#ryan eventually gives in and leaves the crane

[radio-heads]

dylan's death in the scrapyard was absolutely heartbreaking to me

but what i didn't expect was, if you let him stay bit, how much more it would hurt seeing him turn into a werewolf 😭

#screaming sobbing and crying #i saw the death scene and deadass cried #but then i saw the scene when he turns #and that shit broke me #the quarry #fic concept.... ryan in the scrapyard with dylan instead of kaitlyn #at this point they've developed a relationship #they have feelings for each other #they care So Much #and dylan didn't have his hand cut off #so the encounter in the scrapyard goes relatively the same #but then dylan starts to turn #and ryan doesn't want to leave him #dylan is screaming at him to go #ryan eventually gives in and leaves the crane #but dylan changes as ryan is running down the steps #werewolf dylan chases after ryan #he attacks #ryan is left with the choice of either being killed or shooting dylan #and he probably would shoot dylan (and if they were normal bullets it wouldn't be too much of a problem) #imagine they were silver bullets #i don't have the talent to write this #but just imagine #radioheads #ryan erzahler #dylan lenivy

[knoxvillesjackass]

Hi! So I had an idea for a young johnny x fem reader smut after listening to the song "save that shit" by lil peep basically I imagined the reader and johnny are dating but his stunts are getting progressively more and more dangerous and she can't take it anymore and the last straw for her is when he does a stupid stunt (maybe like jumping off of something) and gets hurt again and they have a massive argument and she says she's going to leave him and at some point during the argument he says "Do I make you scared? Baby, won't you take me back?" Maybe she even says she wishes she had a "normal" boyfriend and johnny says "Im nothin' like them other motherfuckers, I can make you rich." And the argument leads to angry sex but then they make up and fluff in the end(?)

Sorry if this is all over the place or too complicated to do, I totally understand

I love your writing btw, especially your latest johnny fic!

Thanks :)

𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 - 𝐣.𝐤

i wrote this when i was sleep-deprived following a nervous breakdown because uni starts next week, so i'm sorry for how this turned out, but i hope it's somewhat readable?

warnings! degrading dirty talk, angry sex, choking, missionary, thigh riding!

words; 2.430

You couldn't even call this a stunt. No, this was merely shits and giggles, and you were having none of it.

"Jeff, please tell him to quit this shit, now."

Johnny wouldn't listen to you, you were sure of it, but maybe he'd listen to Tremaine, but who were you kidding? Tremaine was just as insane as everyone else in the crew.

You watched as Johnny climbed a fifty-foot crane with the intent of jumping from it, with nothing but a flimsy parachute to protect his fall.

You were repulsed by the stunt, but even more by how your boyfriend had neglected your feelings and put this stunt before anything- and anyone.

"Y/N, this is Johnny we're talking about. He's not gonna fucking listen to me," Jeff chuckled to which you rolled your eyes.

Johnny was an adrenaline junkie to the core, and you'd accepted that when you started dating him three years ago. What you hadn't been prepared for was the absolute hell, the man was willing to put himself through in order of getting good footage.

Countless arguments erupted because of that. You'd scold him for putting his life on the line and he'd ignore everything you'd say.

But what was about to happen was some next-level bullshit, and you'd just about had enough.

"Let's start with twenty feet!" Johnny yelled as he stopped climbing and looked down at the crowd gathered below him. Medics and the cast waited on the sideline, and you stood, nervously fidgeting next to Ryan Dunn.

"Whenever you're ready!" Tremaine yelled back and without as much as a warning, Johnny leapt from the crane and activated the smallest parachute, you'd ever seen in your life.

You turned your back just in time to miss the moment when Johnny hit the ground, thankfully. You could hear the thump though, and it made your heart beat so fast, to the point of feeling nauseous.

"Dunn?" You asked and Ryan looked at you, quickly wiping the worried expression from his face when he saw your panicked state.

You turned around slowly. Johnny had stood up. He was laughing with Steve-O and Bam as if nothing had ever happened.

This fucking guy, you thought and pursed your lips. This fucking guy just had a near-death experience and now he was laughing and joking around. You were repulsed but more than anything; you were fucking furious.

Johnny scanned the area around him and eventually, his sight landed on you. You were biting your cheek and shaking your head.

Johnny approached you, clearly aware of what you were feeling, but a glimpse in his eyes told you, that he really didn't give a shit.

"Starting with twenty feet? Are you fucking shitting me?" You hissed and pushed him away when Johnny tried to embrace you.

"I'm not fucking shitting you, and will you please keep your voice down? I don't wanna do this right now," Johnny sneered quietly and you yelped at his question. "No, I'd rather do it now, actually, considering you'll probably be dead within the next twenty minutes," you said and raised your voice to which Johnny shushed you loudly and looked around to ensure that you weren't attracting too much attention.

"Y/N, get in your car and leave," Johnny said, stepping closer to you and towering over your much shorter frame. You looked up at Johnny and stomped on the ground, a loud whine following.

"Now, Y/N."

You watched as his eyes darkened and decided that you actually didn't even want to stick around him and his shitshow any longer.

You shook your head and chuckled in dismay, turning your back to Johnny and leaving without looking back once.

It wasn't the fact, that Johnny did stunts or enjoyed high-speed activities. It was the fact that he couldn't seem to keep it together once he'd started. A simple idea would turn into a life-threatening stunt, and that was what you hated.

You drove home with such anger radiating through your veins, that you could hardly handle it.

He was gonna get himself killed one day, and you were going to be left with pain greater than what he'd ever experienced.

-

A couple hours had passed by, and with no Johnny home, or even a phone call, you were starting to get worried.

Lord knows how far they'd gone. Thirty feet, forty feet, maybe even fifty? The injuries a fall like that could cause. Urgh, you didn't even want to think about it.

You didn't have to, because the sound of the door opening and closing snapped you out of your wandering thoughts.

You'd spent the whole afternoon in a pissy mood, bitching over how Johnny had treated you like crap earlier that day. But you'd also spent the afternoon thinking ahead. How would a future with Johnny look? Was he going to be a punch-drunk husband with a brain like scrambled eggs? He'd suffered too many concussions to even count, and the number of broken bones? You didn't even want to think about it. Was that what you wanted?

You loved Johnny, but at that moment, he was the last person you wanted to see, and the sound of his voice from the corridor made you roll your eyes.

"Y/N, can you come to the kitchen?" He yelled and you sighed. You couldn't avoid him forever. After all, you did live together and it was probably better to just get it over with.

Entering the kitchen, you spotted Johnny, a spiteful chuckle leaving your mouth as your eyes landed on the horrific bruises on Johnny's bare upper body.

He'd taken a trip to the hospital after his parachute failed at forty feet in the air.

"How many ribs did you break this time?" You asked and Johnny sighed, "three."

Honestly, you'd thought it would be worse but then again; the man was fucking invincible, it seemed.

His shirt was off and his muscular upper body was on full display, although you tried your absolute best to not get distracted.

"I really didn't fucking appreciate the way you acted at my job today, Y/N," Johnny said and chugged a glass of water.

You huffed and laughed sarcastically. "Well, Johnny, I really didn't fucking appreciate how selfish you were today," you said and curled your fists into tight balls.

"Selfish? I'm not fucking selfish," Johnny said, completely oblivious to the insane way he'd acted earlier that day.

"Johnny, you could've died! And you know what, I've fucking had it up to here," you said and reached up your arm to signal how much you'd suffered through his ideas.

"It's my job, Y/N! Fuck!" Johnny yelled and threw his hands in the air.

"Baby, you live for this shit. You can't get enough of it, can you? I'd like to watch you go find another dude, that can tame you like I can," Johnny smirked and you huffed. Johnny tried to hide it but yelling really hurt with broken ribs, and he winced quietly.

"You can't even fucking talk to me without getting hurt! Gosh, sometimes I think it would be better if I just left," you chuckled under your breath but flinched when Johnny let out just about one of the loudest roars you'd ever heard from him. "What!"

"Is that really what you want to do? Leave?" He asked. He didn't seem hurt. If anything, he just seemed angry that you'd even say that.

"No, of course, it's not what I want! But it's what this is driving me towards," you admitted.

"You're real bold to be talking to me like that."

Johnny's voice was dark and quiet, but in no way was it soft. It was harsh and cold.

He took some steps closer to you, and you couldn't do anything but back off until you eventually hit the wall behind you.

Johnny was so close to you, that you could hear his heart beating. He moved his hand to your throat and you gasped at the sensation.

The hand around your throat didn't push or squeeze. You both just stood there and looked into each other's eyes. The tension was so thick, you could almost cut it with a knife.

"You're scared, aren't you?" He asked you and flashed you a wicked smile. "Do I scare you, babe?"

You scoffed and shook your head, clearly lying. You were intimidated by him. He was taller and much stronger than you. Johnny saw right through you and he tightened the grip around your throat, but only ever so slightly.

"You said you wanted a normal boyfriend, didn't you?" Johnny asked and you swallowed thickly and nodded.

"Do you still mean that?" Johnny asked you, and you hummed a sly yes.

He moved his hand from your throat and grabbed your face rather harshly. "Look around, love. Haven't I given you everything you've ever dreamed of? Haven't I given you everything any other guy never gave you?" Johnny asked and you nodded slowly.

"So, princess; what's the fucking problem?"

Urgh, the man was dangerously attractive. By now, you'd completely forgotten about the whole argument and its cause. Now, all you seemed to be doing was adding fuel to the fire, because you could tell exactly where this was heading and it made your stomach tingle.

"You make me so fucking mad sometimes," you hissed but yelped loudly when Johnny jerked his knee up between your legs so that your toes were barely touching the ground. Certainly, he could feel the dampness of your arousal on his clothes thigh and the thought of it made you blush slightly.

Johnny grabbed your arms and pinned them on either side of your head against the wall.

"Keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut until I tell you otherwise, okay, doll?" Johnny cut you off and you followed his order, immediately shutting up.

You didn’t mind as you leaned forward, driving your lips together with Johnny's, in a dazed and desperate attempt at dominance. An attempt that was quickly shut down by Johnny, as he tightened his grip on your wrists, moving his lips with yours in a fast, smouldering kiss. 

In a sudden act of rebellion, you bit down on Johnny's bottom lip and watched with fascination as he jerked back and lifted a hand to his mouth, checking for blood. 

"The fuck?" His eyes flashed. You narrowed yours in response.

"You're fucking in for it," Johnny growled before leaning in hard and fast again.

Your toes curled and Johnny moved his knee back and forth against your wet cunt. You arched your back, pressing your chest against Johnny's.

Johnny moved his mouth from your lips to your neck, sucking and biting.

Your panties were thoroughly soaked at this point, and you could feel yourself getting more eager by the second

Johnny moved his hands from your wrists, and immediately, you wrapped your arms around his body, pulling him as close as possible.

You ground against his thigh, feeling that familiar clench between your legs, and you whimpered. “K-Keep going.”

Johnny grabbed your hips - continuing to suck marks onto your neck and chest - and he moved you faster against his thigh, his cock throbbing in his pants. You thrust your fingers into his hair, pulling hard as the fluttering between your thighs turned into hard quakes.

Johnny suddenly bounced his leg a few times and it sent you over the edge, completely.

You threw your head against Johnny's shoulder and hid your face in the crook of his neck, letting out loud moans and whimpers of pleasure. Johnny kept his tight grip on your hips, helping you ride out your orgasm.

You only had a few moments to relax before Johnny lifted you up and began walking towards the living room, placing you on the couch, and hovering over you.

Only now did you realise how bad the bruises on his chest and side really were and you pouted softly, running your fingers over them, which caused Johnny to hiss quietly. You quickly retracted your fingers from his bruises and watched with excitement as Johnny dropped his trousers.

He climbed on the couch and rested over you, looking at you with lusty eyes, growling under his breath.

"Let's see how quiet you can be now," Johnny smirked and slid his hands up your thighs and pulled down your jeans, your lacy underwear following shortly.

You were already soaking wet and Johnny was hard. His tip was an angry red colour, desperate to be embraced.

He smirked as his cock painfully slowly disappeared into your tight cunt, cursing under his breath. His cock was spasming inside of you, your cunt clenching and sucking him in for all it's worth.

A particularly hard thrust made you a moaning mess, grasping and clasping at Johnny's back, probably leaving all kinds of marks.

"Look at you," Johnny smirked in a humiliating manner. "You got yourself into this mess," he said and you bit your lip harshly. "You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you?" Johnny asked and you nodded, agreeing with him as a moan escaped from your lips.

Your second orgasm was around the corner, but you were overstimulated- and overwhelmed.

You tapped Johnny's shoulder three times, which was a sign for him to slow down. "Already tapping out, are you?" He asked as you squirmed underneath him, unable to control your body.

"I-I'm go-"

"Already?" Johnny chuckled. Okay, now he was really taking the piss.

You screamed loudly and let your eyes roll to the back of your head as your whole body flexed beneath Johnny as he delivered a final thrust before pulling out quickly and stroking himself, emptying his loud on your thighs.

His moans quieted down as he snapped back from his climax and looked at you. He grabbed your hips and lifted you up, taking the space where you were laying, so that you could lay on top of him.

You were both out of breath and a few silent moments went by before you got tired of the painful silence.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I don't want a normal boyfriend, I want you," you sighed against Johnny's chest and placed a kiss on it.

"I know. I'm sorry too, and you're right; I'm one selfish bastard," Johnny admitted and you looked up at him. "I'm not gonna stop the stunts, but for now, there'll be no forty feet cranes," he said and you smiled.

"I'm glad to hear it."

#johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville imagine #jackass x reader #jackass #jackass imagine #smutty #johnny knoxville smut #smut #dirty imagine #dirty talk #warnings #jackass fanfic #jackass smut #chris pontius #dave england #ehren danger #preston lacy #ryan dunn #wee man

[vintagedolan]

concept: fucking grayson in new jersey

say less

“Gray-”

“Nah, fuck this, bro! He shoulda just kept his fucking mouth shut if he was gonna pussy out. Pisses me the fuck off.”

Ethan sighed, looking over at Karoly and then at you, eyebrows raised. You knew what he wanted - he wanted you to calm his brother down, put your hands on his face, make him look at you in the eyes like you always did when he got worked up like this. You nodded at E, moving to where Grayson had paced off to, just off the gravel of the driveway, both boys right behind you. 

You put one hand on his shoulder and felt his tense muscles relax at your touch.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t be. He’s a little bitch, and if you don’t call him out, I’m going to.”

Suddenly, 3 pairs of eyes were on you, incredulous. And then they were laughing, so loud that it bounced off the trees on the other side of the drive, filled the evening air. 

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” Grayson beamed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you up against him so he could kiss you hard. You melted into him for a moment but pulled back before you could get lost in it. You had a tendency to forget your surroundings when he kissed you like that, and you didn’t need the teasing from E and Ryan all night. 

“C’mon, Ma said she stocked up on vegan ice cream before we came,” E mumbled, leading the way back to the house with quick strides, hoping to get back before it got dark. 

Grayson held back a bit, arm snaking around your waist for a moment and then he paused, moving in front of you and crouching down. You weren’t sure why he loved to give you piggy back rides - it was just one of those things he thought was cute. So you happily jumped on, pressing a kiss to his cheek once you got settled with his hands under your thighs.

“I love you, you know that?” 

“Love you more,” you hummed.

“Not possible.”

You just shook your head and kissed him again, loving the way his hands squeezed your thighs when you did. 

“I really do wanna call him out you know, I wasn’t kidding,” you mumbled, resting your cheek on his shoulder as he walked, the crunch of the gravel below his feet louder than Ethan and Karoly’s conversation a few yards ahead. 

“You can do whatever you want baby, but don’t feel like you have to. I’ll be fine.”

“But you were so excited,” you pouted. “You ordered mats and everything.” 

“I know, but I can always send them back. It’s no big deal.”

“Don’t send them back, you and Ryan and E can still wrestle, it’ll just be for fun. I’d love to see you show off, even if it’s just at home. I was excited to see you train, see what you used to do.” 

You could practically feel his chest puff up as you spoke and he craned his neck so he could see your face.

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah. Maybe you can teach me a few moves,” you grinned, moving to kiss him again. He stopped walking as you got the porch, deepening it again, swiping his tongue into your mouth as best he could from his angle. 

“I can think of a few I could show you.” His tone dropped, and if you could have clenched your thighs together, you would have. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But, ice cream first so we don’t seem sus.” 

“Ugh,” you grumbled, making him chuckle as he let you down, pressed a kiss to your temple and led you inside by the hand. Ethan already had your favorite flavor by the chair you usually sat in and he passed you a spoon, giving you a quick appreciative smile when you sat down. 

Inevitably, the boys got into another middle school story, full of names you didn’t know and places you’d never been. You let them have their fun, spooning out bites of ice cream while you scrolled through twitter, seeing everyone’s chatter about Logan shit talking on his podcast. 

It wasn’t that you wanted to see your boyfriend wrestle the prick - in fact, you knew you’d be nervous to see him in an actual match like that. But you’d watched him get so excited, so hyped up to get a chance to really get do the thing that he loved so much again, and you were seething that someone had gotten his hopes up just to back out. 

You didn’t think much when you typed it out.

oh so we’re saying “more important things on the horizon” instead of “I’m scared as fuck” now?🤔 my b, I didn’t get that memo

You hit send on the tweet and locked your phone, moving back to your pint of ice cream and minding your own business. Eventually, both Grayson and Ethan’s phones buzzed - a text from other Ryan, in the group chat.

“10 points to Y/N for that subtweet.” He read. “What? What subtweet?” 

Your eyes went wide and you simply took another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, waiting for them to find it and read it. 

Ethan found it first, and they all huddled around his screen to read, looking up at you with the same incredulous eyes as earlier. 

“You’re a fuckin’ legend,” Karoly grinned, shaking his head as the twins mouths hung open. “You think he’s gonna say some shit back to you?”

“I’d like to see him fuckin’ say somethin to her, he won’t have fingers to type with,” Grayson puffed up again and you just grinned, putting the lid back on your pint and getting up to take it to the freezer. 

“What would he even say though? I’m right, he’s just scared to embarrass himself.” 

“Damn straight,” Ethan grinned, clapping Grayson on the back as he stood to follow you. You gave your goodnights before you headed upstairs and down the hallway to the bedroom. It was the new rule - whoever had their girlfriend with them in Jersey got the bedroom and the other twin got the laundry room. 

You were particularly glad for the door, and more specifically the lock on it, which Grayson turned as soon as he followed you in and got it closed.

“C’mere.” 

You didn’t have to - he pulled you to him before you could even move, holding your face with both hands and stepping to meet you so he could kiss you fully, roughly, your whole body already buzzing as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

His hands dipped down over your ass. “Jump,” he mumbled into your mouth, not willing to break away from you just yet. You obliged, grinning as he held you up by your ass, big hands kneading slow and deep as you licked into his mouth. He shifted you just barely, and you whimpered a bit when you felt how hard he was beneath you. 

“Already?” You mumbled, ego swelling.

“Fuck yeah, don’t know why but that shit fucked me up baby,” he huffed, backing up and moving towards the bed and leaning over to lay you down gently. As soon as your legs were free of his waist he was tugging off his crewneck over his head and throwing it across the room.

“Thought you were gonna teach me some moves,” you teased, pretending to be unaffected just to spur him on. He’d find out just how wet you were in a few seconds, so you might as well have your moment of fun. 

“Tomorrow. Or shit, round two, right now I just need to fuck you baby,” he explained, pulling his pants and boxers down in one go. You reveled in the sight for the moment that you could, hard cock disappearing from view as he leaned over and hooked all his fingers into the waistband of your panties and leggings, pulling them all the way off in one swift motion.

He eyed your shirt for a minute and you got the memo, sitting up and stripping it off quickly. You barely had time to unclasp your bra before he was pushing on your legs, pulling them up and bending them to spread you open for him at the edge of the bed. 

“You ready?”

“Fuck yeah baby,” you smiled at him, reaching up for his face. He slid his hands off your thighs but you held them where they were as he pushed in, the pinch of the stretch masked by the feeling of his sweet lips on yours when he leaned forward to kiss you. 

He let out a sigh when he made it balls deep, and then he rolled his hips back only to snap them against you a moment later, so hard your whole body jolted.

“Fuck,” you groaned, already knowing that with him in that type of mood, you were in for at least two orgasms before he busted. He didn’t let up, keeping a relentless rhythm that had you biting down on his shoulder so you didn’t fully scream out his name for the whole house to hear. 

But when he found just the right spot you couldn’t help but gasp, your back arching up against him, torso to torso as he railed into you over and over. You scratched down his back.

“Fuck, shit baby right there, right there right there,” you squeaked, every muscle tensing up as your orgasm hit, warm and fluttering for a moment before you started quivering with aftershocks.

“Fuck that was hot,” he groaned, giving you one more good stroke before he pulled out, leaving you much too empty.

“What-”

“Roll over,” he instructed. You did your best with your still-quivering legs, and he took your waist in his hands, flipping you the rest of the way over - whether it was from impatience or care, you couldn’t tell. But it didn’t matter, because he wasted no time in ducking down, wrapping an arm around your hips to lift them enough to shove a pillow underneath and prop them up for him.

You craned your neck back to see him, just quick enough to catch his wink before he pushed into you again, filling you back up in an entirely different way that already had your hands grasping at the comforter. 

He was grunting and groaning so loud that you were sure the boys could hear, and you were also sure that he didn’t give a single fuck as he started to roll his hips the way he always did when he was chasing a high.

“Jesus you feel so fucking good,” he moaned, leaning over you so you could feel his weight on you as he pulled out just enough and pounded back into you in a way that had your mouth hanging open, no sound left to come out as your body started to work itself up again. 

“One more for me baby girl, give it to me, fuck,” he breathed into your ear, and it was as if that’s what your body needed to let go. Your thighs clenched together as much as they could with him in between them, which only spurred him on as he chased his own high, cumming with a groan that put his pull up sounds to shame. 

He stayed behind you for a few moments as you caught your breath, peppering kisses along your spine, your neck, your shoulders. Eventually he pulled out, making you shiver as he disappeared to the bathroom to get a washcloth for you. You let him clean you up as you continued to come down, twitching with sensitivity that made him press an apology kiss to your asscheek. 

When he disappeared again you rolled over and got up in search of clean panties, pulling some on and grabbing one of Grayson’s shirts before climbing back into bed and burrowing under the covers. 

He returned with a pair of his shorter boxer briefs on and a wide smile, sliding in next to you and wrapping you up in his arms so you were pressed to his chest - your favorite place to be, no matter where in the world you were.

#did I get carried away? #why yes #of course I did #:) #anon #ask #happy 1am post bbys haha #g:blurb #blurb #grayson dolan #me: why did this take so long #also me: writes 2k every time I do a blurb these days HAHA

[darkesthourrpg]

WELCOME TO THE BLACKOUT

BREAKING NEWS...

With a storm rolling in, flash flood warning flicker across phones. But, that’s not all. With the incoming rain also goes the electricity. For the next 4 days your characters will be completely without power, this means water, electricity, and eventually all electronics..... With the lights being out and the humans being urged to remain indoors, supernaturals flock to the streets, hosting their own block parties and being able to reign free throughout the city without fear of exposure. 

REMINDERS:

This event will start on Friday, September 24th and go until Sunday, October 3rd.

In roleplay time the event will be on September 24th to September 28th.

The tag for the event will be darkestevent3. Everything from pictures, outfits, threads, and etc all need to be under the tag. Starters should have both the starter and event tag.

This event is mandatory.

We ask that you please make event threads priority and everything else second.

While this event does have pairings please feel free to reach out and plot with others and post open starters as well! In fact it is encouraged, please take advantage of this event to meet others. 

Any big plots should be discussed with the admins before playing them out on the dash. If you have any big plots you want to do let us know.

PAIRINGS:

Alara Binici (Annie) + Leonardo Hastings (Dan)

Alexandra Reyes (Kourtney) + Cole Byrne (Alixx)

Aslyn Bishop (Lex) + Leyla Binici  (Becca)

Athena Decker-Morris (Nat) + Cecilia Wellworth (Tasha)

Camila Vera (Annie) + Lorenzo Vicario (Cato)

Clover Byrne (Tasha) + Eliot Isayev (Dan)

Delphine Laurent (Nico) +Mirana Diaz (Ashley)

Hayden Decker (Tasha) + James Sawyer-Binici (Becca)

Ilana Reed (Lena) + Jace Devlin (Annie)

Isra Durel (Lita) + Logan Hastings (Kourtney)

Juliana Silveira Lopes (Ashley) + Lola Rai (Nat)

Lancelot Crane (Alixx) + Mylene Delacroix (Tasha)

Livia Hastings (Becca) + Lysander Rai (Alixx)

Lucas Lowell (Dan) + Lorelai Hastings (Ashley)  

Lucian Hastings (Abbey) + Kiraz Kaya (Annie)

Remi Marlowe (Abbey) +  Vera Nilsson (Nico)

Santiago Hererra (C) + Ryan Kennedy (Lena) 

Selene Khan (Kourtney) + Wesley Wilder (Becca) 

During this event, you are required to start a thread with the person we have listed out above. We have provided some scenarios under the cut in case you need them. Feel free to make your own as well! 

Once you have started your pairings thread, you can also feel free to use one of the scenarios below to help craft an open starter.

Muse A and Muse B stuck in an elevator...

During the black out one dropped their keys and now they must help the other find them in pitch black.....

You were washing your clothes and there was one other person in the laundromat until the lights went out.....

My phone just died and I can’t charge it nor can I remember any of my contact numbers. Help please?

Muse A walked outside to find out what was going on when the power went out and got locked out now muse B must help them get back in. 

Muse A was in the middle of making dinner when the lights went out, they’re dying of hunger and on their quest for food they meet Muse B. 

With the power out and nothing else to do Muse A decides to throw or go to a block party where they meet Muse B....

Muse A and Muse B are stuck on the subway/train together.....

Muse A was reading a book and got to the last page when the lights went out. In a panic they start searching for any kind of light, they stumble upon Muse B who has a flashlight.

Muse A was working at a bar/restaurant when the lights went out and Muse B happens to be there.

Muse A was trying to have a happy night at home when the fire alarms in their apartment went off due to another person leaving a candle burning. Now Muse A and Muse B are stuck outside while firefighters work to put out the flames.

With the power being out shops have started giving out perishables, which causes Muse A and Muse B to meet while in line together. 

During the blackout Muse A got their purse/wallet stolen and now doesn’t have enough money to get back home... that was until they met Muse B. 

Muse A decided to go on a blind date only to find Muse B, but before they can even get their drinks ordered the lights go out. 

Muse A was in the middle of washing their hair when the water stopped completely. In a panic they run to find a neighbor who has water or something to help them and find Muse B.

Muse A is trying to start a fire, but cannot get it started to Muse B steps in to help them. 

#darkestevent4 #darkestevent

[myarmsaretoolong]

so i may have accidentally started writing this prompt for webpril and i may or may not do more, we’ll see i guess

prompt: field trip

word count: 3756

warnings: none :)

summary: When Peter finds out the school field trip will be taking them to Stark Industries, he has some fairly reasonable concerns given all of his extra curriculars. When he finds out Harley planned the whole thing, he's determined not to give in to his taunts.

ao3 link here | read under the cut

Peter had a lot going on in his life. School, homework, Stark Internship, Spider-Man, and all the while finding time to hang out with his friends and family. Some days were exhausting, but he wouldn’t trade them for the world. Who in their right mind would?

He tried his best to stifle a yawn but only ended up making it more obvious. Thankfully, Mister Harrington didn’t notice. Ned, however, he definitely noticed.

“Dude,” he whispered, leaning closer. “You alright?”

Peter nodded, forcing a casual smile. “Yeah, ‘course. Me and Harley had a late night working on a project at the Tower is all.” He dropped his voice lower. “We’re upgrading my suit, but the shooters are proving to be a problem.”

“What’s up with them?”

“You so much as breathe towards the trigger and it fires. Not the best in a stressful situation-”

Mister Harrington’s voice boomed from the front of the class, eyes locked on the pair. “Something you want to share with the class, boys?”

“No, sir!” Ned yelped. Peter shook his head vigorously.

“Then maybe you want to join the rest of us in finding out where we’re going for this year’s field trip?” Both boys nodded in sync. “Good,” Mister Harrington addressed the class as a whole. “Since last year’s trip to Oscorp was such a success, we’re sticking along the same theme…”

Right the Oscorp trip. The first half had been great, but the rest was rather overshadowed by the spider bite. Hopefully they just weren’t visiting Hammer Industries else he might have to decline out of loyalty to Mister Stark. Plus that time the Hammer Drones almost killed him… Thinking about it, Peter had a rocky history with large tech corporations.

Mister Harrington continued, “And this year we’ll be visiting Stark Industries!”

Cries of excitement rang out among the room. Ned turned to Peter, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. “Dude… What are you gonna do?”

Before he could reply, Flash piped up with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Yeah, Penis. What are you going to do when your fake internship gets exposed?”

“Shut it, Flash,” Peter snapped. He couldn’t be bothered to deal with Flash’s teasing right now, not when his head was reeling.

“Alright, class, settle down. Settle down.” Mister Harrington waited for the noise to die down. “Permission slips are on my desk, I need them signed by a guardian and brought back by Thursday at the latest. You hear that, Abe? Thursday latest.”

Abe, notorious for handing in his permission slips late, grinned a reply. “Got it, sir.”

Flash wasn’t going to be brushed off so easily. “Or what? You gonna set Iron Man on me?”

Mercifully, Peter’s need to reply was cut off by the school bell’s sharp ring. His classmates, Flash included, set about gathering their belongings. Peter hung back until the class had filed out of the door before going to collect his slip. 

“Oh, and Peter,” Mister Harrington called as he was just about to leave, “no disappearing this time. It’s becoming something of a habit.”

Peter smiled and hurried out of the door after Ned. Students flooded the hall, their loud chatter enough for Ned and Peter to talk without being overheard. 

“So,” Ned asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, honestly. But I’m going to the Tower now to work on the suit. I’ll just… have to figure something out.”

# #

Much to Peter’s annoyance, Tony had been called away for a meeting, leaving him and Harley to work on the suit.

Even though the web shooters were the main problem, they decided to focus on fixing the minor issues with the suit itself. Slow going, but ultimately an easy enough job for the pair. 

After a few hours work, Tony returned from his meeting, looking a little worse for wear. He took a quick look at the suit and congratulated them both. “Good job. How are the web shooters coming?”

Peter answered first, not taking his eyes from his work. “Oh, we’re gonna work on them once we’re done here. Left them in the engineering lab downstairs anyway.”

“And you’ve not been down to get them?” Tony raised an eyebrow. 

“No,” Harley supplied, just as intently focused on the suit as Peter. 

Tony watched them for a long moment before loudly clapping his hands, making both of them look up. “What I’m hearing is you’ve both been holed up in here for hours, and that’s a little too me for my liking.” He waved away the boys’ attempts to argue with his hand. “Nope, don’t wanna hear it. FRIDAY, order us a pizza, the usual. I want to see you two upstairs in five. Got it?”

“Can’t we just finish this?” Harley moaned. “I mean, you could bring the pizza down-”

“You know I’m technically your boss, right? I mean, this is intern hours you’re logging even up here. That means you have to do what I say.”

“Fine, we’ll be up in five.”

And five minutes later they were. The pizza arrived not long after. Happy brought it up from the lobby, not trusting anyone else to do so, and they settled down to watch a film. 

“Hey, Mister Stark, you don’t happen to know anything about our field trip do you?”

Tony looked blank. “They still haven't picked somewhere?”

“No they did, it’s-” He stopped talking as Harley giggled, trying his best to cover it up with a cough. Slowly, it dawned on Peter. “Did you do this? Why? How?”

“Well,” Harley grinned mischievously, “wasn’t hard to find your school’s email address and no teacher in their right mind would decline a personal invite from Tony Stark.”

Tony straightened up. “Hang on, you pretended to be me?”

Harley just shrugged. Tony held his glare… and eventually settled back down. “Fair enough, but don’t do it again.”

“Wait, Mister Stark! You’re not even mad? He impersonated you. I’m pretty sure that’s against the law or something!”

“It’s harmless,” Tony replied. “Plus your classmates get to go on the best field trip of their lives.”

Peter crossed his arms and huffed. “I guess.”

“Chin up, Pete,” Harley had that grin again. “It might be better than you think.” 

# #

“And it is absolutely not going to be better than I think,” Peter said as they climbed off the school bus. He craned his neck, looking up at the familiar sight of the Tower with apprehension while everyone else gawped in awe. “I can’t believe him. I can’t believe Mister Stark let him get away with it!”

“Uh huh.” Ned looked around as they walked inside, hardly paying attention to Peter’s moaning. He didn’t blame him, though, Peter himself had been much the same the first time Tony brought him to the Tower. 

The receptionist - Ryan, as Peter knew - jogged out from behind his desk and towards the group. Mister Harrington greeted him with a warm handshake before following him back to the desk. 

Peter could easily hear them talking, even over the sounds of his friends' gleeful conversations. 

“Here are your security badges, hand them out and make sure they’re worn at all times.” Ryan handed over a bunch of lanyards. “Your guide will be down any minute now.”

“Thank you.” Mister Harrington rejoined them and set about handing out the badges. Peter took the moment where everyone was distracted to take his own badge from his pocket and slip it over his neck, making sure the corner with his clearance level was tucked safely beneath his jacket.

From across the group, MJ eyed him suspiciously. She walked over to him and Ned. “So, you intern here, right?”

Peter nodded quickly, “Uh, yeah. Yeah I intern here.”

“So you, like, know your way around already?”

He didn’t have time to reply before someone called over to the huddled students. Someone with a very familiar voice… Peter squeezed his eyes shut, nose crinkled, as he turned towards the voice.

Harley strolled towards them with that same grin from the other night, eyes locked on Peter. Subtly, Peter waved his hand in an attempt to shoo Harley away, but Harley didn’t deter. “Hey, everyone.” Finally, he took his eyes from Peter and addressed the group as a whole. “Now, there was a small problem with our usual tour guide, so I’ll be taking her place!”

Peter forced his face to remain composed, not wanting to give Harley the satisfaction he so clearly wanted.

“I’m an intern here, but I’ve taken the tour enough times to know the thing by heart. I trust you’ve all got your badges?” A few ‘yes’s and nods came from the students. Harley eyed Peter’s badge, tucked under his jacket, and his smile grew. “I need to see them, so everyone hold them up in the air for me.”

Everyone did as they were told. Begrudgingly, Peter did so too.

Harley clapped his hands. “Perfect! Looks like we’re all set.”

Peter hurried to return his badge but, when he noticed MJ staring at him, turned the action into simply straightening out his jacket. His badge just happened to get caught underneath.

“If you intern here,” Flash stepped forward, a triumphant look on his face. “Then surely you know Parker, right? Since he’s totally an intern too.”

A dozen pairs of eyes turned to look at Peter. He was sure Harley was purposefully taking his time to answer.

“Of course I know Peter,” Harley said eventually. “He’s probably the second best intern here.”

“Who- Who’s the best?” Flash asked, that look wiped from his face.

“He’s gonna say he is,” Peter muttered to Ned.

Harley pointed to his own chest, “Me! Anyway, we’ve got a tour to get on with. Everyone follow me.”

Peter pushed his way to the front of the group, sidling up to Harley and talking under his breath. “What are you doing here? Does Mister Stark know?”

“Of course he knows, it was his idea.”

“His-!” Peter let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, what was the ‘small problem’ with the usual tour guide.”

“Tony gave her the day off.”

Peter scowled, only just keeping his annoyance in check. “Tony Tony, or you pretending to be him again?”

“Does it really matter?” Harley shrugged. Seeing the look on Peter’s face, he answered anyway. “You wouldn’t want to know.”

“Great! So you both have it out for me. Y’know this is my actual school, right? These are people that I have to see everyday for the next two years.”

Harley leaned closer, his mouth almost at Peter’s ear. “That’s what makes it so fun.” He led them into the ground floor museum, a history of Stark Industries, and launched into a speech about the exhibits.

When they reached an exhibit all about the first Stark Expo, the whole class gathered around to see a miniature model of Howard Stark’s flying car that actually flew.

“Did anyone visit the expo when Tony restarted it a few years back?”

A few students nodded and raised their hands. Peter, however, made a point of crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Harley.

Cindy kept her hand in the air long after everyone else dropped their’s. “Excuse me, but, you keep calling him ‘Tony’. Have you actually met him?”

“That’s a great question.” Harley’s eyes flicked to Peter once more, looking for a reaction he refused to give. “We actually met back in December 2012.”

“Wasn’t… Wasn’t that when everyone thought he was dead? When his house got destroyed by The Mandarin?”

Harley nodded. “Exactly then, only he obviously wasn’t dead.” He cleared his throat, standing a little taller. “I can’t tell you much of what happened, but I can say my work on the Iron Man suit was crucial to The Mandarin’s take down. I’m something of a hero myself.”

Peter, again, forced his face to remain perfectly neutral, though he couldn’t stop his hands from balling into fists as his classmates gasped and yelled questions.

“He had Mister Stark and Jarvis talking him through the whole thing,” he whispered to Ned, who was clearly torn between wanting to know more and standing by Peter. “Anyone could have done that. I made the first Spider-Man suit by myself.”

“Yeah, but still,” Ned replied, “It’s pretty cool. He’s seen inside an Iron Man suit.”

“I’ve seen inside an Iron Man suit!”

“Right, right. Of course you have, my bad.”

“Have you met Spider-Man?” Flash asked loudly, attempting to get Peter’s attention. He couldn’t help but look up.

Harley nodded. “Real douche-bag. No fun to talk to.”

Peter opened his mouth to make a come back, but quickly snapped it shut. Again, MJ stared his direction, eyes narrowed.

The rest of the morning went much the same. Harley took them through the museum, then to the Avengers Exhibition on the next floor, all the while making comments he knew would get a rise out of Peter. But Peter didn’t let them get the better of him. Not more than twice, at least.

They ended up having lunch in one of the many cafeterias. Peter heaped as many pastries and snacks as he could onto his tray and joined Ned at a table. MJ sat a few seats away from them.

Ned demanded to know the full story of Harley and Tony’s first meeting, which Peter happily explained as they picked at the mountain of food between them both. He made it very clear how anyone could have done what Harley did, though even he had to admit it was a cool story. 

At some point in the story, MJ joined in listening. Once it was over, she asked, “Why do you have it out for each other?”

“What do you mean?” Peter squeaked. He cleared his throat, heat rising in his face. “What- We don’t have it out for each other.”

“You do,” MJ scoffed. “I’ve been watching the two of you all morning. Either he hates your guts, or you’re actually really good friends and he loves playing pranks. So which is it?”

“Oh, um…”

“Peter!” Cindy called from the cafeteria line. “Your badge is on the floor over here.”

Peter’s hand shot to his lanyard, finding the end of it empty. He jumped to his feet as Cindy bent down, “Don’t worry! I’ve got-” Too late, she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. “ - it…”

Her eyes went wide, a hand clasped across her mouth. By now, half the class was watching. “Why… Peter, why’s your clearance level so high.”

“It’s not that high.” Peter snatched the badge from her and turned to the rest of the room. “It’s not that high,” he assured.

A few seconds of silence followed. Flash spoke up first. “What did it say?”

Peter swallowed hard, eyes squeezed shut as the words left Cindy’s mouth.

“Level Ten.”

“Ten.” The room filled with gasps and mutters.

Once again, it was Flash who spoke first. “You… That can’t be right! How does Parker have Level Ten clearance?” He checked his own badge - Level One, Visitor.

“I, uh…”

“Because,” Harley had the impeccable timing to enter the room just at that moment. “He’s Tony’s personal intern. We both are.” He held up his own badge, Level Ten clearly written in one corner.

Flash wasn’t having it. “There’s no chance Parker has even been in the same room as Tony Stark-”

“Wanna bet?”

Peter had to admit, Harley standing up to Flash for him was kind of nice.

Mister Harrington stood up, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s just focus on the tour. Everyone finish up your lunch and we’ll head off again in five minutes?” He looked to Harley for confirmation, who nodded before joining Peter, Ned, and MJ at their table.

“So, you’re friends then,” MJ concluded.

“No, actually I hate him,” Peter said with a sickly sweet smile in Harley’s direction. He could feel everyone’s eyes on them.

“Relax,” Harley laughed. “I just came to say that the next part of the tour is of the labs, which you’ve obviously seen a thousand times. If you wanna duck out and go do something more interesting I won’t blame you.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Turns out it’s no fun to tease you when you don’t even respond anyway. We’ll be in the engineering lab in two hours, meet you there?”

Peter sighed. “But Mister Harrington specifically told me not to disappear. I’m on thin ice if I ever want to go on a trip somewhere again.”

Harley waved away his worry. “I’ll have a word with him, wait here.”

They watched Harley make his way over to Mister Harrington and ask. Eventually, Mister Harrington nodded and Harley gave Peter a thumbs up.

When the rest of the class went to continue the tour, Peter said bye to Ned and MJ and hurried off to Tony’s lab. After half an hour of filling out boring homework sheets, he decided now was as good a time as any to work on the web shooters. He needed to meet Harley in the engineering lab anyway, so down he went.

The web shooters were still where he’d left them on his work table. He took out his tools and set to work. It was common knowledge around the Tower that Harley and Peter worked closely with Tony, so no one questioned why he was working on superhero tech. 

The soft ding of the lift doors brought Peter out of his work, a soft hush fell across the lab as Tony strolled in. He spoke to a few of the scientists, looking at the projects, before making his way over to Peter’s table. “Hey, kiddo. FRIDAY told me you were in here. What happened to the field trip?”

“Oh, they’re at the labs so Harley let me leave. Y’know, since I’ve seen it all before.” He sat straighter and crossed his arms. “I’m angry at you, by the way.”

“Me? Why?” Tony pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “What on earth could I have possibly done to make you angry?”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe you let Harley take over the tour. He told everyone I’m your intern!”

“Isn’t that a good thing? I’m what the kids call a ‘pretty cool guy’ aren’t I?”

“Not if you keep talking like that you’re not.”

Tony pointed at the web shooters in Peter’s hand. “How’s it going?”

“Err, not great honestly. I’m starting to think the sleeker design just isn’t feasible.”

“None of that quitter talk in my lab, kid. Let me take a look.”

Tony pulled up a seat and Peter took him through the design and the problems with it. One acquainted, Tony set to work scribbling on a piece of paper - a mixture of calculations and sketches - until they came up with a plan, which they set about on immediately. 

This time, the ding of the lift didn’t draw Peter’s attention. Neither did the quiet falling over the lab. It was Flash’s voice that finally dragged him to reality. “You have got to be joking. Parker actually knows Tony Stark?”

“Told you so,” Harley grinned. 

Tony stood, wiping off his hands, and walked towards the group. Peter stayed at his table, cheeks burning red. “Well, who wants to see what these folks are working on?” The group of students practically vibrated with excitement. Tony waved a hand. “Go, disperse, learn. But try not to annoy them too much, huh?”

They didn’t need to be told twice. The group split across the lab, joined scientists at their tables and listened as they happily explained what they were working on. Ned made straight for Peter, gasping when he saw the shooter on his desk. “Is that real?”

“Yeah-” Peter glanced around the lab, making sure no one was watching. “- watch this!” He shot a web at the table. 

Ned’s mouth fell open. “Can I have a go?”

“Sure. Just be careful, it’s still sensitive.” 

Ned took the shooter and clipped it to his wrist. “I feel so cool right now.” He shot a web, landing on top of Peter’s with a satisfying thwip. “So. Cool!”

Peter laughed, “Keep it down before someone-”

“Is that Spider-Man’s web shooter?” Cindy shouted, loud enough for half the lab to see. Tony glanced up from the huddle of students gathered around him to check Peter had everything handled.

“Uh, yeah. It is.” Students swarmed around him, wanting a closer look at their local hero’s gear. He gave a few demonstrations to a chorus of ‘oo’s and ‘ah’s and took them through the basic mechanics. Even Mister Harrington looked awed.

Harley squeezed his way to the front of the group. “May I?” Peter placed the web shooter in his waiting hand, more than a little wary. He aimed it across the lab. Peter realised too late his target and the signature thwip echoed across the room once again. The web sailed through the air, and hit Tony smack dab in the face. 

For a moment, the whole lab was silent. Then it slowly broke out into laughs, growing in volume until everyone was clutching their sides. Everyone except Tony who struggled to claw the web fluid covering his mouth and eyes. Before he got free, Harley shoved the web shooter back into Peter’s hand. 

“Pete,” Tony said, his voice eerily calm. “Why?”

“I- I didn’t! It was-”

“Yeah, Peter.” Harley put his hands on his hips. “That’s a really mean thing to do.”

“Hey!” Peter punched his shoulder. Tony strode across the lab towards them. “Mister Stark, I swear I didn’t-”

Tony walked right up to Mister Harrington and stuck out a hand, waiting for the other man to shake it. “You’re in charge here?”

Mister Harrington swallowed hard and nodded. “Y- Yes, I’m in charge-”

“Good, then I trust you won’t mind if I conduct the rest of this tour myself?” Tony didn’t wait for Mister Harrington to reply before gathering the students around. “Now, most of the upper floors were cleared out during the move upstate, but I’m sure there’s still plenty to see up in the old Avengers Quarters.”

Peter’s mouth hung open. “Mister Stark, are you sure that’s a good-”

Tony spoke as if he couldn't hear Peter, “I even think Spider-Man left one of his many cuddly toys up there.” He led the group towards the lift.

Harley joined Peter trudging after the class. “This is the best day of my life.”

#webpril 2021 day 1 #webpril #webpril 2021 #peter parker #tony stark #harley keener #peter parker and tony stark #irondad #my writing

[ghostyprince]

How about "You smell nice." for a fluff prompt - DoneGhosting

@doneghosting Thanks for the prompt! I hope you like this.💖

Ryan doesn't mean to mention it, he doesn't even mean to notice it, really. But Shane must have started using a new cologne or body spray or whatever because he's been smelling especially nice lately.

Ryan can't really pinpoint the scent exactly, there is something peachy, infused with vanilla. He likes it a lot though, is the thing. He thinks it fits Shane especially, not to mention the fact it's so out of the blue. Very on-brand for him, to spice things up and roll with it for a while. Like that awful mustache.

When he first showed up like that, to the set of Unsolved, Ryan was admittedly distracted the whole entire time, stuttering through his script way more than he usually would. Every time Shane gestured with his hand, he wafted another whiff of that wonderful peachy smell to Ryan's direction. 

It's like it was clinging to Shane's clothes, to Shane's skin, his entire being and it was driving Ryan a little crazy.

It also made him feel kind of creepy. Being attracted to Shane, having a crush on him, in fact, was one thing. But there is no way Ryan would be so deeply in love with him that such a small thing like Shane impulsively changing up his self-care products would affect Ryan this goddamn much, right?

Well, no. It really affects him and it's increasingly becoming more and more of a problem. Because Ryan did try to keep quiet about it. He bottled all that shit up real good. 

He resisted the urge to just press his face into Shane's neck and breathe him in because that would be *weird*. The desire to touch Shane's hair hit him up even more often than before too, but that was it, he's been good, not acting up on all of that.

Who is he kidding, he wants to touch Shane everywhere. Not just in the fun, sexy time way. 

He is so fucked.

He knows he is, precisely after Shane pulls him into a particularly long hug that week. Ryan honest to God does not know how he got through that situation acting like nothing was wrong. Like he wasn't half-hard by the time he got home later that evening because he could still smell Shane on himself. 

His head was swimming when Shane let go of him, Ryan's whole being was filled with how incredible he smells. He couldn't help but wonder if Shane would taste like that too. Ryan knew he wouldn't, that's ridiculous, but a man can daydream.

They were in the process of shooting a Watcher Weekly when Ryan apparently couldn't take it anymore. His brain to mouth filter fucked off to somewhere this afternoon, probably because of the chill nature of these filming sessions.

They're close to wrapping up and he's feeling all loose but bubbly at the same time. So, when Shane leans over him to put his mug on the table next to the couch and that peachy, whatever it is that Shane uses hits his nose, Ryan obviously gets flustered as all hell. Resulting in that, he blurts the first thing that comes to his mind.

"You smell nice." 

And to be honest, he said some weird-ass shit both on and off camera lately, getting bold with his very obvious flirting, since they always laughed it off. Shane never took it seriously, which yes, hurt Ryan's feelings a little, but maybe he wasn't ready to face the reality of Shane actually flirting back, or for real rejecting him.

Shane isn't laughing now, however. He freezes for a second and meets Ryan's gaze, still half-draped over him.

Ryan might just feel his lungs lock up, and that is really ironic because Shane is so close, he could have another whiff of him, but Ryan isn't sure he can even breathe at all at the moment.

His whole world halts to a stop for a second, even though in reality it's probably not that serious. And then Shane is giving him this small smile, almost smug like he's been waiting for Ryan to break, there is a bit of lazy satisfaction to it but it's gone in an instant, leaving Ryan dumbfounded, and wondering if it was even there in the first place. 

There is some awkward laughter on Steven's part. Shane too laughs it off this time, gives a Look to the camera and breathes out a quiet "okay", before moving onto another topic, easily. But Ryan instantly knows most of his private little moment with Shane won't make the cut.

"You do smell nice," Ryan tells him after they wrapped up the shoot because he can never let things go. And maybe he's too curious to receive a proper answer from Shane.

"We all can't smell like 'Sport' and 'Extreme'" Shane comments, complete with air quotes, shrugging off the compliment.

Ryan snorts out a laugh, but he doesn't want to let Shane off the hook just yet. He went this far, it would be stupid to back out now. "I was wondering what was it. It's uhh very fruity. New shampoo?" 

"It's a little something I got from Sara," Shane says, choosing his words carefully, and Ryan really wants to know what that's all about.

"A little something," Ryan repeats, knowing full well Shane can see the cogs turning in his head  so he explains before Ryan could even ask the question. Another reason why they work so amazingly.

"A perfume of sorts." 

"Well, it's nice. Even though you're weirdly making a big deal out of it." Ryan grins at him, half-heartedly but he can't tear his gaze away from Shane's eyes. Especially because Shane is slowly stepping into his space and Ryan forgets to breathe again.

Now that they're standing flush against each other, Ryan realizes just how much he has to crane his neck to look up at him properly. It sends an unexpected, but welcome shiver down Ryan's spine. 

"I think it's you who makes a weirdly big deal out of it, Ryan," Shane says, lips curling into a smile. Ryan's skin burns under his gaze.

He continues before Ryan could search the part of his brain that didn't turn into jello yet. "Do you wanna know why what Sara gave me is special?"

"Why is it special?" Ryan asks eventually, voice scratchy like he hadn't had a drink in a while, like they've been standing there, right next to their desks for ages while the others slowly filtered out.

"You see, she said something about how it would only smell really strong to the person that has a romantic interest in me, let's say."

Ryan's eyebrows climb up to his hairline and he can definitely feel his face heating up now. It only serves to make Shane's smile wider. That's a good sign, right? 

"And you out of all people believe in that?"

"No, not at all." He says and Ryan starts wheezing, breaking the moment because he can't help it. Shane holds up a finger, to continue as Ryan quiets down, "But, you were still all over me all week and it would've been entertaining to watch if I wasn't waiting for you to say something." 

"You could've just asked me out, dumbass." Ryan huffs, but his smile is bright, matching Shane's. He has no doubts now.

"I could've. I still could, actually. But why didn't you?" Shane asks, amused and it's a valid question. It's also one that Ryan doesn't feel like answering now. Instead, he grabs hold of Shane's collars and he already knows what's coming when Ryan drags him down, still having to raise on his tiptoes to reach Shane's lips.

It really isn't the best kiss either of them had, they mostly just press their smiles against each other, but it's perfect. 

Ryan says after, eyes bright with excitement. More because Shane just kissed him, for real, than the magic but it's a close second. Shane sighs.

"You know, I think that perfume really was magical, maybe we're onto something here.”

"No, Ryan, she just got tired of me pining and moping about you. It's nothing but a placebo." 

"Okay, but what if it was real? All week, I've been-" Shane cuts him off, by cupping his cheeks in both of his big hands and Ryan has never been happier to shut up as he melts into the kiss.

They can argue about it later, over some fancy dinner, maybe. 

#shyan #skeptic believer #shyan fic #shyan fanfiction #fanfiction #i got so many cute prompts #i'll fucking spoil ya'll in the next few weeks #anonymous #anon #answered #asks

[angelic-holland]

First I Love You

Warnings: Smut. fluff, the tiniest bit of angst 

Word Count: 6k

A/N: this concludes what was meant to be just a one-shot but I turned into a mini-series of sorts. I hope you enjoy my conclusion to this story as much as I did writing it. Check out the rest of Miss Yer Kiss in my masterlist! 

“What did you wanna do today?”

“Your plane is later tonight right?” he asks, fingers running through your hair as you laid on the comfortable bed, in all honesty, you just wanted to lay in bed all day.

“Yep,” you sigh, “10 o’clock.”

“Why’d you get such a weird time? You won’t be home until nearly 5 in the morning New York time!”

“Cause it was one of the cheapest, shush.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you then.”

“What’s that?” you grin as your hands intertwine. Your eyes roam the way his hands seemed to fit perfectly with your own. 

“Come on, let’s get dressed, I’ll take you to it.”

“Okay.”

“And wear like a baggy t-shirt or something.”

“Huh?” You frown as the two of you sit up and you begin looking through your suitcase. 

“It’ll make sense when we get there.”

“You’re being weird.”

“Weirder than usual?”

“Just a little,” you laugh, putting on clothes, including one of his shirts you stole one day before he left New York the first time.

“I love that shirt on you.”

“Gotta steal another one before I leave tonight, it’ll be a tradition or something.”

“I would love to start that tradition with you.”

Thud thud thud.

He made you close your eyes as you walked closer to wherever he planned on taking you. 

“Okay, open your eyes,” he grins, hand squeezing yours as you slowly blinked, adjusting to the bright light of the day.

You crane your neck to read the sign of the store in front of you. A tattoo shop.

“What’re we doing here?” You ask and he excitedly brings you inside.

“The surprise is in here.”

“You didn’t, oh my god,” you attempt to hide your excitement so you don’t make a fool of yourself, but your wide smile does look a little goofy.

“Hi,” Ryan Ashley smiles, standing up from one of the tattoo chairs.

“Wow, hi, it’s so great to meet you,” you shake her hand and give Tom a wide eyed look.

“I was in town and your lovely boyfriend here contacted me, let me know it’s been a dream of yours to get a piece by me.”

“Oh yeah, I mean isn’t it every girl’s dream to get a piece by Ryan Ashley? I mean you’ve helped shape the industry for women so that’s just phenomenal.”

“I just love to see younger artists like you get their start, wanna see the piece I drew up for you?”

You nod and walk to her workstation, “I didn’t think you remembered,” you teased Tom and he blushed slightly.

“You were so excited when you talked about it, how could I not forget?”

She shows you a small gorgeous jewelry piece that looked like it would intricately sit between your breasts, a red jewel in the middle.

“It’s gorgeous,” you smile, running your hand over the stencil.

“Excellent, do you want him to hang around?” She asks, looking between the two of you.

“Yeah,” you nod.

You start the process of taking off your shirt and bra, adding panties to your nipples before walking back to her workstation. She closes the door as you lay on the bench, Tom sitting next to you.

“I uh, I heard that the chest can be painful, so you can hold my hand and squeeze it if you want.”

“You just wanna hold my hand.”

“Ok maybe that too,” he laughs and you let his hand hold your own, resting on your stomach.

“Now, I’m sure you know this but you want to attempt to breath when I pick the needle up, i'm sorry I’ll be leaning over your breasts the entire time but if you ever get uncomfortable just let me know and we can figure out a new way to make this work.”

“Sounds great,” you hum as she picks up the needle and leans over you. She does a small line to start, testing the area. 

“How was that?”

“Not bad,” you lightly squeeze Tom’s hand.

You and Ryan talk about tattooing, the industry, how she came to specialize in the intricate jewelry work she does. 

“And what type of work do you want to specialize? I saw you draw lots of portraits.”

“Yeah, I mean, tattooing portraits on skin is super different than drawing them, so I hope to eventually get enough practice to be really good. I’ve done a few before, not too huge but just small pieces here and there.”

“Once you get to do the same type of thing over and over again, you’ll be amazing. I know a lot of people who try to be really versatile in their craft and do a bunch of different styles. That’s what I had to do on ink master, but if you can find one style that really brings out your best talent, you should stick with it. I mean when I first started I did literally any tattoo anyone asked because you know how it is, scraping together enough money to get good at different styles so I could go on ink master, but this,” she says, looking at the jewelry piece between your breasts, “this is my style. Do it long enough, you’ll become a master.”

“Is this the most painful area to get tattooed?” Tom asks.

“Well, everyone’s pain tolerance is different. Girls usually have higher pain tolerances than boys, just how it is.”

“I don’t doubt that, I definitely couldn’t get as many tattoos as you’ve got princess,” he says squeezing your hand.

“You’ve got tattoos then?” Ryan asks, eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Only one on the bottom of his foot, literally don’t know how he went through with it,” you stifle a laugh so you don’t move as the tattoo needle glides across your skin. 

“Ouch, yeah that shit hurts, but I’d say it’s up to the person, it depends on a lot of different factors. So pain tolerance is one of them. How much muscle and fat come before the bone. How thin a person’s skin is, if it’s thin and bleeds easily it’ll hurt more and take longer to do, simply because you need to stop every so often to make sure that the skin isn’t too sore to continue. So the area I’m tattooing now can be painful, back of the knee, around the elbow. Just depends.”

****

“So this area can be sore for a while, you don’t want to work up too much of a sweat, you don’t want to take the wrap off before it starts to heal, so wait 48 hours. Afterwards, keep it out of water for long periods of time, so no baths or swimming. And moisturize it once the wrap is gone, three or four times a day. Should start peeling in a week or so, and it’s best if you don’t wear a bra until it heals.”

You nod and pull your shirt over your head, “Alright how much is it?” You ask pulling out your wallet.

“It’s all set,” she smiles as you head to the front of the studio.

“What? At least let me give you a tip or-,”

“Your uh Prince Charming took care of it,” she laughs patting your shoulder, “never let the world bring ya down kid, keep tattooing and tattooing until one day you can ink the Mona Lisa on someone’s skin.”

“Thanks that means a bunch to me,” you say, in awe that you’ve met the woman you look up to the most and also got tattooed by her.

***

“You didn’t haveta to do that,” you sigh, content but feeling a little weary knowing the price tag attached to Ryan Ashley’s hourly rate, as Tom and you walk hand in hand back to the hotel.

“You had a good time though right?”

“Yeah of course but-,”

“And you like the tattoo?”

“I love it but-,”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you.”

“Besides, it’s a little anniversary present,” he grins as you step into the elevator.

“Anniversary? What anniversary?”

“It’ll be four months since the first night in a couple days.”

“Oh. Oh. I uh, didn’t get you anything,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him.

“I can think of a few things you can give me to make up for it,” he whispers against your lips.

“You can’t touch my tits,” you giggle, keeping your sore chest away from his.

“Oh god I miss yer tits already,” he groans, kissing and nipping at your jaw.

“Oh come on you got to hang out with them last night,” you laugh as the elevator dings.

“Yeah but I wanna hang out with them every single day.”

“Well you can have other parts of me,” you grin, dragging him down the hallway to your room.

“What parts are those?” He asks with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

“Come on and find out,” you say swiping into the room.

He’s pushing you up against the door, hands tight on your hips as his lips trace down your neck, fingers slipping under your shirt and setting your skin on fire.

You grin as he bites down on your neck, flipping him around so his back is against the door.

“Want you to scream my name,” you smirk as you drop to your knees, reminiscing on the first time you had him against a door, the very first night you were together, before you thought that this would be more than a one night stand, before you fell for him.

“Fuck I’m gonna miss this,” he whispers as you unzip and tug down his jeans.

“Then don’t miss it,” you say, tugging down his boxers.

“Huh,” he huffs out, eyes slipping shut as you wet your hand and start to jerk him off.

“Stay in the moment, don’t miss me till I’m gone,” you say, winking when he looks down at you.

“In the moment, yep, staying in the mo-oh fuck,” he moans as you take him into your mouth. 

Your eyes twinkle with excitement as his hands tug on your hair, encouraging you to move.

“Fuck, princess, feel so fucking good,” he whimpers as you swipe your tongue on the head of his cock before taking him back into your mouth. 

You let him take the lead, pushing your head back and forth as his hips slowly thrust into your mouth. Your hands are splayed out on his thighs, steadying yourself.

“Love your, fuck, love your lips,” he groans as you move faster, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his cock.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

You fucking loved the way the word love sounded coming from his lips. 

Love your mouth.

Love your tattoos.

Love your kisses.

You wondered how he would say I love you, you wondered how you would react. But this wasn’t the time for that.

You focused back on making him feel good, grinning around his cock as he twitched in your mouth.

Your hands grip his thighs encouragingly as he moves his hips faster, chasing his release. 

He comes with a cry of your name followed by a string of curses and princess. Which made your heart just fucking swoon.  

He pulls you up, chest heaving as he kisses you, fingers hastily tugging your shirt up.

You break apart so he can take your shirt off. You slip out of your pants as he pulls his own shirt off.

“Let me make you feel good princess,” he says, hands gliding up and down your sides as you walk back to the bed.

“How’d you like to do that?”

“Sit on my face.” 

It’s not a question, or an invitation but rather a command. He just wants you to ride his face like you’d ride his cock.

“Shit,” you laugh as he pulls you down onto the bed with him.

He shuffles up to rest his head on the pillows, “take a seat darling,” he says before licking his lips.

You almost roll your eyes and if you weren’t so wet you were already on the edge you would’ve teased him. Instead, you do exactly as he says, his hands grip your hips as you straddle his face. Your pussy is wet and close to dripping as you hear him sigh underneath you.

You plant your hands on the headboard, holding on for dear life as his mouth meets your pussy.

He goes slow at first, savoring the moment, tongue slowly tracing along your folds, licking away your juices before slightly dipping into your hole, his fingers gripped your thighs, sure they’d leave reminders of your time together when you left.

“Fuck, Tom, always, always know how to use that mouth of yours,” you sigh, relaxing as his tongue moves to circle your clit.

You can feel him practically smile against you before wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking slightly as you tremble above him.

“Fuck,” you whimper, feeling one of his hands move to push a finger into your dripping heat.

One finger doesn’t do much, just a way for Tom to be as close to you as possible while his tongue makes quick work of making you come undone, tracing shapes into your clit.

“Gonna come, fuck,” you cry out as you feel yourself get closer to your release.

You hear him groan against your clit as you come, covering his chin and mouth in your wetness as his hand moves up to grab your breast. You quickly snap out of it as you come down from your orgasm.

“Stop, stop,” you whimper, batting his hand away.

He helps you off him, eyes wide as he sits up.

“Are you okay? Shit I’m so sorry princess what’s wrong?”

“I fucking knew you were gonna try to touch my tits,” you laugh, collapsing next to him.

His eyes soften as you tickle his sides, giggling as he relaxes.

“I knew I’d miss your tits,” he groans.

You roll your eyes, straddling his hips and kissing him, licking away your own orgasm from his chin before kissing him again. His tongue meets your own, groaning as he tastes you.

You get an idea, hands gliding down to grab his arms from your hips, tugging his wrists and pulling them to the headboard.

“Stay still.”

He groans, lips wet and shiny from kissing you and eating you out, his cock is hard again as you grind against him.

“Condom?” You ask, reveling in the way his cock felt against your folds but scared he wouldn’t want to come inside you, afraid he didn’t want to be that intimate. 

“Mhm, are you, are you on birth control?” He asks, voice slightly nervous as his arms flex, fingers tightening against the headboard.

“Yeah, I, I am,” you stutter as his cock twitches against you.

“Do you wanna, I mean, I wanna, only if you want to,”

“I’ve never, never had someone come inside me before.”

His cock twitches and you can’t help but grind down against him again.

“We don’t haveta-,”

“I want you to come inside me,” you say, capturing his lips in your own as you take his cock in your hand, wet from your juices as you guide him to your entrance.

“Holy fuck,” he manages to stutter out as your walls wrap around his cock.

“Have you ever, ever come in someone before?”

“No,” he groans as you bottom out, your hips resting flush against his as you kiss along his neck.

“Does it, fuck, feel as good being inside me as it does feeling you inside me?” You pant out starting to move your hips above him.

“Fuck, your, your pussy feels so good wrapped around me, fuck, so perfect, like it was made for me.”

“Shit,” you groan as you grind your hips against him, hands resting on his chest as his hands shakily start to move from the headboard.

“I’m gonna, can I touch you? Fuck, you feel so good princess just wanna touch you.”

“Course Tom,” And his hands move to your hips, eyes watching your tits sway above him, the new tattoo bright red around the edges behind the plastic in between them. He wanted nothing more than to trace every intricate detail, every groove of inked jewelry, every part where Ryan Ashley made it look like there was a shadow as if they were real jewels. He wanted to sit there all night and trace each tattoo of yours, talking about the stories behind them until you fell asleep in his arms. 

“I-,” he starts, voice faltering as you started to bounce on his cock, reminding him that you were having sex, that you were with each other in that sense and it was enough for now.

“What’s up baby?” You ask, lips mouthing over his jaw as his hands grip your hips harder, hips moving against yours.

“I love the way you feel around me,” he smiles, hand eagerly bringing your head up so your lips meet his. 

His lips are soft and insistent against yours as you move faster, holding you as close as he physically can without pressing your chests together.

“I love,” you start, your heart thudding in your chest, cheeks impossibly redder, “your kisses,” you finish, not wanting that first to be now. Afraid if it slips out during sex it won’t feel as genuine.  

His hands grip you, fingers practically bruising your hips as he pounds into you. 

“Getting close?” He grins, thumb slipping between your hot and sweaty bodies to rub your clit. 

“Fuck, Tom, almost there, wanna fuck wanna feel you fill me up, come in me please,” you whimper, as his cock twitches inside you. And the feeling of him coming and coating your walls, filling you, is a feeling like no other, sending you into a blissful orgasm, so blissful you almost collapse onto him but he holds you up, careful not to let your chests touch. 

“That was…” you start, trying to catch your breath.

“Amazing,” he finishes, flipping you over. 

“Showertime?” You ask as he sits up, cock slipping out of you. 

“Showertime,” He agrees, kissing your nose before helping you get up.

***

“Stay,” He says, eyes locking with yours as you dry off from the shower.

“Hmmm?”

“Stay tonight?”

“I’ve got a plane to catch,” you sigh, not wanting to leave either. 

“Miss yer plane, come on, stay with me one night, I’ll get you a plane tomorrow morning.”

He sees you’re hesitant, “you won’t regret it, promise princess. One more night. Don’t wanna miss you just yet.”

You nod, dropping the towel and grabbing a clean T-shirt, pulling it on before he tugs you down into his lap.

“Don’t wanna miss you either,” you sigh, rubbing your nose against his before kissing him quickly.

“Come on, let’s watch the sunset,” he says, picking you up as you squeal.

“I quite like our balcony trips,” you sigh as he sets you down, both of you pulling on sweatpants before walking hand in hand to the small balcony that overlooks the pool and the parking lot of the hotel.

“I think California sunsets are prettier than New York sunsets.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well at least at my place all you can hear is the roar of the subway, the bustling of people leaving work, going to work, neon lights everywhere. Here it’s just, I dunno, calm, you can pick out every color in the sky.”

“And how about London sunsets?”

“I dunno, didn't really get a chance to see them that well, the hustle and bustle of the nightlife, we were usually in a museum or getting dinner when the sunset. I’d love to see it eventually though.”

“I’ll bring you back,” he says, hand resting on the ledge as you lean against it.

“I’d like that.”

You turn slightly and caught him looking at you from the corner of his eye.

The sun is shining on him as it sets, the orange and light purple hues illuminating his freckles much like that night at Coney Island. Reminding you that this feeling wasn’t just a fleeting moment at the top of a roller coaster, waiting for it to all come crashing down. This feeling has been building since that night on the Cyclone, hand gripping his arm, mouth open in an excited scream, feeling your heart pound in your chest, from the exhilaration of the coaster and from being there with Tom, from falling for him. This feeling was bubbling over and you wanted to shout it from the rooftops. 

“Tom?” You ask, eyes moving back to the sunset, fingers tapping nervously against the rails. 

“I love you,” He says, and it’s not rushed or hurried, like he was afraid you’d run if he said it as slowly as he did. His voice was sure and strong, confident. 

“I’ve never felt like this before.”

“what?” He asks, voice quiet as he tries to understand what you’re saying.

“I love you too, I probably should’ve said that first,” you laugh.

“Oh, oh,” he joins in on your laughter. 

“I’ve just never really felt like this, and it kinda scares me but I’m glad you feel the same?” You squeak out, giggling when his arms wrap around you in a hug.

Your head rests against his shoulder as he kisses along your neck. 

“Come here, I wanna do something,” he grins, bringing you back to the room.

“What?”

“Here, get naked.”

“Oh?”  You say wiggling your eyebrows as you toss your shirt to the side and pull down your sweatpants before flopping back into the bed, sitting up on your elbows.

He hovers over you, kissing along your shoulder bone, tracing the crescent moon with his tongue and lips, “tell me a story.”

“What do you want to hear?” You laugh, his hair tickling your neck.

“What’s this moon? What’s the story behind it?”

“Do you really want to hear the stories behind my tattoos?”

“Every single one of them, yup,” he says, hands running up your side.

“The one thing I brought with me to every foster home, was this copy of goodnight moon, one that I stole from a school’s library in kindergarten.”

Tom’s quiet as he breathes life into your skin, kissing along the bunny from the book, sitting against the side of your arm in the signature blue and white striped PJs. 

“So every night, if wherever I was allowed it, I’d read it to myself, and god this is embarrassing,” you pause.

“Never,” he mumbles, pressing a soothing kiss to your blushing cheek.

“I would read it in different voices, pretending to be a dad or a mom. Cause I always wanted a parent to read me a story, and well, that never happened so I guess I just used that to cope.”

“And this,” He says, hand pulling your arm to lay perpendicular to your body, fingers tracing the astronaut with an outstretched arm, trying to grab a heart.

“It’s a piece from this comedian, Melissa Villasenor, I guess how I interpret it, is floating in space, this huge open universe we’ve explored so little of, you’re chasing and reaching out to grab your heart, trying to keep it close to you as you explore new feelings and everything, afraid of the unknown,” you slip your eyes shut as he kisses along the astronaut.

“Are you afraid right now?”

“A little.”

“You’re a little afraid?”

“I’m afraid of how I feel about you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because, I’ve never felt this way, fallen in fucking love, Christ, I’m sorry.”

“Why’re you sorry?”

“For falling in love with you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I feel like I fell so fast and so hard and I dunno how I’m gonna cope if something bad happens.”

“Why would something bad happen?”

“Because every time something good happens to me, the world reminds me this isn’t what I deserve, it turns my world upside down and I don’t want that to happen again.”

“You don’t have to worry anymore, that something bad is gonna happen, you don’t have to constantly be waiting for the other shoe to drop anymore.”

“You sure?”

“Because I’m here, to listen to you talk about the bad days at work, here when you just want to lay here and talk about everything and nothing and you just want to hear your own voice. I’m here and I’ll drop whatever to be by your side, you know that right?”

“Tom,” you sigh feeling tears well in your eyes.

“Promise.”

“Promises are made to be broken.”

“Why?”

“The first promise someone ever gave me, I was 12. I just left a foster home I was in for a year and half, the woman was basically hoarding us kids and had us all crammed into sleeping bags in her living room just to get the checks. Kids would rotate in and out, the kids who were there for the shortest amount of time were the younger ones, nobody wanted to adopt the older of the bunch. I thought I’d be stuck there forever, for some reason the foster system forgot about us because not once did they check on us other than to take kids or swap kids out, then half of us would disappear and the other half would pretend to live in the other rooms of the apartment. One day I got the news that I was going to be adopted, actually adopted, not just thrown into another foster family for a year. They would foster me for a year and then the adoption paperwork could get pushed through. Their names were Katie and Jason Hill. They had as cookie cutter a home you could in Queens, right on the edge, a condo. And I met them and we clicked instantly. They said they wanted an older kid because we were generally easier to take care of, they were on the older side themselves. They said they had a cat at home, Snuffles, and although she was a little bit grumpy, she would always sit on your lap whenever you needed a little comfort or a warm body to be near. They were everything I could’ve ever dreamed of in adopted parents, I actually almost called them mom and dad. Katie would make my lunch for school, something I’ve never had before. Jason tried to teach me how to play baseball. And although I was a little too old, they would still tuck me in and wish me goodnight every single night. I was scared they’d get sick of me or the state would take me away from them, every day I just lived in fear that something would happen, but the shoe didn’t drop, six months passed, everything was great. It was my first summer with parents and they took me to the local YMCA and I learned how to swim, we went to the carnival, and they were everything I ever wanted.”

“What happened?” Tom asks, voice afraid as your body shook next to him.

“One day, we were having a backyard picnic the night before my first day of school, watching the stars in the sky, Katie would point out a constellation, I would trace it with my finger. I started crying, out of the blue, and told her, promise me, promise you won’t leave. And she hugged me and held me tight and told me that I could grow old knowing I had a mom and dad now.”

“Y/N…” he says, thumb wiping away the stray tear that rolled onto my cheek.

“And I felt okay, for the first time in literally forever I felt like I had a home, a place to call my own. The next day I came back on the school bus, excited to tell Katie and Jason all about the art teacher who said I was incredibly talented. I got off the bus and saw a car in the driveway, not Katie or Jason’s car, and a woman in a pencil skirt standing at it.”

“What happened?”

“She was from DFS, Katie and Jason didn’t want me anymore. They said the financial burden of a child was a lot more than they were expecting, they couldn’t keep me. They didn’t even want to say goodbye to me.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, really,” you sigh, shaking your head and opening your teary eyes to look into his own, “so I guess that’s when the other shoe dropped, after that I didn’t want any more promises, but if they were made, I knew I couldn’t trust them.” 

“You know the difference between them and me?”

“What’s that?”

“I love you, and god I love saying that too.”

“Dork.” 

“And you know what?”

“What?” You say, eyes watching as his fingers intertwine with your own.

“You don’t needa wait for the other shoe to drop. They’re both right here. I guess what I’m trying to say is there aren’t any surprises, you don’t have to worry about me waking up one day and saying that you’re too much of a burden for me. When I’m around you, I’m the most comfortable I’ve been in years. Everything with you is natural.”

Thud thud thud. 

“God I love you,” you smile, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying that.”

“Good,” Tom laughs, kissing your cheek. He lets go of your hand and his fingers trail up your arm, raising goosebumps along it that make you shiver, “And this?” he says, moving onto the spider as his legs straddle your own. 

“You know the origin of the spider silly,” you laugh.

“I know, I just like to hear you talk about it.”

“Well I don’t know, Black Widow, she sort of reminds me of me in a way, she’s badass and strong and tough as nails, but she’s also got a soft spot and can learn to be open and honest.”

“Mhm.”

“And growing up, I mean we obviously didn’t have the same childhood but she never knew her parents, neither did I, so I guess I can relate to her on a few different levels.”

“Do you want to know your real parents?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, my mom left me for a reason, so she didn’t want me or couldn’t take care of me, and I’ve got no idea who my dad is.”

“What if they do now?” He asks and you wiggle underneath him, “sorry I don’t mean to pry.”

“You’re fine, I just, I don’t want them. I don’t need them. You know? I spent my entire childhood praying my mom and dad or a mom and dad would pick me up from my shitty foster families, sweep me off my feet into a suburban house with a dog and another kid, a regular sibling, and we’d be a happy family. But I grew to learn that not everyone gets that cookie-cutter family. And that whatever cards I got dealt, are the ones I need to live with.”

“And what’s this one?” He says, tracing his fingers over Rumple, a character created by one of your favorite TV actors, Matthew Gray Gubler, “a green dinosaur with a banana peel on his head?” He asks, giggling a little, “everyone is weird?” tracing over the words in Matthew’s scratchy handwriting. 

“Yeah, it's a book, by an actor, and this is the main character, Rumple, basically the story is about learning to love yourself, in all your weirdness and quirks.”

“I like that.”

“Me too,” you laugh.

He shuffles to the other side of your body, hand moving your arm to the side so he can see your half sleeve.

“I still don’t know how you sit still for so long, this thing is huge.”

“A ten hour session, people have done longer,” you shrug as his lips trace the ocean waves engulfing a woman, a bird with a broken bird laying on the beach below it.

“And you said this was from the book, oh god what’s its name?”

“The Awakening.”

“And what’s it about? I know you’ve told me I just suck and can’t quite remember.”

“You’re fine,” you laugh, stretching your other hand to rest behind your head as you tell Tom all about the book.

“So Edna is married and has kids, and basically she feels stuck in the confines of traditional womanhood, she has an affair with a man when her husband is away. Which makes her feel free, at least a little bit. She also teaches herself how to swim which is huge for women back then, and swimming also helps her feel free. One of the controversies of the book is debating whether she killed herself by drowning or not. So some people say she didn’t want to die, that she drowned by accident. But I guess I don’t think she drowned by accident. She knew how to swim, and the book is full of symbolism, this just so happens to symbolize breaking free from the bonds of what typical and traditional femininity and womanhood was like at the turn of the 20th century. She killed herself this way. Kate Chopin, at least I think she was trying to symbolize that Edna is free from these bonds by committing suicide. In the book, there’s this annoying parrot in a cage, and now the bird is free, it’s a little broken, but everyone has to make some sort of sacrifice to break from what society wants everyone to be. Sorry, I’m totally rambling now.”

“You’re fine, you’re adorable when you ramble princess.”

“Pssh,” you scoff as his lips trail up to your own once more. 

“Turn around, wanna see your back piece.”

He moves off your body and helps you turn, careful not to rest your chest against the bed.

“And this? You drew this one too right?”

You hum as his fingers trace the expansive upper back piece, from one back of your shoulders to the next, a girl sitting in a field of flowers, dozens of different kinds, with a tear slipping down her cheek.

“I drew it yep. I dunno where I got the inspiration for it. I guess I’ve always lived in the city, one day I’d like to travel to the country, go to those big fields full of flowers and open-air like in books, like in Grapes of Wrath, and just sit there. I think I added the teardrop because at the time I was worried I’d never be able to.”

“And what about now?”

“I think I’ve got a little bit of a more positive outlook.”

“When did you know?” He asks as you turn around and he cuddles into your side, arm laying across your stomach.

“Know what?” 

“That you love me,” he says in a singsong voice.

“What is it a competition?”

“Maybe, but like what moment made you say ‘oh yes this dork, it’s him’,” Tom says in your accent.

“That night, on the cyclone, my heart was beating so fast and I was so scared but I realized that you’re there next to me, and I guess knowing that made me feel comforted, and I felt safe, so yeah.”

“I knew that night, on your balcony, you said the sky was pretty or something, like you said the first night we were together. And everything in me was saying to tell you, tell you how gorgeous you are and how the sky couldn’t even compare but I didn’t. And when I left, I wanted to call you and say it, over and over again until you’re sick of me saying it. But I didn’t.”

“That’s okay. Cause you know what?”

“What?”

“We’ve got all the time in the world to say it now.”

***

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#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland reader insert #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland reader insert smut #tom holland fic #tom holland angst #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic

[natashacoco]

Creed II Costume Design Assistant

Florian Munteanu x Reader

Warnings: NONE

Prompt: Reader is working on the set of Creed II in the costume department and ends up being the one who helps Florian with his fittings leading up to the film.

You were nervous, this was your first day working on an actual movie and you were trying everything in your power to calm your nerves and so far, it wasn’t working. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, repeating the steps over in your mind.

It wasn't helping and you could feel the pressure as reality began to sink in. Calm down, calm down. Don’t fall, don’t make a fool out of yourself on your first day.You say to yourself, hoping that by repeating the mantra it would actually work and everything would go smoothly.

You reach the security checkpoint and once you show your ID and sign in, the security guard instructs you to where you will be working and whom you will be reporting to. As you headed off in the direction that you were told to, you hear people behind you shout your name. You turn and are greeted by two of the girls whom you recognized from the general meeting held a few days prior.

“Can you believe that we are actually working on a movie? Not one of those student films, but an actual feature film?!?” the woman named Hannah squeals, obviously excited compared to your nerves. Although principle shooting wouldn’t be happening for a few more months, this was the first day that the wardrobe department was needed for the first fittings since a majority of the costumes had been completed.

“Well I’m looking forward to meeting THE Michael B. Jordan. He’s so handsome and that smile” the other woman, Marie exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear and fanning herself at the thought of meeting the actor. “And not to mention, I hear that the other lead isn’t so bad looking either” she said, giggling.

“I’m looking forward to working. Not many people get the chance to work on a movie like this, especially a Creed/Rocky film, and with this amazing cast right out the go” you reply. It was true, you had just graduated from college with a BA in Costume Design and was fortunate enough to get a job as a wardrobe assistant on the film. You wanted to work hard and hopefully this would allow more doors in the future to open up.

As the three of you rounded the corner, you noticed that a few people were standing outside huddled around a woman talking with two men, one of which you immediately recognized as Sylvester Stallone and the other, an African-American man you had never seen before. You could tell that they were laughing and joking the closer that you got at the large trailer that you would be working out of.

As you all neared the group, you caught the last bit of Stallone’s words before he turned around and headed off in another direction, the other man staying behind. The woman that he was talking to turned and saw that the tree of you had joined the group.

“Hannah, Marie and Y/N” she exclaimed, shaking hands as she said each of your names, “It’s so nice to see you again. This here is the director, Steven Caple Jr. who is taking over for Ryan Coogler.”

With a smile, Steven shakes all of your hands in greeting and excuses himself to speak with his assistant. More people begin to show up and eventually Lizz and Steven get everybody’s attention.

“Hello everybody, I’m Steven Caple Jr. and I’m the director for Creed II. This is a really exciting opportunity, not only for myself but for everybody involved. Some of you have been around the block and then there are some of you who are new to this, but I just want to say that we all have high expeditions and want to give our all for this project. A lot of us have grown up with the Rocky franchise, and although Creed isn’t a Rocky film, it’s still part of that family. I’m really looking forward to working with each of you and seeing where we can take the film” he says.

A round of applause rings out at Steve’s rallying speech which has helped to calm your nerves. After instructing where each department is to meet up, he bids farewell and good luck on everybody’s first day.

The Costume Design Department is told to meet at a large studio on the lot, everybody showing a different form of excitement as you make your way there. Lizz introduces each of the other members of the group, a majority of them were costume designers whom she had worked with from her other projects and some were tasked with making the actual costumes while the others were assistants to various other key members to the staff working on the film and would work as interim go-to’s. Once introductions were made, Lizz led you all into the large studio that would be your work space for the day.

“Okay, so I was just talking with Steven and he let me know what the plan is for today. We’ll have some of the principal actors in shortly to start their first fittings, which are Michael B. Jordan, Tessa Thompson, Mr. Dolph Lundgren and Florian Munteanu. Everybody got that?” Lizz asked the crowd, heads shaking. You take a quick glance over at Marie and notice her larger than life smile at the thought of getting to meet Mike.

As you entered the trailer, the first thing you noticed were racks and racks of clothes in what seemed like every inch of the entire space with names of the actors as well as the characters names whom they were portraying. Lizz began moving around the trailer, giving instructions and handing out binders to people on what their jobs would be for the day as she herself was weaving through the racks. Finally Lizz approached you, Marie and Hannah.

“Marie, you’ll help with Group A who has Mike, Hannah, Group B for Mr. Lundgren and Y/N will be working with Florian in Group D. In these binders, you’ll find pieces of paper where you’ll need to date each fitting as well as measurements so we can keep track or reference it. Once each actor is in their outfits, you’ll need to take Polaroid’s, front and side views, as well as the date, measurements, what scene and place them in the empty slots. When we get down to the final fittings or if something doesn’t work out, we can have visuals of previous fittings for each outfit, as well as for what scene, like a blueprint. I’d like for you three to begin with the outfits from each actors’ first scene and go from there. If you need any help, please ask anybody from your group, or ask my assistant Nadia or myself.”

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door when Mike, Dolph and Tessa all walking in. Lizz walks over and greets the trio, leading them into the studio, directing each actor to their group whom would be working with them.

You noticed that Florian had not come in yet, or you don’t think he is considering that you have no idea what he looks like. Speaking with one of your group members, you briefly find out that Florian is a European boxer who had been discovered by Sylvester Stallone and this would be his first major US film debut.

Lizz comes over to your group and informs you that Florian is running late but will be there shortly. She tells you to familiarize yourself with the binder, points to the Polaroid and film and to look through the rack of clothes for Florin as you wait until he arrives.

As you headed to the rack of costumes and began sifting through them while referencing the binder you were given, you realize that although you hadn’t seen him yet, he was a big guy, a giant compared to your short stature. According to his binder, he was 6’4 and around 240-245 lbs but would be dropping weight for the film. You didn’t notice that another person had joined the rest of the group until you heard a loud boisterous sound coming from Michael’s group. You turn your head towards the noise when you catch a glimpse of a very attractive, tall man not much older than you are. He walks over towards Mike and they greet one another like they have known one another for years, your eyes never leaving him. The man looks over in your direction, causing you to blush and turn your eyes to what is set in front of you.

A few moments later you feel a slight tap on your shoulder and a deep accented voice asks, “Excuse me, but are you Y/N?”

You turn around and crane your neck up to look into some of the most gorgeous green eyes you’ve ever seen, and are greeted by the man whom you assume to be Florian. You nod and take in what he’s wearing, grey sweatpants, white Adidas, white t-shirt and a red Snap Back turned backwards and a simple gold chain. You nod as he extends out his right hand introducing himself and you give him yours. Shaking hands, his eyes never leaving yours, you try to regain some sort of control, but it’s useless when he’s standing so close to you and still shaking your hand.

“S-So we’re um, going to start with the first look, take measurements and pictures and then go on to the second and so on. If something doesn’t fit right, just let anybody from the group know and we’ll make a note of it” You stammer, finally letting go of his hand as you turn around to grab the first outfit. Suddenly you hear one plonk after another and the sound of fabric rustling when you turn around and see that Florian is undressing in the middle of the trailer and is in nothing but his sweatpants, shoes and shirt thrown to the side.

You will your jaw not to drop, clenching it tightly and praying to a higher power that this man really was out here looking like that. He had an eight pack, an actual eight pack, you counted, TWICE and were on your way to counting it a third time before you looked away to give him some kind of privacy.

Sneaking a quick side eyed glance in his direction, you take in his half naked appearance. He was gorgeous, absolutely no doubt in your mind. You had no idea that somebody’s chest could be that big and broad. You bring your gaze lower and notice that he had that “V” shape that you had only seen in the movies and never in real life, but there it was.

“Wouldn’t you like to go someplace private and change so you’re not in front of everybody?” You question, cheeks undoubtedly getting redder than they already were.

“Nah, I don’t mind at all. Besides, we’ll be working together for a while, and it’s not like it’s a big deal” he replies, giving you a wink as he slides off his sweats. Cheeky little shit.

If you could, you would’ve pinched yourself right then and there to make sure that this was indeed real and not some dream your subconscious was making up. When he wasn’t looking, you gave yourself a small pinch and realized that this indeed was happening and that Florian was in nothing but his socks and gorgeous red boxers in front of you.

You reference the binder as you work quickly handing Florian his costumes, helping him when he needs it, which is more than is necessary but you don’t mind at all. You take note making sure that everything fits the way it’s supposed to. Speaking with another member of your team, you both agree that one of his outfits would need to wait until final fittings due to his expected weight loss. Hours pass as you and your team help Florian and you loved every moment of it, the two of you bonding over the fact that both of you were both newbies on the film.

When Florian is changing into his last outfit, the white, red and gold Drago boxing shorts and red robe outfit that he’d be wearing for the final fight scene between Viktor and Adonis Creed, you do everything in your power not to stare. The colors of the boxing shorts seemed to emphasize his physique. The shorts were helping you to see Viktor Drago come to life. The only complaint you had about them was they hid part of his eight pack, but otherwise they fit like a glove.

Changing out of his last outfit, Lizz comes by to check how things went.

“Everything go okay?” she asks, looking over the notes that you made.You both nod as she continues, “You know Y/N, Florian is going to be Hollywood’s Next Big Star once this movie comes out. He has such a bright future ahead of himself.”

“Stop Liz, I’m in my underwear and you’re making an even bigger embarrassing moment that much more embarrassing for Y/N” Florian teased, blushing and trying not to awkwardly laugh but not succeeding at all, sneaking a peek at you and shaking his head.

“It’s the truth Flo, I’ve been in the business a long time and have worked with Sly on a few projects. He helped to discover you, and he has an eye for talent. And to think this is your first breakout role too. He’s going to go far” she added, closing the binder and helping hang up the previous scene clothes that somebody hadn’t gotten to yet.

“We’re all done, you can get dressed now and we’ll see you at the next fitting in a few weeks time” You say, hating that it’s all over and you wouldn’t see him for a while.

Florian begins taking off his shorts and the robe, handing each of the items he had been wearing as you put them on its hanger. After putting back on his own clothes and hat, Florian gives a quick squeeze to Lizz and wishing her goodbye, leaves.

Everybody had left long before you were done, and once you have made sure that everything's in its right place, you take the binder and hand it to Liz’s assistant Nadia.

You and your group head towards the door when Lizz’s voice said, “Thank you so much for your help everybody and great first day. We’ll email you when the next fitting is!”

You nod and exit the studio, heading back towards security when for the second time that day, you hear somebody behind you yell your name. It’s Hannah and Marie and then excitedly tell you about their day and how much fun it had been, Hannah practically slipping in her own pool of drool from how thirsty Mike made her. Laughing, you tell them of your own experience with Florian.

           A FEW WEEKS LATER 🥊🎬

You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t say you weren’t excited to finally see Florian again. It felt like forever but finally the day had arrived.

As you entered the studio, your group was informed that Florian would be requiring a different outfit for one of the scenes and that those would need to be done first.

Entering the studio, Florian’s dressed similar in fashion to the last time you saw him. He greets Lizz and then makes his way over to your group. As he’s told of the new change, you pull out the binder and begin to reference Polaroid 1 and the notes, giving other members materials to help move the process along as well.

Stepping up to Florian with the Polaroid, you snap a picture and wait for the picture to show up on the film before proceeding.

“So Y/N, what made you want to go into costume design?” He asks as you scribble down the important info needed for the reference binder.

“Movies, I love them, growing up we use to live down by one of those nickel theaters, so my parents would take me to go see them on the weekends. I fell in love with the movies, and the styling always inspired me. But for me personally, it was ‘The Wiz’. My mom is a HUGE fan of Diana Ross and I almost broke our VHS tape from how often I played it growing up, I loved how the clothes helped to bring the characters to life. And I love the 1920’s, it was a huge game changer for pushing the evolution of fashion” you added, images of The Jazz Age and The Harlem Renaissance going through your mind.

“That’s really cool, it’s nice that you’re following your passion” he says, turning to the side so you can take another picture.

“It must be the same for you, you’re a boxer who is portraying a boxer in a movie. How does the saying go, ‘art imitating life’ or something like that?” You ask, snapping the picture.

“I started boxing because of my Tata (father), he use to help me train when I was little and he’s part of the reason why I’m doing this movie” he answers. 

“What’s the other part?” You ask, not even thinking of how personal that sounded. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry” you counter quickly.

“It’s okay. The other part is my Mama and friends, my brothers. I try and work hard and push myself so that way I can make them proud of who I am and who I’m trying to be” he explains, a look of pride crossing his face.

As you get further into the fittings, you ask about his life back home and start to laugh uncontrollable when he tells you the story of how he got his nickname when he was a kid. You tell him more of your favorite films that inspired you to go into your profession, and what directors you’d love to work with in the future.

You eventually get to the last look, the red Drago shorts and robe now becoming your favorite look on him. You’d never tell him this, but you think he had an idea. Due to his weight loss, you had to take his measurements, getting close to him with a tape measure to do so. After taking the new measurements and pictures, you tell him he’s all good to go.

As the weeks progress, you find that you’re learning more than you possibly could under the guidance of Lizz, and of course one of the main highlights besides working with her is getting to see Florian.

At the final fitting, it runs faster than the previous weeks. When Florian is officially done with his fitting, he thanks everybody and gives Lizz a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

“Y/N, can I speak with you a moment before you head out?” Lizz asks, looking up from a piece of paper that her assistant was showing her.

“Sure thing Lizz” you croak, stepping to the side as a heavy weight in your chest at what she could possibly want to speak to you about. Everybody gives you a momentary glance as they gather their things and head out the door.

After what feels like hours, Lizz finally walks up to you.

At the look on your face, Lizz informs you that it’s nothing bad. “I just wanted to let you know that I think you’re doing a great job, you’ve got a great eye for detail and you make really great suggestions for improvement. You work really well with Florian, and that’s why I want you to be his number one costume assistant during filming. You’ll help him on set and make any adjustments if need be, that sound okay to you?”

You nod your head vigorously, no actual words able to form in your mouth.

“I take that as a ‘yes’ then?” She asks.

“It’s more than a yes! It’s, it’s, a really great opportunity and I couldn’t be happier. Thank you!” You practically squeal as you shake her hand.

You grab your things and head out, practically skipping at the news. You hear your name yelled behind you and this time when you turn around, you’re not greeted by Marie or Hannah, but by Florian himself walking straight towards you.

When he finally reaches you, he gives you a sly grin, and you can guess what it’s from.

“I thought I missed you. Lizz told me that she was going to have you be my assistant on set while we’re filming. I was wondering if you’re not busy at all, maybe you’d want to go and get something to drink with me to celebrate?” He asked, his expression hopeful and questioning.

“Not busy as in right now, and go with you, as with you physically in person to get a drink?” You ask, making sure that you were processing exactly what was being said.

“Pretty much yeah. If you’re busy I understand, it’s short notice and I bet that you’re busy and all. You know what, forget it, it was stupid of me to ask” Florian blurts out, his cheeks turning slightly pink before turning on his heels and starts walking off, obviously kicking himself for even asking.

You let him walk a few meters before you yourself yell out “I’M NOT BUSY” and run after him. Due to his long legs, you’re practically power walking when you catch up to him, you repeat what you yelled. He gives you that sly grin again as approval with you smiling and the both of you head off together.

Filming for the movie was everything you’d hope for and more. After the movie wrapped, Lizz invited you to work as one of her assistants on her next project, all of which you were excited to do. Everything was falling into place and you were excited to see what laid before you.

Tags: @sparklemichele @melinda-january @honeychicana @michelleteriney @blackandnoir @dc41896 @carefreebarnes @lady-olive-oil @crushed-pink-petals @mistress-to-the-moon @themyscxiras

#florian munteanu #florian big nasty munteanu #big nasty #florian munteanu x reader #florian munteanu fanfiction #creed 2 #viktor drago #creed series #one shot #early morning surprises #shisha lounge daydreams #good intentions #my writing

[smallblueandloud]

For the AU ask meme: Thirteen x Rose, Role Reversal AU ✿

thank you so much for being patient with me - i hope this makes up for the wait! (under a cut, because this one got long. turns out i’ve missed doctor who writing, lol.) send me an au and i’ll send you 5+ headcanons about it (eventually!)

jane smith is thirty five years old and she lives in cardiff.

she lives with her granddad, graham, and her step-second-cousin (yeah, it sounds rather awkward) ryan, who’s the grandson of her granddad’s second wife grace. ryan’s got a best friend named yaz, who’s training to be a police officer, and who stops by more days than not after she gets out of work.

ryan’s working as a mechanic, and jane goes with him sometimes to help him out - she loves using her hands and working to take things apart and put them back together.

she herself has a job as a primary school science teacher. she loves working with kids - has for her entire life - and she loves teaching them to look at the universe with just a little more wonder. she’s never really thought about having kids, though. she’s never really dated anyone very seriously, is the thing, and anyways she doesn’t want them. she used to, she knows, but something changed at some point, and now she knows that’s never going to happen.

it’s just her and her granddad, these days, and of course ryan and yaz, since her parents died in an accident while she was in uni.

but she’s happy! she loves her students, she loves what she teaches, and she loves getting up in the morning. she’s working on a novel in her free time, about an adventurer of some kind who travels through time and space - she’s thinking it should be some kind of kids’ series, to teach them history and science in an interesting way - but she’s rather bad at writing, so it’s not very good. she loves writing it, though!

one day, she’s out to the store with her granddad when she bumps into a blonde woman, completely knocking her foodstuffs out of her hands. after a hasty apology (or seven) later, and lots of blushing, jane and her granddad go on their way.

graham teases her about it, a little, but jane still has to work on her lesson plan for the coming week, so she rushes him home and tries not to think about the woman’s (rose, she’d said, my name is rose) smile and hands and-

jane is thirty five years old and has only ever had three boyfriends. she’s starting to think it might be because of a bigger issue than her chronic absent-mindedness.

a few weeks later, she’s out to the movies with ryan and yaz, when they run into rose again. this time, she’s with a friend of hers, who winks suggestively at her when he introduces himself but seems nice enough.

jane’s… reasonably sure that rose and her friend jack aren’t dating, but something about jack still puts her on edge. she shrugs and tries to wave it off, though, because the movie is rather good and afterwards they go out for ice cream.

surprise, surprise! rose and jack are there too. it’s a genuine mistake on everyone’s part, but the two groups sit together to discuss the movie, and by the end, ryan has gotten rose’s number to ask her a question about the engine that rose mentioned she’s building in her garage.

ryan makes plans to go over to rose’s house to look over the engine, and he asks if he can take jane along (she’s a big fan of mechanics, too!). rose agrees immediately, and so off jane goes, and tries not to act too embarrassingly.

at some point, ryan is engrossed in the engine, and rose sidles over to jane. they begin a conversation, mostly about engines, that devolves into their greater life circumstances, and eventually about jane’s job.

jane is halfway through a long, impassioned rant about the utter beauty of the voyager probe and the things that humanity decided represented itself when rose kisses her.

jane is thirty five years old and she is definitely not straight.

they break apart to ryan grinning at them. nice one, jane! he says to her. she’s had a crush on you since the beginning, he says to rose.

rose smiles at her. that’s good. i have too.

and so begins the tale of rose and jane. they’re suddenly in the middle of each other’s lives, and it’s wonderful.

rose is over at their house almost once a week for movie night (they cuddle on the couch - it’s the highlight of her week). jane goes over to the house that rose shares with jack every friday, and they work on rose’s engine together.

jane can’t draw, and she can’t really write, and she can’t paint. but she can make things. she gets into the habit of making little mechanisms for rose - sort of half sculpture, half tool things that will, for example, fix a squeaky hinge, or walk after being wound up, or just look pretty. rose collects things that remind her of jane and give them to her the next time she sees her - things like lines of poetry, pictures of beautiful places, or flowers. jane gets a lot of flowers.

sometimes she catches rose looking at her sadly. she always says it’s nothing when jane asks, but one day, at jane’s house, she confesses that jane sometimes reminds her of an old, old boyfriend, who rose still misses. i guess i have a thing for adorable science nerds, says rose, grinning. i love you, though. you know that, right?

(jane is floating on air for days after that conversation.)

rose’s job is dangerous. jane doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but she knows it’s under jack somehow and that it’s important work. sometimes she gets to dinner looking exhausted and worried, and sometimes she’s injured - she never tells jane exactly what it is, though, just smiles at her and asks about her students.

one day, though, jane is out with everyone - rose, her granddad, ryan, yaz - for dinner. the waitress is being very rude, asking all sorts of personal questions, and downright ignoring yaz. she even leans over their food - to “see how good it smells”, apparently - in a bid that seems like a convoluted way to spit in their food as they watch. jane is, therefore, in a bad mood.

rose seems nervous, too. they don’t even get through their appetizers before she’s completely ignoring any attempts at conversation in favor at craning her neck to watch the waitress, who’s standing at the door of the kitchen with three other people who do not look like they belong in their restaurant. in fact, if jane squints, the shortest one looks a lot like a little boy in the class next door to hers.

several things happen in quick succession:

the four at the kitchen turn and begin to walk towards their table as one. rose opens her phone and yells NOW into it. jack - of all people, what the heck is going on, thinks jane - bursts in carrying something that jane belatedly recognizes as a huge gun-looking thing. it seems like it wouldn’t be out of place in her terrible novel, in fact.

jane rips her attention away from rose, who is grabbing the gun from jack and yelling EVERYONE GET UNDER THE TABLES, because ryan is tugging on her sleeve and looking panicky.

we need to go, he says, and behind him yaz and jane’s granddad nod in frantic agreement. we have to go, jane!

i’m not leaving rose here! says jane, before everyone’s attention is drawn back to rose, who’s locked in some sort of... stalemate with their rude waitress, who has also produced a sci-fi looking gun.

jane, says rose, very quietly, turning back to her. she looks like she’s in pain, but she also looks very certain of how this is going to go. please. you need to go.

jane doesn’t go.

rose sighs and turns back to the waitress. you’re here for me, i expect, she says. fine. as long as you don’t hurt the others.

jane, says yaz, but jane ignores her. jane, we really HAVE to go. now.

the waitress laughs. you think we’re here for you, silly girl? get out of our way.

rose blinks, surprised. you’re-

she turns to look at jack, who looks just as surprised. you’re here for me? he says. i’m not going to be able to help you. you can’t steal anything from me.

the waitress laughs again. oh, humans. so arrogant. step aside. she looks across the restaurant and makes eye contact with- with jane, of all people. she and the other three begin to move towards her. jane suddenly understands, with devastating clarity, what the phrase “a deer in headlights” feels like.

no! shouts rose, and shifts in between them. her voice has changed, somehow. it sounds different. it sounds powerful.

you will NOT harm them, she says, but something is wavering, like her students’ voices do when they haven’t practiced something enough yet. they are under my protection. SHE IS UNDER MY PROTECTION.

and again, the waitress scoffs, and brushes rose aside as if she’s nothing.

i’ll give you anything you want!, says rose, sounding desperate now. the power has left her voice, or maybe run out - and now she just seems scared. i love her! i can’t- you can’t- my husband warned me of you. i know who you are! the Family. your kind nearly killed my husband. you will NOT kill my girlfriend!

finally, the waitress stops to look rose in the eye. she shakes her head. foolish girl, she says. you may be powerful, but you are still young, and your ship is far away. who are you to claim to protect a time lord?

NO, shouts ryan and yaz, in unison. jane falls to her feet with a splitting headache that she’s only just noticing she has, and graham runs to her side. doctor, he says, we need you! come back, doctor! look- and he pulls an old fashioned fob watch out of his pocket. doctor, come back!

jane has just enough time to think it’s just like my novel, when-

he opens it, and everything goes white.

the doctor is several thousand years old and lives in her tardis.

she lives with her friends: graham, his grandson ryan, and yaz. she also lives with rose tyler, the love of her life, who returned to her after a lifetime spent in another universe with another version of her.

when the doctor thinks about how they reunited, she can’t stop herself from laughing. “you must’ve thought i was so foolish,” she says to rose, one day, as they’re sitting in the kitchen together. “here i was talking about saturn and the mysteries of its rings, and you’d been all over the universe, both with me and on your own.”

rose smiles at her and winds their fingers together. “i dunno,” she says, and looks at the way that their matching rings glint in the light. “i thought you were magical.”

#a-s-u-n-flower #a s u n flower #doctor who #thirteen x rose #wlw #sb and l answers #sb and l rambles #sb and l writes #IT'S DOOOOOONE #i am AWARE that this is more than five but this idea has been germinating for like a year now so #here you go #i'm gonna try to work on the god complex rewrite this weekend too! #.....i really love this ship and this show and ugh i've missed it #(just for the record this is a WHOLE 1760 words and i wrote it all today! fear me!)

[barb-aricyawp]

Can I get forced self-injury and Bucky? ~ I-blame-my-love-of-whump-on-ryan

I’m so glad you sent this one in, @i-blame-my-love-of-whump-on-ryan!(for torture tuesday)

trigger warnings: self harm, blood, broken fingers…Buck’s broken in general.

If the Soldier stays out of the chair for too long, he becomes erratic. And when the Soldier becomes erratic, he will either lash out at the STRIKE team…

…or himself.

So, when it’s been several days in HYDRA’s safe house without cryo or a wipe, Rumlow isn’t surprised to find the Soldier sitting in the corner, bending his flesh thumb back away from his palm.

Rumlow flinches a little when he hears the bone snap. But the Soldier just stares down at the swelling bruise that rings his thumb. Apathetic.

The breaking seems to soothe him.

“We’ll be extracted in a few hours,” Rumlow says, snatching the asset by the wrist. “Can you keep it the fuck together until then?”

The Soldier nods, but he folds his fingers around the broken thumb and squeezes.

—

They are not extracted in a few hours. Time moves differently in the safe house, a trickle that moves so slowly it doesn’t seem to drip in one direction or another.

The days go by one by one, and the Soldier’s behavior devolves further.

—

On the seventh day, Rumlow finds the Soldier hunkered over his left shoulder. A huddle of muscle and tactical gear in the corner. When Rumlow approaches, his heart halts in his chest. 

The Soldier is sawing at the seam between flesh and metal with a butter knife. When the incision is long enough, the asset sinks his fingers into the wound, pulling the metal away from his shoulder. Blood squeezes up between his fingers.

Rumlow sighs and takes the butter knife from his hand. “Don’t do that,” he chastises, tapping the flat of the blade against the Soldier’s forehead. “You understand? Don’t do that again.”

The Soldier nods.

—

He does it again. Digs the butter knife into the seam and leaves it there. Pulls open the wound until there’s a sizable gap between metal arm and flesh shoulder. 

They have to hide the butter knives.

—

One night, the asset is given a glass of water. It takes a sip then crushes the glass in his flesh hand.

Rumlow groans when blood drips from the Soldier’s extended palm. He reaches out for it. “Give it to me,” he says in a bored monotone. “Let me clean it out.”

The asset’s jaw cranes. He squeezes his fist tighter, more blood trickles down, but he gives the commander his fist.

Rumlow has to pry his fingers from his palm, but eventually the Soldier yields. When he finally uncurls his fingers, Rumlow’s eyes shoot up to the asset’s face. There’s still glass in his palm. He was clenching his fist around glass.

—

“Why are you doing this?” Rumlow asks when the Soldier goes back to breaking his fingers. 

Rumlow has stopped trying to prevent this behavior. At this point, he’d rather the Soldier break his fingers. It’s better than having to clean up all that blood.

The Soldier pinches his index finger, metal thumb braced under the center, then he bends it in half the wrong way. He blinks at Rumlow, slow and glazed.

“Hello,” Rumlow snaps, “I asked you a question. Why are doing this?”

The Soldier shrugs. He extends his middle finger, straight above the crumple of his other broken digits. 

Eyes on Rumlow, he wraps his metal hand around it and crushes it.

“You know what,” Rumlow says. Rage is a hot heat rising in his chest. He can’t stamp it down. “You want to hurt? Fine.” 

He takes out his switchblade and tosses it at the asset. “Use that on yourself.”

The asset seizes it immediately, he flicks it open with his right hand and turns his attention to his left shoulder.

Rumlow is quick to halt him. “No. Not that shoulder.” He taps the asset’s right shoulder, his flesh shoulder. “This one.”

The Soldier’s mouth wavers. He shakes his head. The fingers around the handle tremble. This is his undamaged arm, the part of him that’s still whole.

“Use the switchblade on your right shoulder, Soldier. That’s an order.”

The Soldier can’t resist an order.

He dips the tip of the blade into the hard muscle just behind his clavicle. At first, tears well his eyes and he works the knife against the bone. The blade catches, then slips, driving the knife suddenly and clumsily into the Soldier’s deltoid.

Though his eyes are still wet, all expression in the asset disappears. His muscles go loose. His mouth falls slack. Blank numbness sheathes his face as he works the switchblade deeper and deeper into the muscle.

“Why are you doing this?” Rumlow prompts again.

“Because you told me to, Commander.”

—

—

“Why are you doing this?” 

Steve has never seen Bucky do this before, and horror mounts in his throat at the sight of all that blood.

Bucky has a steak knife driven into his right shoulder, his flesh shoulder. When Steve found him, Bucky was sawing it against the crest of his clavicle, against the joint, as if trying to sever it completely. As if he was trying to cut it off.

Steve doesn’t try to take the knife from him, doesn’t advance closer to stop him. He just stands in the door of Bucky’s room, trying not to breathe too hard.

“Why are you doing this?”

Bucky’s eyes snap up to Steve, startled, then they drift slowly to his shoulder. For a moment, he doesn’t seem to register what’s there. Then, all at once, he does. 

“Oh fuck,” he says as if just feeling it for the first time. He seizes the knife by the handle and yanks it out. A splurt of blood follows and dribbles down his bicep. Bucky cups his metal palm to the wound, stemming the bleeding.

Despite his efforts, blood trickles down his forearm and drips to the carpet below. Bucky winces. Steve picks up a shirt from the hamper, balls it in his hand, and presses it to the wound.

“Sorry, Steve. I don’t…” Bucky shakes his head, laughs a little. That smile he forms when he doesn’t mean it, but wants to. “I don’t know.”

He gives a little half shrug and blood blooms into the fabric of the t-shirt. A crimson carnation.

“That’s alright,” Steve says. It’s not. Steve doesn’t mean it, but he wants to. So he says it again. “It’s alright, Buck.”

#torture tuesday #hydra trash party #whump bucky barnes #brock rumlow #self harm #self injury #self mutilation #thanks for the prompt babe I really enjoyed this one #Anonymous

[writerwritesstuff]

use your hands and my spare time (justin foley/alex standall)

Summary: Alex leads Justin up the stairs, and he isn’t sure why he let him in in the first place. 

Alternatively, what happened the night Justin went to Alex’s.

Word count: 3188

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, mentions of rape, smut

Alex leads Justin up the stairs, and he isn't sure why he let him in in the first place. He hates Justin, ever since he heard those tapes, what he did to Jessica.. He wanted nothing to do with Justin fucking Foley; anyone who could let someone be raped is just as bad as a rapist. But Alex couldn't turn him away, not if he was desperate enough to come to Alex for a place to stay. "You're sleeping on the floor," Alex mumbles as he leads Justin into his bedroom. Justin doesn't say anything, and Alex doesn't turn around but he assumes Justin nodded. Not that he has any room to complain. Alex tosses a pillow and his duvet onto the floor, keeps the soft throw blanket that he hides under his duvet for himself. If his dad knew he liked to curl up under something so soft and plush every night, if he knew how much it comforted Alex, he'd never let him hear the end of it. "Turn off the light whenever," the blond mutters, pulling his laptop out from under his bed and turning it on. "Thank you," Justin says quietly as he flicks the light off. Alex doesn't watch but he hears just undress, strip down to his underwear, "for letting me stay." "Yeah," Alex sighs, opening up the browser on his computer and signing in to Netflix, "Just go to sleep. You look like you need it." "So do you," Justin comments, and Alex sees his silhouette disappear below the edge of his bed, knows he's lying down. "I'll sleep eventually," Alex mumbles, even though he knows he won't, not tonight. Justin sighs softly but doesn't speak. Alex assumes he knows better than to push his buttons. Justin falls asleep after not too long. Alex lays awake and absently watches Donnie Darko. He thinks about how he wishes the engine of a plane could fall on his bedroom; die in some freak accident so he doesn't have to do it himself. Hours pass, midnight becomes three AM, and Justin stirs for no reason at all. He's unsure of where he is at first, but the sounds of quiet voices coming out of a computer speaker reminds him. He sits up, sees Alex sitting on his bed, watching some show on his laptop with tired eyes. The blond looks over at Justin, the same solemn expression he always wears still carved into his feature. Justin wonders when the last time he saw Alex smile was. "What?" Alex mutters, rubbing his eyes. Justin frowns, wondering why he's even awake, what he's expecting from Alex. "What time is it?" "Three thirty," he says, pausing the random black and white movie he'd put on but hadn't really watched a second of. "Aren't you gonna sleep?" Alex sighs, running a hand through his short hair. "I don't know, Foley. What's it matter to you?" "You don't sleep, do you?" Alex rolls his eyes, "Everyone sleeps, dipshit." Justin opens his mouth to speak again, but Alex cuts him off. "Just drop it. It's not your problem if I sleep or not." Justin falls silent, and Alex starts the movie again, thinks he's going to leave it alone, go back to sleep, but of course not. "Were you going to drown yourself in Bryce's pool?" Alex tenses, but he doesn't look away from his laptop. "I liked you better when you were asleep." "You didn't care if you crashed your car when we were trying to scare Clay, right?" Alex groans, throwing his head back against the wall behind his bed. "What do you want, Justin?" "You're suicidal," Justin states, like he's just figured out the answer to the most important question in the world. "If I say yes will you shut up and go back to sleep?" "You don't have to say yes," Justin says, standing up, "I know you are." Alex swallows as Justin approaches him, but tries not to let his nervousness show. "That's great. Want a gold star?" Justin sits on the edge of Alex's bed, and he scoots away immediately. "Why?" the brunette asks, reaching over and pausing the movie again. "Wow, my own personal therapist," Alex tries to sound sarcastic, but his voice trembles a little and he knows Justin can hear it. "It doesn't matter, Justin." "It matters," Justin says, fixing Alex with a hard stare, "I didn't see it with Hannah, but I know now. I see it in you." Alex tries to hold Justin's gaze, but he feels his strong facade start to falter, so drops his gaze to his laptop screen, where Marion Crane is frozen on the shower floor. He hadn't even realized what he was watching until then, too distracted by the thoughts that rattled around in his brain. "Why?" Justin asks again, and Alex glances over at him for a second, surprised to see genuine concern written on his face. "I killed Hannah, I lost Jessica, and I will never be who my dad wants me to be," Alex says bitterly, "is that what you wanted to hear?" "Alex-" "Stop it, Justin," Alex mutters through gritted teeth, "I'm not going to spill my guts to you, of all people. Go back to sleep or get the fuck out." Alex's words are weak, no real threat behind them, and when he feels the empty side of his bed sink under Justin's weight, he knows Justin could tell. Justin closes Alex's laptop, puts it down on the floor next to the bed. "You're gonna kill yourself because of that?" "I never said I was going to," Alex mutters, ignores the part of him that wants to scream yes, I am going to kill myself and please stop me, no one else cares enough to stop me. "Fine," Justin sighs, and Alex feels his heart sink down into his stomach, thinks of course he doesn't care, before Justin continues. "Say you were. That'd be why?" "Is that not reason enough?" Alex whispers, tired and not totally confident in his emotional ability to handle this conversation. "I don't think so," Justin says, propping himself up on his elbow and staring down at Alex, "Compared to everyone else, what you did to Hannah was nothing, man. And you fucked up with Jessica, but she's just a girl, you know? It sucks, but it's not worth dying over. And nobody ever lives up to their dads expectations." Alex narrows his eyes at Justin, and before he can stop himself, says, "I didn't let you stay here so you can tell me I'm wrong for wanting to kill myself when my list made all those guys, including Bryce, harass Hannah, I treated Jessica like shit cause she wouldn't sleep with me, and my dad hates me because I made him move towns. I'm sick of fucking everything up and being a disappointment, so I think me wanting to die is completely fucking justified." Alex huffs out a breath, turning onto his side to avoid looking at Justin. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses himself for saying all of that, for admitting to Justin that he wants to die because it's all too real now. Justin will either tell somebody and try to get him help or he won't tell anyone, just brush it off and give Alex more reason to want to kill himself. "Alex," Justin begins, voice unbelievably soft, resting a hand on Alex's shoulder. Alex flinches away like he's been burned by Justin's hand. "Let's just go to sleep, alright?" The blond feels Justin settle into the bed next to him, and hopes to a God he doesn't believe in that Justin will leave him alone. God has never been on Alex's side, though, and of course, Justin has more questions. "How did you make your dad move?" "Don't ask questions you don't wanna know the answer to," Alex mutters, even though what he really means is don't ask questions that I don't want to answer. "I wanna know," Justin says, followed by a quiet "please?" Alex doesn't speak for a second, but then he figures that he's got nothing to lose. Justin can go ahead and try to ruin Alex's already ruined reputation. He doesn't plan on being around much longer anyways. "My dad's.. manly, you know? All that 'yes sir no sir' bullshit, you heard it. He's really religious too, and he wants me to be just like him.." Alex pauses, hesitating, unsure if he really wants to finish the story. "I had a boyfriend. My dad found out, pulled me out of school and we moved two weeks later." The younger boy keeps his eyes closed but flips onto his back. He waits for Justin's reaction, for him to get up and leave, call him a fag, but it never comes. "That's harsh," come his softly-spoken words instead, "to move because of a boyfriend?" "Not when you're my dad, a cop with a perfect reputation. Can't have a faggot son, no sir," Alex laughs humourlessly. "So what, he thought you'd turn straight if you moved?" Justin asks, earning a quick nod from Alex. "I guess he was right, then. You know, Jessica." "I'm not gay," Alex says, rolling his eyes, "I just, I don't know, I don't have a preference, I guess. There's a lot of hot guys here anyway. My dad was wrong. I'm just going to hide it." "Hot guys? Who?" Justin asks, curious and maybe hopeful, though Alex chalks that up to his own lack of sleep. Alex decides to indulge him. He's already embarrassed himself enough. "Definitely Zach," he begins, a small smirk on his lips, "Jeff was hot too. Tony. Tyler's cute but he's too creepy, not my type anyway. Ryan could be if he wasn't a stuck up douchebag. Monty is alright." Once he's done, he glances over at Justin. The brunet is staring at him, and somehow Alex isn't uncomfortable. "Anyone else?" Justin asks, and there's that hopeful tone again. "Quit fishing, asshole. You already know you're hot, I don't have to tell you." Alex says, nudging Justin with his elbow. "I think you're hot too," Justin says, scooting closer to Alex so their shoulders are together. Alex swallows, willing himself not to scoot away. "Thanks?" "I’ve heard you're a virgin," Justin whispers, and he's right there, right in Alex's ear. The blond's cheeks heat up and he's grateful that Justin put his laptop on the floor so the room is too dark for him to notice. "Yeah," is all he says, his voice small and nervous, doesn’t ask who told him that, already knows.

Alex feels wetness on his jawline, and it takes him a second to realize that Justin's got his lips on him, kissing him. "What are you doing?" Alex asks, but he doesn't move, lets his eyes close instead. "Want me to stop?" Justin asks, and part of Alex wants to say yes, shove him out of the bed and back onto the floor. Part of Alex wants to say no, tell him to keep his mouth on him, to kiss him properly. He opts to say nothing, just tips his head to the side and exposes his neck. Justin accepts the invitation, leaving a trail of wet kisses down Alex's neck. Alex watches with wide eyes as Justin pulls the throw blanket off of Alex's body and straddles his hips. Justin slides his hands under Alex's shirt, running his fingertips over the boy's torso. Alex silently hopes Justin won't comment on how skinny he is. The older boy tugs the collar of Alex's shirt down, attaches his lips to the soft skin in the dip of his collarbone, begins to suck and nibble at his flesh. Alex knows he should tell Justin to stop, knows the mark will be hard to hide, but he can't bring himself to care. Instead, he bites his lip to suppress the moans that are threatening to escape, exchanges them for panted breaths and the occasional whine, and tries not to feel pathetic. Justin slides a hand out from under Alex's shirt and reaches between them, uses it to palm Alex through his flannel pyjama pants. "Fuck," Alex moans, pushing his hips up into the brunet's hand. "Pretty slutty for a virgin," Justin comments, moving his lips back up Alex's neck to his jawline. "Shut up," Alex breathes, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as Justin continues to touch him. The older boy kisses his way up to Alex's lips, and then finally, finally presses their lips together. Immediately, Alex kisses him back, pushes up against him desperately. He's embarrassed, deep down, but pushes it aside to enjoy the moment. It's been so long since he's been kissed, hell, he can't even remember the last time someone properly hugged him. Justin can sense his desperation, how badly he wants, needs to be touched, and pulls back just enough that he can speak. "I'm not going anywhere, Alex," he whispers into the blond's ear. Alex shivers, feels himself blushing again and wonders when he stooped low enough to melt in Justin Foley's hands, of all people. After giving him a short nod in response, Alex kisses him again, softer this time, slower. Less like Justin's touch is his lifeline, more like he wants to savour the attention. Justin slides his tongue over the seam of Alex's lips, and Alex immediately breaks it, lets Justin's tongue slide into his mouth, rub up against his own. In the past, the sensation made Alex cringe, but there's something so wonderfully erotic about the way Justin explores his mouth. Justin slides a hand down the front of Alex's pants, wraps a hand around him and gives his length one full stroke before Alex breaks their kiss to gasp, tipping his head back. "This okay?" Justin asks, his hand stilling. Alex nods, takes a deep breath and tells himself to calm down, it’s just a handjob. “Yeah,” he whispers, finally looking at Justin, is met with blown pupils and a concerned face.

 “Never been touched like this?” Justin chuckles, flopping down onto the bed next to Alex.  

 The blond wants to stop him, tell him to finish what he started, but Justin keeps his hand down Alex’s pants, so he decides to hold off. “Fuck you, I have,” Alex huffs, eyes wandering down Justin’s body, which is only illuminated by the streetlight outside his window.

 The cool-toned streetlight looks an awful lot like moonlight, and Alex decides this is kind of beautiful. As beautiful as two teenage boys who don’t really like each other fooling around in the middle of the night can be, that is. The most Alex has ever done with anyone else was exchanging blowjobs in the back of his ex’s truck, and chances are he’ll never get anything else, so he lets himself believe it’s beautiful.

 Alex’s eyes land on Justin’s erection, clearly visible through his boxers. One of his hands lifts from his side before he can stop himself and he drops it onto the brunet, his thin fingers just barely brushing over his length. He glances over at Justin, sees that he’s biting his lip, and takes that as encouragement to slip his hand under Justin’s underwear, grab him properly.

 Justin hums, a quiet noise of approval, and then he rubs his thumb over the head of Alex’s cock, begins to work his hand over the younger boy in a steady rhythm. It’s a little dry and almost uncomfortable, so Justin pulls his hand away, licks his palm, and then continues.

 Alex does the same, wets his hand and then shoves it back down Justin’s underwear. He follows the brunet’s lead, tries to match his speed, but it’s hard to focus when someone’s touching your dick, so Alex finds himself faltering, his hand stilling at the base of Justin’s member every so often. Justin doesn’t seem to mind, just keeps stroking Alex and occasionally rocking his hips up and reminding the blond to move.

 There’s nothing romantic about it, really. Alex knows Justin probably just wants to get off, probably does this with all of his friends, but he can’t stop the way his heart flutters when he really thinks about how intimate their current situation is. Maybe it’s not as intimate as it could be, but only one other person has ever touched Alex’s dick.

 “Stop thinking,” Justin whispers, his voice weak and shaking.

 Alex turns his head to the side, presses his face against Justin’s neck. He doesn’t trust that his brain and mouth can communicate well in such a state, so he kisses Justin’s neck instead to keep himself from saying something stupid. Pumping Justin’s length faster, Alex tries to focus on getting him off.

 “You gonna come for me like this?” Justin asks, and Alex shivers at the raw pleasure in his voice. The brunet rubs his thumb over the tip of Alex’s member, slow and patronizing, and he gasps softly against his skin.

 “Yes,” Alex whispers, and isn’t sure what comes over him when he adds a quiet “please, sir”.

 Justin’s eyes widen, Alex feels him twitch in his hand, and then he’s spilling over Alex’s hand and his underwear with a moan that he muffles with his free hand. The younger boy keeps stroking his shaft until Justin is spent, then keeps holding him, unsure of what to do with his hand.

 After a moment of recovery, Justin remembers Alex’s still hard cock in his hand, and continues pumping him fast. It doesn’t take much for Alex to finish, and he moans Justin’s name into his neck as he comes, eyelids fluttering shut and thighs shaking.

 They stay like that for a few minutes before Alex comes to his senses, thinks what the fuck did I just do and pulls his hand away like Justin’s spunk is battery acid that he accidentally dipped his hand in.

 He strips in a hurry, wipes his hand off on his own boxers then slips back into his pyjama pants. Standing next to the bed, Alex waits for Justin to get up, stares at him pointedly.

 “What, no cuddles?” Justin asks, and Alex detects a hint of disappointment underneath his sarcasm.

 “No cuddles, get up,” Alex says, nods at the floor beside the bed, “what if my dad comes in? What if he heard us?”

 Justin raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t protest, gets out of the bed like he’s told. “We weren’t that loud. Can I borrow a pair of boxers?”

 The blond flops on his bed, tells Justin they’re in his dresser, and curls up underneath his throw blanket. All kinds of thoughts rattle around in his brain, from the possibility of his dad knowing and moving them again to wondering why the hell he and Justin Foley just jerked each other off in his bed and why Justin acted like it was no big deal.

 Alex doesn’t sleep a wink.

#justlex #justin foley #alex standall #thirteen reasons why #13 reasons why #13rw #fanfic

[vivaciouswordsmith]

look an update

Finally got around to finishing Chapter 11 of Four-Legged Fiend! Man, it has been a weird couple of months since graduation, plus my graduation gift was a PS4, and I’ve been working on a super ultra mega secret project for RTX, so...yeah, didn’t work on my fic all that much.

As always, you can read it here or beneath the cut. Enjoy!

Somehow, Los Santos managed to lose much of its ghetto look at sunset. 

It could have been the way the shadows concealed the cracks in the concrete and the half legible graffiti. Maybe it was the lack of gunshots and running feet echoing through the streets. Perhaps it was the way the natural slimy underbelly of the city lay down in its mire and let the people breathe for a few moments. Whatever it was, the change was start, and for many residents, most welcome.

Jeremy spent a good deal of the walk trying to slow Ryan down, but it was no use. The wolfdog was determined to go his own way, and Jeremy’s shoulder was throbbing by the time he stopped resisting. The apartment building faded into the darkening horizon, and Jeremy was led into unfamiliar streets.

Nearly an hour of walking later, Ryan finally stopped in his tracks. Jeremy rubbed his upper arm and looked around. He blinked several times. No, his eyes were definitely not lying. They were in a park. There were trees rustling in the wind and grass crunched beneath his feet. Ryan snuffled at the roots of a sapling before turning and lifting his leg. Jeremy politely deflected his gaze to a nearby sign with “Mirror Park” written on it in bold green letters.

“Did you really drag me all the way here to piss on a tree?” he asked. Ryan finished his business and walked back over to Jeremy. His eyes briefly flicked over Jeremy’s torso and arms before locking onto his face. He swallowed, disconcerted by the intensity in those two blue eyes. “Sometimes I swear to God you’re going to open your mouth and blow my fucking mind.”

The wolfdog yawned.

“Very funny.”

Ryan then tugged on the leash, and Jeremy followed him through the park. No-one else was there at this ungodly hour, but even so, Jeremy eyed the growing shadows dubiously. The grass crunched beneath his feet, Ryan panted just a little bit, and a light breeze rustled the leaves on the oak trees. He stumbled when they happened upon a small hill, but regained his balance and ascended without further problems. Once they reached the top, Ryan spun around in a few circles and laid down in the grass. He gave Jeremy a pointed look, and then looked down at a patch of grass near his hindquarters. Jeremy snorted, but complied and sat down.

It might not be as quiet as other cities, but Los Santos had one problem that was universal. When Jeremy looked up at the sky, it was nearly impossible to see the stars. The brightest did their best to pierce through the city’s skyline, but the others were drowned out completely. Still, they did their best, and Jeremy could appreciate that. Ryan put his paws into Jeremy’s lap, and Jeremy lifted a hand and scratched the back of the wolf’s head.

He didn’t know how long they sat there and watched the stars. It had to have been a while, because when a car drove by, he barely noticed it, but he did notice when someone stomped up to him and practically screamed, “Finally! There you are!” He nearly jumped out of his skin, while Ryan barked and leaped to his feet.

Geoff, at the very least, managed an embarrassed smile and a shrug. “Sorry. Thought you guys saw me comin’ towards you.”

“No,” Jeremy panted, “I didn’t. Jesus.”

Geoff laughed a bit and paced in place. A few moments passed. Ryan growled and tugged at the hem of Geoff’s jacket. His left forepaw edged worryingly towards Jeremy’s junk. Geoff coughed. Ryan yanked down on Geoff’s jacket, and the crime boss ended up flat on his ass with a curse.

“Uh…sorry, I probably shoulda…um. Sorry,” said Jeremy.

“It’s not a problem. He would’ve found a way to do it anyway.” Geoff settled in the grass and frowned at the slobber soaking his jacket. “Asshole.”

They were silent again for a good few minutes.

“So, uh, I, uh, we, I mean, we’re not exactly a smooth crew, you know?”

Jeremy blinked. “What?”

Geoff huffed. “We’re fucking criminals, all right? We’re abrasive and horrible and shit. None of us mean anything by it.”

“Oh, the short stuff? I kinda figured.” Jeremy shrugged. “I’ve heard it all before, so I’m used to it by now.”

Geoff blinked. “Huh?”

“Something up?”

“I, uh, I thought you, um, I thought you stormed out because you were mad.”

“No, I stormed out because I thought Ryan would tear my fucking arm off if I didn’t.”

“God, I know what you mean. When he wants something, you fucking give it to him.” Geoff patted Ryan’s flank, and laughed when the pup gave him a withering look. “You’re a spoiled bitch and you know it.”

They both laughed, and much of the tension between them faded into the darkness. Ryan huffed and rolled off their laps. In the distance, a siren wailed. Ryan’s ears twitched. Then he sat back on his haunches, lifted his muzzle to the sky, and howled. Jeremy winced, and then, to his amazement, realized he was trying to mirror the wail of the siren.

“Goddammit, you see, this is why I wanted a penthouse as far off the fucking ground as possible. Do you know how many fucking heists we had to do half-asleep because of this dickhead?” Geoff poked the wolf’s furry side. “I’ll tell you. Too many. Too fucking many.”

“Is…is it a wolf thing, or?”

“We looked it up, and apparently it is. He’s lucky he’s cute, otherwise I’d have tossed him out on his hairy ass a long time ago.” The siren finally faded into silence, and Ryan finished howling. His ears lifted off his neck, he stretched out on the ground, and promptly rolled on his back. He gave Jeremy a pointed look from in between his lanky salt-and-pepper limbs. “Now he’s begging for belly rubs like it’s no big deal. Fucker.” There was no heat in the insult. If anything, Geoff sounded fondly resigned. Jeremy wove his fingers into the coarse belly fur and scratched the pup’s underbelly. One sock-clad foot kicked at the air for his troubles.

“So, just so we’re clear, no hard feelings about the baby stuff, right?”

Jeremy shrugged. “I’ve heard worse.”

Geoff visibly relaxed. “Thank God.” He looked down at Ryan and rubbed his skinny chest with both hands. “How about you, bud? Any hard feelings from you?”

Ryan’s pink tongue lolled out of his mouth, and his leg kicked harder than before. Both criminals grinned down at him. He grinned just as widely back.

“Good. Now that we’re clear on that, let’s go home and get some rest. We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”

As it turned out, Geoff had not been kidding when he said there was work to do tomorrow. At the asscrack of dawn he roused everyone to prepare for what he termed “Operation: Don’t Fuck with the Fakes”. Jack went off to secure a cargobob for them, while Michael prepared for his assault on Zancudo. Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t convince him to take the safer route of calling Merryweather and securing the tank that way, so Geoff eventually broke down and gave Michael his blessing. He had been practically rubbing his hands together in glee ever since.

“And what am I doing?” Jeremy asked.

“You and I are going shopping,” said Geoff.

Jeremy blinked. “But…I thought you were gonna stay here with Gavin and pull the plans for the buildings.”

“Yeah, well, Gavvers and I talked about it, and we’re in agreement.” Geoff’s index finger jabbed at Jeremy’s worn t-shirt. “If you’re going to be a part of this crew, you need new clothes. Your old ones got ruined, and this…” He poked the t-shirt again. “This doesn’t fit the whole ‘eccentric villain’ thing we’ve got going on here.”

“And everything else?”

“After this. They gotta know who they’ve fucked with.”

“Will Ryan be coming with us?”

Upon hearing his name, Ryan looked up and trotted over to the pair. He sat at Jeremy’s feet and craned his neck to stare at Geoff. His stumpy ear twitched.

“He’ll probably have to sit outside, but yes, he’s coming with us. Gav can’t work when he’s around.”

“Does he bother him or something?”

Geoff snorted. “If only! Fucker can never stay focused on his goddamn work when Ryan’s around. I’ll find them wrestling, or he’ll be feeding him all my fucking mignons, and he’ll just squawk and go ‘Wot?’ whenever I ask him what the fuck he’s been doing!” He threw his hands up and scowled at the ceiling. “No matter how many times I shove pens up the little fucker’s ass, he doesn’t get the message.”

Jeremy chose to ignore that last comment, and said, “I guess it’s okay if it helps Gavin focus on his work.”

“He’d better,” said Geoff. “Otherwise we’ll be fucked.”

That was the end of that, as Geoff hustled him towards the door and urged him to get Ryan ready to leave. He got the wolfdog into his harness and leashed by the time Geoff had returned. A set of keys whirled on Geoff’s left index finger, and he seemed to be in a better mood now. Ryan’s eyes zeroed in on the keys. A big puppy grin stretched over his skull-marked muzzle.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going for a ride, buddy.” Geoff ruffled the pup’s ears, his grin only slipping a little when Ryan’s tongue lapped over his tattooed hand. “Goddammit. You better not slobber on my new suit, asshole.”

“I mean, what’s a little dog spit to us? It can’t be worse than bleeding all over it.”

Geoff fiddled with his bowtie and glowered down at Ryan. Ryan stared right back. His tail thumped all too innocently behind him. “I may not look it, but I do have some standards, Jeremy.”

He led them out of the penthouse and into the elevator. He thumbed the key for the underground garage and leaned back against the railing. Ryan snuffled around the edges of the elevator before settling at Geoff and Jeremy’s feet. He stretched out as far as he could, back paws hitting the opposite end of the elevator, and put his head down. Tinny muzak played over the hidden speakers, backed by the occasional ding of the elevator passing the other floors of the apartment building. Jeremy shifted against the rapidly warming rail and buffed his nails on his t-shirt. Geoff pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen.

It was a great relief when the elevator finally stopped moving and the doors rolled open. Ryan jumped to his feet and tugged Jeremy out into the dim garage. He’d long since learned not to fight Ryan, not when he really got going, and instead resigned himself to follow the wolf wherever he went.

“Jesus, you must really like car rides, Ryan,” he said.

“Have you ever lived with any dog, ever? They all love fucking car rides, man.” Geoff moved in front of them, pulled out a key fob, and pressed a button. There was a pause, and a trio of beeps echoed through the garage. “Okay. This way.”

Jeremy didn’t know what kind of car he expected the Fakes’ boss to have, but it definitely wasn’t even close to the eyeblindingly bright pink Felon waiting for them near the end of the row.

“Nice, right?” Geoff patted the car’s hood and grinned. “Brand fucking new, too.”

Jeremy continued to stare. Ryan moved to the passenger’s side and scratched at the door. Geoff scowled and let out a “Hey!” and the wolfdog slowly dropped back down to the ground.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’ve only seen these online. How much did it cost?”

Geoff shrugged and popped the door open. “Not much. Only around $90,000 or so.”

“Ninety thousand dollars?”

“No, ninety thousand cents. Of course ninety thousand dollars! These babies are imported.”

Jeremy pulled the door open and gently eased himself into the leather seat. While he fumbled with the seat belt, Geoff reached over and opened the back door. Ryan jumped into the backseat and snuffled at the edges of the seats. His tail beat against the window and cupholders, and Jeremy swore to sweet Jesus he was making the entire car shake.

“That…sounds like a lot of money,” he finally said.

Geoff was quiet for a few seconds. “I forget you little guys aren’t spoiled by the high life like we are,” he said, and started the car. The engine purred into life, and Geoff started off on their errands.

Jeremy ignored the ‘little guys’ comment, and decided to press on the cars thing. “Yeah? How so?”

“Ninety thousand isn’t the most we’ve spent on our vehicles. Have you ever seen Michael’s fucking Adder?”

“I think the astronauts on the ISS can see it,” said Jeremy.

“Yeah, no shit. Anyway, that car cost him a sweet million, and that was before he turned it into a fucking disco ball.” He grinned at the dumbfounded look on Jeremy’s face. “Hey, if you impress us, Li’l J…you can blow millions of dollars on cars you’ll wreck at least once a week, too.”

They exited the garage and peeled off into downtown Los Santos. A click sounded from behind them, followed by a mechanical whirr. Something whacked Jeremy’s shoulder repeatedly, so he finally turned around to look into the backseat.

Ryan had managed to roll the window down and stuck his head out into the open air. His ears flapped and twitched in the wind, and he paid no heed to the way Geoff swerved around cars, or to the cacophony of horns sounding off in their wake. His eyes squinted into slits, and his lips pulled back into a massive grin.

“I just wish he could roll the windows up,” Geoff lamented. “He can roll them down all fucking day, but he hasn’t figured out up yet.”

“You’re not worried about him losing his head or anything?”

“He’d fucking deserve it if he did.” Geoff took a corner far too sharply, which jerked Jeremy’s seat belt taught, and caused Ryan to shift a few inches backwards. Jeremy’s heart pounded fearfully, but aside from the soft grunt of surprise, Ryan didn’t react. “However, I’d lose my fucking head if anything happened to him. Jack and the others love the fucker way too much for me to let anything happen to him.”

“Fuck, I don’t want anything to happen to him, and I barely know him!” Jeremy swatted Ryan’s hindquarters and failed to dodge his wagging tail.

“He can take care of himself, you know. He’s got his own track record down at the LSPD.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.” Geoff took one hand off the steering wheel and painted a broad arc in the air between himself and Jeremy. “Says something like ‘Warning: Dangerous Animal. Reports that Fake AH Crew has been seen with large black dog. Identifying as having white markings on the face, purportedly like a skull. Considered incredibly dangerous.’ I had Gavin pull it up a few weeks back. We’re all very fucking proud.” A little bit of the mirth slipped out of Geoff’s face at the last word. “Though, personally, I’m not too fond of the ending.”

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, ‘Shoot to kill on sight’ is fucking amazing.”

Jeremy flinched. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

There was a slight scrabbling from behind them, and Ryan’s large furry head pushed its way in between the two of them. His nose flicked over the touch screen for a few seconds, which Geoff very much did not appreciate, and then his tongue lapped over Jeremy’s cheek.

“Agh, Ryan! No!”

“Fucking fuck, he’s started the fucking navigator!” Geoff tried to push the wolfdog out of the way and frantically jammed his fingers into the screen.

‘Head east, then make a right,’ said the robo-voice before Geoff could do anything.

“Fucking – shut up!”

Jeremy covered his mouth with both hands, desperately trying to muffle his laughter. His reflection steadily turned redder and redder. Ryan grinned up at him and winked. His snorts grew louder and more hysterical.

God, he wasn’t even in the main six yet, and he already didn’t want to leave.

“Fucking Christ, you look like Prince vomited on a traffic cone,” said Geoff.

Jeremy ignored him for the time being in favor of looking himself in the mirror. His new Stetson rested proudly on his head, and stood out in stark contrast to his crisp purple jacket. That, in turn, clashed beautifully with his neon orange slacks. Was it horrific to look at? Of course it was. Was it memorable? Of course it was!

“C’mon, Geoff, that’s the point! What was it you said? You’ve got a…fucking…eccentric villain thing going on, right? If this isn’t eccentric, I’ll eat this fucking hat.” He pushed his Stetson up with his thumb and beamed.

“We’re a bunch of weirdos, yeah, but…” Geoff jabbed Jeremy’s chest with his index finger. “That outfit can be seen from fucking space. Even we’re not dumb enough to wear stuff like that.”

“Guess that just makes me really fucking dumb.”

Geoff stared at him for a few moments before sighing. “You really will fit in with this crew, Dooley. None of those fuckers listen to me, either.”

Jeremy grinned and tugged on his lapels. “Speaking of, aren’t they supposed to be back now?”

“Yeah. Hopefully they got everything for tomorrow.”

He blinked. “Tomorrow?”

Geoff walked past Jeremy and patted him on the shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you? We’re heisting tomorrow.”

Jeremy’s stomach dropped down to his feet. His throat tightened until he thought he was going to puke. “Tomorrow? But…didn’t we just get everything together?”

Geoff shrugged without turning around. “No use sitting on it for too long. It’ll just let the rumor mill circulate too much, especially since Michael decided to break into Zancudo to get the tank. The last thing we want is for those fuckheads to bail on us, or worse, have a way to defend themselves. I want this to be revenge, not a goddamn suicide mission.”

For a few moments, Jeremy couldn’t speak. He knew they would be enacting their revenge soon, but he thought he still had some time to prepare. He thought he’d have a week, or at least a few days to collect himself before standing beside his idols and tearing their enemies a new asshole. This revelation was especially jarring. He felt like a kid who’d been surprised by a sudden midterm out of nowhere.

“I…I guess that makes sense,” he finally said.

Geoff turned and looked at him. His smile had slipped somewhat, and he moved to clap Jeremy on the shoulder again. “Hey, don’t worry about it. You’ll be fine.”

Jeremy mentally shook himself and smiled again. “Yeah, I know, it’s just, uh, you know, jitters or some shit.”

“Hey, look at it this way. By tomorrow, you’ll be blowing up shit all over Los Santos and striking fear into the hearts of the bastards who hurt you.”

“Thanks, Geoff. That’s really helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand and opened the door to Jeremy’s temporary room. “Dinner’ll be in an hour. Then we’ll go over the plan again, and break for the day. Sound good?”

“Sounds great, Geoff.”

With that, the Fakes’ boss left the room. Jeremy was fully prepared to lay on the bed and contemplate the next day for an hour, but after only five minutes, something scratched at the door. Jeremy laughed, got up and opened the door. Ryan sat in the threshold. His paw lowered back to the ground, and he stared up at Jeremy with wide blue eyes.

“Dinner’s not for an hour, buddy. Besides, I don’t exactly think I have full access to the penthouse yet.” Ryan didn’t relent. He moved forward and pawed at the hem of Jeremy’s jacket. “Okay, I don’t speak wolf. The fuck do you want?” He leaned down and rubbed behind Ryan’s ears. The pup whined and pawed him again.

Something in Jeremy’s brain clicked. “Is this about the heist? Are you worried about us?” Ryan’s tail wagged, and he put his paws on Jeremy’s thighs, forcing his face right up against Jeremy’s. “We’ll be fine. You’ll get the penthouse to yourself, too. Well, almost to yourself.” Ryan whined again. His eyes bored into Jeremy’s. “Oh. That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want to be left behind.” Ryan let out a bark.

Geoff and Jack had reached this particular decision when he and Jeremy got back from their errands. Jack didn’t want him in the chopper in case it went down, and Geoff didn’t want him going deaf from listening to the tank firing. And neither of them wanted Ryan to suffer avoidable injuries. Thus, while the main crew went heisting, Ryan would be staying at home with some members of the B-Team. Now that he thought about it, Jeremy realized Ryan had been antsy ever since then.

“Is he bothering you, too?” Jeremy flinched and looked up. Michael stood in the hallway. His arms were folded over his chest, and he jerked his head down at Ryan. “He’s been going door to door for fucking hours now.”

“I think he’s upset about being left behind tomorrow,” said Jeremy.

“Of course it is. Asshole hates being left at home.” Michael reached down and patted Ryan’s rump. “He’s as much a part of the crew as anybody else.”

“You think he’ll be okay staying here?”

“He’ll be fine. It’s Matt and Trevor I’m worried about.” Before Jeremy could ask, Michael said, “He’s always been a dick to his babysitters.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“No kidding.”

Jeremy bit his lip and finally gathered enough moxy to speak. “So, uh, how do you feel about tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?”

“Uh…well…okay, here’s how it is, right? Tomorrow’s my first fucking heist with the crew, and if I don’t make a good impression…” He sighed. “I’ve been watching you guys for years now, and I never thought I’d get as far as…this.” He gestured around the room. “I guess…I’m scared of losing it.”

Michael considered him for a few moments. “That’s fucking dumb.”

Jeremy blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re going to be fine, Li’l J! You managed to fly a fucking plane while shot full of holes, and crashed it right into our fucking penthouse! If you can do that, there’s nothing you can’t do.”

A warm feeling ignited in Jeremy’s chest. “You, uh, you really think so?”

“Well, nothing might be the wrong word for it, but…well…” Michael shrugged. “Just don’t worry about it.”

“Sure. I’ll get right on that.”

Michael laughed and headed back down the hallway. As soon as he was gone, Jeremy went and flopped down on his bed. Moments later, another weight sank down upon it, and Ryan’s wet nose pressed into his cheek. His lips twitched for a second, and let his hand rest on Ryan’s stubby ear. He shut his eyes and did his best to relax into the bed.

Tomorrow was going to be a long ass day.

#man i'm hyped for rtx #then adult life begins #yay for me #fanfiction #achievement hunter #ao3 #wolf!ryan #wolf!ryan au #can't wait to show off the SUMSP #i'm super proud

[that-is-vexing]

@agentmordred 80s Punk with time travel and amnesia because I WILL NOT BE SATED

“Oi!” someone grunted, “Watch where you’re going!”

He reeled back, fell against the wall, slid down it with a groan, clutching his aching skull. What the hell had happened?

He tried to take stock. Where was he? He couldn’t recall. He took a deep, steadying breath, and the stench of city, of home, brought him back to the here and now. London. He was in London. In a part close to home. Where was home? He couldn’t remember. Who was he? Easy, that--Eggsy Unwin. His mum was Michelle, his sister was Daisy. He had friends who were close enough to be siblings, Jamal, Ryan, and Roxy. Right. So he knew where he was, he knew who he was, and he knew some of the people around him. He opened his eyes.

He was dressed in a suit. No, surely that wasn’t right. Eggsy Unwin didn’t wear suits. But it was fitted to him, felt like a second skin; as did the gun at his shoulder and the knife at his belt. He was beginning to be scared. These weren’t Eggsy Unwin. He was just sixteen and scared--

No, not sixteen. He distinctly recalled a birthday cake with two candles, a two and a three. Twenty-three. He was twenty-three. Then why couldn’t he remember his twenty-third year? Or his twenty-second?

“You alright?” asked a concerned voice.

“Just leave him, Hazza,” another voice groaned. “He’s just tripping.”

“Not tripping,” he retorted, his tongue fuzzed with disuse; how long since he’d last spoken? “Just... can’t...”

“Drunk, then.”

“Shut it, ‘Lin. He doesn’t smell like alcohol.”

“Huh.”

“Hospital,” Eggsy says, grabbing the concept and holding it tight. “I think... I need to... to go to hospital.”

“We’ll get you there, mate,” promised the concerned voice, Hazza. ‘Lin groaned again in exasperation, but did not argue.

Then suddenly hands were gripping his arms, and gently lifting him to his unsteady feet. He leaned against the wall again, taking deep, steadying breaths, and looked at the two before him.

The one had a beaky nose, a stern face, and deep-set eyes. He was bald except for a short, spiked mohawk. The other had a softer face, a faint cleft chin, heart-melting brown eyes, perhaps a dozen earrings, and curling hair dyed every color of the rainbow. Their raiment matched, from black leather jackets with metal spikes on the shoulders to black t-shirts to tight, ripped-up jeans and combat boots. The one with a mohawk had a blood-red anarchy pin on his lapel; the rainbow-haired one had a small enamel pin shaped like a hand flipping the bird.

Punks. Eggsy blinked at them, confused. For some reason, he recognized them. He couldn’t remember their names, but he knew those faces, even if they were too young, too gentle, not hardened by blood and pain--yet. His knees tried to give way, but he locked them and pressed his hands flat against the wall behind him, looking around with something close to panic.

This--wasn’t right. The cars were wrong. The people were wrong. The very buildings were wrong. And the air, dear god, now that he was breathing properly he could feel that the air was wrong.

“Where am I?” he murmured, craning his neck to see the nearest street sign. He couldn’t read it. Too far away.

“Not far from the hospital,” Hazza answered. He looked sympathetic, which made his companion even more exasperated. “Come on, let’s get a cab.”

Eggsy nodded, and obediently followed the punks to the edge of the pavement.

~

The chap in the suit stared out the window, watching the world pass with a slight frown. Harry found it very hard to keep quiet and not start chattering nervously like an idiot. Christ he was pretty. That jaw and those eyes...

The chap glanced over and caught him looking. Harry turned away quickly, to see Merlin watching Harry with a raised eyebrow. Harry scowled, and Merlin shrugged.

They reached the hospital. Harry payed their fare and helped the chap out of the cab. He seemed a little unsteady still, but he was recovering quickly. He walked to the doors without any trouble, though Harry and Merlin flanked him, just to be sure.

People stared, but the chap didn’t even seem to notice, walking straight to the queue and getting in behind everyone. Harry hesitated, then stood with him. Merlin rolled his eyes but followed.

“You don’t need to stay,” the chap told them, obviously surprised.

It was Harry’s turn to shrug, only he did it because he was uncomfortable. 

“What if you fall over again?” Merlin pointed out slyly.

“Good point,” the chap agreed with a rueful smile, massaging his temple gently. “Feel like I will at any minute.”

Eventually they reached the front of the queue. The chap gave his name as Gary, Gary Baker, even though his mouth twisted as he said it. When the nurse asked what the trouble was, Gary admitted, “I don’t know. I think my head got banged pretty hard against something. I’m dizzy and--and I can’t remember some times.”

“What kind of things?” the nurse inquired, focus sharpening, though her tone remained gentle.

Gary hesitated, glancing at Harry and Merlin. Merlin jerked his head to the side, and Harry followed him to a point a little ways away. Gary leaned forward and talked quietly to the nurse, who began to look deeply worried. She murmured back, then picked up her phone. Gary walked over to Harry and Merlin, frowning faintly to himself.

“Thank you for getting me here, er...” he said, and trailed off, looking at them expectantly.

“Harry,” Harry introduced himself.

“Merlin,” Merlin added.

“Harry and Merlin,” Gary murmured, looking between them with a very odd expression on his face. “You wouldn’t happen to know a Chester King, would you?”

Harry shook his head, but Merlin stiffened. Usually Harry would be the only one to notice, but Gary’s eyes snapped to Merlin’s, and his odd expression turned thoughtful. He nodded to himself a little, then smiled. “Alright. Thank you, both of you.”

“Do you want us to wait with you?” Harry blurted, making Merlin glare. Gary smiled wider.

“No. I’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time this has happened, I don’t think. Or maybe that’s the concussion. Anyway. I’m sure you have much more important things to do than wait around for a stranger.”

“We do,” Merlin replied bluntly, with a glare at Harry that dared him to argue. Gary chuckled instead of getting offended.

“Well, don’t let me keep you. Goodbye.” And he walked away.

Merlin had to drag Harry out of the hospital.

#Hartwin #THERE WILL BE MORE #THIS JUST GOT KINDA LONG

[keywestlou]

TIP STEALING AND SEX NIGHT AT THE CHART ROOM

A doubleheader today. Two columns in one.

Keys Energy screwed things up yesterday. Made it impossible to get the blog out and had me sitting on South Roosevelt Boulevard forever waiting to make the turn north onto US 1.

Keys Energy was doing maintenance work from 8 to 2 yesterday in our neighborhood. No power, no wi-fi, no nothing. Keys Energy also was doing some big time electrical work at Cow Key Bridge. A huge crane rising out of the water.

I begin with tip stealing. An example how Trump is taking from those who earn less and giving to those who earn more.

The Trump Administration announced a proposed rule which in effect amounts to tip stealing. Affects waiters, waitresses and bartenders, as well as kitchen help.

Permits restaurant employers to illegally pocket tips earned by employees. If the employer pays minimum wage, the employer can legally pocket “pooled” tips. Tips that could be shared with other restaurant staff such as chefs and dishwashers.

Dollar amount involved estimated at $6.1 billion per year.

It is claimed many restaurant owners are already pocketing a portion of the tips illegally. The Trump proposal legalizes the illegal.

I mention tip stealing because it affects many Key West restaurant workers.

Spent the afternoon working on Growing Up Italian. My next book. Getting there. See light at the end of the tunnel.

Attended Mary Lou Hoover’s fundraiser at Kate Miano’s home. Many people. A success. Kate’s new home divine.

Mary Lou running for a Key West City Commission seat.

Jean attended the fundraiser with me. Then we enjoyed dinner together at La Trattoria.

Key West native Sebrina Maria Alfonso returns to Key West friday evening with the Southern Florida Symphony. The Symphony was born in Key West 20 years ago.

The theme of the performance involves Ernest Hemingway. The event at the Glynn Archer Performing Arts Center.

The contract was let for the construction of the Custom House this month in 1888. All that building for $107,955.96! Money bought a lot more in those days.

Speaker Ryan announced taxpayer funds will no longer be used to pay suits against Congressmen with regard to sexual harassment matters.

Talk is cheap. It took a law to permit the use of taxpayer dollars in such situations. It will take a law to abolish the law.

Lets get it done pronto!

This is wild! Reading, home and street lights from leaves. Kale, watercress, arugula, and spinach. Eventually would replace electrical energy.

The U.S. Department of Energy has been funding MIT research to make it work. Already producing lighting power dimly.

Sounds like it will come.

Our friends the iguanas. Not really friends. Nasty creatures. I wrote recently they are overpopulated in Florida. They eat our flowers and shit in our pools. The State has initiated a program to eradicate or control them. Will end up like the pythons. Control. Eradication impossible. Too many already here.

This morning’s Comment Column on page 2 of the Key West Citizen advised that iguanas are available online from Puerto Rico. Fifteen dollars to $49.99 a pound. Referred to as Chicken of the Trees.

Iguanas are minimally eaten in south Florida. Purportedly taste like chicken Eaten big time in Central and South America.

Today’s blog begins here.

Sex in the Chart Room. Not real sex. Merely conversation.

Three couples. All tourists.

One mentioned that they had been at Teaser’s strip club till 2 am. Hung over. Especially the husband. Husband and wife both enjoyed.

One of the other couples immediately decided they were going to Teaser’s when they left the Chart Room.

The third asked if there we any nude restaurants or bars in Key West. Oh, the reputation we have!

They were advised not. They were told about the Garden of Eden. The rooftop clothing optional bar on top of the Bull & Whistle. Completely open to the elements.

Cold last night. Mid 60s. Not the time to take your clothes off on the Bull & Whistle’s rooftop.

Could not disillusion the third couple. They decided to go anyway. If they ultimately did, even with clothes on they would have frozen their asses off.

Met Art and Sherry at the bar. Not interested in strip clubs or the Garden of Eden.

They have lived in Key West two years on a boat. Sits outside Turtle Krawl. Art mid forties. Formerly a CPA. Decided to give it up and live the good life in Key West. He drives a trolley by day. Thrilled with his new life.

Art not the first to have done it.

My yesterday included a haircut with Lori and Publix to stock up on more diet foods. Such is my life in Key West.

Duval has Christmas wreaths hanging from light poles from one end to the other. You feel the season as you walk Duval.

Omarosa Mangault Newman in the news. A White House Assistant to the President. African-American. The only White House black staff member. She had easy access to the President.

She was fired yesterday. By John Kelly. Her credentials taken. Reported she was accompanied off White House grounds.

Wonder what she will have to say about Trump.

The book, the book, the book! Irma and Me. Sales continue. I am excited. You might consider acquiring a copy yourself. Easy fun reading. Makes an excellent reasonably priced Christmas gift, also.

Today, friday. I have no plans for tonight. Regardless, I know it will turn out to be a fun time. Can’t miss in Key West!

Enjoy your day!

  TIP STEALING AND SEX NIGHT AT THE CHART ROOM was originally published on Key West Lou

#Chart Room #Diet Food #Duval #Ernest Hemingway #Facebook #Garden of Edden #Growing Up ItalianJean Thornton #Hanukkah #Iguanas #Irma and Me #Kate Miano #Key West #Key West Lou #Key West Lou Blog Talk Radio #Key West Lou COMMENTARY #Key West Lou Live #Key West Lou Live Video #Keys Energy #La Trattoria #Light From Leaves #Lori/Haircut #Mary Lou Hoover #Menorah Lighting #MIT #Omarosa Mangault Newman #Pooled Tips #Puerto Rico #Sebrina Maria Alfonso #South Florida Symphony #Speaker Ryan