the hands of another human, another imperfect being, and I know for sure as her guardian angel that something is bound to go wrong. She’s too precious to be hurt.

Jaehyun told me that it’ll be hard to stand by in scenarios like these. He told me that we each fall a little in love with our humans, that we each get the tiniest bit attached… That watching them go through hardship will hurt us as well. But he also told me that at the end of the day, they will get old and die. That we must not get too attached, otherwise…

Nevermind.

Jaemin

“Is that for me?” I asked, pushing myself onto the counter beside pantry. I watched as he bustled around the kitchen with his hair still wet from the shower, only pausing in his cooking to roll his eyes playfully at me.

“Depends. You up for microwaved rice and refried stir fry?”

“I’m good with anything as long as I’m not the one cooking.” Resting my chin on my hand, I subconsciously stared at his bare back. There was something just so attractive about a guy who could cook. For a brief moment, the ambiance in his kitchen quieted, the only sound heard being the onions screaming in the pan.

Suddenly, he covered the pan with a lid and turned, walking towards me. It seemed, like in any cheesy romance film, that time slowed. Running his fingers through his hair, a small smile played at the edges of his lips. The top of his sweatpants sat low on his hips, revealing the planes of his muscular torso. Though I’d seen him countless times shirtless, the sight of him approaching me in that sense brought forth a jolt of excitement in my stomach.

“Hey…” he breathed lowly once he reached me, placing a hand right by my knee. The speed of my heartbeat increased tenfold while he leaned closer. His free hand reached up and I nearly stopped breathing. What was he doing? My back straightened.

However, his hand didn’t stop to cup my chin and bring me into the heart-wrenching kiss I was hoping for.

“Oi,” he grunted, rising up to his tiptoes to try and reach the seasoning salt on the shelf behind me. “Could you scoot over a little bit?”

Almost immediately, my posture slumped and all the butterflies in my stomach ceased to flutter. You tease. You fucking bully. With a sound of victory, he landed back on his toes and rattled the bottle a little bit. Irritated, I grabbed the salt out of his hands and hid it behind my back.

“Hey!”

“You want it?” I questioned, albeit a tad bit childishly. “Better guess which hand it’s in.”

“Look, __,” he sighed. “Did you want food or not?”

I shrugged and offered him a teasing smile. He messed with me and now it was time for payback.

“I dunno, did you want salt or not?”

“Oh come on!” He threw his hands up in air. “Don’t be like that.”

“Guess which hand and I’ll give it to you,” I spoke. Refusing to budge, I gave him a little half-shrug.

“You’re impossible.” Groaning in frustration, he made as if to turn around, fooling me into thinking I had won. A smile built on my lips and I opened my mouth to taunt him... But before long, he spun back around and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me into a searing kiss. His plush lips caressed mine, melting every coherent thought in my brain.

With his toned body pressed flush against mine, a spark of warmth ignited in my chest and spread throughout my body. My grip on the salt loosened until all my resolve gave out. The salt slipped out of my hands and still his lips remained on mine, branding them with his affection. Was the kiss not a distraction mechanism?

Trailing slowly up his sculpted arms, my fingers eventually tangled themselves in his hair and the graze of my nails against his scalp elicited the sweetest sound from his lips. After what seemed like not enough time, we pulled away, our breathing uneven and the slightest bit raggedy.

I stared at him for a while. His hands still rested on my hips, a nervous grin covering his mouth.

“You know-” he finally spoke, voice cracking nervously. “That was originally to try and get the salt from you but I’m assuming by your enthusiasm, you feel the same way for me that I feel about you.”

Smiling softly, I leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his plush lips, an unsaid ‘yes’ silently spoken between us.

Day 34

I don’t ever recall my human life ever being quite like __’s.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to recall ever experiencing love like she had. The rushing of her heart, the pretty pink of her cheeks, the way everything looks better from someone else’s eyes… I can only remember waking up here.

Jaehyun was right. Falling for your human is inevitable. However, despite once being a human, I cannot understand why she continues to love someone so flaw-filled as he. Seeing her continue on a path that will likely bring her some sort of hurt pains me and the heart I once had to a great extent.

But in the end, I suppose there’s nothing I could really have done. She’ll never know of me, never know of my feelings.. And that is why I curse myself for ever having fallen for her.

Jaemin

I walked out of my last class of the day, arm-in-arm with him, the both of our faces all smiles. The day was perfectly sunny today and a slight breeze tousled my hair. I took a deep breath as we strolled, absorbing the pleasant feeling of sunlight and the satisfaction of a day well-filled. But my contentment was short-lived. 

The feeling of someone’s heavy gaze struck me out of nowhere.

Glancing about me for the source of my uneasiness, I made eye contact with a strangely familiar teenage boy. His auburn hair burned a lusterless shade of gold under the sunlight and there was a deep sadness dwelling in his dark eyes. Though slender and fit and quite obviously the same age as me, he stood slumped as if he had just lived through a thousand lives. His pink lips sat in a faint, somewhat melancholy smile.

No matter how I looked at him, I couldn’t place where I knew him from and why he looked so familiar.

“Hey,” I mumbled, turning towards my dear, best friend. My new boyfriend turned to look a me, a smile sitting patiently on his lips.

“What’s up? Whoa,” he paused in his step, eyes narrowing at my stature. “__, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I brought a reassuring smile up to my lips and released my hold on his arm.

“I’m fine, I just…” I took a breath. How would I explain what I just saw? “Why don’t I meet you in the coffee shop in like, five minutes, I think I forgot something.”

Though I knew full well he wasn’t convinced with my story, he pressed a kiss to my forehead and bid me a brief farewell, walking off in the direction of the campus coffee shop. Still intrigued and still a bit bothered, I turned, well prepared to confront this boy and figure out just why he looked so familiar.

Nevertheless, the moment I turned around to try and find him… the boy was gone. I spun around in a complete circle, eyes searching every face around me in attempt to find the boy. It was no use. He had disappeared.

Out of nowhere, a spike of pain briefly prodded at my mind. Once the pain subsided, I was left with no memory of what I had been doing and why I was standing there. What had I been doing…? Shaking my head for a moment, the fog lifted and I suddenly remembered the coffee shop date I was now late for.

I broke out into a jog, a giddy smile on my lips, paying no heed to the voice of the wind and how it seemed to be saying ‘I love you. I’m sorry I fell for you. I wish you all the best’.

Day 1

I am guarding someone new now.

Jaemin

#nct #nct scenarios #nct oneshots #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct angst #nct fluff #nct x reader #neweraidols #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop oneshots #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kpop x reader #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #jaemin #jaemin scenarios #jaemin oneshots #jaemin fanfic #jaemin imagines #jaemin angst #jaemin fluff #jaemin x reader #jaemin x you #na jaemin

[all-hail-the-witcher]

questionable government spies: chapter 1

HERE IT IS !!! ah im so excited ;) ship: eventual sprace, platonic ralbert word count: 3025 warnings: mentions and implications that someone has died (but they didn’t actually so it’s okay), a funeral, mourning editing: probably over edited at this point _______________________________ Chapter 1 Even before Albert crashed his own funeral, Race was having a bad day. For starters, he had barely slept at all the last few nights and his days had been filled with unnecessary paperwork - someone dying on the job always required paperwork - oceans worth of tears, and several failed attempts at writing a eulogy. Then this morning the FBI had called him and told him that he was being relocated to Manhattan to work on a new case in Brooklyn which involved hunting down the nations most wanted gang. This was a problem mainly because the director of the New York branch of the FBI, Davey Jacobs, particularly hated Race and Albert after an incident involving the weapons division almost getting blown up by a rogue terrorist when they were 18. Race had gone to make himself a cup of coffee only to realize he had drank the last of it yesterday. Of course he didn’t have any more coffee, it had always been alberts job to go to go to the store - race refused to step foot inside a grocery store after an unfamiliar ortunate incident involving a snake, and air shaft and a broken rappelling rope. But Albert was dead, well maybe. Race had learned to never assume anyone was dead until he saw a body. He had (probably) died last week in an explosion after the pair had succeeded in arresting a group of men who were smuggling excessive amounts of stolen diamonds out of Atlantic City. Why the diamond smugglers had explosives with them and how they managed to detonate them without dying themselves was beyond race, but that was not for him to worry about. He was only a field agent. And to top it all off he had to attend alberts funeral in less than an hour. Race moped around his and jacks and Alberts shared apartment safe house, sipping hot chocolate- which he detested - packing up only the important stuff for his move to Manhattan. Race had never been organized, so back up coms units went into the same box as his and alberts sweatshirt collection, their array of Disney movies, a bag of ammunition, and shampoo. Thankfully, jack insisted on never unpacking, so all of his things were ready for the move. He had just tossed alberts throwing stars into a box also containing two back up guns and several packets of instant hot chocolate - it was Albert’s drink of choice and he didn’t have the heart to throw it out - when he heard the coded ring of the doorbell. Four short rings, pause, one short ring, pause, long ring short ring two long rings, followed by a longer pause. Then two short rings, pause, one long ring two short rings, pause, two short rings, pause, three long rings, pause, one long ring, pause, three short rings. Race sighed, too lazy to tap back his coded response, and called out instead “hey jack” There was the sound of fiddling with the lock and the door popped open a few seconds later to reveal jack, back for the first time in 6 days, looking almost more sleep deprived than race - albert's death had been particularly hard on jack considering that he viewed race and Albert as the older brothers he never had, so he had undoubtedly spent the last week wallowing in an unhealthy amount of misery and tears. He was dressed somewhat somberly in black jeans, a black ac/dc T-shirt and his trademark black vans with doodles on the soles. Someone - probably his best friend crutchie- had advised him to put on a black and white polka dotted tie, which looked comical with the rest of his outfit. “Race, you know you’re supposed to knock back right? Otherwise how am I supposed to know whether or not I’m walking into a sticky situation?” “Shut it kelly” Race mumbled, throwing his and alberts toothbrushes and some toothpaste into the box with the rifles and the hot chocolate. “That was one time” Jack, choosing to ignore race, flopped onto the green couch and peered into one of the boxes race was packing. This one contained advil, a short range radio, several of race’s t shirts, and a pair of aviator sunglasses. “Race, your packing skills are atrocious,” jack mused, “how do you expect to find anything?” “I dont” race responded, throwing several towels into a box with some mismatched silverware. “Alberts job is to unpack.” “Race,” Jack said slowly, sitting up to look at his friend, Race could see tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. “Albert is dead. He died last week. You were there when it happened. We’re going to his funeral today.” Race let out a dry laugh. “See, that's all not entirely true, Jacky Boy. Clearly you have not known Albo as long as I have.” Jack looked at race quizzically. “But hes-” “Don’t they teach you anything in secret agent 101?” Race sighed, picking up a battered copy of the lord of the rings and throwing it into the towel/ silverware box. “The number one rule in this field is don’t believe anyone is dead until you see the body” “But-“ “Have you seen the body?” Jack was silent. “Exactly.” Race taped the last box shut and looked at his watch. “We should head out if we’re going to make the funeral on time. You have your van?” Jack nodded and the two picked up the 7 boxes that race had packed his and alberts lives into. Jacks two boxes were already in the van. Race bolted the door behind them, reenabling the electric shock doorknob on their apartment/safe house. Something told him that they would be back there soon. ••• “Is this really necessary, jack?” Race muttered disapprovingly as they sat in jacks van, jack tying a pink and black striped bow tie around his neck. “Yes race. We are going to a funeral. The funeral of your best friend, actually. You have to look somewhat decent.” Jack gave the bow tie one last twist. “There” “It doesn’t go with my outfit” race commented as he dug three coms units out of his pocket. “Race you’re wearing all black.” “So?” Race handed one of the coms units to jack. “Put this on and don’t take it out” “Why? Our mission in Brooklyn doesn’t start until tomorrow.” Jack was an intern at the agency. He was barely 17, a high school dropout picked up by the FBI because he was the only person who was able to debug all of their computers after a misunderstanding with the Russians. He had been stuck with race and Albert ever since. They were technically supposed to be training him to become a field agent, but due to his inability to stay quiet in high pressure situations - he had gotten them arrested in Houston 2 months ago and they had had to wait a week for the FBI to bail them out - Race and Albert had limited him to the behind the scenes work in the tech van and he occasionally had to don a disguise and bail them out of a sticky situation. “Just keep quiet and keep your eyes peeled.” Race instructed as he opened the door of the van and began walking up toward the church, jack following close behind. The two sat towards the back of the church incase they needed to make an exit. There weren’t too many people there, mostly just fellow agents from the FBI, a few of alberts acquaintances, but no one suspicious. There was a casket in front of the altar, but the lid was closed. Huh, race thought. Maybe he’s finally done it this time. After about 15 minutes, race had given up trying to remember his eulogy, deciding that he would just wing it, when he was distracted by a movement on one of the rafters above him. Race elbowed jack to get his attention and jack followed races gaze upward to the figure crouched on the rafters above them. Race saw jack clamp his hand on the throwing knife he had stored in his belt. The figure attached a rope to the rafter above them and began to descend slowly. “Get ready to run,” Race whispered to jack, as jack took aim with his knife, not to kill, just to cut the rope the person was using. He figure was about 10 feet above them now. Race saw jack pull his arm back, ready to cut the rope in half when he spotted something. “Jack wait” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. “Look” he pointed up at the figure. jack shifted his gaze upwards at the figure again, following races finger to the person’s shoes and let out a tiny gasp. On the sole of the persons shoes above them was scrawled a single world in large bubble letters, intricately done with several shades of paint. Elbow. Now, to anyone else, that would mean nothing. But, back last year when jack had joined with race and Albert, race had introduced Albert as albo, and jack, being jack, had thought he had said elbow. Albert thought it was hilarious and decided to adopt it as his code name for missions. Then, about 3 months ago they had all had to do a 48 hour stakeout at a factory in the middle of nowhere in Nebraska. Jack got bored during said stakeout and pulled out some acrylic paint he happened to have in his van for some unknown reason and elaborately painted alberts code name on the bottom of his shoe while he had been sleeping. Albert had been quite mad when he woke up, saying that it could blow his cover, but race insisted he keep it because it could come in handy one day. Apparently, that day was today. Albert paused on the rope, turning his face toward jack and race and he winked at them. Race rolled his eyes, Albert crashing his own funeral just meant more paperwork for the both of them. Fantastic. Albert began to swing the rope back and forth until he had gained enough momentum and let go, flipping through the air, once, twice, three times, before landing in a low crouch in the center aisle, causing everyone to look at him rather startled. Race put his head in his hands. Why did Albert have to make such a production out of everything? “Sorry for the misunderstanding everyone!” He called to the small gathering, some of whom were still recovering from shock. “I am in fact not dead, I was just, ah, not where people thought I would be.” Race sighed, shoving a shell shocked jack out of the pew and marching over to Albert, grabbing him firmly by the arm and dragging him toward the exit. “Sorry to keep this short, but we have places to be, you know how it is” race called to the congregation somewhat genuinely as he began to pull Albert toward the exit. Jack was still frozen in shock next to him, mouth slightly agape and race swiftly kicked him in the shin to signal in was time to leave. “Thanks for coming to my funeral!” Albert called over his shoulder just before the heavy church door swung shut behind them. The trio paused on the sidewalk outside of the church, all of them remaining silent for a moment while the sun shone brightly down. Albert pulled the black beanie off of his head and shook out his slightly-too-long reddish hair before looking up at race, who had his arms crossed and was looking at his best friend with one eyebrow raised, and at jack, who was staring up at Albert in disbelief, still mostly unconvinced that his pseudo older brother was back from the dead. “Uh, hey guys” “Really Albert? That’s all you have to say for yourself? No ‘sorry I led you to believe I was dead for a week’?” Race shifted his facial expression into a well practiced glare that he usually reserved for facing down America’s most wanted criminals. “Yeah sorry about that,” Albert apologized, rolling up the sleeves of his black long sleeve shirt. “This was an, ah, unusual situation.” Race refused to back down. “Unusual how?” “Well I may have accidentally stowed away on a ship heading to Alaska after I got knocked out from the explosion and woken up locked in the world’s tiniest prison in a town called Snowfall and had to spend three days convincing the mayor I wasn’t a terrorist despite the fact that I had several weapons on me at the time before I hitchhiked my way back to the states” After years of being friends with Albert, Race was unfazed by this explanation. “And not at one point during that did it occur to you that hey maybe I should get in contact with my best friend so he knows I’m not dead!” Albert threw his hands up in exasperation. “Well it’s not my fault there was no cell reception not to mention that I didn’t even have my cell phone on me and my coms -“ Albert stopped abruptly, finally registering jacks look of ultimate shock. “What the heck is wrong with jack?” Jack took the lull in conversation as a chance to speak up, or try to. “You, you’re not... But you- I thought…. they said that- you were…” “I, ah, don’t think we briefed him about your habit of not dying when you’re supposed to,” race said quietly, all of his previous anger at Albert evaporating. Albert opened his arms, engulfing jack in one of his bone crushing hugs. “It’s okay jack, it’s okay, I’m right here, everything’s fine now” he muttered, absently running his fingers over jack's back. He tilted his head to look at race, “why didn’t you say something to him?” “I didn’t want to get his hopes up,” race sighed. Debating whether or not to tell jack about alberts antideath hobby had been the main cause of races lack of sleep for the last week. In the end he had decided against it, knowing that it would just crush jack in the long run if Albert had actually died. “Hell, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Every time-“ races voice cracked, “every time you pull something like this, it scares the hell out of me cause I can’t help but think that maybe this time it’s real and it’s happened and my best friend is really gone and so every time I spend hours crying because I don’t want to find out it’s real and then not have taken it seriously” race moved to behind where albert was standing with his arms still around jack, snaking his arms around his waist. “I don’t want to lose you albie” Albert released his grip on jack, flipping around to instead hold race. “You know I wouldn’t do that race.” Race, whose head was buried in alberts neck made an unconvinced sounding noise. He let alberts familiar scent of chocolate and cinnamon gum ground him as he remained locked in his best friends embrace. “Hey, at least I’m in one piece this time,” Albert stated, attempting to lighten the mood. The last time Albert had crashed his own funeral had been just over a year ago, a few months before they had met jack. Albert had gone mia on a mission out in California and had eventually been presumed dead. Well, that was until he showed up midway through races eulogy in a wheelchair being pushed by their boss. Race, who had initially thought that his friend was paralyzed, nearly had a heart attack. Later he was informed that Albert was intact not paralyzed, he’d just had a few cracked ribs, several bruises and a badly torn up leg after a run in with some Russian mobsters. He still had some pretty bad scars from that experience and refused to talk about it. “Wait this isn’t the first time you’ve crashed your funeral?” Jack asked, staring at Albert wide eyed. “Course not squirt. This is, what the third time?” Albert knew Race kept track of these things. “The fifth” Race slowly pulled away from Albert and began assessing his friend for injuries. Despite what Albert had said about being in one piece, race knew that his friend tended to hide his injuries. All race could see though was a fading black eye and some healing knuckles. “Really, that many?” He laughed and jack smiled at him. Sensing that the conversation was headed toward the different times that Albert had in fact almost died, he changed the topic of conversation. “Can we go home now?” “I wish,” Race said, beginning to walk toward jacks van, the other two following close behind. “But the agency transferred us to Manhattan so we have to move, and we also have to start a new case.” “Crap, that means we have to deal with Jacobs,” Albert groaned. “I wonder if he’s still mad about us almost blowing up his weapons lab.” “What?!?” Jack shrieked. “You know, that wasn’t really our fault,” Race tried to reason. Albert laughed and turned to jack, “it was one of our proudest moments.” Then, to race, “What’s the case about, race?” “Some gang. It wasn’t supposed to be until tomorrow, but apparently we got a lead and need to get there ASAP.” Race hopped into the passenger seat, Albert popped into the rear and jack turned the key. “Nice nice,” Albert mused. “Nothing like a good gang fight after you’ve been dead for a week.” Race turned around and shot him a look. “Wait a second, you mentioned that we’re moving?” “Yeah.” “Did you, by any chance, do the packing?” It was a well known fact that race could not pack for his life. Everything went in the wrong boxes and he usually ended up forgetting something. Last time it had been albert's favorite sweatshirt and he hadn’t spoken to Race for a week after. “He sure did” jack responded, remembering the scene he walked into that morning. “Goddamnit, Race” _______________________________ so, what do we think?? this fic is my child, probably one of my favorite things I’ve worked on to date. not sure when updates will be, probably when I’ve decided to stop changing the plot of each chapter lol so maybe once a week?? oh I think the morse code says “hey idiots” I think, don’t quote me on that. im so excited to share this with you guys! once more parts are posted the whole thing can be found under #spyboys, feedback is much much appreciated, esp on this fic, send me an ask/ message if you wanna be on the tag list !!! tag list

@fairly-awkward-trashcan​

@well-the-kids-do-too

@racetrackcook

@bouncyscreamingnewsboys

#saphie scribbles #spy boys #sprace #eventually #ralbert #of the platonic variety #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #jack kelly #i love this fic #it’s the entire reason i made a tumblr #i hope you all like it as much as i do #stuff happens later that may make you hate me #im sorry #newsies #newsies fic

[kirbykwan-blog]

You look at me and smell the tangerine (Verkwan)

Verkwan AU

Sadness/fluff/Chubby Seungkwan

This was my first fic, be gentle with me

(Unedited, originally posted on AO3)

It was dark, and the smell of Seungkwan was still there, on his pillowcase. He loved the way Seungkwan smelled, his hair of sweet citrus and his skin of fresh vanilla. Everything about Seungkwan was sweet, his scent, his smile, his personality.. even his laugh. That's one of the reasons Hansol loved to be around him. Boo Seungkwan had been his best friend for three years now, and he wouldn't ask for anyone else to take his space. Seungkwan was a good listener, and always listened to what Hansol had to say, even if he didn't know much about the subject in the first place.

Hansol would give anything up for Seungkwan, he just wanted to keep his best friend safe. He crawled out of bed groggily, rubbing his eyes and letting out a soft yawn. It was already 8:46am, so he knew that Kwannie was already at work. Hansol admired how hard Seungkwan worked, never getting to work late at all. He worked as a music teacher at the local primary school, and the kids absolutely adored him! Hansol adored him too.

Hansol picked up his phone and sent out a message to Seungkwan, just the basic and simple 'Good morning lil dumpling! have a wonderful day!'. He texted Seungkwan goodmorning every morning, he had since they had first become friends. Seungkwan would always giggle at him, telling him that he didn't need to put effort into that every single day. He thought it was plain silly, but Hansol on the other hand, never stopped.

Hansol got dressed the way he did every day, padding out to the kitchen to get breakfast, his smile growing larger at the little stickies his best friend had left all over the small apartment kitchen. Vernon forgot things a lot, so Seungkwan would write a small note to him on a sticky and place it right where he could see it. Some of them said things like, 'Pack a bottle of water and stay hydrated!' or 'Please eat a banana, you need potassium, the bananas will go bad otherwise.' All were embellished with small doodles of whatever had been on his mind. Little clouds and stars littered the small neon notes, keeping the words company.

He grabbed a bottle from the cabinet, turning the sink on to fill the container to the brim with water, just like Seungkwan had said to do. He also grabbed one of the slowly browning bananas from the countertop before heading out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. It was chilly outside, and he really hoped that Seungkwan remembered his jacket before he had left that morning. Despite the fluff on the boys body, Seungkwan still managed to get cold very easily. Not long into their friendship, Hansol had noticed his hoodies and pullovers all went missing. It didn't take him long to find out the culprit had been the tangerine boy himself, snatching all his warm items up because he 'thought they were comfy' and because 'they smelled like apples'. Vernon had no idea why Seungkwan thought he smelled of apples, but he didn't mind the compliment.

He trekked down the street to his office building, smiling brightly at the primary school when he walked by. He waved at the building as if Seungkwan could really see it, which he knew was impossible. He was busy singing little nursery rhymes to the children, laughing as they sang along in their sweet young voices. Thinking about that made Hansol think about Seungkwans' smile, like a perfect crescent. Hansol stopped in his tracks, just to daydream about Seungkwans smile. The way his whole face lit up made Hansols heart sing, his eyes reduced to small bright slivers every time his lips turned up into his perfect bunny smile. Everything about Boo Seungkwan made Hansol so so warm inside.

Hansol began walking again, thoughts of seungkwans smile in his mind. He pushed open the door to his office building, the man at the front desk looking quite concerned. "Mr. Chwe, hello. Its nice to see you so happy today!" he spoke with a small smile.

Hansol returned the smile, "Its an absolutely wonderful day, a bit cold though. Wear a jacket if you choose to go outside, Soonyoung!"

The man at the desk smiled his big smile some more and began to type onto his computer again as Hansol was walking away.

Hansol walked into the elevator and hummed softly to himself, deciding to text Seungkwan that he had gotten to work safely. It was a simple text with a small smiley emoticon tacked onto the end, the one that he found himself only using in his texts to Seungkwan. That's only because Seungkwan made him happy, and he wanted his best friend to know it.

The elevator dinged and let him off, and Hansol pushed his cellphone back into his hind pocket, making his way down the long hallway to his own personal office. Hansols' job wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, in fact it was actually quite boring to say the least. He just sat in his little brightly lit office and answered phonecalls, occasionally even sending out emails. He sat down in the navy blue spinning chair and came face to face with the photo on his desk.

He smiled at the memory, the photo just he and Seungkwan in the middle of New York together. He had brought Seungkwan with him on his trip last year, and it was absolute art to see his squishy little face light up at all of the sights. Of course it was just another big city, but it was the first big city they had ever been to together.

The photo was just a selfie of the two of them standing in Times Square, a smile on both of their faces. Seungkwan was looking up at all the lights, but Hansol seemed to be looking right at Seungkwan. When the boy had asked why he was staring at him, he rolled his eyes and said he was just looking at a Pidgeon in that general direction.

Anyone who knew Hansol knew that it was a lie, but Seungkwan believed it, so he wasn't worried. That was one of the best memories of he and Seungkwan, but it wasn't the only thing Seungkwan related in his office. He had stickies everywhere, just like the ones at home, except they were all white instead of neon 'to fit with the workplace aesthetic' he had said.

Sometimes Seungkwan would come and visit him while he was working and leave silly little motivational notes, or just inside jokes, there was even a sticky that just had a picture of a butt on it. They were all scattered around his office, and he had been told if he took them down he would have his head shaved in the middle of the night.

Hansol would never take them down anyway. They brought color to the office, metaphorically of course. He just worked now, smiling to himself, eating some of his half browned banana while he sent out all of his important emails and doodled on MS Paint, falling asleep an hour or so into the day.

He woke up soon after snoozing, working the rest of the day with no complaints. He finished off his last phonecall and his last MS paint drawing of a cat before getting his things together to go home. After he had taken his short nap, the day went by in grey, he didn't even want to take a lunch break.

Hansol skulked out of the office building, not bothering to say a goodbye to Soonyoung as he started on his way home. Something caught his eye as he was walking, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Across the street was a little cart selling different colors of carnations, and what kind of person would Hansol be if he didn't buy one of those for his best friend?

He carefully made his way across the street, purchasing a dozen pink ones from the boy at the stand who flashed him an angelic smile, he thanked the gardener politely before resuming his walk home. By now the sky was darkening, and all the streetlights were on. Hansol remembered a lot of things, like how once he took a stroll with Seungkwan on this very street once, at this time of evening.

They held hands, Seungkwan wrapped up tight in Vernons coat, snow fluttering softly to the ground. Little flakes danced in the wind as if they were trained to do so, some landing on seungkwans pink nose and cheeks, some even settling down atop his eyelashes. He remembered the conversation they had.

"Noni.. Why is it so cold. Why did you bring me out here in the cold. I'm not a fan of the cold, nor am I a fan of you at this very moment!" Seungkwan had asked in a huff, his face contorted into a pout that looked more cute than actually upsetting in any way.

Vernon had rolled his eyes, squeezing his hand tighter. "I thought maybe if I took someone as warm hearted as you out here, all the snow would melt and spring would come. I suppose I mistook you for someone else, though, because you're just as bitter as the wind."

It had been that point that Seungkwan had demanded they go inside, and Hansol happily obliged, making his friend the warmest hot chocolate he could, trying but failing to make it as sweet as the boy himself.

Vernon was so lost in thought, he almost missed his turn. Almost. He took a left across the road and continued walking until his feet hit the grass. This isn't where he meant to go, but its where his feet were leading him. He almost didn't realize what he was doing until he took a seat in the grass. "Hi, How are you?" He didn't wait for a response before speaking again, "I brought you these flowers, the carnations are your favorites right? And also this." He slid off his jacket, wrapping it around Seungkwan comfortingly. "Its a bit cold, you really should wear a jacket out here you know."

He looked at seungkwans face, the boy smiling back at him like he always did. He reached up and ran his fingertips across the glass of the picture frame, he would have to replace it soon. "I'm just glad it isn't snowing yet, although I'm sure your heart will keep you warm. With you spring is always here. Did you get my goodmorning text by the way? I really hope you did.."

His voice wasn't as bright anymore, not now. "I thought about you all day. I know you wouldn't want me to cry over you, and I swear I don't mean to.." Hansol sniffed softly. "I really love you. I love you so much that sometimes it keeps me up at night. I wish I would have told you that more, I wish I would have bought you more flowers."

He trailed off, standing up, he gently placed the flowers and half the banana onto the ground as if they were glass. As if they were fragile.

Hansol felt so fragile.

He wrapped the coat tighter around the headstone that read the worst name it could, Boo Seungkwan. "Thank you for listening. You always listen. Goodnight, Seungkwan. I hope you rest well.. Please enjoy your flowers."

And with that, Hansol turned away from the headstone littered with dozens of flowers and most of Hansols hoodies and pullovers. Seungkwan had always said that they were comfy and smelled like apples. He never understood how he smelled like apples, but he took the compliment anyways.

He made his way back to their apartment, trudging up the stairs to the place he called home. He numbly walked past the couch where they had shared their first kiss. He walked into the bathroom, where he had first told Seungkwan he was beautiful, even though he had a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and his hair was all wet. Hansol took a quick shower, getting out almost as soon as he had gotten in. He wasn't worried about that now.

He walked into their bedroom, slipping on some clothes, eyeballing the stickies on the bedroom mirror that said bright things such as 'you look great today' or 'I like that shirt!' all kept company by the usual little doodles on them. The notes were like little doodles of clouds and stars on the empty home, little neon pieces of company for Hansol. They kept him going somehow.

He let out a sigh before sitting on his bed, attaching his phone to its charger. He rested his head on the pillows and let out a choked sob, it was dark, and the smell of Seungkwan was still there, on his pillowcase. He loved the way Seungkwan smelled.

END

#verkwan #hansol vernon chwe #verkwan fic #kwaninoni #kpop #fanfic #boo seungkwan #first post #first fic #seventeen #sad #fluff #im sorry #oneshot #one shot #verkwan oneshot

[emotionalsupportoldlace]

Four Times Gert and Chase Shared A Bed and the One Time They Didn’t

Title: Four Times Gert and Chase Shared A Bed and the One Time They Didn’t By: emotionalsupportoldlace aka me, Mindy Pairing: Gert Yorkes/Chase Stein (obv) Description: Title says it all! Warning: This fic contains heavy mentions of abuse.  Author’s note: There is a lot of cheesiness in this fic, because I’m the biggest sap. Also, below are the songs I listened to while writing this fic. I managed to fit in lyrics from each song, so here’s some context.

one two three four five 

This fic is dedicated to the very special and incredible Emma @shesbeautifulandsheglows, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEGEND!!! I hope you like this birthday gift. PS everyone go wish her a happy birthday plz she’s the greatest 💗💖💝💘💞💟💕

One.

Man, oh, man, you're my best friend / I scream it to the nothingness / There ain't nothing that I need

Gert hated sleepovers. When everyone came to stay at her house, it was fine. She welcomed it. She got to spend time with her friends AND sleep in her bed. It was the best! But when it was someone else’s turn to host, she dreaded the concept of sleepovers. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy seeing her friends, or the food and fun that sleepovers bring, but the idea of not sleeping in her own bed made her stomach feel weird. Most nights at her house, she ended up sleeping in bed with her mom and dad. She knew could never back out on attending one of the said sleepovers because they had become tradition and she didn’t want to feel left out. So she pushed through her fear, enjoyed herself as much as she could, and tried her best not to cry herself to sleep while in her sleeping bag. No one was ever to find out Gert was afraid of the dark and sleepovers, because she’s 8 years old! 8 year olds aren’t scared of sleeping alone! Especially GERT YORKES! If anyone ever found out about her deep, dark secret, she wouldn’t be able to take it! She would just die. Once a month they took turn hosting the sleepovers, and tonight was Chase’s turn. His dad was out of town on a trip for work, so it would just be Janet with the kids that night. It was always better when Victor wasn’t around, mostly because Chase was a lot more at ease. Gert wasn’t sure why, but it seemed like Chase was always on high alert when Victor was around. He didn’t smile as much, and that made her sad. In order to assure that tonight went off without a hitch, she packed her favorite stuffed dinosaur and her lucky pajamas into her backpack. Tonight would be okay, she kept telling herself, because she’d be at Chase’s house. The Stein residence, although stifled with tension, felt like home to her. Things were always better with Chase by her side. Out of the seven friends, her and Chase were the closest. She considered him to be her best friend. They’d been inseparable ever since they met, when their parents brought them all together for the first time. It was always easy around Chase; she was never nervous or uncomfortable around him. He made her laugh, and always made sure she was okay. If anyone was mean to her, Chase would come to her defense. In kindergarten Chase made his parents go to the school to get a bully, who regularly targeted Gert, switched out of their class. He got detention in 2nd grade for punching a boy who was making fun of her shoes on the playground. Just this year he broke his arm in gym class when he prevented Gert from falling. Sometimes she thinks Chase gets more upset about things relating to her than she does herself. Chase was just a friend, though. He didn’t give her intense butterflies. She didn’t blush whenever he was around. His hugs didn’t make her feel weak in the knees. His laugh didn’t make her feel a thing. She didn’t think about him every night before falling asleep. Those “I <3 Chase” doodles in her diary were a joke. She definitely didn’t have a crush on a Chase. Boys? Gross. Crushes? Double gross. The idea of kissing Chase? UGH! That night, after all the games of Candyland, the many slices of pizza, and some pool time, the kids were all cozied up on the floor of Chase’s living room, watching some animated movie Gert didn’t care for. She was too busy worrying about falling asleep. Gert spent most of her time worrying amour the littlest things, and it never seemed to get easier. The older she got the worse the worrying became. She hated that. As she glanced around at her friends, she noticed most of them were already asleep. Swimming did tend to tire you out, and they had played together long at all. So why wasn’t she tired at all? Why couldn’t she ever seem to turn her brain off? Her train of thought was cut off by the sound of footsteps. Janet was coming in. Everyone was asleep, so she pretended to be too, to avoid the awkwardness that might ensue. She heard the click of the TV remote, and the room became eerily silent, give or take a few snores. Gert’s surroundings became significantly darker, other than the light from the moon peering in through the curtain. She shriveled up in her sleeping bag and held onto her dinosaur right. Gert laid still in her sleeping bag, turning every once and a while to look at the clock nearby. She couldn’t see if very clearly,  if she knew it was past midnight. It was a curse she hadn’t fallen asleep yet. She shut her eyes tight hoping a miracle might happen and she’d finally fall asleep. Mindless thoughts scurried around her brain and the minutes of restlessness turned into another hour. Gert could feel the lump in her throat growing. She tried her hardest not to cry, hiding her face in her pillow. Out of nowhere, she felt a tap on her shoulder. At first she thought she might be dreaming. Maybe she had been asleep all along? Nope. “Gert?” whispered Chase, who has been asleep right next to her. She reached for her glasses, putting them on so she could see him better. “Yeah?” “Why are you awake?” he responded as quietly as possible. She sighed and avoided his eyes. “I can't sleep. I’m fine, though.” Chase chuckled and put his hand in her shoulder, which sent waves through her body. “I wasn’t asleep either. I hate sleepovers.” Gert gasped, a little too loudly, by the look on Chase’s face. “You do?” Chase nodded and leaned closer to Gert’s face, making her hands sweat. He was all up in her personal space, and she did not care. Maybe she did like Chase, but she’d worry about that later. “I’m scared of the dark. It’s why I have glow in the dark stars in my ceiling. My dad won’t let me sleep in their bed with them on nights when I get super scared, so I had my mom put them up so I wouldn’t be afraid anymore.” He smiled at Gert. Gert felt relieved. Of COURSE Chase was scared of the dark. That was just another thing to add onto the list of things they had in common. “Me too,” Gert replied as Chase climbed out of his sleeping bag. She brought a finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet and not wake up the others. He extended a hand, and she hesitantly interlocked their fingers, holding onto her dinosaur with her other hand. She hoped he wouldn’t be able to tell how sweaty her hand was. He whisked her off towards the stairs, tiptoeing down the hall towards his bedroom. Chase opened the door and led Gert to his bed. Gert felt like she was about to explode. As children, her and achase napped together plenty of times. But now they were older, and maybe Gert had a crush on Chase, which complicated things. He patted the spot next to where he was already laying. Nervous as hell, Gert climbed into bed next to him. She laid quite a difference from him, not wanting to make it weird. “Come on Gert. I don’t bite,” Chase said as he moved closer to her. Their hands were touching now, and Gert nervously laughed as she stared at the glow in the dark stairs that filled the room with just enough light. She turned towards Chase and smiled, noticing he had already been looking at her. There she lay, next to her best friend, the boy she probably liked. It was just the two of them. If this was a dream, she hoped she never woke up. As Gert’s she’s began to close, sleep slowly creeping up on her, she felt Chase ease his hand onto hers. He laced their fingers together, and Gert tried her hardest not to make a note of it. She played it cool, closing her eyes while a smile crept across her face. “Goodnight Chase.” “‘Night Gert.” Gert was content in her surroundings, while holding onto Chase’s hand, right on the cusp of sleep. One gina thought echoed through her mind before exhaustion overcame her... Yep, she definitely liked Chase Stein.

*******

Two.

I can’t get my head around it / I keep feeling smaller and smaller / I need my girl

It’s 11pm on a Wednesday night, and Gert feels like she might collapse from exhaustion soon if she doesn’t finish this English essay she’s been slaving on since she got home from school. She doesn’t know why she put off this assignment for so long, because that’s so not like her. Gert’s not the type to procrastinate, she has a GPA and persona to manage, duh. It’s not that she cares about what others think, she just likes being the best of the best. It makes her feel extra good about herself when she gets straight As on every assignment and project while the popular girls struggle to even get Cs. At least she has one up on them in one aspect.

Her back is aching and her head feels like it weighs 500 pounds. One break wouldn’t hurt, she tells herself. It’s her fault she’s being forced into pulling an all-nighter, so she might as well treat herself. Emerging from her computer chair for the first time in what seems to be an eternity, she gets up and walks into her bathroom, beginning her prep for a well deserved shower. Gert settles for nothing less than hot showers, and she can’t imagine why anyone else would. A scalding shower is what she wants more than anything right now, other than to sleep for the rest of the week. If only Gert didn’t care about perfect attendance or education in general. Sometimes she wishes she could be a slacker, but it just wouldn’t feel right.

All is going to plan until Gert is about to pull her shirt over her head when her phone rings.

“Of course,” she groans, picking up her phone from the sink counter.

It’s Chase.

She eagerly answers, wondering what on earth would cause Chase to call her this late. He’d never admit it to anyone, but she knows he’s an early sleeper. He has the sleeping pattern of a grandpa. It’s cute - one of the many cute things about him.

“Hello?”

“I’m outside. Can you come let me in?”

Chase’s voice is low, and sounds raspy; kind of like how it sounds when you have a cold or you just finished crying. She knew he wasn’t sick - she had just seen him before he left for lacrosse practice and she headed home. So, it must be the latter, which means something is seriously wrong. A pang of fear rushed through Gert’s body and before she could even realize that she was running down her stairs, she’s already at her front door.

She took a deep breath before opening the door, trying to mentally prepare herself for what might be on the other side. Gert has a bad feeling about this, and her intentions were usually right. What if someone died? Oh my god, what if he murdered someone? Her thoughts ran rapid, and she wished her constant negativity could take a break for a second.

Fuck.

You know how Gert is usually right? This time was no exception.

She opened the door to find Chase, in his lacrosse hoodie, arms crossed and face hidden. “Bad sign,” she tells herself. His demeanor is off, shoulders down and his body language was off, which was odd. With Gert, Chase is always an open book. They tell each other everything. 

At least that’s what she thought.

Gert doesn’t say a word to him; just leads him up the stairs into her room, quiet enough so no one hears. Dale and Stacey wouldn’t care anyway, because they love Chase and they’re chill like that, but since she doesn’t know the context of the situation at hand, she doesn’t want to get them involved (yet.)

When they enter her room, he sits on the bed and looks down at his hands, fidgeting with them like usual. It’s one of his nervous habits. Chase has been accustomed to never showing his emotions in the realest sense, except for when he’s around her. That’s how he was raised. She sits down next to him, and gently places her hand on his knee, letting him know that she’s there but still not forcing anything out of him. She thinks she hears a soft sniffle when Chase raises his head, removing his hood.

What was underneath is something Gert knows she’ll never forget.

There’s a bruise forming under his right eye, fresh blood still running from the gash on his cheek, peppered with tiny cuts all over his face. She swears she can still see glass in his hair.

She tries her hardest not to react, but she can tell she’s not doing a very good job. Gert can’t take her eyes off him or the blood drying on his lip, which is also swollen. The pain written all over his face, exhuming from his body, is too much for Gert to handle, but she’ll try for him, because she knows he’d do the same.

“My dad...he just lost it, you know? He fucking lost it, and I just so happened to be there, so I was the one he took it out on. Like usual. But it was worse this time Gert. Oh god - I didn’t mean to...to tell you like this. I know we’re always so honest with each other but I was so scared. Scared that if he knew I told...that he would hurt you too.”

Gert can barely breathe. Her suspicions all these years were right. He’d mention here and there how awful his dad was to him and Janet but she never thought...she didn’t know. Oh god, she felt so guilty.

“Chase,” Gert replied breathlessly. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

She reached for his hand and he quickly pushed it away, reaching his hands up to pull off his hoodie instead, revealing the carnage on the rest of his body. Gert couldn’t hold in her gasps any longer. She looked at Chase as the tears began to form in her eyes, lip quivering. Her hand found its way to his chest, soaked in blood. It was a wonder the cuts weren’t deeper, you would have thought by the sight of his white-now-red tank top. Her fingers trailed up and down, trying to take in what she was seeing. She so badly wanted this to be a bad dream, but she knew it was real and that she needed to take action.

“He threw a vase, and then knocked me over into the mirror in our dining room. Then he started throwing punches. I was defenseless. I came over here almost as soon as he gave up and left. My mom’s visiting family, she’s not home, I normally wouldn’t have come here but...I didn’t want to be alone. I was so scared to be in that house even with him gone.”

Gert could feel the pain in his voice. His entire body was still shaking.

"I'm always here. I'm not going anywhere," she replied. He still wouldn't look at her.

Gert placed her hand beneath his chin, lifting it up ever so delicately. "I mean that Chase," she started, "you never have to be alone."

This statement broke his cold exterior. Chase began to cry, sinking into Gert's arms. She ran her fingers through his hair, rubbing his back with her free hand. His body shook from the sobs leaving his body. Gert's sadness for him quickly turned to anger. God, she wanted to fucking MURDER Victor Stein. She'd only seen Chase cry one other time, and that was when he dropped his ice cream that one summer day when it was extremely hot and they were all over tired from playing at the beach all day. That was a tired cry, but this was a real cry. This was the rawest cry she'd ever witnessed. All she could do was be there for him. Finding the words to say became increasingly harder as his cries died down. Gert knew nothing could make this better, she just hoped her comfort could help the tiniest bit.

"Sorry," Chase muttered, pulling away from their embrace, hands still lingering atop of her own. He shook his head, wiping the excess tears from his face. "I'm a mess."

"You're not a mess. There's nothing to be sorry for," Gert said, "and you can cry all you need to. Or scream. Whatever else you need."

He looked at her, a smile finally emerging on his face. God, she thought she'd never see him smile again. "What would I do without you?"

She laughed. They had moments like this often. Borderline romantic. Flirtatious and playful. Gert never knew what they meant, if they had any meaning at all. They had this unspoken thing between the two of them that they never touched on. It was pretty apparent to everyone else that the two had something there, but they never did anything about it. Who knows if they ever would.

Gert took his hand and lead him into the bathroom to clean his cuts. "Nurse Gert to the rescue!" she said, and Chase burst into laughter, which made her heart soar. She really, really loved his laugh, and how it brought his dimples out to play. His dimples were her weakness. He removed his bloodied tank top and threw it in the garbage, and now Gert was alone, in her bathroom, with a shirtless Chase. Right now was not the appropriate time to freak out over this, but she felt her heart speed up and she desperately hoped he wouldn't notice the subtle change in her demeanour. After a few tiny screams (that Chase would never admit to), the dried blood on his body was gone and some of the wounds were covered with bandaids (they were Marvel band aids, which Chase didn't atest to, making sure Captain America was on all of them) but the evidence of the night's tragic events were still there, his black eye still forming. She hated seeing him like this, so vulnerable.

They both left the bathroom, walking back to her bed, and Chase picked up his hoodie, throwing it in Gert's clothes basket. "Just get it back to me when it's clean, okay?"

Gert nodded. He began walking towards the door, and Gert about lost her mind. Did he really think she was going to make him go home? She rushed in front of him, blocking the door. "You can stay here Chase. You're crazy if you think you're leaving this home tonight."

His eyes widened, stunned by her bluntness. "Thank you. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"You don't have to. This is friendship, you dweeb. Now get into bed," she ordered, shutting her laptop still open on her desk. There was no way she was finishing her work now, she'd probably end up missing school tomorrow anyway. Perfect attendance and amazing grades didn't matter when someone was in need, especially when that someone was Chase.

"Ooookay mom," he said, getting under the covers of her now occupied bed. Oh my god, a shirtless Chase was in her bed. Gert dreamed of this moment so many times but she never imagined that it would a) ever happen and b) under these circumstances. On any other day, she'd probably just sleep on the floor. But he didn't want to be alone, right? It wouldn't be weird doing it this one time, would it? No, definitely not. Not weird at all.

She turned off the lights in her room and followed suit, crawling in next to him. Gert laid silently, facing the wall, trying so hard to keep her cool, but that was useless once she felt Chase's arms wrap around her abdomen, molding his body around her own. He interlocked their legs and buried his head into her neck. Oh my god, he was cuddling her.

"Is this okay?" he whispered into her ear, sending shivers up her spine. It would seem he could tell she was freaking out. She nodded. "It's okay if it's okay with you," she replied.

"It is. Thank you Gert. Thanks for always saving me," the softness and sincerity in his voice filling the now quiet room.

"Anytime."

She'd worry about that paper tomorrow.

*******

Three.

Honey, I wanna break you / I wanna throw you to the hounds

Gert and Chase were bickering. Again. For the third time that day.

They had been on the road for 5 hours now, in search of an abandoned motel to stay in. To no avail, they weren't having as much luck as they did with the vehicle they stole. They found an old van in an alleyway, keys still in the ignition. Go figure. Whoever was so careless to leave behind something so valuable was now their saving grace. Their hero.

It was Nico's turn to drive, and if this van wasn't filled with people she loved and adored, she'd probably run herself off the road right now. Not because of the fact that they were homeless, without cash, had no food, and that she was exceedingly tired, but because Gert and Chase wouldn't shut up.

She knew about their hookup, and she was the only one who knew that the two of them had admitted that they had feelings for each other. Nico wished they would both buck up and just get it over with already. They were meant to be together since they were four years old.

Apparently everyone knew that except for them. It was exhausting to watch them pick at one another and then see them staring longingly at the other when they weren't looking. That's how things had been ever since the night they ran away, and it got worse every day. They would argue over the stupidest things, one of them would get their feelings hurt, and then they would sulk for the remainder of their long days, refusing to speak to each other. So annoying.

Chase was like a love sick puppy. You could tell all he thought about was Gert. He thought she didn't want him, when Nico knew it was the exact opposite.  Gert, on the other hand, was better at hiding her feelings. She was also going on two weeks without her medication and her outbursts were getting harder to control. Nico had taken it upon herself to calm Gert down when things got bad, but lately even that wasn't working. She was suffering in plain sight and they all knew that, especially Chase. No one knew what to do about it.

Nico felt so badly for her, but she knew that if Gert would just TALK TO CHASE, things might get even the slightest bit better for her. But nope. Every time Nico tries to tell Gert that, Gert lifts a finger or a hand, tells her to shut up, and leaves her alone for the rest of the day.

That's okay though, because Nico has been up to something. She's been planning something for the past few days and everyone else was involved. Except for Gert and Chase, of course.

They just had to find a motel.

---

Hours later, Nico came upon a ratty motel that was still livable. There were still separate room intact and beds to sleep in, with working sewage systems. They could sleep! They could shower! Most importantly, Gert and Chase would finally get to talk! They wouldn't have to be annoyed by their best friends anymore!

The plan was that Alex would get his own room, so he could be on the lookout for the night.  He slept most of the way to the motel anyway, and was already good at all nighters from his many nights of gaming. Old Lace would stay with him to help and to keep him company. Molly, Karolina and Nico would share a room, because Nico wanted to room with Karolina and not Alex, obviously. Somehow,  Alex still had no idea about Karolina and Nico, but that was another thing to deal with on another night. Gert and Chase were the priority. So, it was decided that Molly would stay with Karolina and Nico, so Alex wouldn't suspect anything and so Gert and Chase would be forced to stay in the same room together.   

To no one's surprise, Gert was NOT happy about this idea.

"Why can't Molly just stay with me? She's my sister!" she exclaimed while pacing around the parking lot of the motel.

"Because Gert, I want to stay with Karolina and Nico. Bonding time outside of the van is important," Molly replied, "and no offense, but you snore."

"I DO NOT SNORE!"

The rest of the group struggled to not chuckle as they watched Gert throw the fit they all had anticipated. Chase stood off to the side, trying not to get in the middle of it all, not wanting to make things worse. He knew he wasn't Gert's favorite person at the moment so he didn't want to add fuel to the fire, even though he didn't really know what he ever did to her.

"It's just for one night, Gert. It's not the end of the world," Karolina remarked. Gert huffed and threw her hands in the air.

"I give up."

She picked up her bag and stomped off in the direction towards the designated room her and Chase were assigned. Chase looked around at everyone, bewildered, and followed behind her, keeping his distance.

"Boy is he in for a fun night," Alex said, while everyone else erupted into laughter. They were terrible friends, but it was for their benefit. They'd thank them later.

---

Gert hated her friends. She hated them so much. All the love she had in her heart for them had been poisoned into hate that day. Gert knew they planned this and wanted her to be miserable. Why did her friends have to care so much about what was going on between Gert and Chase? Nothing was going on anyway. They weren't anything at all. They didn’t even act like friends anymore. All they did was fight and disagree. Now she was stuck in a room with just him for a night. Gert couldn't think of anything more torturous than that.

At least there was two beds. They weren't smart enough to check to see if the room had one bed. Gert had one-upped them. She was beating their master plan.

She was sitting on her bed, reading some book she had picked up on one of their thrift store runs. Sometimes in between picking out some new clothes, she would grab a book or two to occupy her time. Her mind was a mess these days, between Chase and not having meds. It was nice to have a distraction every once in a while. Chase was in the shower, and Gert wished he would just sleep in the bathroom. Anything to keep her away from him in such close proximity. She had already showered earlier and was nice enough to not use all the hot water. She wasn't that terrible of a person. They hadn't said a word to each other since they entered the room and Gert assumed it would stay that way until tomorrow. At least she hoped.

Gert was in the middle of flipping a page in her book when the bathroom door opened. "Damn it," she said under her breath, taking a glance up to see a newly cleaned Chase in just a towel.

Steamy, extremely ripped, wet Chase in a towel.

Gert couldn't help but bite her lip. She covered her face with her book, hiding her blushing cheeks. She could feel how red they had gotten. The feelings rushing through her body needed to quit. Now wasn't the time for her hormones to be acting up. There was no time for pleasure, especially in a motel room this small with walls as thin as paper. God. She could feel herself getting warm. Why did Chase have to be so fucking HOT?

She pretended to read her book while he got dressed, sneaking a glance every now and then, hoping he couldn't tell she was peeking at him. And his ass.

Chase had a really nice ass.

Get a hold of yourself girl. That doesn't matter. It was a one time thing. Chill. She kept telling herself that. It's what she's been repeating to herself since that night before they ran away. It was never going to be anything and she needed to remember that. Or at least convince herself to believe that.

She got so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice he had already turned off his light and gotten into bed. Gert followed suit, switching her own lamp off and laying her book on the nightstand.

The room was uncomfortably silent and the divide (filled with an abundance of tension) between the two small beds could be cut with a knife.

Neither of them pretended to sleep. That was a useless tactic. They were both insomniacs on the run.

Chase was doing his best to avoid Gert because the last thing he wanted was to fight her again. He was so tired. Tired of running, tired of feeling, tired of pretending like he wasn't irrevocably in love with Gert Yorkes. She was all he thought about and it seemed with every passing day that she hated him more. Gert's anxiety was the worst it had been in years, seemingly because she had no medication, and he hated seeing her hurt. All he wanted to do was protect her, to hold her, to tell her it would all be okay. But no matter what he did or tried, she wouldn't let him in. She continued to push him away more.

Laying in this motel room scared him. He was almost afraid to breathe. Chase felt like that a lot around Gert. Not because she terrified him, but because the love he had for her had taken over his body like a sickness. He had been possessed by her. Her touch haunted him, her laugh echoed in the rare quiet moments they all had. And her kiss...it was all he thought about. He wanted to kiss her again so badly. Not knowing the night at the dance would be the last time he'd ever kiss her was something he wished wasn't his reality.

He didn't sleep much these days and when he did it was because his body couldn't stand being awake anymore. When exhaustion took over, he slept for eternities and dreamed of being with her. Chase knew he wouldn't sleep tonight, and he hated that, because the person he wanted most was less than two feet away from him and he couldn't have her. That was enough to cause never ending insomnia.

Chase wondered what time it was. This room didn't have a clock, go figure, and he had left his watch in the glove compartment of the van. He had nothing to occupy his time, especially in the dark. The moon wasn't even in view. He turned over on his side and of course, Gert was facing the other way. Part of him was relieved, but he was mostly sad.

He remembered their sleepovers as a kid. They always had so much fun together, and at night when they couldn't sleep because they were afraid of the dark, they'd play silent games or sneak off to a bed to sleep in together. They had the most unconventional friendship as children. It was pure and untouchable. But then they got older, and things got in the way. Feelings, fathers, death, fake popularity, and the fact that their parents were murderers. When the group got together again, Chase thought Gert might re-enter his orbit, and the rekindling was there until they fucked it all up. Until he fucked it all up.

They had sex and he wanted more, she didn't, she shut him down and he didn't speak up. He didn't tell her the truth. Chase was always so loyal to Gert. They would tell each other anything, and their few secrets never stayed hidden for long. Before Amy died, Gert was his safe haven, the only person who had never judged him. She knew everything about him and was there for him whenever she needed him. When Gert said it was a one time thing, he reverted back to the young boy who was taught to hide feelings, who was told to never show weakness. He should've told her it wasn't a one time thing that night, but instead Chase let Victor Stein's “Steins don’t show weakness” mantra get into his head at the worst moment. The moment that could've changed everything for the better but instead made everything worse.

He sighed, shutting his eyes, hoping he'd get in at least a few hours of sleep. It was worth a try. But his wish was soon cut off by the sound of a sniffle and slight movement.

"Gert?"

No reply.

Another sniffle. More movement.

A few moments went by before Chase tried again.

"Gert?" he whispered. No response again.

Of course. Damn it! Gert thought Chase was asleep and that he wouldn't hear her. Her stupid emotions caught up to her in this dark room and she had to release. She could only keep things to herself for so long. Her therapist always told her it wasn't good to build up emotions, but what did she know, she'd never been on the run with her friends and the boy she's loved since she was in preschool. She wasn't on the runs without her MEDICATION! So on days when Gert found herself alone, she'd let herself cry so no one would see. Clearly her mind didn't get the memo, because here she was, crying, in a room she shared with him. Chase Stein. The one she wished she could forget. The man she knew wouldn't let her cry softly to herself.

Nico's stupid plan was working. Ugh.

Chase couldn't stand it anymore. He got up from under the covers and crawled into Gert's bed, making sure not to touch her or say a word. It was her decision to react, or push him off the bed. He made his move. The ball was in her court.

Much to his surprise, she turned over to face him, tear stained cheeks and all. She continued to cry as he looked at her, absentmindedly moving a hand to her shoulder.

"I'm so scared," she choked out between sobs. Her crying only began to get worse. Chase hated when Gert cried.

"Everything is terrible. I don't have my meds, we don't have a place to live, Molly misses our parents, I miss my bed, we're probably going to prison, and on top of everything else, you- you're just- you're you. I don't even have you anymore. I have nothing anymore."

Chase’s heart shattered. He moved his hand from her shoulder to her cheek, stroking it gently. "You will always have me, Gert."

She shook her head. "I ruined this. My stupid mouth, my stupid brain..." Gert choked out, "ruined us."

So there was an "us." Chase thought to himself.

"It's not ruined if you don't want it to be. I know I don't want it to be."

Bam.

The truth was out there.

Gert's eyes narrowed. Her heart sped up. It was now or never. Even though Nico will get the satisfaction she desired, this is your only chance. Don't fuck this up, Yorkes.

"I don't want it to be either."

Chase now had both of his hands on her face. In the dark of night, four bright eyes lit up like stars for the first time in what seemed to be an eternity. Their lips naturally found their way to each other, Gert draping her body over Chase's. Soft kisses turned to heated making out, all that built up sexual tension leaving their bodies for the last time. When they were finished, all that kissing (and crying) left them exhausted.

So of course they slept in the same bed. "No need to separate when our body heat can keep each other warm," Gert had said.

Nico's plan had worked. And Gert would never tell her, but god was she thankful her best friend was as conniving as her. She'd tell her someday.

Maybe at the wedding.

*******

Four.

We don’t have forever / Baby daylight’s wasting / You better kiss me / Before our time is run out

At the hostel, Gert and Chase decided to share a room. There wasn't a reason for them to separate. They figured no matter what, they'd end up in the same bed by the end of the night anyway. Instead, Old Lace got her own room to chill in. She loved it, especially when she needed her space away from the humans. Dinosaurs have feelings too, you know. Most nights, though, she ended up sleeping in their room, on Chase's side.

Ever since Gert and Chase got their shit together, Lace had warmed up to Chase. She's always wanting to lay on Chase or play with him. Gert thinks it's adorable, Nico thinks it's crazy that Gert's feelings are so intense for Chase that they've spread to her dinosaur, and Molly is sad that she's not Lace's favorite anymore. "Lace has more than one favorite, Molly. She loves you," Gert remembers to tell her every so often. Molly has lost so much of her innocence already, Gert won't let her lose anything else.

Their bed is the biggest in the house, not because they're a couple, because so are Karolina and Nico, but because some nights Molly would sleep with them too. Originally they had a smaller bed, but on their first night in the hostel Molly got scared and ended up sneaking into their bed. Chase woke up that morning with a full head of curly hair covering his face.

It was cute, how Molly had taken to Chase. They always had an interesting bond and Chase had always seen her as a little sister, but in some ways he had now taken on the paternal role in her life. He disciplined her, gave her chores to do, and would read to her every night before bed. It had become part of his daily routine, he told Gert, and he loved doing it. They also strength trained together every day with nonsensical house items, which brought them even closer.

Gert loved how much Chase loved Molly, and how much he loved her dinosaur. But mostly she really loved Chase. She really, really loved Chase.

And he knew it.

It happened that one spectacular night, when Molly was fast asleep in her own room. They laid cuddling in their own bed, clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, their bodies intertwined. Chase was mindlessly playing with Gert's hair, which she loved. She was basking in their glow, fingers trailing up and down his chest. He placed a kiss on the top of her hair, which was much longer now and hadn't been properly dyed in month. Chase made a mental note that they'd have to get hair dye on their next grocery run. Gert would never speak up about needing anything, because lately luxuries don't come easy to them, but that doesn't mean he can't get it for her. There wasn't any way she'd flip out as much as she did when he snuck off to get her meds. Chase really thought Gert was going to murder him in cold blood that night. He couldn't stand to see her suffer anymore, so him and Alex came up with the perfect plan so that Chase could get into the Yorkes' home to find her meds and leave. Everyone else approved, except for Gert, who was unaware of the night's events (which went off without a hitch!) until she woke up the next day to Chase holding a bag out in front of her, which contained her meds and a few other things from her bedroom, including her super old stuffed dinosaur that she slept with until they ran away. She threw the bag at him and berated him for two hours, telling him he was foolish and that she wasn't worth the risk. Over and over Chase reiterated that she was, that this wasn't a mindless mission because her health was at risk, and that he would do anything for her just to make her happy. Eventually she gave in, told him thank you, and promised that if he ever did anything like this again that there would be hell to pay.

Ever since then, things had been so much better. Gert's anxiety was under control and they were living in permanent bliss, just like they were right now.

"Chase?"

"Yeah, babe?"

Gert looked up at him, pausing for a second, as if she was finding the right words or the courage to speak.

"I love you."

I know, Chase thought. But this wasn't the time for a Star Wars reference.

Gert was the first to say it. THIS was huge.

He smiled at her and kissed the tip of her nose.

"I love you too."

*******

Yours was the first face that I saw / I think I was blind before I met you

Gert and Chase had met for the first time when they were four. Wide-eyed and overall clad, with light up sneakers and pigtails. They grew up together, going through every awkward stage together. Best friends forever. They had the greatest group of friends and they had each other. Every heartbreak, every serious injury, every life event. All the school concerts, the sports games, school plays. They lived through it all side by side. When Amy died, they drifted apart, but it didn't take long for them to find another again, but then unthinkable happened. Their parents were murderers, one thing lead to another, and soon they found themselves on the run.

But they weren't alone.

Gert had Chase and Chase had Gert.

They had loved one another since they were little, but those childhood crushes had blossomed into a full blown relationship. A very serious relationship. They said I love you for the first time naked in their bed after mind blowing sex. Nothing about them was conventional. At the time, they literally lived in an underground mansion that could collapse at any time. Normal didn’t exist anymore.

Being in such close quarters for so long intensified their relationship. They fought hard, but loved harder. Every day brought a new milestone for them. Things were moving fast.

The night Gert almost died changed everything for them. It happened during the final battle between their parents. They had just defeated Jonah when he had one final punch left, targeting Gert with his wrath. Karolina was caught off guard, and came to Gert’s defense too soon. She still blames herself today, even though Gert is very much alive and healthy. Nico healed her after everything had finally ended. Chase kissed her harder than he ever had in his life as she came back to him in his arms.

None of it seemed real. Jonah was gone, Gibborim was done with, and their never ending nightmare was over.

They were free to live normal lives again, if they even knew what that meant. Living on the run changes you as a person and their perception of life had changed so much over time. Freedom felt like a blessing and a curse. They had to learn how to live again.

For Chase, he knew what he had to do almost immediately. Just the thought of living life without Gert shocked him into overdrive. He proposed outside the hostel with one of Nico's old rings, and promised her he'd get a better one eventually. She accepted and said he didn't have to, that she would've accepted a ring pop.

They vowed to enroll at school (because they had already gotten their GEDS since they never graduated) and get jobs before the wedding. After they both got accepted to their dream schools, they used their savings to buy a home and got stable jobs (Gert worked as a receptionist, Chase surprisingly got a job as a nanny - kids really took to him.)

They got married at the end of summer.  It was a very intimate wedding and they only invited the core group. Old Lace was their flower girl, at Chase's request. Molly was the maid of honor, and Nico was the officiant. She swears she didn't ,but she cried the whole time. They spent their honeymoon at home, deciding that they had already spent so much time away and that they would rather spend an entire week off of school and work eating bad food and watching TV, with lots of sex in between.

Years went by and things slowly but surely got back to normal. Gert and Chase got into a good daily routine, and no matter how busy their days are, they always make time for each other. They still live in the small house they bought straight out of the hostel in Los Angeles. They’re as in love as they were when they were teens. Old Lace still lives in the basement. They have a cat now and her name is Jane. Both having graduated from college, they now have steady jobs, and they’re both doing the things they love. Chase is a science teacher and Gert works as a mental health counselor. She never imagined herself as one but life lead her there, and she loves helping people who are experiencing the same thing she still lives through every day. Who would’ve thought Gert and Chase would’ve ended up being so content? Life seemed so dark and pointless for the two for so long. They imagined they’d be on the run forever. Now they’re here, living their dreams, loving each other day in and day out. They’re in their late twenties and they’re happy. Everything is great. That, is until, Gert realizes she is late. Very, very late. Work had gotten so hectic lately, and it was the holiday season, so when she wasn’t working she was Christmas shopping, or at a Christmas party. She had lost track of time. It was a week before Christmas when she bought a pregnancy test and the results weren’t surprising: A big fat positive. She took four more to make sure, and yep, she was very much pregnant. Right before Chase got home that day, she vomited twice, and she wasn’t sure if that was pregnancy induced sickness or just nerves - or both. They had talked about having children recently and they were both on board with having at least one. Chase loved kids and wanted to be a father, very much so. Gert wanted to be a mom, but anxieties and fears ate away at her whenever she was faced with questions about having her own children. She didn’t want to ruin her kid’s life the way her parents had destroyed her own. It was a topic brought up a lot in her own therapy sessions. That night, Gert sat Chase down and showed him all five tests. He cried, of course, overjoyed with the idea of finally having a kid of his own. He kissed Gert so much that night, and there was much sex that was had. The next day they called Karolina and Nico, who were surprised but couldn’t wait to be the best gay aunts to their future niece or nephew. Alex was next, who started sobbing on the phone when he found out, which surprised Gert. Alex and Chase had gotten extremely close over time, and they were best bros now. He couldn’t wait to be an uncle. Molly found out over their weekly family dinner, and she was so happy. Gert was scared to tell her, since they were both so close and she didn’t want her to feel replaced or jealous, but she was genuinely happy for them. The pregnancy went as smooth as possible and Gert felt really lucky. Her morning sickness wasn’t terrible and there were no complications. They found out early on that they were having a girl, which they were both happy about. Chase couldn’t wait to have four girls in the house: Gert, Old Lace, Jane the cat, and the baby. He was glad to be seemingly outnumbered for life. Of course, since Gert’s pregnancy went so well, that meant her impending labor was cursed. At least that’s what she told herself. And oh man, was she right. She went into labor early, during a session, because of course. Her water broke all over her patient’s shoes. She was MORTIFIED. Chase was at work, teaching summer school classes, and had to leave during their big exam. Gert was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, which she HATED. She kept screaming about how blown out of proportion this was, how it wasn’t necessary, how she could have driven herself, and so on. When she got to the hospital, she spent the first few hours of labor alone, because Chase got stuck in terrible LA traffic. He ran into her room completely frazzled, his hair everywhere, tie undone. Thankfully he didn’t miss much. Gert was in labor for over 24 hours, because being just like her mother, their baby had to make her first appearance a dramatic one.   When finally she came into the world, she had a wild set of lungs on her and a shit ton of hair. She looked like the perfect mixture of the two of them; Gert hoped she would have Chase’s dimples. They named her Katherine Elizabeth, simply because they liked the name. She’s a few hours old now, and Gert is getting some well deserved sleep in her hospital bed. Chase, on the other hand, is sat in the chair next to her bed, holding his daughter. This is a moment he thought would never come. For a while, when he was a teen, he swore off having children. There was no way he would be a father after the way his own raised him. The emotional and physical scars Victor Stein left behind were lifelong markers he would never get rid of, but he did his best to move past them. When he and Molly got closer in the hostel, he realized how well he worked with kids and that he was nothing like his father. He was the complete opposite. He was a nanny during college to two amazing children and went to school to become a teacher. If you can’t tell, he really likes kids. His ingrained fears of fatherhood came back to haunt him around Gert’s 8th month of pregnancy. He didn’t sleep well for weeks and when he did he would have nightmares. One night Gert found him wide awake on the couch at 3 am. She had woken up to pee and heard the sounds of Friends coming from the living room. Sitting next to him, she waited patiently for him to open up to her about whatever was troubling him, because he wasn’t the type to be up at 3 am on a Sunday (or on any day for that matter.) Chase finally admitted to Gert that he was scared, and she told him she was too. Many tears were shed and they agreed everything would be okay because they had each other. Like always. He doesn’t remember the last time he and Gert didn’t sleep in the same bed. They had quite literally been inseparable since the day they got together. But right now, he just can’t seem to tear himself away from the little angel sleeping in his arms. The tiny human they had both created. So now he sits in this not so comfy chair, in clothes that reek of sweat. He hasn’t slept in days. It’s okay though, because right now, none of that matters. He’d catch up on sleep another day.

#gert yorkes #chase stein #gertchase #marvel's runaways #runaways #runaways fic #mine #AHHHHH I'M SO NERVOUS

[league-of-light]

Week 4 Pick’em

Look, I know I’m late on the picks this week.  I wanted to get them in yesterday, but other things came up and I didn’t get to it.  I’m sorry, ok?  To make up for it, I have written quite the long pick’em for this week.  I’m not entirely sure if I will be able to make them this long every week, but I think I should be able to. 

Why would I spend all this time writing the pick’em? Great question.  Isn’t there a more productive use of your time? Probably.  Will, you’re moving next week, shouldn’t you be packing or something?  Are you just spending way more time writing picks as a means to delay the inevitable anxiety you’re going to feel about starting a new job and moving?  Do you think this is the healthiest way to deal with that? Psh, you’re not my therapist. 

Anyway, here goes

Yerboi vs Brenner? I hardly know’er

This Will vs. Brenner bout, should be promotionally billed as “Chronically Injured and Underperforming” vs “Complete Lineup Ineptitude”. Both teams come into Week 3 at a resounding 0-2, and are looking to get their season on track after some of high profile trades in the first couple weeks of the season.

There are always big expectations when you make a trade in Fantasy Football.  Typically speaking, you hope and expect that the players you got are going to outperform whomever you traded away (or at the very least perform somewhat similarly). Unfortunately, that won’t always be the case.  Sometimes there are weeks like last week, where JuJu outscored T.Y. Hilton and I am forced to sit there and reflect on how I would have won if I just kept JuJu.  Other times, there are weeks like this week, where Brenner ensures he doesn’t have to deal with the emotional trauma of a trade gone awry because he benches the players he traded for. (No there aren’t, this literally never happens)

I pick myself, simply because I don’t think I’ve actually ever seen a team projected to score as few points as Brenner.

Story To Watch: How quickly it will take Drew Brees to score more than the 3 points Brenner got from Tyrod Taylor.  My guess is 4 plays.

Tangiphil vs Hewie and the Hashslingers

After a fairly explosive first week of the season, we can all finally exhale — Phil’s team is bad again. Shockingly, his 3-headed Running Back Monster is down a head.  Unlike the legend of the Hydra, instead of another head growing in it’s place, Phil decided to chase last week’s bench points and play Nelson Agholor.  If you check his bench this week you may notice Joe Mixon outside of the IR slot, Isaiah Crowell’s wasted 18 point TNF total, and another Jets receiver.  That’s right folks, it’s week 3 and Phil is already in midseason form.

But enough about Phil. Steve is 2-0 and I expect his win streak to continue this week.  In my humble opinion, his team is underprojected with only 98 points, as Big Ben, Melvin Gordon, and Marvin Jones all look poised to be playing catchup in potentially high scoring games.  Look for Steve to hopefully rise in the power rankings after squashing Phil.

Story To Watch: He may be the second head of a three two-headed running back monstrosity, but Adrian Peterson is going to look more like Mike Wazowski than James P. Sullivan this week.  The Packers offense comes to FedEx Field with an offense that looks like two-day expedited shipping, while the Redskins offense has been looking like the Pony Express. Game script gets away from the ‘Skins and they abandon the run.

Kyle vs Sean

Close to half of this league isn’t from Rockland, so I’m going to use this opportunity to tell a story.  To the hometown heroes - some of the overarching details may be incorrect, but I don’t care I have the talking stick. If you want accuracy you can write the damn blog post next week.  Anyway, in sixth grade every middle school student has to take World History.  The curriculum is geared towards ancient civilizations, and a decent chunk of time is spent on Egypt.  As such, every year there was (is?, not sure if they still do it) a grade-wide Egypt project where students had to use their knowledge of Egypt, make something, and showcase it to the class.  Think of it like a science fair, but with crappy Egyptian dioramas instead of baking soda volcanoes.  Since I was a bright eyed ambitious young man who loved art and mythology, I knew I would do great on this project.  I chose the ambitious task of making a sculpture of Horus, the Falcon-headed man prince of the Egyptian pantheon. It wasn’t long before I realized my doodling skills didn’t translate well into making 3D models, but I was in far too deep.  I molded the clay as best I could, and then “accidentally” left it in the oven too long so it burned to a crisp and was nearly unidentifiable.  Needless to say, I didn’t do very well on that project.

Why am I telling you this? Because look at Sean’s team.  Does it look real good on paper? Sure. Does that mean he is likely going to win this week? Probably.  But has his overconfidence blinded him into creating a team made of glass with absolutely no depth in a 16-team league? 67%, yes.  (Because that is the grade I got on the project.)

Story to Watch: Alex Collins has become the running back equivalent of Hillary Swank.  Hot or not? Stay tuned this week and find out…

You Guys Again vs. Johnson Ertz

The moment you’ve all been waiting for is here folks.  I…..I can’t believe it’s finally happening.  After almost two full years, the day has finally come.  Dylan Feldman vs. Dylan Costa are facing off in a fantasy football matchup which I am officially dubbing “The Battle for the Right to be Called Dylan in the Fantasy Football League Group Chat” (and since we love our acronyms here, aka TB4TR2BCDITFFLGC).  Two Dylans enter, only one Dylan leaves. This matchup is arguably one of the most important matchups we have ever seen in this league, and has a chance to change the history books forever.

Unfortunately for Dylan Costa, his squad isn’t exactly striking fear into anyone these days.  I’ll have to go with Dylan Feldman, but his lineup has more red letters than Hester Prynne after an all weekend slumber party at Arthur Dimmesdale’s Dimmesdale Dimmahome.

Story to Watch: With the return of Aaron “I smoke Marijuana so Bowers thinks I’m a bad person” Jones coming back to Green Bay, Jamaal Williams’ usage should be monitored. As the kids say, he hasn’t been very good over the past two weeks, and Aaron Jones is ready to come in blazing *~!420!~*

Bearkley vs. Watch Me

Imagine my shock when I saw I won the bidding war for Ryan Fitzpatrick.  I immediately rushed to find the owners of the Tampa Bay WRs so I could celebrate our good fortune as Fitzmagic showers us all with fantasy points.  Now imagine my shock when I saw Samantha has benched Chris Godwin, not only a rookie (we all know my irrational hype with rookies), but a rookie whose name is lit a combination of God and Win.  I don’t know about you, but doesn’t it feel like Samantha has renounced God and doesn’t want to win this week’s matchup?

On the flipside, Nico runs our Dungeons and Dragons group, and if the 80s taught me anything it’s don’t feed weird aliens after midnight, and that D&D is for devil worshipping heathens.  With any hope of good Christian fun squandered for this matchup, it really is anybody’s game.  I want to believe in the underdog, but more favorable matchups lead me to believe that Nico will pull out the W.

Story to Watch: Saquon Barkley caught 2 of 6 targets week 1 against the Jags.  That number increased to 14 of 16 targets last week as Eli Manning completely lost interest in holding on to the football for more than 1 second.  Is it possible that Saquon receives 28 targets this game as Eli Manning has to look JJ Watt and Jadaveon Clowney in the eyes?

Washington vs. Walshington

I want to take a second here and pour one out for Walsh, who didn’t answer my trade offer or my text message regarding Dalvin Cook and Allen Robinson.  Walsh, you took an injury bullet for me and I will forever be grateful.  It’s appropriate that I mention taking a bullet, because rumors have it Frank Gore was actually there when the first metal bullet was shot in 1425.  Between Gore and Kerryon Johnson, Walsh will be lucky if he gets 14.25 points from his running backs this week.

Andy surprisingly continues to ride or die with Andrew Luck, despite Luck being unable to throw the football more than 15 yards. At this point I assume he is just taunting Arielle with Bortles on his bench, and we have to assume that if Bortles continues putting up 30 point games, eventually Andy might start him.  The biggest story on this squad is how Andy managed to get two of the best big play boom or bust WRs with John Brown and Will Fuller, while also having Amari Cooper and Mike Evans.  That’s a solid receiving core you got there pal, and I just want you to know I see it and appreciate it.

Story To Watch: C’mon, it’s Philip Lindsay.  Every week it’s Philip Lindsay. Everyone loves a hometown hero and I have greatly enjoyed watching this kid ball out.

Bowers v Arielle

I’m high on Dylan Leone Arielle’s team this year.  How could you not be? It was drafted by a man who has $45,000 in fantasy football great young woman who has shown her commitment to the league.  For whatever reason, ESPN’s site stopped working just as I was going to look at this matchup, so unfortunately I am going to have to give an abridged write up of my pick.  I have played these teams back to back so you would assume I know who is on their rosters, but I can’t remember anything other than Russell Wilson and James Conner on Arielle’s team, and Golden Tate and Kirk Cousins on Bowers’.

Based on this limited memory alone, I suppose I am going to pick Bowers in what will likely be another close matchup for the Reikland Reavers

Story to Watch: The story of life as I take this momentary absence from ESPN’s Fantasy Football to reflect on the finer things in the world.  Like Yahoo Fantasy Football.

Jason v Harnsowl

ESPN is still not working for me, neither on my phone nor my computer, so I can’t really give much analysis here.  However, not much analysis is needed.  Unlike his godless sister, Jason is a man of faith. And if George Michaels taught us anything, it’s that you gotta have faith.  You gotta have faith, faith, faith.  Carson Wentz returns this week and I don’t care whoever Harnsowl is playing, it doesn’t really matter.  I mean, as far as the matchup is concerned it might matter, but emotionally speaking, Jason has already won this week. 

I can’t be expected to pick a winner in a matchup that already has a winner, so instead I’ll take this time to remind you to spay or neuter your pets.  Bob Barker used to do a fantastic job of reminding the American people to do so, and if I am being completely honest I just don’t think Drew Carey delivers the message with the same panache. Like sure, I know Drew still says it at the end of the show, but does he really even believe it? Only Drew can really answer that question, but if I had to guess I would bet $100 $101 Drew.  While we’re on the topic, if any of you ever manage to go on Price is Right and you do that thing where you bid one dollar higher than someone else did, you can consider our friendship over.  Not only is it the worst strategy ever, it’s also rude as hell to the other contestant.  In some cases I’m sure the people legitimately don’t know what to bet after someone else bet around the same thing they did, but for the love of God at least bet like $10 higher so there is some tension in the room.  

But yeah, back to football, I pick Jason

Story to Watch: The next episode of Price is Right, Monday September 24th

[moiraineswife]

Autistic!Kaz Headcanons

Just bc I can. You should all read @barrelrat‘s initial post about this that initially got me thinking this way/that inspired a few of the following. But basically I couldn’t sleep last night so here we are. 

-Kaz longing for the quiet, peaceful familiarity of the farm when he first comes to Ketterdam. The city is too big, too loud, too bright, too crowded, too much. Everything overwhelms him for the first few weeks, and he clings to Jordie as the only stable, familiar anchor that he has. 

-He picks up magic/sleight of hand quickly/easily because in addition to being a special interest, the constant, repetitive movements he practiced over and over again necessary to let him master the skills are stims. He does this a lot unconsciously. One of his favourites is manipulating small stacks of coins in his hands, or shuffling packs of cards. 

-One of the things that makes him so successful with magic, with conning, with life tbh is his Need to know why. (this is canon, and I love it, so it’s not really a hc but see if I care) His plans are so detailed, so meticulous, and generally go so well because of how thoroughly he understands each and every detail of them. It’s not enough to know that, for instance, Wylan’s timed bombs will go off when he says they will, Kaz needs to understand the mechanics behind them. This helps him spot weaknesses, flaws, and patterns, and is one of the things that makes him so successful. 

-Kaz being touch averse before Jordie’s death. Only now there are images and grief attached to the aversion. That makes it worse but also, in a twisted kind of way, better. Because at least now there’s a Reason behind it, and he can understand it. 

-Kaz plans everything. From breaking into the Ice Court, to basic, every day to-do lists. He can do it all mentally, and keep track of everything that way, but he likes writing it all down. IT’s a way of taking control and it’s grounding/calming. Probably has an old blackboard/some chalk in his office at The Slat. It’s stimmy and it means he can doodle elaborate lists and plans all over it. 

-Most of his stims are small things that he can hide. The streets worked out the notable ones from him a long time ago. He strokes the head of his cane, tracing all of the deep lines and groves in it, lingering on patches that are especially smooth. He flexes his hands - the feeling of the leather gloves curling around them is especially Good. Is also prone to leg dancing and finger tapping (especially to music. He picks out the beats of any nearby music and taps along to the them) But they’re all things that he can be discreet about. He used to hum, but when he was abandoned on the streets it was too much of a giveaway and he trained himself to stop. 

-Kaz saying he has a headache when he becomes overloaded because he doesn’t know how else to explain that he needs to leave this place now. 

-First signs of him heading towards a meltdown is always irritability. He becomes v easily frustrated, snaps sharply if interrupted, becomes frantic if he can’t easily find something, and is agitated and irritated by even small sounds in his vicinity. Will murder you for being too Loud when he’s like this because he just can’t deal with it. 

-Never has meltdowns in front of other people. He instinctively suppresses them in public/on a job. This typically causes a massive shutdown afterwards. he locks himself in his room, turns off all the light, and buries himself in his bed where it’s dark and quiet. He refuses to see anyone during that time, and everyone knows not to bother him/to let him recover in peace. 

-Has shutdowns more frequently than meltdowns. Becomes nonverbal during them, very withdrawn and unresponsive - typically the only communication anyone gets out of him then is nods/shakes of the head. 

-Bad trauma days make his sensory issues much, much worse. Some days he can’t leave his room because the very feel of the air on his skin is too much. He won’t even let Inej see him on those days, he needs to be alone to be able to meltdown/stim and process everything the way he needs to. 

-Occassionally becomes utterly Consumed by short but very very intense special interests. Once developed one in baking, it only lasted about a week but it was Intense. He was covered in flour for days and was constantly trying new things, and tweaking old recipes to make them completely perfect. Only Kaz could turn cake-making into a form of science. He experimented with different methods of mixing, different amounts of flour, the order he added the ingredients in etc etc etc. The Dregs were baffled but delighted. Nina swears she has never eaten better waffles in her entire life. 

-His cane becomes a comfort object, he gets really angsty if he doesn’t have it close at hand at all times. His gloves are comfort objects too, even if he manages to stop wearing them all the time, he always keeps them on him. Inej brings him back a small, smooth, polished stone she found on her travels - it becomes a comfort object, too. He always has it in his pocket. 

-Can recreate maps/building plans he’s studied incredibly accurately....But he has no sense of direction. Frequently gets lost in The Slat. Only manages to navigate the city bc he’s carefully memorised maps/routes/landmarks. 

-APD has him threatening to gag Jesper at least twice a week because ‘I can’t process two different speakers/conversations at once, Jesper shut up.’ 

-Loves listening to Wylan play flute. Will legit sit and listen to him quietly for hours. Wylan starts noticing when Kaz is getting overloaded and, if he’s able, will discreetly play for a little while to help ground him. 

-One time Inej changed her perfume an he became so irritated and bothered and  he couldn’t understand why which was almost more frustrating. Eventually she realised what was wrong. 

-Hates clothes with high/tight collars, they feel like they’re strangling him. 

-I’m not entirely sure if this is possible Heartrender wise, or rather, if it was possible pre-parem but, like, humour me okay? He asks Nina to use her abilities to lessen the quality of his hearing/eyesight/touch, just slightly, and only for short periods of time, but it really helps when he’s becoming overloaded. 

-Will cut you if you fuck with his routine/his plans in any way. (Always has v precise, detailed plans and no, we can’t go there first, because if we go there first then x, y, z will happen, and we won’t be able to do that, and the world will end no just everybody do as I say I have worked this shit out) 

-Absently stroking Inej’s hair = The Best Stim. 

-The pickiest of picky eaters. 

-Kaz ‘I don’t like new things’ Brekker. Nina despairs over him bc he orders exactly the same thing every single time they go out for anything to eat. 

-One time a restaurant took his item off their menu and Kaz Twitched uncomfortably until the owner told him they kept a few of the necessary ingredients on-hand for him so he could still have it. All of Ketterdam relaxed and a shrine was later built to this good woman’s sense. 

-Had to carefully teach himself to read each individual person’s tone/expressions/body language etc for each job. He constantly studies people and improves his understanding of them - it’s like watching for tells in a fight/card game, but with everything. Keeps very detailed, very extensive notes. Doesn’t realise that not everyone has to do this until Nina spots his notes on her and is just like ??? Kaz ??? is this necessary ????? 

-Dsypraxia!Kaz - performs incredible precise, delicate, deft lock-picking one minute. Bangs into the corner of a desk the next bc it was moved an inch to the right of its usual spot. 

-One day, Mathias decides to be ‘helpful’ and sets about fixing up The Slat. Kaz walks in and freezes. ‘No.’ ‘But the floorboards were creaking here so-’ ‘No.’ ‘The roof leaked a little, I thought-’ ‘No.’ ‘The carpets were-’ ‘No.’ ‘The paintwork could use a little freshening u-’ ‘No.’ Kaz threatens to drown him in the fresh tin of paint he has open and ready next to him and methodically undoes all of Mathias’ fixes until the Slat is creaking, whistling, leaking, and tripping people up as it should. 

-One time Nina got bored and decided to rearrange the furniture ‘for a change’. This did not go down well. 

-Gunshots are sensory hell tbh. 

-Views literally everything in terms of business arrangements bc it’s the only way he’s learned to really make sense of social interactions?? People are loyal to him bc he knows their secrets, and bc he’s the most beneficial to their interests than any other gang leader in Ketterdam. People will do favours for him bc he’s done things for them in the past/would do in the future. ‘I will make you waffles today, and you will promise to help me with my sensory shit at a later date when I need you to. The deal is the deal.’ ‘Uh...Kaz...We’re friends?????’ Kaz: *this does not compute* *Nina sighs and just nods and yes, yes, u strange boy, just prepare me my waffles* 

-He slowly starts to understand things on a more personal/intimate/informal level when he’s with Inej and they start getting closer. But he still, at the end of the day, rationalises/makes sense of everything via a structure that’s simple, and logical to him, and that’s by viewing it as a job. Inej is patient with him, and pretty understanding...As long as he never gets to the point of, like, ‘I have kissed you three times today, this equates to a ten minute leg massage, I would like to cash this in now, please.’ (He never does. (Except once when he was teasing her about it and she just like ffs, kaz, u had me for a minute there.)) 

-Has a ‘mutually beneficial relationship’ with a stray cat he insists he hasn’t adopted. He feeds it and gives it somewhere warm to sleep. In return it is an A++++ stim toy. V soft and it’s a great, warm presssure stim when it curls up in his lap which is obviously the only reason he lets it do this. But he has not adopted it, this is strictly a business arrangement- I can see you rolling your eyes at me, Nina. (Its name is ‘Demjin.’) 

#kaz brekker #six of crows #grishaverse #inej ghafa #lbardugo #leigh bardugo #soc series #soc #crooked kingdom #kaznej #inej x kaz #autistic!kaz #autistic kaz #autistic headcanons #autistic character #listen #i have a lot of Emotions about this #and all of them are here #text post tag #long post #autistic tag #actuallyautistic #I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THIS POST #BUT HERE IT IS #In all its...uh....glory???

[angel-gidget]

Stars Unearth Your Fires (ch2/?)

Title:  Stars Unearth Your Fires (Ch 2/?)

Fandom: DCU, Teen Titans, Red Robin (preboot)     

Rating:  PG  | Words: 1200 approx | a03 link    

Summary: Tim Drake never thought of himself as a troublemaker as far as Robins go. But a passing accusation quickly escalates into a case of stolen memories, technologically backwards clues from his past self, interdimensional hijinks, reflections on the good old days, and possibly the rekindling of a foregone romance. Eventually Tim/??? Mystery ship!

A/N: I ask that any fashion nerds reading this forgive me for my fake fashion week plot device. Lets just say the DCU has extra fashion weeks bc magic and leave it at that. Thanks again to @kiragecko for the beta!

"Wait, dude. Scrappy Doo hacked your diary?"

"It wasn't a diary, Kon. But, kinda."

"A lockable device on which you record your private thoughts you share with no one? Soundslikeadiary,man. Youshouldembraceit."

"I could repeat lectures verbatim from Diana about refusing to be shamed for traditionally feminine things that are actually emotionally reinforcing, but I think I'll spare you since you're not fooling anybody."

He could have come alone, but he had returned their texts on a whim, and when they had learned he was going to scavenge their old HQ at Happy Harbor... well, there was no stopping the remnant of Young Justice otherwise known as his best friends.

"It was more like a smartwatch jam packed with ridiculous hardware and old ipod levels of memory that I had filled with work reminders, but whatever."

Cassie and Bart had a point. But the truth was, the closest thing he really had to a diary was the dozens of hand-written letters he had written essentially screaming at his father. Letters he had tossed in the fire before he could be tempted to actually leave them where the (now dead, now lost) man could find them.

But some things remained too raw to share.

"Hey," Cassie was the first to touch her toe down on the threshold (Normally, Bart would beat her, but he had allowed himself to be a bit distracted, fully zipping around a couple laps to check out external changes).

Cassie started entering the old security codes without a hitch. She was not even thinking about it, and it gave Tim a tiny surprising warm fuzzy tingle in the chest, "Damian didn't use anything in it against you, did he? Trying to dig up crap on--"

Tim allowed himself a chuckle, "No. Assuming he did manage to read any of my entries, I would have paid money to watch him try to figure out what any of it meant."

"Oooh," Bart zipped back, and darned if he wasn’t talking faster and faster, allowing his own nostalgic excitement to kick in, "Did you write it in a code?"

"Sort of."

Kon was floating by the graffiti wall. It didn’t matter how many times they cleaned it, "Hanson Sucks" would always reappear as if by magic. Tim used to suspect Bart solely, but looking back, (and looking at Kon's face now) he suspected a little differently.  

The guy's grin has a bit of the ol' Kid when he glanced over his shoulder, "You didn't just write it in code, you wrote it in SLANG, didn't you. Yes, you did."

Tim snorted. But denied nothing. There was no point.

"Bet it was like 90% rap references."

"Ooh, don't underestimate Tim's eclectic-ness, Bart. There was no doubt a healthy dose of Enya lyrics entwined in there."

Bart's nose scrunched, "Enya? Seriously, Tim?"

"Hey," Cassie interjected, "I like Enya."

"You also like country music and boy bands dangerously similar to Hanson. It's okay, Cass. Weloveyouanyway."

The rules for Gotham and his team had always been different.  While clever hiding spaces had been a practically intellectual game in his home city, sometimes the trick to hiding something in YJ HQ was to just place it somewhere really dumb.

“The girl’s locker room, Rob? Really?”

“You never looked for any of my toys here, so clearly, it worked.”

The locker combination was Steph’s birthday. Something his teammates had no reason to know and something Batman and Nightwing might overlook. Or at least, they would have overlooked it back then. Maybe he should change it. Did it matter? Would he ever have cause to use this thing again? It was worth thinking about, but not something for just yet.

The lock released with an obnoxious clack and the door swung open with a creak. There were some things in his life that Tim kept meticulously clean, but no locker had ever been on the list. His crumpled extra Robin uniform tumbled out along with a collection of scratched CD’s, multi-sided dice, hand-drawn diagrams of team formations covered over by Bart’s doodling, and a cracked baseball bat.

At least his uniform had been through the wash before he stuffed it in there. Small favors from his former self. Tim carefully unrolled the Kevlar cape, tumbling his old wrist computer into his palm.

He would need to replace the battery. Specifically, remove the battery, and carefully charge it, then place it back into the device. He was not going to risk synching the thing—even to the old YJ mainframe—by plugging it into the computer directly. Maybe he was being paranoid. Hm. Not the worst thing to be.

“So…” Kon interrupted, “You gonna tell us what’s up?”

His first—heh—impulse was to be cryptic, but he swallowed it down. These were his friends.

“I was singled out by those Gatekeepers. I want to know why. When I checked the dates, I realized all of our computer records were compromised. I think… I think a more personal record might have escaped their notice.”

A moment of silence. He would have enjoyed the rarity of quiet in the old YJ cave of all things, but they were looking at him with a high-alert concern that was on the edge of tipping into horror.

“Woah. The bat-computers were compromised? Holy Hera, Tim.”

“DoyouthinkitwastheGatekeepers? You do. You totallythinkitwastheGatekeepers.”

Tim nodded, “Yeah. I do.”

“So what, man? You think they waved their triple-joined finger and just…?” Kon waved his own hand.

“Erased a week—maybe more—of events that happened while our reality was colliding with something outside of our own multiverse. And in a room with you, the Flashes, Booster Gold, and Guy Gardner; the person they expected to cause trouble was me.”

“And you can’t remember because they probably also erased our memories.” Cassie inferred.

Kon nodded until Tim’s earlier comment sank home, “Hey wait, whattaya mean ‘with me’?”

Bart giggled, “Oh, as if you don’t remember what you were like back then.”

Kon sighed as Bart and then Cassie joined in on ruffling his hair. They had to be fast. And reach up on their tip toes to do it. But Kon let them for a good half of a second.

“Ok. Point taken.”

The wait for the charger to hit green felt like an eternity. Plenty of time for the ambiance of the old cave to slip from nostalgia to haunting. Bart had opened up an entire closet of junk—chemicals, paint, mechanical insects—that he had apparently collected with Greta. Kon had dusted off Anita’s old masseuse table, only to find that no one was really in the mood to hop on it. Cassie found an old set of brass knuckles that belonged to Slo-bo, but quietly set them down when she noticed their discoloration was due to dried blood.

Nobody messed with the dusty arrows kept in hopeful little spaces. Nobody looked at the archer’s targets. At least, no one looked when others were looking.

Tim sighed and watched as Cassie floated around, fidgeting. He remembered how hard she had clung to the idea of Cissie returning to the hero life, terrified that her best friend would grow distant as a result. Tim had… been more optimistic. At the time.

He knew where their old friends were. He knew Greta Hayes was a freshman in college now. That they girl they had once called Secret had impressed the entire faculty of St. Elias with her ability to catch up and surpass academic basics. He knew that while she excelled in her math and science classes, she enjoyed the chaos and the friendships she found in her drama electives. He knew because her teachers kept good notes that were easy to hack.

He knew Anita took odd jobs to support the two tiny children that were her de-aged parents. She would put on her old Empress costume on occasion, when crime had the gaul to come to her doorstep, but lived quietly in Louisiana for the most part. Supergirl had been the last hero to come into contact with her, and told him all about it.

None of them had really had the chance to feel close to Ray, but Tim knew that didn’t make them special. Ray Terrill’s profile with the Justice League displayed a new team every year. He had run with reserve units, the JSA, Freedom Fighters, and more.

Then there was Cissie, Arrowette, the girl who took them by all by surprise once every few months as her face appeared on a cereal box, in an energy drink commercial, or on a motivational poster in a sporting goods store. Because nothing sold that stuff better than an Olympic archer who had looks as well as accuracy.

It wasn't a painful thing for Tim personally. Hell, there had been a time when he thought he was headed for a similar path, a time when he thought retirement for himself was a strong possibility, just a few years away. But he knew better now. And he knew that Bart always bought things with her name or her face on them, but didn't actually look at them. And that when Cassie heard her voice blaring from the TV, she would stare mournfully at an old number in her phone before putting it away unused. As much as they would wish otherwise, Cissie King-Jones had drifted away from them.

Not that Tim didn’t also fit the drifter profile to an extent. The thought hit him hard. He hadn’t been to the Tower in over a two months, but like a dog with a bone, the Titans had refused to let him stay out of touch. Even when Dick had the bright idea of sending Damian to the tower, to try to get him to interact with ‘younger’ heroes—because apparently Dick could’t be bothered to remember that he was sending an eleven year old to socialize with a crew that no longer possessed a member under the age of sixteen—his friends had reached out, insisting that Red Robin was the only Robin on their roster.

It was humbling, and it put a scratch in this throat and a watery heat behind his eyes that—

BEEP!

Charging complete.

Bart zipped toward the outlet, and hopped on his toes while waiting for Tim to unplug the device. He felt Conner and Cassie join in hovering behind him as he began to skim through the files. There was only one that matched what they were looking for, with its simple text repeated in the space-tab code.

R E M I N D E R S

Dig up 8th grade time capsule

Go 2 fashion show @ Hollywood Mall. Compare/Contrast costume

Be outside July 4th

Go 2 most romantic city on July 15th

“That’s it?” blurted Kon and Bart at once.

“Fashion show?” Cassie scratched her head.

Tim sighed, “I was watching out for key word triggers. I think.”

Bart frowned, “Like, if  you actually said anything close to what you meant, you were worried the Gatekeepers or whoever would notice and erase everything like they did with the Batcomputer?”

Tim nodded, “The ‘reminders’ are literally reminders. Straightforward intel would be too dangerous.”

“‘Cause God forbid your lil’ bitty bat-self actually tell your future self what was going on.” Kon huffed impatiently.

Cassie elbowed him in the ribs.

Kon hissed. “Sorry! Too dangerous. I get it.”

Cassie raised her brows and let it go. “So, what are you going to do?”

Tim shrugged, “Do what they tell me to and hope they help me remember, I guess.”

Bart looked up from his phone, “Better hope the ‘reminders’ don’t have to go in order, Tim.”

Tim winced, “Why?”

Cassie looked over Bart’s shoulder at his screen, “Because the only major summer fashion demonstration in California hits the runway in about 12 hours. Woah.”

Tim powered down the wrist tech. He didn’t like the idea of going out of order, but only two of the reminders had actual dates attached. At least he had opened the file right before July. Small favors.

“Fine. Mall first. Grab some food and rest and meet back with me in—“

“Only if you do,” Cassie’s eyes were narrowed.

“Yeah, man. No caffeinated all-nighters.”

“Kon and I will tuckyouinifwehaveto.”

Tim snorted, “Fine.

It messed with his plans, but if he was being honest, Cass was in town, and Steph had mentioned to Dick in the cave that she was done with her freshman comp essay. Red Robin wasn’t strictly necessary when Blackbat and Batgirl were around to help out.

He did his best to take it as the impromptu bit of fortune it was.

He didn’t let it hurt.

#stars unearth your fires #fanfic #gidgeblog #tim drake #the core four #core four #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #kon-el #conner kent #dc fic #dcu fic #red robin #wonder girl #kid flash #superboy #kiragecko

[diannaphantomfiction]

Shooting Star

Chapter 2 of 2

Fandom(s): Gravity Falls

Rating: T

Summary: Requested by @waldorkler. Mabel is killed by Bill during Weirdmeggedoen, readily sacrificing herself to save her brother.

Date Uploaded: May 8th, 2017

Previous 

3 Years Later

Dipper hummed softly as the bus he was on made it’s way along a small forest road on the way to Gravity Falls. He doodled runes in his journal, unable to keep the smile off his face. He was finally going home. Granted it had taken 3 years, a near constant stream of arrests for things like trespassing and destruction of property, and the fury of Pacifica Northwest to convince his parents to let him come back. 

Still, being on the way home made him feel better than he had in years. Better than every exorcised ghost, banished fae, and dead ghoul ever could. Of course, every one of those things had gotten him arrested, so maybe that was a bad comparison. 

Dipper practically jumped out of his seat as the bus pulled up to his stop. He didn’t bother trying to contain his excitement (he was the only person on the bus after all) and ran down the aisle before jumping all the steps just as the doors opened. His Grunkles, Wendy, Soos, and Pacifica were all waiting by the bench for him, bright smiles on his face. 

Soos was the first to rush forward and envelop Dipper in a giant bear hug. “Welcome home, little man! Or not so little man. You’re significantly taller than you were when you left.” 

Dipper laughed and hugged Soos back. “Well, it was three years ago, but thanks Soos.” 

Wendy plucked her old hat off Dipper’s head and dropped the blue trucker’s cap onto his head. Both hats were pretty worn from wear, but they were still recognizable. She smirked at him as he straightened the hat. Dipper chose not to comment on the fact that her college was four hours away from Gravity Falls and also that it was a Thursday. 

Pacifica smiled at him, placing her had on her hip. “Look at you. And here I was thinking that you were just blocks of texts in my email inbox.” 

“Hey! That email was very hard to set up and maintain! Especially after my parents decided the Internet was the source of all my ‘issues’ and literally sat behind me every time I asked to use the computer. Did I mention I had to ask for permission to use the computer? Like a five year old.” 

Pacifica rolled her eyes, “Stop whining. It’s not cute.” 

“Shut up, Paz.” 

“Never.” 

Dipper turned to his Grunkles and hugged them both. “Hi Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford.” 

“Welcome home, Dipper,” Ford said before pulling back, “We hear you’ve been doing a lot of good work back in Piedmont, but…” 

“47 arrests?” Stan interrupted, “Come on, kid, I know you’re smarter than that! I taught you better, than that! Looks like we’re going to have to have actual lessons!” 

Ford sighed, “Stan, you are not taking Dipper out on a robbery.” 

“Robbery implies a threat of violence! I was thinking something more along the lines of burglary.” 

“No, Stan.”   

Dipper beamed. Yep, he was home.

“My parents would kill me if they saw me in this. I love it.” 

Dipper smiled at Pacifica as she ran her hands along the old, orange VW van. It was pretty perfect. Big, spacious, and weird as all come out. Of course, the idea of running their business out of the back of an old van seemed silly (like Scooby Doo silly), but it was also so very them. 

“We could get Soos to help us take out some of the seats, get some storage bins to hold all the stuff, make sure we also pack the best camping gear we can get…” 

Pacifica pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “We need business cards or flyers or something. We can put them up at every dinner we stop at.” 

“We’ll only be able to take some of our lore books…” Dipper pulled out a journal; this one adorned with the number five and started writing. “We’ll need to pool our college funds together to make our money last as long as possible.”  

Pacifica blew out a long breath of smoke, “Dipper, you’re a man after my own heart.” 

“You still haven’t gotten over the ‘piss my parents off in every way possible’ phase?” 

“I’ve made it my life goal.” 

Dipper glanced up from his writing and paused his pen for a second. “I thought our life goal was to rid the west coast of monsters.”

Pacifica shrugged and made a soft “meh” noise. She breathed in her cigarette for a few seconds, breathed out again, and looked at Dipper curiously. “So, we going to buy it or not?” 

“Oh, definitely.”

Dipper pretended not to notice as Pacifica sat down on the rock next to him, placing a cigarette into the cigarette holder decorated with a snake and several jewels. She opened held out her pack to him. 

“Come on, Dipper. You think I don’t notice that you take the occasional one on bad nights?” 

Dipper sighed and accepted the offer; taking a long drag once he’d lit the cigarette. 

Pacifica took a few drags on her own cigarette before she spoke up. “Talking to Mabel again?” Dipper glanced at her. “You know that cigarette holder was cursed three weeks ago, right?” 

“But it’s not anymore. So, what do you talk to her about?” 

Dipper let a long breath out through his teeth, “Whatever. Weird things we’ve seen. Jobs we take. How my day went. That time I caught you singing Lady Gaga while you thought I was asleep.” 

“You told her about that? You’re the worst.” 

Dipper let a small smile slip past. 

“Hey, Mabel?” Pacifica called up at her star, “Did Dipper tell you about the time he decided it would be a good idea to check out a chupacabra case and he had to bath in the river and he got caught in the current?”  

Dipper groaned, “Don’t tell her that.” 

Pacifica just smirked before going somber, “It doesn’t ever really get better, does it?” 

Dipper took a deep breath. “It gets easier to not think about I think. And it helps that she didn’t want me to dwell. If I think about it too hard, though, it’s just as bad as they day it happened.” 

Pacifica hummed. “The world is shit.” 

“Can’t argue with that.”

“But what if it’s aliens?” 

“It’s not.” 

“But what if it is?” 

Pacifica sighed and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, “Dipper, it’s never aliens.” 

“But what if it is?” 

“If you’re going to keep this up, I need a smoke,” she looked at him from the corner of her eye, “It’s probably just a meteoroid or some space junk.” 

Dipper smiled, “Yeah, alien space junk.” 

Pacifica glared at him and brought the car to a stop. Before she could even get a single word out, Dipper was out of the van with a bag over one shoulder and a journal tucked under his arms. It had been ages since Pacifica had seen him this excited, and even though it was almost certainly not aliens, Pacifica didn’t have the heart to keep telling him it wasn’t. 

She trailed behind him at a much more reserved pace in the direct of the small crater that had recently formed just outside of Gravity Falls. Dipper had the decency to wait for her at the top of the crater at least. They climbed down together and Dipper brushed away some dirt only to freeze. 

Pacifica didn’t get it at first. It was a small mass of mangled metal and wire. If she looked at it the right way, it almost looked like… 

“Braces…” Dipper choked and fell fully onto his knees, “Mabel…” 

Dipper scooped the braces up and held them to his chest, tears beginning to slip down his face. 

Pacifica sat down next to him and rubbed his back, “It’s okay… Let it out, Dipper. Let it out.” 

Dipper broke down in front of her, raw, angry, loud, sobs mixing with screams and curses as he held the mess of metal close and rocked back and forth. Pacifica sat with him and rubbed his back, already thinking of asking Robby for a plot at the cemetery. 

Nobody in town would ask why Dipper wanted to bury a small mass of metal next to Old Man McGucket.

Nearly eighty years later, Dipper was lying in a hospital room. Somehow, he’d managed to outlive everyone. Stan, Ford and Soos had nearly been a given. They were so much older then him, and if he’d died before his Grunkles he was pretty sure they would have raised hell to get in contact with him and beat up his ghost. Wendy died hunting a vampire in England of all places. Pacifica had succumbed to lung cancer almost five years ago, years of smoking finally catching up with her. Dipper wife, Theodora, had passed not long after that. Dipper wasn’t alone of course. His daughter, Jadis, had brought her wife and their kids to say goodbye. Grenda, her voice booming just as loudly in old age as it had when they were kids sat in a corner, talking to his oldest grandson. A couple of young great-grandkids played on the floor, completely unaware of what was going on around them.  

Dipper smiled, his heart swelling with warmth and content. This was it. It was time. He took one last deep breath and closed his eyes, allowing the light to surround him. When he opened his eyes again, he was sitting on a bench, surrounded by the most beautiful landscape he’d ever seen. 

“Dipper!” 

Dipper turned his head and gasped softly. Mabel ran up to him and pulled him into a big hug. 

“Dipper!” 

“Mabel!” He hugged her back, laughing softly. 

“I so proud of you! You did it!” 

“I suppose I did.” 

Mabel beamed at him, she was glowing with joy. “We have to much to talk about! I have so many stories to tell you and there are so many awesome people here you have to meet! Oh! Everyone’s going to be so happy to see you!” 

Dipper laughed. “Alright, alright, just slow down a little. I’m not as young as I used to be.” 

“Psh! Like that matters here!” Her face softened even more and she gave him another big hug. “Welcome home, bro.”

#fanfiction #Shooting Star #Gravity Falls #request

[topiphonenews-blog]

How to become an iPhone developer in eight steps

The engineer of iShoot quit his normal everyday employment in the wake of winning $22,000 a day at the highest point of the App Store diagrams. This is what you need to do to be next

You've presumably heard about iShoot. Composed by a software engineer at Sun Microsystems in his extra time, this Worms-style cannons shooter impacted to the highest point of the App Store diagrams not long ago and remained there for quite a long time winning its maker enough cash to pack in his normal everyday employment and turn into an expert designer.

You may likewise have seen the news this week around nine-year-old programming wonder Lim Ding Wen who has built up his own particular basic painting application for the iPhone. Doodle Kids is doing sensible business, drawing in 4,000 downloads in under a fortnight and picking up its creator global news scope.

There's no doubt, iPhone has turned into the general population's stage. While the PC keeps up a sound outside of the box improvement scene, Apple's handset, with its low hindrances to section and consistent purchaser buying framework, is the genuine clothes to newfound wealth machine. In for all intents and purposes a month, you can build up an application that will be accessible to a worldwide market of eager downloaders.

Distributers? Appropriation accomplices? Pro advancement equipment? None of it is vital. Similarly, that modest, open computerized innovation has conveyed film and music making to the masses, iPhone appears to have cut through the careful diversion generation pipeline. Everybody can be Will Wright now.

Or, on the other hand, right? How precisely do you approach making an iPhone title?

I've addressed iShoot coder Ethan Nicholas and two British studios required in iPhone advancement - FluidPixel, in charge of fun Lemmings-style platformer, KamiCrazy, and Connect2Media's Manchester group, as of now completing off the tremendously encouraging, Go! Go! Safeguard Squad. Here are their tips to any thriving application starts…

1. Buy a Mac

You'll require one with an Intel-based processor, running the Leopard form of MacOS X. It doesn't need to be a top of the range display, however. Ethan Nicholas composed iShoot on a beat up old MacBook with 1GB of memory, knackered Wi-Fi and an Ethernet port that should have been squirmed around to motivate it to work. The machine did nonetheless, bear the cost of him the maneuvering ability he required: "the greater part of my accessible improvement time included holding an infant on the lounge chair so my portable PC was more qualified to the undertaking."

Dwindle Scott, CTO at Connect2Media proposes Mac Minis, "they are more than sufficiently intense, little, simple on work area space when you as of now have PCs, three LCD screens and a pack of gadgets. They are likewise simple to move around, designers can take them home at the end of the week on the off chance that they need to keep on working."

2. Down the SDK (software development kit)

"Apple gives the free SDK to iPhone advancement from their Developer site," clarifies Stuart Varrall, Creative Director at Fluid Pixel. "This incorporates all that you have to go ahead, including the improvement condition Xcode, the iPhone Simulator for testing, execution analyzers, interface developers and the full documentation reference library."

3. Learn Objective-C

This is the essential programming dialect for iPhone improvement. "It's an augmentation of C to incorporate protest orientated standards," says Verrall. "It has scripting components to it, so is less demanding to get than a few dialects and anybody with programming knowledge ought to have the capacity to exchange their aptitudes."

"Here's a short history of Objective-C," offers Scott, "It was conceived out of Smalltalk which was an early Object Oriented Programming dialect created in Xerox PARC (where Window/Mouse figuring truly started) and as an outcome was vigorously embraced by Apple since as ahead of schedule as the Lisa. Smalltalk is fundamentally the same as C."

"Target C was really made by Next Computing possessed by a specific Steven Jobs. At the point when Jobs came back to Apple, he sold Next to the organization thus Objective-C turned into the principle improvement condition for the Apple Mac. It is preferred in light of the fact that in comparative approaches to Java, it manages huge numbers of the dangerous parts of programming It's decent, basic shrouds the complexities of the equipment far from the engineer and manages (all in all) the significant reason for programming issues in C and C++ which is memory spills."

Fine and dandy, however, what's the most ideal approach to really get the dialect? "This truly relies on upon where you are beginning from," clarifies Scott. "In the event that you are capable in C/C++ or Objective-C then the expectation to learn and adapt is in getting to holds with the APIs of the iPhone - the best place to begin is the iPhone designer site. On the off chance that you have to take in the programming dialects themselves then the best place to begin is a novices book, really the For Dummies arrangement is useful for this. Additionally take a gander at one of the many free instructional exercises online - Googling 'target C instructional exercise' hurts many spots to get these."

"The official Apple SDK has an abundance of detail alongside cases of executing different elements," includes Carroll. "The Apple engineer discussion is quickly developing to be the best place for particular inquiries or to get further illumination on something". He additionally says that iPhone underpins Open GL ES which permits overwhelming advancement when working in 3D. So in case, you're supposing past a looking over shooter or Tetris clone, you'll have to investigate that also. Additionally, numerous expert studies compose their recreations in C++ as opposed to Objective-C, particularly on the off chance that they're wanting to port the code onto different stages, for example, N-Gage of Xbox Live Arcade.

4. Start writing something!

Disregard hypothesis; overlook facing Objective-C with your first endeavor. Simply set yourself a venture and begin working. "I don't know anything about Objective-C, Cocoa, or OpenGL before beginning iShoot. Truth be told I scarcely even knew C," concedes Ethan Nicholas. "I hadn't generally touched it in 10 years. I was a Java software engineer for a long time and it was a significant conformity moving from a decent safe dialect like Java to one where a solitary lost byte can in a flash crash your program."

Nicholas' first point – and this is a pretty much standard method in the advancement group when given another stage – was to motivate something to show up on the screen. "The primary thing I chipped away at was the ground. I needed to make a destructible scene with falling earth. Since I had no clue how to load surfaces by then and had quite recently gotten a handle on the nuts and bolts of Objective-C and OpenGL, my soil "surface" was quite recently strong white. So the principal thing I got onscreen was only a white rectangle that spoke to the ground. My better half was luckily sufficiently tolerant to comprehend my energy at getting anything, even only a basic white rectangle, on the screen.

"By day two, my featureless white rectangle had transformed into an appropriately finished scene and the majority of the soil destruction code was working. Before the finish of the main week, I had a tank on the screen shooting shots haphazardly, blowing gaps in the ground. When I at long last got it on to a real telephone and not only the test system, I found that it just kept running at one casing for each second, so I had some significant improvement work in front of me."

In the event that you can't confront beginning on a unique venture, in any case, Farrell recommends a few change assignments. "The SDK really accompanies an entire host of test tasks that cover most parts of improvement. So the best place to begin is to take one of those and figure out it and work out how it has been built. You can then expand on these by including new components and make your own one of a kind amusement rapidly."

5. Join as an official designer

In the event that you anticipate discharging your perfect work of art anytime, you'll have to join the iPhone Developer Program. The Standard cost is $99, and it includes consenting to Apple's terms and conditions and marking and giving back the agreement. Regardless of the possibility that you're no place close finishing the venture, you'll have to join to test your code on a genuine iPhone instead of an onscreen emulator. Once you're on the Developer Program you're sent a certificate, which permits you to combine up with an iPhone gadget.

6. Prepare for a few weeks of work

Contingent upon the time accessible, and your level of programming learning, building up an iPhone diversion can mean as meager as two or three months' work. "Counting learning Objective-C, Cocoa, and OpenGL, I spent precisely a month and a half on iShoot," says Nicholas. "The hardest part was acclimating to a dangerous dialect... following twelve years working in Java, it's exceptionally hard to get again into the best possible mentality for investigating crashes. I had one memory defilement issue where it worked out that truly just a solitary byte was being undermined, and it didn't bring about the program to crash until a few minutes after the debasement happened. It took me three days to locate that one… "

The expert studios I addressed gave comparative time spans, however they included groups as opposed to solitary coders. "KamiCrazy took three months to grow low maintenance, so should be possible in a month full-time," figures Verrall, who utilized three software engineers, one craftsman and a maker. "The writing computer programs was focussed on the most part into making the strong motor that drives the amusement and incorporated the level editorial manager, permitting the levels to actualized easily. This implies this innovation can be re-utilized and future titles could be pivoted in less time. The craftsmanship took three weeks altogether to deliver."

7. Submit your application to Apple

Approve, this is the huge one. "Completed diversions must be submitted to the App Store utilizing an indistinguishable interface from music makers utilize," clarifies Varrall. "It's a clear procedure of compressing up the record, transferring it with a depiction, a vast and little symbol, and screenshots. In the event that everything is okay then it for the most part takes Apple seven days to support the substance and it winds up in the store. On the off chance that there is an issue, for example, evident bugs or Lite applications that are said as demos or aren't completely included, then this can take more time to audit and at last reject. In this case you can settle the issue and resubmit the same number of times as you like."

"Any iPhone designer will reveal to you that the provisioning and code marking is a torment, however once I had that sorted out the accommodation procedure was minor," concurs Nicholas. "Fill in the fields, hold up a couple days, anxiously foresee your first deals report... and after that watch everyone totally disregard your application as you offer less than 20 duplicates a day. iShoot wasn't precisely a resonating achievement in the first place… "

8. Adapt, market and survive!

The work doesn't complete once you've made it onto App Store. As it's impossible you'll have your own in-house QA division, a few bugs and configuration issues may just surface when many gamers get their hands on the code. Subsequently, it might be important to present a few changes.

What's more, as Nicholas specified, don't anticipate that a prompt reaction will the discharge – App Store is an open market, including around 20,000 applications and 2,000 diversions. To get saw, you'll have to construct a buzz around the diversion: draw in with the advancement and gaming groups, begin a blog about the programming procedure, deliver screenshots and mail out official statements to iPhone news locales like Pocket Gamer, Touch Arcade and FingerGaming. Also, obviously, use social net.

#iphone developer #ios development