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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years

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V ║ Appaloosa

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ Part 4: Strawberry Roan | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 6: Mustang }

Rating: E

Summary: You and Jack play house for a day.

Warnings: This is filthy, light angst, feelings, flirting, insecurities, sexual innuendoes, protected sex, fingering, dirty talk, language, mention of food, no use of Y/N

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: Cowboy Jack and his Darlin' are back. This is a bit of a transitional chapter as we move into the second part of the their week together, and shit's getting real 🥺 I know it's been a while, and I hope this doesn't disappoint ❤️

Appaloosa: An American horse breed best known for its colourful spotted coat pattern.

Jack can’t remember the last time he missed his alarm.

When he slowly comes to, the room is quiet, the digital beep from his phone that you must have switched off but an echo in his ears. He exhales heavily through his nose and turns onto his side, where he finds you burrowed into your pillow.

You stretch languidly as Jack drapes his arm over you, warm and heavy, his bare skin finding yours under the duvet. His baritone rumbles in your ear. ‘Mornin’, darlin’.’

You smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. You mumble back, ‘Morning, cowboy.’

‘Sleep well?’

Shifting onto your back and blinking up at his face hovering just above you, you nod and let your gaze trail over his rumpled hair, his warm eyes, still hooded with sleep, and lips curled into a gentle smile. The morning light spilling through the window chases away the tailend of the chill from last night, and the air in the room is ripe with the musk of sex and slumber. You hum and pull him in for a chaste kiss.

‘Do the horses need feeding?’ you ask as he settles between your thighs, holding himself above you on elbows either side of your face.

‘No, I left the feed out for them last night,’ he answers, but stays still otherwise, as if he’s letting you take the lead on how this morning should play out.

You run your hands down his back, sliding slowly against his skin as you feel goosebumps bloom in their wake. Cocking your head to the side, you say, ‘So theoretically, if your guests don’t feel well -’

Jack’s brow immediately furrows in worry. ‘You don’t feel well?’

You shake your head, soothing your palms over his lower back as you reassure him, ‘No, I feel perfectly well. It’s just,’ you pause and bite your bottom lip. ‘Just theoretically - could we stay one more night?’

You can tell it’s not what he expected to hear, but the way his gaze darkens just ever so slightly doesn’t escape you. His voice comes out deeper when he finally says, ‘But we’re going to miss all the sights we were going to see today.’

With a slow nod, you reply, ‘I know.’

Jack shifts, taking his weight off one elbow so that his hips slowly but surely brush against yours. ‘We’ll have to take a shortcut.’

You don’t mean for your words to come out so breathless, but they do anyway. ‘I understand.’

Jack’s voice drops to a throaty whisper. ‘We’ll have to ride extra hard tomorrow to make up for lost time.’

‘How hard?’ you prompt, wrapping one leg around his waist, your breath hitching when you feel his hard length sliding through your folds.

‘Very hard,’ he breathes through gritted teeth, his large palms cupping your ass and squeezing greedily, pulling you flush to him.

‘How about I show you how hard I can ride, cowboy?’ You grin against his lips. ‘Will it put your mind at ease, sir?’

Jack groans and takes your lips in a searing kiss, rocking against your dampening core before pulling back to growl, ‘Not fuckin’ likely, darlin’.’

Jack’s never been one to cut work. Hell, he’d never even taken a sick day until his wife’s accident. After the funeral, he’d packed up his truck and headed straight into the woods, where he spent the entirety of three months in silent solitude in the depths of the forests.

Then he went back to work, and he’s never stopped since.

But right now, he can’t bring himself to care that he’s putting a blemish on his perfect record - not when his eyes are on your tits as you bounce on his cock, the pulse in your neck rabbiting under the scrape of his teeth when you throw your head back, nails digging into his shoulders and grounding him to the moment. In the back of his head, he hears the bed creak underneath, an off-key violin to the tune of your gasps and moans.

‘Fuck, darlin’, you ride me so well,’ he praises you, one hand coming down to smack you on the ass, which makes you stutter something incoherent as your pussy clenches around him.

‘Told you so,’ you somehow manage to reply smartly, prompting a growl from him as he thrusts up into you so hard that you nearly fall off his lap. ‘Jack!’

‘Just testin’ how well you stay on a buckin’ bronco,’ he sasses back at you with a debauched grin.

You bite your lip, hips desperately grinding against his. So close that your insides are trembling, you let his comeback slide, begging instead, ‘Do it again, Jack, please, gonna cum -’

He leans forward and presses a desperate kiss to your lips, his words catching in his throat as he feels you break around him. ‘Anythin’ for you, darlin’.’

Tequila’s battered truck rattles up to the Halfway House a few minutes after nine, the metallic grunts of the engine breaking the still of the morning. Jameson sits patiently on the passenger side, but his tail is thumping excitedly on the seat at the sight of his favourite playground in the mountains.

Whistling to himself, Tequila rounds the truck to let the border collie out, who bounds headfirst towards the paddock. Looking up, he grins at the sight of the three horses still in the stables.

Champ owes him fifty bucks, and he intends to collect.

He knocks anyway - his mama taught him manners - and he gives it a couple more tries before letting himself in, leaving the door ajar if Jameson wants to come in.

The house is silent, only the floorboards creaking under his boots as he makes a sweep of the living space. Remnants of the night before are scattered about in wine-stained glasses, empty dishes and dying embers in the fireplace.

He gotta give it to Jack. Man’s got moves.

Humming quietly to himself, Tequila pulls open the fridge door, the interior light flooding him in orange as he pokes his head inside, and his eyes light up at the half-eaten chocolate cake. He shrugs and reaches for it - might as well have a second breakfast while he waits.

And he doesn’t have to wait long. He’s just finishing up the last of his slice at the dining table when he hears movement down the corridor to the guest bedrooms. There’s a flush of the toilet and a trickle of water, then Jack emerges in just his jeans, head down while he does up the fly.

‘Mornin’ sunshine,’ pipes up Tequila, louder than he needs to. He enjoys the way the normally calm and collected cowboy jumps a foot in fright.

Rubbing his palm over his eyes, Jack groans and stumbles over his words. ‘Oh fuck. Sorry, I meant to call. Our guest - uh, she isn’t feeling well, so we’ll be staying one more night. So that she can - get better.’

Tequila crosses his arms, one eyebrow arched. ‘She isn’t feeling well, huh?’

‘Yeah, um - something with the food,’ mumbles Jack as he stalks over to the kitchen sink to pour himself a glass of water, which he downs.

‘Losing your touch in the kitchen, Daniels?’

‘Shut up, Teak,’ glowers Jack, steadfastly avoiding his friend’s gaze as he busies himself with moving the dirty dishes from the kitchen counter. He turns on the hot water and squeezes far too much washing up liquid into the stoppered sink. Grabbing a sponge, he begins to aggressively wash up.

Tequila watches with a pleasant smile and comments, ‘Funny choice of attire when our guest can walk in any moment, by the way.’

Spinning around with soapy hands, Jack opens his mouth, ready to make up another excuse - when his eyes alight on the box of condoms haphazardly ripped open lying in plain sight on the table in front of the other cowboy.

Pointing what he hopes is a menacing finger at Teak - as menacing as it can be with suds sliding off the tip of it - he growls, ‘Not a single word from you, understand?’

Tequila flashes him a shit-eating grin. ‘C’mon, a thank you would be nice. I drove into town specially to get you those rubbers, you know. Did I get the sizing right, by the way? Not too loose?’

Jack resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘How did you even -’

‘Like recognises like,’ winks Tequila.

Rolling his eyes, Jack turns back to the dishes and says, ‘Just get the fuck out of here before she wakes up.’

‘I can’t,’ he protests. ‘I gotta collect your dirty laundry and strip the beds. Bet I only need to strip one bed though.’

The front door whines on its hinges - it really needs a good oiling - as Jameson runs into the house, barking at the sight of Jack, who gives him a wet pat on the head.

He freezes when he hears another door creak, but before he can sound the warning, you pad out of the corridor and into the living area in just his shirt, your eyes still squinty with sleep.

‘Did I just hear a dog -’ you stop abruptly in your tracks when you spot Tequila waving to you.

‘Mornin’ sweetheart,’ calls out Tequila with a two-fingered salute. He turns to Jack and pronounces, ‘Well, she hardly looks rode hard and put away wet, does she?’

You blink, your limited morning brain power preoccupied by Jameson, who’s shimmied up to you wagging his tail. Scratching him behind the ear, you try to muster a response to Tequila’s rather cryptic remark. ‘I mean, um, maybe not in so many words -’

Jack cuts in from across the kitchen. ‘Darlin’, do not answer that. It’s a southern sayin’ and he’s just tryin’ to wind you up.’

Tequila wriggles his eyebrows at you playfully. ‘Wind up the birthday girl? Never! Happy birthday, by the way. I’m guessing Jack showed you a good time?’

‘Get outta here, Teak!’

He surrenders with his palms up, vacating the kitchen table. ‘Alright, alright, no need to shout, Daniels. I’ll be back tomorrow then. If you decide to stay another night, just send a text,’ he pauses and gives you a suggestive wink. ‘We can always send a car to pick you up instead at the end of the week.’

Whistling at Jameson to follow, Tequila calls out over his shoulder in farewell. ‘Keep your saddle oiled and your gun greased!’

As the door shuts behind him, you burst into laughter.

‘What the hell did he just say?’

The afternoon light filters through the half-drawn blinds over the bathroom window, casting shadows on the tiled floor that only grow longer as the lazy hours tick by.

The water has long gone tepid, your plans for what was meant to be a quick bath alone derailed when Jack climbed in after you.

The condoms are in the bedroom, and neither of you are inclined to leave the tub, so he has you spread in his lap, your tits heaving just above the waterline. Bubbles cling to your nipples as Jack draws slippery circles on your clit, sucking hot kisses onto the side of your neck.

‘Harder, Jack. Mark me, please,’ you beg. His cock is hot and heavy in your hand, and you feel him twitch as your words hit home.

‘Yeah? Want me to fuckin’ brand you, darlin’?’ he growls into your ear before sucking on your skin so viciously that you cry out, thrusting his fingers into you as you start to cum. You stroke him harder, feeling him tense behind you before a violent shudder goes through his body, harsh breaths in your ear as he lets go. ‘That’s it, darlin’. So good for me, cummin’ so hard on my fingers like that while I mark you -’

You slump bonelessly into Jack’s chest when your high passes, and you tilt your head backwards so that he can kiss you fully on your mouth, tongues meeting languidly, your nails sliding into his wet hair to pull him closer.

Nose in your temple, he eyes the blooming hickey on the base of your neck with a deep grunt of satisfaction.

Jack’s voice is warm against the shell of your ear as he ambles up behind you, big palms leaning on the kitchen counter on either side of you. ‘Is it regressive of me to find the sight of you cookin’ very sexy?’

You smile, not looking up as you measure out the dried pasta. ‘It might just be that I’m wearing nothing underneath your shirt.’

You shriek when he draws up the hem to see that you’re not lying, ducking to press an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your naked hip before wrapping his arms around you.

‘What’s on the menu, chef?’ he asks, chin on your shoulder.

‘Carbonara,’ you answer, the ingredients you found laid out on the kitchen counter, along with the freshly cut parsley that Jack got from the garden.

‘With cream and peas?’ he asks dubiously.

You toss him a look over your shoulder. ‘Didn’t peg you for a pasta snob, cowboy.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m not sure who will want to wring your neck first - Poppy or the Italians.’

‘Good thing I can count on you to get me out of a spot of trouble, can’t I?’

‘Depends on how good that carbonara is,’ he teases, letting out an exaggerated oomph when you gently elbow him in the stomach in rebuke. He adds, ‘You didn’t have to cook, you know. I would’ve been happy to do it.’

‘You deserve a break,’ you say as you crack an egg for the sauce. You pause, the words caught in your windpipe as you hesitate. When they do come out, you don’t sound as nonchalant as you would’ve liked to. ‘And I wanted to show you that I can feed myself when you’re not around to cook for me, cowboy.’

It’s the first time any mention of what lies beyond this week has been articulated between you two. The air shifts, and for a split second, the unwelcome weight of reality suddenly looms over you, all-consuming - until you feel Jack shuffle on his feet behind you.

His calloused palms close over hands - you’ve completely overbeaten the egg mixture while your mind wandered - and you set the bowl and fork down, your restless fingers gripping the edge of the countertop instead.

‘I have no doubt you will manage without me,’ he says, almost diplomatically.

But when his hands find your waist again, he holds you tighter.

Out on the deck, next to the stairs, stands a serious-looking telescope. Over the carbonara - a home run, by the way - you remind Jack he promised a couple of nights ago that he’ll show you the constellations. Warm from eating in front of the fire, you venture outside afterwards with just a thick blanket draped over Jack’s shirt, your legs bare from mid-thigh down.

But the cowboy’s not very inclined to keep his end of the bargain.

‘I could fuck you all day,’ he hums distractedly into your neck.

You roll your eyes fondly. ‘You have fucked me all day.’

‘I want to fuck you all day tomorrow, too.’

‘Cowboy -’

‘And the day after.’

‘Jack - ’

‘And the day after that.’

You know he doesn’t mean to, but your heart sinks at his casual mention of days after - how many more do you have left before it’s just… after?

After this week.

After this trip.

After Wyoming.

After Jack.

You can hear the sands shifting. You can no longer tell the top of the hourglass from the bottom.

But you can’t dwell on that - not now.

‘You said you’ll show me the stars, cowboy,’ you try to redirect the conversation as he slides a hand under the shirt and squeezes your breast. You arch into his touch - it is beyond your comprehension how your body is still responding after all that he’s tirelessly wrung out of it today.

‘Don’t worry, darlin’,’ he quips, his other hand delving underneath the layers to cup your bare pussy. ‘I’ll make sure you see stars, all right.’

Then he bends you over the white railing - the blanket discarded at your feet and your shirt hitched up around your waist - you faintly hear the clink of his belt buckle and the rustle of a condom packet before he’s pushing into your wet cunt.

Your bottom lip stings as your teeth close over it, his fingers lacing with yours on the bannister as he thrusts into you. His moans fill your ears as you take him, his cock ramming into you so hard that you’re pinned to the railing on your tiptoes by the sheer force of his fucking.

‘You can be as loud as you want, darlin’,’ Jack coaxes. Facing the other way, you can’t see him, but you can almost hear his teeth grind as he fights to hold on. ‘Let me hear you, please, I need to hear you -’

He has you panting into the Wyoming night sky, the sweet sound of his name on your lips something that he will remember you by - months from now, when he sits on the porch on his lonesome, another cohort of strangers fast asleep in the bed that you two once shared on a crisp midsummer night.

Notes: It was so much fun writing Tequila into this chapter after Jack and Darlin' have had so much alone time together! I know this was quite a short chapter compared to what's come before, but I think a lot of my anxiety was actually coming from chapters running (which means more time and more editing), so I think we might be seeing more compact chapters from now on.

I'm thrilled to see so many new readers these few weeks, but I noticed that most only like the chapters. This is a gentle reminder that comments and reblogs are strongly encouraged ❤️ We writers put in so much of our free time on our fics, all we ask for is meaningful interaction to keep us going!

Horsey notes: I was googling Southern sayings that Tequila could deliver as a punchline, and ridden hard and put away wet was so perfect that I laughed out loud when I discovered it because it was so on-theme!

The phrase describes someone who looks unwell, and has a horsey origin. You never put a horse away wet if he's sweaty or washed down, they should always be towelled or brushed dry. This is covered in the last chapter when Darlin' scrapes Whiskey dry after hosing him down.

#jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #jack whiskey daniels x reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey

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thrandilf · 2 months

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okay. for the first time in my life I'm using the #tdp critical tag because I have some things to get off my chest about s6 and I desperately need to focus on an exam for tomorrow and can't and idk I feel slightly out of my mind/wondering if this really is just a me problem but like

this season felt kind of sparse to me regarding character interactions outside of duos they wanted to focus on/letting characters present react to situations. stuff like Amaya not having a comment about Callum not being at her wedding or the Celestial Elves really not having much to say about Aaravos himself despite the Elder theoretically having been around in the days pre imprisonment like

I don't mind that Viren died but I do feel out of my MIND that he and Ezran didn't actually get a conversation, and beyond that that Viren didn't try to pass along any Aaravos information to anyone, and that even if Soren and Viren's relationship was just Maxed Out that we didn't get Opeli and Ezran talking about what to do with him (could've even had Soren walk in and do a Callum S4 moment of 'you ever walk into a room and everyone goes quiet and you know they were talking about you' moment), Opeli reacting/checking on Soren while Viren was imprisoned even if he didn't want to talk to her, there being any verdict about Viren at all and we're never getting anything else out of him again which is why no Ezran and by extension Callum/Rayla/ect feels sort of disappointing to me, as he hasn't interacted with Callum since S1

It's a really good moment, don't get me wrong, but we traded the suspense of thinking Viren had perhaps killed Soren for us getting any last words or gesture from him to Soren face to face

the Celestial Elves gave us info on Startouch Elves in general but not on Aaravos specifically even though the Elder I thought would know more? They aren't surprised at the idea of trying to kill a Great One/Aaravos but there wasn't even a word of warning about if he does get loose or anything Specific about the last time it happened or, if they didn't know anything, confusion about why a Great One is imprisoned like idk

no one had any concern either when getting access to the stars which again, idk, I thought Callum might've been more worried about Aaravos being at the Starscraper and the prison (when he thought he had it) being surrounded by Aaravos's main connection but idk, it didn't matter but I thought it could have

ALSO THE STAVES. HELLO. AT THE STARSCRAPER I JUST

No Aaravos and Callum interaction is also smth I've made my peace about but after the trailer, especially the choice to use that thumbnail for it/as a promo image, idk, I am kind of sad I have to wait until S7 for any of that and now I wonder how significant it can really be/why hes gonna need callum as a puppet now if he's Out and as powerful as he seems to be. we just raised the stakes but had three entire seasons of building towards it, so how can s7 handle getting callum to do dark magic again, theoretical possession/aaravos use, coming back from that, ect, all within 9 eps?

tbh no one really had grief about sir sparklepuff being gone which I guess he wasn't a full Person in anyone's eyes and the focus was all on Claudia/her state which was fine, like we did get some of that nonverbally with Terry at least but we kinda moved right past it. like even one line in ep 9 from terry like "look what he had you do to his most recent child" would have made me go yeah exactly that Mattered but it wasn't there

in addition to no Callum at the wedding Ezran also just sat on Viren being back like idk I guess I wish he'd talked to Amaya more. like I loved him and Aanya I just feel there was room for Both

Listen I'm not one of the people only watching the show for Aaravos and I am delighted with the two episodes we got of him but that he was in more episodes in S3 than in S6 does have me like. cries. really. s4 and s5 i didn't mind in part because I figured stars would be big and it Was but im like oh my god. i got to ep 7 and was like is he REALLY not gonna get out which thankfully he did but only at the end

and the end was like. the biggest cliffhanger we've ever had and i get going for the suspense but it's KILLING ME MAN

I know Aaravos's motivation/goal but not exactly how his actions are leading to that whatsoever as he seems to play every side and doesn't even favor humans if he's willing to torch katolis. unbridled chaos i guess? is that it? I don't even know what to be afraid of next season with him except I'd presume he's going to Xadia next and will Somehow be getting back at the Cosmic Order but idk what the past thousand years have truly been for unless it's waiting around for the stars to align and throwing a fit while doing so

Runaan is out and he and Callum didn't get so much as a sentence between them and that and the Aaravos out but also no conversation double whammy just has me like

PLEASE

at the end of this all this was a more dramatic/cinematic season but it didn't have a lot of the smaller character reaction moments/balance the prior seasons all seemed to give me tbh and it took all season to lead up to highly anticipated events aka letting Runaan and Aaravos out but I didn't get any of the Payoff of that characterwise except for Runaan and Rayla and idk I do feel both like S6 had some of the best moments of the show and also really disappointed in places where it feels like it could have been so easy to have had just a Bit more cohesion and characters plugged into their overarching circumstances/dynamics more

like I think we had the time for it

and going into this expecting a penultimate season and then learning theres a third arc planned, it makes the pacing and lack of aaravos sort of make sense but also has me like, we may not even get that and now I feel like s7 will make or break the Entire show for me which is terrifying

like we got a lot of new info but it was largely not what I was expecting without touching on a lot of stuff I was hoping for and I AGH. i didnt expect this season to continue the build up train and I'm having a hard time accepting that it's the first time tdp has ever like. idk. thrown me such a curveball that it's gotten me honest to god upset which is on me and not the show, and i keep hoping i feel better but so much rides on s7 now

#tdp critical #tdp spoilers #tdp s6 spoilers

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reidsbookclub · 1 year

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comfort fic for spencer reid x badass!reader watching one of those ASPCA-like commercials and spencer looks over and reader is BAWLING and he is so confused and yet wants to comfort r. maybe he promises to take her to the shelter the next day or something 👀? thank you <3

2 + 1 = 4?

AN: I’m sorry if this feels rushed. Also yes I know theoretically it’s virtually impossible for it to be the same cat but work with me here please I tried to make the timeline work since this is S1- S2 Spencer

Spencer was in awe of the sight before him here she was crying her eyes out, one would think something terrible and life threatening had happened but no, it was a commercial. Here she was, the person who Spencer had seen just a night earlier take down an unsub all by herself , crying her eyes out because the local shelter would be closing.

“Sunshine? Sunshine someone will adopt them it’s going to be ok” he said in a low whisper trying to calm her down

“But—but what if they don’t? What’s going to happen to them Spence? Will they be homeless—or worse?” She replied in between sobs.

“Ok what if instead of sleeping in tomorrow we wake up early and I’ll take you to the shelter. We can adopt one together—we we have been talking about expanding our little family after all” he said blushing to which looming up at him with excitement in her eyes she responded “now let’s go right now”

Spencer was amused at her child-like excitement “sunshine we can’t it’s 3:30 am” he said giggling.

•

She was the first to wake up, making sure to be ready by the time a half-asleep Spencer finished his coffee.

The ride to the shelter consisted of an excited Y/N screaming Taylor Swift and an wonderstruck Spencer taking in the view from the passenger side.

“I think we should get a puppy” she said, “a big fluffy one with a brown patch in his eye”

“That’s specific” Spencer muttered, and continued looking at our the widow, “ I was thinking more in the likes of a caramel colored bunny”

“But babe,” she replied, “bunny would be too much to take care of”

“And a puppy won’t?” He said chuckling.

They spent the whole 45 min drive talking about what animal they would adopt.

Once inside the shelter they passed a an African Grey parrot called Buckley, he used to belong to an elderly couple and would scream “spank me!” Every time someone passed. Spencer couldn’t help but be startled at the parrot shaking his head immediately.

As they approached the dog kennels Spencer could tell she was begins to feel discouraged not finding a pet that she felt connected to. It all changed when they stopped at the last kennel she saw a white and light grey fur Ragdoll cat. “Can we please see this one?” She asked the shelter volunteer.

They were both amazed at how the cat, whose name they learned was Dusty, walked right up to them and began asking for head and tummy scratches. “What’s her story?” Spencer looked up towards the volunteer. Who answer in a whisper, almost as if he didn’t want Dusty to hear and be reminded of it, “Dusty was abandoned two blocks away from here, she hadn’t eaten anything in a while it seemed like due to how skinny she was. But she never lost her friendly personality”

Spencer looked from the volunteer towards y/n and knew just by the look in her eyes that Dusty would be coming home with them. “Spence, babe I want her. Let’s take her home with us.”

“How soon can we take her?” Spencer asked the volunteer who scratched the back of his neck nervously, “well you see I don’t think you’ll want her..maybe how about…” but as he was looking for another cat to show them Spencer asked, “why not her”

“Well she got attached to another cat we have here at the shelter, a Chartreux, we wouldn’t want them separated but we also won’t pressure you to take both since the Chartreux, has been through a rough time. He is actually nameless at the moment which is sad because he’s a senior cat but his previous owner was brutal so much so he is blind in one eye.”

“Can we see him?” Spencer asked.

“Sure, he’s being checked by the shelter’s vet as we speak follow me”

The minute they saw the second cat from the window Spencer and Y/N knew that he would be going home with them and without looking at Y/N for confirmation he spoke loudly, “we’ll take them. Both of them.”

“Let me go tell the vet then”

As they were waiting Spencer couldn’t help but feel drawn to the Chartreux cat he hadn’t taken his eyes off

“You ok Spence? You seem spaced out babe.”

“He reminds me of Reginald”

“Who?”

A spaced out Spencer replied in a sad and nostalgic manner “He was my mom’s cat. She had him since he was a kitten, I was 8-9. I would call him Reggie, he was exactly like this cat but he wasn’t blind in one eye. I used to take care of him when my mom was first institutionalized. During my first year of college my roommate left the door open and Reginald left, he never came back.”

“Spence?” She asked, “was Reggie microchipped?”

“I don’t know”

“Excuse me?” Y/N said knocking on the window that overlooked the vets clinic station

“Yes?”

“Is either cat microchipped? We just don’t want any trouble if they are”

“Dusty isn’t but Im not sure about this one he’s been here since before I was working at this shelter, let me see” the vet replied.

“I’m sorry it looks like this cat is microchipped it belongs to a Diana Reid from Las V…”

“Las Vegas, Nevada address 42 Wallaby Way Apt 13B—she’s my mom. OMG Reggie is alive” Spencer interrupted. “I lost him my freshman year of college and he’s here in DC. How? Oh Reggie!”

The drive home consisted of Spencer telling Reginald everything he had lived through and for a split second she could see specks of child-like happiness in Spencer and with a job like theirs, that was the same as if she had won the lottery.

That night their bed felt smaller with two cats sound asleep by the end of the bed, using their feet as pillows but for the first time in the year they’d been together Spencer’s cold feet pressed on top of hers weren’t and issue.

•

Taglist

#spencer reid x y/n #Spencer Reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #I hope anon sees this #not my best work but it did have me tearing up sooo

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sleekervae · 10 months

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New York Romantic .4

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: tom finds noelle locked out of her apartment

word count: 5849

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

warnings: alcohol consumption

Winter break was just around the corner, the days were becoming shorter but the assignments were getting longer. It was the final crunch before the holiday season and everybody -- even the professors -- were feeling the strain of long hours, chilled nights and the impending threat of black ice.

"One! And two! Up! Up! Steven! Lift your toes higher! You're a scorpion!" Stanis' voice boomed across the studio, a stark contrast to the gentle, peppy piano melody playing on the loudspeaker. He watched each of his dancers with a swift eagle eye, always the first to call out when someone was sloppy or off balance.

"Very good," he nodded as the music came to a close, turning then to another student in the second row, "Amber! Not so good. Are you okay?"

Amber, a petite young ginger, nodded sheepishly behind Noelle, "I was off balance," she admitted.

Stanis nodded, "Thank you... for stating the truth," he mumbled at the end, his accent someone becoming thicker the more he lowered his voice. He glanced at his wrist watch, then to the evening display just outside the window, "Let's call it a day, here! Go home! Ice your legs! Relax! We'll take it from the top tomorrow!"

The students had scattered before he could even finish, rushing to their lockers to grab their things and change for the frigid weather outside.

Noelle left with Iseul, the latter furiously texting on her phone as they walked over to their lockers, "How're you doing with the arts and poly paper?" she asked.

"Slowly," Noelle admitted, "How about you?"

"Like rubbing a cheese grater over my forehead," Iseul shrugged back, "It's all theoretical, philosophical nonsense I was hoping to leave behind in high school,"

Noelle cocked a brow, "You studied philosophy in high school?" she asked.

"To my chagrin, yes," Iseul simpered, "Take a note from me: don't send your kids to private school,"

"Noted," Noelle nodded, "Who're you texting?"

"Josh from modern. He's having a party next week," Iseul replied.

"After finals?"

"Mmhm. You wanna come with me?"

"What night?"

"Friday,"

Noelle grimaced, "We have showcase rehearsals til' six,"

"Yeah, but we also need a reason to let off some steam..." Iseul trailed off, feigning a pout her way, "Bianca will come,"

"I'll ask her later," they came to Noelle's locker, "Text me the details, I'll let you know,"

Iseul shrugged, walking backwards to her own locker, "Alrighty. Get home safe, Elles!"

"See ya tomorrow!" Noelle opened her locker and pulled out her bag, pulling out her sneakers, her jacket, digging through her purse for her transit card until she came to a harrowing realization.

She was missing her house key...

Tom had debated back and forth on going home for the holidays, it would be the first time he'd spend Christmas without his family and while he knew he would miss them terribly, the money was too much to splurge on -- on top of all his other expenses. He had finally found a job at least, a desk clerk at the library on campus. It paid minimum wage and he worked to the extent of his student visa, but earning some money was definitely better than having none. Plus it gave him time to focus on his own homework. The funds his mum had wired over definitely softened the buffer in his expenses.

He pulled his wool scarf tighter around his neck, his gloves doing little to ward off the frigid winds that had swept over New York. Not even crammed in a subway car with total strangers could warm him up. The weather had reported threats of snow but so far Mother Nature was holding out on them.

Doris had her feet propped up on her desk and a bowl of fresh popcorn in her lap when Tom ducked inside. Her eyes wide behind her glasses as she checked the time; 7:43pm.

"Hi Doris!"

"Well, well! You're home late!" she chided, a small smile playing at her lips, "What was her name?"

Tom chuckled back, approaching the desk, "Wasn't that kind of night. I was working," he replied.

"Oooh! That's right! I forgot you're a part of the system now!" she awed, "Well, don't let them push you over! If they give you any trouble you send them my way!" she pointed a bony, French manicured finger at him.

"No problem," Tom grinned back, "What's the plot tonight?" he pointed to her computer.

Doris enthusiastically sat up in her seat, passing him the bowl of popcorn, "Oh! It's Days of Our Lives! Stefano gave Marlena mind-altering drugs while she was sleeping, and he whisked her away into this fantasy romance world. But she's so vulnerable in this state she becomes possessed by the devil himself!" she whispered at the end.

Tom cocked a brow, too amused by her mannerisms to point out how terrible a flop that plot line was. He nodded nevertheless.

"Sounds interesting," he chuckled.

Doris rolled her eyes, "Oh, don't shit with me. It's completely ridiculous I know," she chided back.

"Don't spoil it for me, yeah?"

"In your dreams, buster," she smirked back, "Hey -- what was that show your dad worked on?"

"Emmerdale,"

"Was it any good?"

"According to The Telegraph, yeah," he nodded.

Doris leaned over her keyboard, "Well, don't tell nobody, but my husband's second cousin's nephew just introduced me to pirating on these special websites. He's gonna set up a VPN for me -- whatever that is," she whispered, "I'm gonna give it a go!"

Tom simpered with amusement, "That's great. Lemme' know what you think," he started backing off, "I'm assuming the elevator's still down?"

Doris nodded with an exaggerated sigh, "When my brother's wife's cousin gets a hold of her son in law, they're gonna give me a discount to get it fixed. He's an electrician," she replied, "For now, you just gotta leg it,"

"No worries. Take care, Doris!" and he started for the stairs.

"Oh! Tom!" she called him back before he disappeared, "You wanna check in on that dancer across the hall from you? She lost her key today and who knows what time her roommate's getting home,"

Tom's brows furrowed, his curiosity simmering, "Noelle or Bianca?" he asked.

"Noelle. Poor thing was so dejected when she came in," she shook her head, "I offered her a seat to wait here but she's just sitting in the hallway,"

"Don't you have a spare key?" he asked.

She scoffed back, rolling her eyes, "If my husband wasn't so cheap, yes. But now I gotta get a new key made for her -- because that's not gonna cost him less,"

Tom nodded sympathetically, "No problem. I'll see you later,"

He hopped his way up the stairs, the textbooks in his bag weighing down on his shoulder but the pep in his step was surprisingly fresh. And sure enough, he found Noelle sitting in front of her door. Her eyes were closed, her bag a folded mess beside her and her phone clutched tightly in her hand. Tom was worried she may've been a sleep, but as he approached closer she opened one eye, sitting up and stretching when she saw him.

"Oh, hey!" she greeted groggily.

"Hi," Tom crouched down before her, and amused smile on his lips, "Did I wake you?"

"No, I was just resting my eyes,"

"I see," he nodded, "I've heard you had a day,"

She scoffed, shaking her head, "You don't know the half of it,"

He simpered, "What happened?"

"I don't know!" she shrugged listlessly, "I locked the door when I left this morning. Somewhere between 7am and 6:45pm I lost my key along the way,"

His brows raised, "You've been out here for nearly an hour?" he nearly exclaimed.

Noelle nodded, "More like forty-five minutes,"

"Where's Bianca?"

"Rehearsing for our Christmas showcase. I can't disturb her right now," she replied, "It's okay, I've just been watching shit on Youtube,"

He smiled sympathetically, standing up straight, "Well, I'm here now. So you can hide out with me until she gets back," he said.

Noelle smiled sheepishly, feeling her cheeks burn as his gaze bore into her, "Oh, don't worry about it. Bianca'll be home soon," she assured him.

"Forty five minutes is already too long," he reasoned, "I'll feel better anyway knowing you're not out here by yourself,"

She smirked back, "Aww, are you worried about me, Tom?" she teased.

He tried so hard not to smile, rolling his eyes in an attempt to cover it up. So he extended his hand to her, "I'm an Aquarius; a smart person told me we're stubborn about this stuff,"

Noelle rolled her eyes, though nevertheless she held her hand up for him to grab. Tom pulled her to her feet, grunting as the force shoved his back into the wall and Noelle into his chest. They paused momentarily, gazes fixed in a time lock, her free hand suddenly burning against the wool covering his chest. Bashfulness pulled at their lips as Noelle stepped away and dusted herself off while Tom adjusted his jumper and coat.

"Sorry about that," she chuckled.

"No! It's okay!" he assured her, "Are you okay?"

"I'm great," she picked up her bag, silently hoping he wouldn't pick off the pink tinging her cheeks, "After you,"

They stepped inside his loft, the room a little messier than what Tom would've liked but Noelle didn't seem to mind as she kicked her shoes off and sunk back into the couch, letting out an exasperated, heavy sigh. Tom laughed to himself as he peeled off his coat, to which Noelle pouted back.

"I can hear you, ya know," she called, mock accusation slipping from her tongue, "I'm glad my suffering is so entertaining for you!"

"My sincerest apologies," he simpered.

"Is Sunny here?" she asked, looking around the space curiously.

Tom shook his head, "He's out at a symposium tonight, some fancy composer I've never heard of. He'll be back in a bit. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," she nodded, "What's cooking, Gordon Ramsay?"

Tom sauntered over to the fridge, swinging the door open as his eyes glazed over leftovers, and whatever sparse vegetables and random containers they had in there. All Sunny really had was his labelled orange juice, a six pack of fruit yogurt and some carrots -- while Tom barely had anything of his own in there. He really needed to go shopping.

"Alright, we're ordering in," he decided, coming to sit on the couch beside her, smiling coyly at her, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone,"

"How kind," she tittered, her head falling back against the cushion, "Whatever you feel like, I'm not picky,"

"... Sushi?"

"Love it,"

Forty minutes later they were both situated on the couch, Tom's laptop set up in front of them as BoJack Horseman played out on Netflix. They could hear the rain pattering against the window, the walls humming as the heat had kicked into high gear and in the moment the air held a nice, cozy warmth. The duo sat beside each other, his legs stretched out across the floor while she curled hers up close to her chest, shoulders just inches away from each other as they ate their dinner.

"So, what're you doing for Christmas?" she asked over the commotion from the show, "You going home?"

Tom shook his head, "Can't, I waited too long to book and the prices are ridiculous," he replied.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," she awed.

"Don't be," he shrugged back, "I'm just gonna stay here,"

She sat up abruptly, "Not by yourself, are you?"

"Yeah. Sunny's going home for a week. It's alright, though," he assured with a swift nod, "Doris was offering me Christmas dinner at her place -- with her husband, her second cousin's nephew, her aunt twice removed or something..."

Noelle chuckled softly, "Are you gonna' go?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know. I might just fake sick to get out of it," he admitted sheepishly, "What about you? You going back to Maine?"

"No, my family are coming down. My uncle got a bonus at work so they're staying at the Ritz," she flourished her hand in the air, feigning an expression of shock and awe.

Tom laughed softly, "Sounds lovely,"

"Right? My aunt's all excited," she popped an avocado roll into her mouth.

"Are you gonna' stay with them?"

"Probably. But they're here just for a week," she glanced back at him, "I'll be hanging around though, if you wanna go hang out here and there?"

Tom was flattered, a little taken aback, but he considered the option. Spending any more time with Noelle was surely a plus no matter the occasion, though on the other hand she didn't want to take her away from her family.

"Oh, I don't -- I don't wanna impose on your visit like that," he replied.

"It wouldn't be imposing," Noelle shrugged back, "I just... I don't like seeing anybody alone during the holidays... and you're kinda cool to be around, so..." she glanced aside sheepishly.

He cocked a brow, "Noelle Berendina thinks I'm cool? Gosh, my mum's never gonna believe me!" he gawked.

Noelle rolled her eyes, slapping his arm gently, "Yeah, you are cool, you friggin' dork! And anyone who says otherwise has to fight me!"

He smirked back at her, "You get locked out of your own apartment... but I'm the dork?" he chuckled.

She feigned a pout, crossing her arms like a child and sinking back in the couch cushions, "I'm not saying you're wrong... but you're so mean," she grumbled under her breath.

"Oh, you wanna see mean, do you?" he leaned over and snatched a yam roll from her box, popping it into his mouth with a shit-eating grin.

Noelle gasped dramatically, her hand gripping her chest, "You son of bitch! How dare you!" she gaped, "I'm gonna call up your mom,"

"So you're a tattletale now?" he quipped.

"Only when someone needs to be tattled on," she reached over and took one of his salmon rolls for revenge.

He feigned his own insult, shaking his head mockingly at her while his teeth clenched down on his inner lip, trying not to laugh, "Okay, okay, if I think about your offer can we call it a truce?"

"Okay, deal. Truce," she offered him her hand, giggling bashfully as he shook on it with her, "Anyway, how are you doing with finals?"

"Alright, actually," he shrugged, "I got a paper due, we're performing monologues, and we're having a small improv show on Friday,"

"Oh really?" she shuffled closer, "You do much improv?"

"I'm not too bad," he admitted, "It took a long time for me to be okay with looking insane in front of people,"

"Well, isn't that a major part of being an actor? You can't be the one-dimensional cool guy all the time -- ya know, unless you're Ryan Gosling," she replied.

"Exactly," he nodded, "The only one I'm kind of worried about is Jordan,"

"Ichabod Crane?" she smirked, "Stanis didn't like his cool-guy-with-back-against-the-wall attitude,"

Tom snickered, "He was just doing it to impress the other girls,"

"Really? You could've fooled me!" she gawked sarcastically, "He's only one in a long line of cool guys who tried to play it off in dance class,"

"I promise, he's a nice guy," he assured her, "He's just... I don't know,"

Noelle gave an endearing smile, "Well anyway, if I go to a performance, I'm more likely to go for you than for him anyway," she replied.

A warmth swelled in his chest, and Tom pondered his next words carefully before he spoke, "I know you have rehearsals Fridays, but would you like to come to the show?" he asked.

Noelle cocked a brow, mulling it over in her head. On her baser instincts she wanted to shout an enthusiastic 'hell yea!', but her own showcase was approaching quickly.

"Hmm, what time does it start?"

"Six, in the McCallum Pavilion,"

She nodded slowly, "I finish at six usually, but if I sprint I could make it a little after -- if they accept late entries," she replied, "I'm also supposed to go to this party after... but -- would you be down to come with?"

Tom was a little unsure at first, he was still shy, didn't know many people, and if a lot of these people were dancers then they may have been wondering why he was there.

Though it was as if Noelle could read his mind, "There's gonna be some other acting and music students there, not just dancers," she assured him.

"Alright," he nodded, "So, you come to the improv show and I come to the party with you after?"

She shrugged lithely, "Well, if you wanna' make it sound so transactional..." she feigned an eye roll.

Tom shook his head, "I didn't --" but he stopped when he saw her coy smirk. Rolling his eyes he nudged her, his elbow knocking gently into her side, "Shut up,"

"Make me," she shot back snidely.

He pondered it for a moment -- just a moment -- how close she was, her cocky attitude dripping off her tongue and her dark brown eyes goading him into mischief. His own eyes averted to her lips, it was only for a second, but he thought about how soft she might feel, how she may taste of soy sauce and ginger, and how quickly he should shut her up so easily.

But he didn't, he wouldn't dare step over that boundary so hastily. So his only retaliation was to steal another one of her sushi rolls.

Time became a lesser construct as the night went on. Sunny had come home around nine-thirty, exhausted and hungry as he kicked off his shoes. He didn't give a second glance to the mismatched laced sneakers at the door, only stopping when he sat the back of Tom's head peaking from behind the couch. Curled up beside him was Noelle, the both of them fast asleep in front of the rolling credits for BoJack Horseman.

Friday night rolled around sooner than many students would've liked. So many projects were due, so many deadlines were crossed and the majority of students were burning at the end of their candle.

The first year drama students had their first showcase tonight; an improv show that was only really open to family and friends. The McCallum Pavilion was a small studio space not often looked upon in conjunction with the rest of the campus, not even Tom knew of its existence until he was brought in for rehearsals. It was a relatively large space, dark indigo walls and dark, heavy hanging curtains that shrouded a risen platform. There was a single spotlight that was operated by a crew member and six rows of ten chairs set up before the platform.

By ten to six the chairs were already being filled, handfuls of faces that Tom didn't know as he peaked out from behind the curtain. The only face he could recognize was Sunny, his visage murky between passing bodies but he looked enthusiastic nonetheless. He kept his bag on the empty chair beside him and told people he was saving the spot for a friend.

"Tom!" his instructor hissed from behind, drawing him back from the curtain by his arm, "What're you doing over here? They're running warmups, we're on in ten minutes!"

"Sorry! I'm going!" he nearly tripped over himself as he dashed for the green room.

Simultaneously, Noelle had just stuffed her dance bag into her locker (ensuring her new key was safely tucked inside) before taking off in a sprint down the hallway. She had begged and bartered with Stanis all week to let her go early today, and after some pushing and kissing ass he eventually agreed. Bianca and Iseul were of course perplexed when she dashed out of the studio.

The entirety of the campus could be walked in about twenty minutes one way, but it was already five-to-six and she still had little idea where the McCallum Pavilion was. But her best start was the drama department, and from there she would have to figure it out.

Sure enough at the stroke of six the lights came down and the spotlight focused in on the stage. The audience gave a roaring applause as Tom's instructor, Charles, took to the stage. A portly older gentleman, he kept his hands clasped behind his back, smiling gleefully at the crowd through his thin-rimmed glasses.

"Thank you everyone! Thank you! I appreciate you all coming out tonight to support our first years. They've been working incredibly hard all semester to bring you this show, the first of many that they will be performing for a live audience," he was very soft spoken, though his voice carried a great range all the way to the back of the studio, "Our first performance I lovingly refer to as 'Change'. We're going to have two performers come up, an audience member gives them a scenario they have to act out. And when they hear 'Change!', they have to change the scenario on the fly. Please note, the audience is not allowed to shout at the actors, we have a designated 'change' person,"

Noelle had followed the campus map on her phone as best as she could, finally meandering her way down an obscure hallway and sure enough there was a sandwich board outside the door advertising for the show.

Tom and another student, Marcelle, were the first ones selected to come up on the stage. The audience cheered as they came under the spotlight, and Tom couldn't help but wipe his palms on the back of his pants, hoping his nerves wouldn't betray him.

He didn't hear the click of the door opening, nor did he see Noelle slip into the crowd and find her place next to Sunny. Sunny lit up as soon as he saw her and moved his bag.

"Hey,"

"Hi," they both whispered, "Did I miss anything?" she asked.

"You're just in time, they're starting," he replied.

An audience member was selected and Tom and Marcelle were given the scenario: two people in an old folks home trying to watch TV. Marcelle took a seat in the pre-positioned chair and Tom hunched his back. He started waddling over to Marcelle, his hand positioned as though he had a remote in his hand and his eyes were squinting.

"Marcelle?"

"Yes?"

"Marcelle, can you hear me!?" he squawked.

Marcelle was slightly hunched in her own chair, "Yes, I can hear you Tom!" she boomed back.

Tom turned to the audience, pointing his invisible remote at them, "I'm trying to change the channel on the television!"

"It's not on, Tom!" she snapped, agitation in her voice.

Then a voice behind the curtain shouted, "Change!" and Marcelle's dialogue switched.

"It's never been on, Tom!"

"Change!"

"It's a microwave!" and the crowd began to laugh.

Tom's face twisted in anguish, "It's a microwa- oh! Oh the crows feet is getting to me now!" he cried, shuffling back and forth like an old man, "I don't know left from right!"

"Change!"

"I don't know right from left!"

"Change!"

"I don't know to from fro!"

"Change!"

"I don't know if I have a fro!" and they paused as the audience laughed some more. Noelle and Sunny were plenty amused already at the debauchery on stage.

"You're bald!" Marcelle shouted back at him, obviously go for a bit, "For goodness sake, Tom! I've gotta find myself a new roommate! I'm making a complaint!" and she went to get up from her seat.

"Change!"

And she sat down again, "I'm gonna sit right here, and hope that you die quickly!"

Tom gasped in horror, bemusing the crowd even more, "Marcelle, why are you always so mean to me!?" he cried.

"Change!"

"Why're you always so lovely to me?" and he perked up immediately.

"Change!"

And he sauntered over to where Marcelle was sitting, "I would like you to tell me a story," and he looked to the audience, "About me when I was younger. What was I like before I was bald?" on his last word his gaze fixed on Sunny, and then Noelle right beside him. He swallowed a nervous chuckle, unable to help but grin like a fool nonetheless.

Marcelle sighed heavily, slouching in her chair and dropping her head back before he stared up at Tom, "You were a brave man --!"

"Change!"

"You were a coward!"

"Change!"

"You were an electrician!"

"Change!"

"You were a pilot!"

"Change!"

"You were a storm trooper!" Tom had his hands on his hips, nodding as he looked quite pleased with that answer. Noelle couldn't help but laugh along with the crowd, drawn in by Tom's charisma and pairing unhinged behaviour.

"Change!"

Marcelle huffed, "You were the type of man who leaves his wife at the altar!" and the audience let out a round of hissing and ooohs. At that Tom's demeanour changed, picking at threads of shame and dismay. Though he was doing everything in his power not to laugh.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Change!"

"Son of a bitch!"

"Change!"

"Lovely biscuit!"

"Change!"

"My mother!" he suddenly shouted, his voice breaking towards the end. Marcelle bit her lip as not to laugh as well.

"What about your mother?" she asked.

Tom turned back to her, "I can see --"

"Change!"

And he jumped back, waving his arms as he looked around, "Oh my gosh! I can't see!"

"Change!"

And he straightened his posture, "H-How dare you remind me of that!" he shouted at Marcelle.

Marcelle came forward in her seat, "She was my sister!" she shouted back, "She never got over it!"

"But you're my wife, Marcelle!" he exclaimed.

"And she never forgave me!"

"Change!"

"She forgave me quite quickly!"

At that Charles came out from behind the curtain, closing the scene. Tom and Marcelle took a bow and were ushered off the stage to make room for the next pair. The scene was no more than under two minutes but Noelle was plenty entertained. She was captivated, utterly amused, and pleasantly surprised by Tom's performance. She hadn't imagined he could be so dramatic and comically absurd for the life of her.

As the curtains fell on the captivating improv show, the buzz of excitement lingered in the air. People spilled out, chatter filled with laughter and lingering anticipation. Tom had linked up with Noelle and Sunny afterwards, the both of them singing his praises.

By the time eight o'clock had rolled around, Tom, Noelle, and Sunny had made it across town to the house party. Josh, a second year from modern contemporary, was a close enough acquaintance that he didn't bat an eye when Noelle came strolling in with her friends.. Within the confines were ten or twelve other kids, all within their age. Some of them Tom recognized as the other ballerinas, some he knew from his own department. The house smelled distinctively of air freshener and hot food, pizza from down the street no doubt. There was a stereo somewhere blasting hits off of Billboard's Top 100.

"Hey!" Bianca's voice suddenly boomed, "You made it!" the blonde ballerina threw her arms around Noelle, nearly falling into her in fact as her socks slipped on the varnished hardwood. Noelle chuckled, though she could smell the bitter tang of vodka and ale coming off her breath already.

"Yep. I told you," Noelle said, pulling her upright on her feet, "B, what time did you start drinking?"

"Right when I got here,"

"And that was...?"

"Oh, about six-thirty," she replied with a drunken giggle.

"And you couldn't wait for me?" she gawked back.

Bianca ignored her, her hazy focus then zeroing on the boys behind her, "Oh my gosh! Tom, you came!" she suddenly had her arms around him in a tight hug, it was the most attention she had paid to him in the time they'd known each other.

"Hi Bianca!" he chuckled, a little taken aback at first.

"And Sunjit, too!" she then went into hug Sunny, "You never come to these things!"

Sunny smiled bashfully, shrugging his shoulders. Truth be told, he didn't think he'd really fit in with the dancers and actors, "... I just figured, it's the end of the term, so..."

Bianca's face lit up, "Then, we have to get you a drink. Come on!" she took his hand and lead him off in another direction. Tom and Noelle glanced at each other, he had a bewildered grin on his face while she was shaking her head.

"That's the friendliest she's ever been with me!" he awed.

She chuckled sheepishly, "Her demeanour usually melts with some vodka,"

Regardless of Bianca's lightweight mannerisms, the kids dispersed through the party, slowly getting to mingle and chat with the other kids. Tom had gotten acquainted with a few more students from different departments, he had made the acquaintance of one particular musician, Connie, a saxophone major in her third year. However, he found his gaze kept shifting, always searching out for Noelle's face in the crowd.

He eventually spotted her on the couch, engrossed in conversation with another guy. He had seen him around a few times, another dancer but he wasn't a ballet major. He could see how she laughed, how her shoulders bounced and her eyes fluttered, so entertained by whatever joke the other guy was telling her. Tom didn't like feeling jealous, he knew he had no right to be so but he couldn't help himself. Resent was bubbling in his gut, on the skim of it was insecurity because this guy was quite attractive. There was an aura of self-assurance surrounding him that Tom longed to possess. He aspired to captivate and amuse Noelle just as effortlessly as this person did.

"Hey, Tom," Iseul suddenly appeared from behind him, "You okay?"

Tom glanced at her, nodding swiftly, "Yeah, yeah, I'm good,"

Iseul's gaze fixed on Noelle and the other boy, and her face fell, "That's Daniel. He's a hip hop dancer, but the professors call him 'slack-ass'," she mumbled, "Honestly... I think Noelle could do way better..." at that she turned her gaze back to Tom, a coy smile teasing at her lips.

At one point a game of truth or dare had broken out, silly, juvenile questions were asked and immature, embarrassing dares were completed. When Tom was put on the spot, he should have known better than to trust Josh, the host, and his precarious questions.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Josh practically howled with laughter, doubling over himself and nearly falling off the couch with laughter. Iseul glowered, about to tell him off but Bianca beat her to it.

“Shut up, Josh. It’s not that big of a deal,”

Josh sat up straight, looking down at Bianca as she sat on the floor. He wiped the tears from his eyes, his laughter finally dying down, “Hey, I’m your senior – you gotta’ talk to me with a bit more respect,” he prodded teasingly, but Noelle only rolled her eyes, her previous lighthearted spirit vanishing upon Josh's insensitive comment.

Her tone was excitingly stern, but not rude, “Yeah? I’ll show more respect when you show more respect to your juniors...”

Iseul laughed, shaking off the flurry of red in her cheeks, “Don’t worry about me, B. I don’t think I can take Josh very seriously, not when I highly doubt he’d even know how to make me or any other girl cum,”

The circle of friends in the basement erupted into comical ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’.

“Ouch!” one of Josh's friends said, leaning across the floor to high-five her.

Josh stuttered, failing at serving a good comeback, “It’s okay, Josh,” Noelle laughed, her sympathetic tone condescending, “maybe there’s a tutorial online,”

“I know how to make a girl cum!” he snapped. Everyone just laughed, even Tom and Sunny, ignoring him and carrying on with the game.

"Iseul, it's your turn," another girl, Monica, reminded them.

Iseul's dark eyes flitted across the bleary faces of her friends. In that moment she singled out Tom, partly because he had gone unnoticed by others and partly because she was feeling mischievous. "Tom, truth or dare?"

"Truth," he answered confidently, to which another kid jeered at him.

"Hey, boring! You chose truth last round, man!" he pointed out.

"So what?" Sunny asked from the couch, squished between Iseul and another music student, "Let him do what he wants,"

Tom's primary instincts urged him to stick with the truth. However, he found himself contemplating that Iseul was a genuine sweetheart — how bad could her dare really have been?

"No, it's alright," he assured Sunny, turning back to Iseul, "Let's do dare," he tried to ignore Noelle's coy smile from his left periphery.

"I dare you to kiss Noelle," nope, he was very, very wrong.

"W-What?" he stuttered.

"What?" Noelle was suddenly attentive; her eyes widened, her lips stiffened with a mix of surprise and hesitation.

“With tongue, and for 10 seconds,” she added. In that moment, Tom took back every kind word and thought he ever had for Iseul.

“Wait, wait, don’t I get a say in this?” Noelle asked, her pretty gaze nearly overwhelming as she turned to Tom.

Josh began to make chicken noises, flapping his arms and bopping his head. Meanwhile Bianca was trying desperately to hide her giggles behind her solo cup.

"Either you do the dare, or you take a shot," Iseul reminded him

Tom looked back at Noelle, who was still looking at him. Instead of arguing with Iseul and letting her have more fun, he ignored her and softly asked, “Is it ok?”

“-- Sure” she smiled reassuringly – her confidence flooding his system with surprise and ardor.

With each beat, his heart raced, a relentless drumbeat echoing within him. He had experience with some other girls, yet the mere anticipation of her tender lips against his provoked an intense surge of excitement. The thought of her soft touch had his heart yearning to break free from the confines of his ribcage, making the moment more exhilarating and daunting at the same time.

His lips met hers tentatively at first, but Noelle's hand found its way to his neck, pulling him closer. They were locked in a more natural, passionate embrace. As their lips melded together, his whiskey-flavored lips meeting her cherry ones, a surge of anticipation coursed through them. Amidst the faint countdown from Bianca and another student, the surrounding sniggering served as a backdrop to their shared moment. Fuck.

Tom pulled back, his eyes wide with embarrassment and his cheeks as red as blood. Noelle also seemed slightly surprised, her eyes sticking to his as they sat frozen in place. Josh's voice broke them out of the trance, “Seems that wasn’t such a bad dare after all,“

“Shut up,” Noelle murmured while taking a swig of her drink, hoping the bitterness would wash away the arousing taste of Tom from her lips.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games #tbosas #original story #original female character #imagines #imagine blog

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yletylyf · 5 months

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WIP Wednesday MLC edition

I've never remembered to do this in time before! I'm working on a fic where Di Feisheng decides to kidnap Li Lianhua to save his life in episode 13, instead of threaten Fang Duobing. Li Lianhua's cooperation remains about as you'd expect for a good while, but now they're finally communicating:

Li Xiangyi broke the silence first. "I thought you needed the Yang leaf for yourself, to break through the eighth level of bitterwind poplar," Li Xiangyi said steadily. "It was only a guess that it might work," Di Feisheng said dismissively. "I'll try it if anyone ever finds a second flower." Li Xiangyi stared at him, his pupils very large. He breathed shallowly, and seemed to find no words. "You said you don't need me to live a long life," Li Xiangyi eventually managed, sounding distinctly hurt. Di Feisheng didn't know what to say. Without Li Xiangyi, Di Feisheng being alive didn't mean anything. Maybe the truth was that neither of them were destined to live long lives. Either way, he wasn't going to explain himself to Li Xiangyi. Li Xiangyi peered back down at the paper, running a finger over some of the characters. "It's not certain to work," he said eventually. "The Yin leaf will work on anyone, sure. But the Yang leaf might not cure me. I've had Bicha poison for so many years and my inner power is too spent." Di Feisheng frowned. The flaws in this logic were painfully obvious. "And what if you spent this time building up your inner power instead of resisting it? We should be dual cultivating together, and when you get the wangchuan flower, I will feed you as much of my power as you can take. Bitterwind poplar seeks survival in dangerous situations. I think with it, your odds would not be so low." Li Xiangyi bent his head so that Di Feisheng could not see his face. He didn't say anything. His chest rose and fell very rapidly. But when he looked up again, he seemed calm and unaffected. "I see," he said. "It wasn't that I don't know you. It's just that we've been misunderstanding each other these days." Di Feisheng sighed, and bent down to take his boots off. He sat down on the bed next to Li Xiangyi. "We can talk about dual cultivating tomorrow," Di Feisheng said wearily. "It's late. Can we put the candles out and sleep?" "You want to sleep here?" Li Xiangyi said, giving him an inscrutable look. "Is your fortress missing a bed suitable for the alliance leader?" Jiao Liqiao had cornered Di Feisheng in what was theoretically his bedroom yesterday, wanting to help him change and bathe. He could not bear to sleep there tonight. He didn't say anything, but waved a hand, putting out the candles, and then lowered himself down onto the bed. Li Xiangyi made a sound that might have been laughter. "At least this bed is larger than the one we shared in Lotus Tower," he said, settling down beside Di Feisheng. It was much larger, although Di Feisheng was not sure that was a good thing. It had been nice, to be that close to Li Xiangyi, brushing against each other's limbs, waking up almost entwined. He fell asleep dreaming of Li Xiangyi's skin.

#mysterious lotus casebook #wip wednesday #dihua #my fic

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ram-bam-writes · 5 months

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The Highlight and The Shadow pt. 1 [Graves x NB Reader]

A/N: This is for the Graves Series I've started working on. Pt.1 is the background, the rest will be more 'interactive', per se. No real posting schedule, just whenever I feel like it. So feel free to ask to be tagged! Dm, request box, or comment/tag will work :>

Summary: Phillip Graves is a lonely man. He had no intention to be. So when his Chief Finance Officer gives him a golden nugget, he runs with the plan. Too excited to question CFO Henley, Phillip rents out part of his house to a snake and music loving college kid. What could happen?

CW: Graves being a desperate baby and Henley (oc, not reader) being a sneaky bastard, no beta we die like soap. [CW's will change as each part is uploaded]

Word Count: 1256 words

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Phillip Graves is a man of many things. He’s a hard worker, he’s a protective boss, and he’s a relaxed soul. He cares deeply for his Shadows and he does everything in his power to keep them safe. He works hard to get after what he wants and never lets things deter him — that’s how he started the PMC in the first place.

One thing Phillip Graves is not, however, is a family man.

It wasn’t always like this. He’d had the classic American dream of a partner and a few little Graves running around, maybe a kitten and a puppy to consistently separate. But with his love for his job and his soldiers, it just… didn’t work out.

He’s 41 now, and he can’t imagine putting the stress of a family on top of his work, let alone any potential lovers. He’s tried dating apps, looking for people who have children that lack the other parent. But he couldn’t do that to them. He can’t. At any given moment, he might drop from a bullet to the head.

But he isn’t fond of coming home to an empty house.

Sure, it’s grand. He makes a lot of money from Shadow Co., how could he not invest in a beautiful house? Especially when he can house a few of his Shadows who might be a little more anxious or jittery than normal. But they aren’t consistent. Sometimes it’ll be weeks before he’s coaxed a Shadow through his doors. He doesn’t mean to pressure them. He’s just… lonely.

One of his Chiefs, specifically his Financial Officer, had figured this little quirk of his out. He decided to drop the restless CEO a little tip.

“Y’know, Graves…” Henley started, eyes glancing over at the CEO with an amused expression. “You could always rent out part of your house.”

Graves stared at his Chief of Finances for a moment, eyes glazing over as he blinks. Then, those bright blue eyes narrowed, and he gave a low look at the man typing away at his computer.

“Now son, what the hell does that—“

He doesn’t get a chance to finish. “Miller said you practically threw him into one of the guest rooms last time he so much as exhaled.”

Graves’ jaw would tense, and he’d work his tongue in his mouth. Is he really being that obvious?

“And… theoretically… how would… how would one do that…?”

The conversation lasted almost two full hours, with Graves’ excitement filling up more and more. He can house a person or two, make Shadow Co. a bit more cash, and be less restless at home.

The next few days, however, would be spent with Henley desperately trying to ease the Commander’s nerves. No one has applied for the house despite its beauty, and Graves was getting far too anxious.

He paces around the room, eyes flicking left and right, up and down.

“Hen, what if no one— what if no one takes it? What if I get a tenant that’s just… ungodly annoying?” Graves’ mind was spinning a hundred miles a minute, and Henley was starting to get just as desperate as the commander.

Mostly because he’d like to go back to his job as the Finance Officer. But also to get his Commander to shut the fuck up and be less pushy when the others so much as shiver after a mission.

“Sir.” Henley’s voice is filled with a comforting kind of exasperation, a lazy grin on his face. “Give it time. I’m sure by tomorrow night, someone will apply. And I’m sure they’ll be just what you need.”

Graves wants to argue, he does. But there’s a look in Henly’s eyes that tells him everything will be okay. It’s the same look that he got from the man last time they needed to scrape up the money for a new Blackhawk. Somehow the man had found enough money to pay for two, and Graves was too scared to ask where he got it from.

Henley had always been a mystery to him, but he trusted the man with his life. So he takes a breath and nods, giving himself room to slow his mind down.

“Alright… If y’say so…”

——

Ping.

Graves nearly shot out of his chair when not even an hour later, a message had pulled through.

Is this still out for rent…?

Graves couldn’t breathe when he read the message, eyes sparkling perhaps a little too bright.

And, is it pet friendly?

His thumbs worked quickly on the screen, so fast he hit send but nothing went through. He grit his teeth, quickly ripping off his tactical gloves before trying again.

Yes! And, yes, as long as it doesn’t make much of a mess. :)

He exhales slowly, eyes burning into the screen of his phone. He watches the bubbles as the potential tenant — from the looks of the profile a younger individual — continues to text.

And… how are you with snakes…?

The Commander freezes. Snakes? Snakes. Snakes? But he wants this tenant. He wants anyone, damnit.

Is it going to poison me in my sleep?

The teasing route, he decides, is the best way to approach this. He doesn’t want to scare the tenant away.

No.

He sighs in relief.

But it is venomous :> And likes to chew

The Commander wants to be irritated, but he beams something bright.

Name, species, and a photo. I want to know my hitman.

——

He soon discovers that there is three of them. Two hognose snakes and one corn snake. One arctic morph, one lavender morph, and one opal morph. In that order, he learns their names are Fehttuchini (or Fetta), Tulip, and Tequila (or Tiki), and all three are sweet and loving boys who love to snuggle.

He also learns that his potential tenant is an artist on the side, being both part-time in college and part-time in work. They’ve promised to not bring trouble, expressing that they have a few close friends that are mostly relaxed. He made them promise to just alert him when people will be over, as well as to not throw any parties. Graves also explained his role in the military, albeit ambiguously for OPSEC purposes.

Henley took over the paperwork for Graves, stating that the Commander had enough paperwork already from Shadow Co. Graves was too excited to really care who did the paperwork, he’s just excited to have a tenant.

And within three weeks, he’s got three snakes he’s already decided are his, too, now, and a relatively tame tenant that switches consistently from being shy to bold. And within two months, he’s already got their schedule down, habitually takes care of the snakes, and knows every little quirk to know about his tenant. Even down to being capable of knowing when they needed a home cooked southern meal or a bath and tea when right when they get home.

So sue his lonely ass if he starts to daydream about his tenant at work. And sue Henley for keeping an entertained eye on his boss, a devious little glimmer in his eyes as he listens to his Commander ramble and gush about the sweet tenant.

After all, the CFO was a sneaky little bastard that knew what his Commander needed. And that’s a sweet tenant with a burning temper and three little snakes that just so happen to have the last name of Henley. But Graves doesn’t need to know. Not yet. Not when he’s too excited to check the paperwork. That’s what Henley’s for, right?

#phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves x you #phillip graves cod

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imagining-supernatural · 11 months

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Tomorrow

Summary: Just angst and depression, bruh. Remember, I let you guys vote for either this fic or the fluffy one and... well...

Platonic!Reader & Dean & Sam

Word Count: 1583

TW: Hospitals, ed, cancer, avoidance

-----

“That was the hospital,” Sam said once he hung up. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Dean with tired eyes. “Y/N’s there again.”

It hurt, but it wasn’t a surprise. “What happened?”

“She collapsed. They’re running tests now to see why.”

Y/N had been getting worse for months now. She hid it, but after it got to a certain point, to the point where the hospital got involved, she couldn’t hide it any longer. Dean grabbed his jacket and keys. “Let’s go.”

The ride was silent and familiar. It was the third time in as many months. The first time was just to pick her up. Y/N had gone to get a sleeping pill prescription, and the doctors wouldn’t let her get behind the wheel, saying that she would be a danger in her current state. The second time, she’d been so sick that her roommate insisted she go. Sam and Dean had been called because they were still on file from the first time.

And now she collapsed.

If only she would tell them what was going on with her.

*****

“They shouldn’t have called you.” I hated seeing Dean and Sam here. They shouldn’t have to take care of me. I was an adult. I could do this on my own.

Well, theoretically.

The Winchesters shouldn’t have to worry themselves about me. Sure, we grew up together, but that doesn’t mean they need to watch my destruction.

“They said you collapsed,” Dean said, pulling over a chair beside the hospital bed. God, I hated hospital beds. I hated everything about the hospital.

Okay, that’s not entirely true. I use to hate hospitals. Now though, I found a strange sort of comfort.

“I had them remove you as my emergency contacts last time. They shouldn’t have called.”

“Well, they did. Why’d you collapse?”

Why does anything collapse? Governments, buildings, organs… too much pressure.

At my lack of an answer, Sam sighed and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “We’re worried about you, Y/N.”

“They shouldn’t have called you,” was all I said. I’m an adult. I don’t need people looking after me. I should be able to do that myself. They could worry about their own problems.

“Why not?”

So far, my favorite part about living on my own was the independence. I could do whatever I liked. Whatever I wished. I just wish people would stop worrying about me because of it. I was on my own, so I should be on my own. I hadn’t talked to either Dean or Sam since the last time I was here. That was a whole month without any Y/N problems hanging off their shoulders. Now the hospital ruined that streak by calling them.

“I took you off my contact list. It’s unprofessional, really. And probably against HIPAA.”

“Why did you take us off your list?” Dean clarified Sam’s question with a sigh. He knew that I’d understood the first time. So he should also know that I wasn’t going to answer this time.

“They said they’re keeping me here overnight. You guys should go back to whatever you were doing. I’ll be fine.”

They shared a look and Sam stood up. “I’ll go find a nurse.”

He shut the door behind him. It was just me and Dean now.

“He’s going to get answers, Y/N. You might has well just tell me why you collapsed.”

Dean was raised right. Sam too. I suppose I was also raised right, but the lessons just didn’t stick for me like it did for them. The three of us. The fearsome threesome. A force to be reckoned with back in high school. Back when life was simpler.

“Have you seen the news? All those hurricanes and earthquakes? Man, I would hate to be there.”

He knew I wasn’t going to give him a real answer, so he just sighed heavily, pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes, and slid down the chair until he was comfortable enough. He was going to have to go to the chiropractor if he fell asleep like that.

“Dean, go home. Get some sleep in your bed. You have a game tomorrow that you need to be ready for.”

“Surprised you even know about that,” he mumbled, not moving.

The school sends out weekly emails about all of the events happening on campus I still get them even though I dropped out a month ago. Of course I know about the football games.

I’m not very good at being a real person lately. There’s just too much happening. Too many strings to keep track of. A to-do list that keeps getting longer and longer. More failures that keep piling up in the corner of my closet. I can’t do it all, so some things had to go. Dean and Sam just couldn’t see how much more free they were without me.

I guess they would figure that out soon enough.

“I forgot to eat,” I finally say out loud. It’s not completely the truth. I knew that I had to eat, but I just… didn’t.

Dean peeked at me from under the bill of his hat. “What?”

“That’s why I collapsed. They’re going to give me whatever I need then send me home. That’s it, okay? Nothing to worry about. You guys can go home now.” I closed my eyes, knowing that Dean was going to blow this completely out of proportion. If I had to hear it, I didn’t want to see it too.

“How do you forget to eat?”

It’s a lot of work. You gotta figure out what you want to eat, then see if you have everything to make it, then if you don’t you have to go to the store and spend money and time and be around people. And if your roommate is home, then you run the risk of having to be in the kitchen with her too and small talk is just something that I can’t do. Then, after all that hullabaloo, there was no guarantee that I wouldn’t just puke the food up in a few minutes.

It’s just easier to… not.

“Y/N, c’mon, what the hell?”

This would have been so much better if the hospital hadn’t called them. Dean was all about eating right. He cared about his body. It got him his athletic scholarships. It was his future. He was going to be in the NFL. He had to worry about that shit. And Sam? His future was all about being a personal trainer. It was his job to figure out the right way to eat and exercise and all that crap.

I was the brains. Well, I used to be. I used to think I was.

Funny how fast things change.

“Go home, Dean. Take Sam with you. The hospital’s got my back now. You have a game tomorrow.” I settle further into the bed.

“When was the last time you ate?”

The worst part of hospital beds was getting comfortable in them. It was impossible on a good day, but with wire and tubes sticking out of you? It was better to just resign yourself to a very uncomfortable night.

“Y/N.”

“And it’s not just the hurricanes and earthquakes. There was a giant tsunami too. It’s like the earth is trying to tell us that we’re not welcome anymore. Crazy.”

“I don’t care about that right now. Y/N, when did you last eat?”

I was so tired. And all this probably wouldn’t matter in a few weeks anyway. Dean had a game tomorrow. “If you don’t leave, I’m gonna call security.”

His mouth dropped open. I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore, so I stared straight ahead at the door instead.

“Y/N, what the fuck is going on with you?”

The door opened and Sam returned with a nurse and a doctor. It was never good when the doctor came back in. Especially with a nurse. I addressed them, rather than my friends. “Can you get them out of here, please? I don’t want them here.”

“Y/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea given—”

“Get them out of here!” I yelled suddenly, finding some hidden reservoir of energy to protect my friends from the ugliness that the doctor was about to tell me.

Dean and Sam protested, but they were too nice to fight against the nurse as she pushed them out the door. As soon as they were gone, I slumped back against the pillow.

“It spread, didn’t it?” I asked weakly.

The doctor nodded sympathetically. “The tumor in your brain that we found a month ago is growing faster than we thought, and the cancer has spread to your spinal cord.”

It didn’t take ten seasons of Grey’s Anatomy for me to know what that meant. “How long do I have?”

“It’s hard to say, but…” the doctor flipped through a few pages on my chart. It was just a stalling technique. It couldn’t be easy to tell a twenty-two-year-old girl that she was going to die soon. “I would say somewhere between three weeks and four months.”

“I can go get your friends, if you’d like. You don’t have to go through this alone,” the nurse offered.

I just shook my head. A single tear trailed down my cheek, but other than that I was able to keep all of my emotions buried deep. “No. They need to go. Dean has a game tomorrow.”

*****

SPN Tags: @missthang2734 @hugwinchester @iamnotsaneatall @angelicshinigami @youtubehelpsmesurvive @sgarrett49 @mogaruke @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @sandlee44 @goldenolaf25 @smoothdogsgirl @ocholove @valisiofdauntless @emoryhemsworth @carryonmyswansong @percussiongirl2017 @x-waywardaf-x @babynovak05 @kleinkariertebetrachter @akshi8278 @calaofnoldor @mylovelydame21 @sucker-09 @idksupernatural @miraclesoflove @i-should-prob-be-asleep @all-will-be-well-love @blueaura @anthoniastark @buckys-estrella

#dean x reader #sam x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #angst #tw: cancer #tw: hospital #tw: ed #I wrote this years ago when I was going through shit #And now that I've gone through worse shit #it turns out that I react the exact same way #but more aggressive lmao #aggressive isolation

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t0ast-ghost · 6 months

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20th Episode Achieved! (Tomorrow Is Yesterday)

Here’s some thoughts:

- it’s a time travel episode, isn’t it?

- I think there could be a lot of “real UFO’s” because they’re just unidentified flying objects

- goddamnit Kirk what’ve you done, your in the atmosphere

- great Scott! They’re in the 60s!

- Kirk certainly hasn’t been briefed on what to do by the starfleet time agency

- “I’ve never believed in little green men” “neither have I.” SPOCK, you literally just saw a Gorn… also Orions

- Spock knows he’s scaring the shit outta this guy and he’s enjoying it

- why when the computer starts calling him dear does Kirk look to Spock like he did this (I’d believe it, I could totally hear him saying that)

- WAIT the computer system on all ships are made by a female dominated planet, that’s pretty cool

- Kirk not afraid to slap a bitch

- “Jim, what if we can’t go back?” Was delivered with such… je ne sais quoi

- (18:33) “Now you’re sounding like Spock.” “Well, if you’re gonna get nasty, I’m gonna leave.”

- “Could he be retrained to forget his family, his children.” “The answer to that is no.” Don’t worry they’re not making threats! They’re just having their regular chats on theoretical situations!

- “It’s just a joke, Captain.” Bones finding Spock’s joke funny

- Sulu looks so happy to be here

- McCoy pacing and worrying while Spock watches him and does his calculations

- THE BOYFRIENDS CONCUR! They’re both worried about Kirk and Sulu

- BOYS WE GOT ANOTHER ONE! Spock gives the new officer a look and then WALKS AWAY

- McCoy just takes the gun. BONES GOT A GUN

- Okay again, walking around in plain sight (yeah this isn’t sneaking at this point) is not an effective strategy for being unseen

- Kirk would eat the chemicals in a darkroom, you can’t convince me otherwise

- Kirk’s fighting strategy is straight up goofy

- I love Kirk and Sulu gaslighting the soldiers

- “hmm… Poor photography.” REALLY?!?

- “BLAST your theories and observations, Mr. Spock! What about, Jim? He’s down there alone, probably under arrest. He doesn’t have a communicator and we can’t beam him back aboard without one.” “I am aware of that, doctor.” I feel like they have this conversation every time. Like McCoy wants Jim to be safe and thinks that Spock is under reacting when Spock is just as worried but doesn’t think any outburst would be effective.

- “I popped in out of thin air.” He took that sass from Spock

- Spock worried Kirk punching someone hurt his hand

- yay they made it back!!!!

I’ve been a bit distracted while drawing for the past couple episodes but drawing Bones is worth it

Master list :D

#star trek #star trek the original series #star trek tos #star trek kirk #tos kirk #captain james kirk #star trek spock #tos spock #spock #star trek mccoy #star trek bones #tos mccoy #tos bones #leonard bones mccoy #star trek sulu #tos sulu #hikaru sulu

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h4amarch · 1 year

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uh oh sisters! I’m back with more Kel Angst… but more like a Kel Character Study.

I’m sure Kel appreciators are already familiar with my analysis of how Kel thinks people value Mari’s theoretical opinions more than his real ones. But since that was at the end of a longer post which was just a “List of Fun Kel Facts :)” I think I didn’t really get to touch on the fact of why this has come to be.

Someone in the tags of that post wrote that Hero does this too, that the two brothers were raised to be people-pleasers and naturally tend to ignore their own feelings. And I absolutely 100% agree with this!!! But consider now: Kel was the little troublemaker, and Hero was the responsible one. To some degree, I think you can also make an argument as to how Hero’s role as the responsible one allowed Kel to be the troublemaker, and vice versa; whether it was by their own will or not, Kel traded positive attention for more freedom, and Hero did the opposite.

Hero is the one to handle responsibility first, and he’s older, too—so it goes that, inherently, Hero has made the better suggestions of the two of them during their childhood, from hangout ideas to problem solving. Kel is the one that makes the silly suggestions, the one that’s a little less realistic, the one that’s still filled with childish fantasies of Captain Spaceboy and renegade stories.

Until he isn’t. Until he’s grown up a little, until he’s slapped in the face by a tragic death, by a despondent, unresponsive brother—by nobody else knowing what to do any better than him.

So he tries—

“Hey Aubrey! Do you want to come to my birthday party? I know we haven’t really talked, this past year, but—”

“Helloooo, Sunny? It’s time for school, and I heard we’re gonna play basketball during gym! You don’t have to play, I can just shoot hoops and you can watch! I’m getting real good at it, I swear—”

“Morning, Basil! Did you need any help doing gardening stuff? I just wanted to see if anyone was free to hang out, but—”

“Hey Hero. Are you… feeling a bit better today? I was just wondering… if you wanted to go get Gino’s with me. Because I’m hungry, and I think it’d be fun if we went together—”

—and he fails.

“—you want to hold a birthday party? Are you- Are you serious?! Tomorrow’s the day she- and you- I- Did she mean nothing to you?!” (He wanted to distract Aubrey from it. But of course she wouldn’t forget.)

“—oh, Kel, good morning! I’m sorry, but I don’t think Sunny can come see you right now… We’re thinking of homeschooling, but… I’m sure he’ll come out to see you one day.” (School was just an excuse to ask for Sunny. Now what is he supposed to do?)

“—ah, um- I’m- I’m okay! I have to… to, um, check on the m-more delicate plants today so, um— m-maybe not today… I-I’m sorry.” (If he were better at not being clumsy, would Basil still have turned him away?)

“—I’m not hungry, Kel… Not today. It’s late anyway.” (He’s never hungry when Kel asks.)

Kel tries to handle things on his own, and it fails. He is confronted with the fact that, on his own, his ideas really are as stupid as Aubrey used to call them, and as silly as Basil and Sunny used to say they were, and as unrealistic as Hero used to tell him.

And Mari…

“—Hi, Mari. Sorry I couldn’t make it last week. But, uh… I was just wondering… if you… if you could maybe… tell me this is all a bad joke…? Because- they all said you- you did it on purpose, but… but I don’t think you would have wanted this, right…?”

(“Well, Kel! You’ve just made a very convincing point. Now I don’t know who to believe!”)

…

The only person who believed in him, the only one who bothered to indulge his ideas even a little bit, is gone.

And yet, just like when they were younger, the one time things work is—

“Mari wouldn’t have wanted to see you like this, Hero…”

—when Mari steps in.

“…what?”

And again.

“I can’t just leave here knowing that this is the person you’ve become. I mean… What would Mari think?”

“Why do you keep bringing her up?”

Granted, the reactions are always a bit rough. But it’s what makes people react, it’s what gets things to change.

So… yeah. Kel’s opinions don’t matter. They’re not supposed to—they’re supposed to make people laugh, or deadpan, or call him stupid so that he can start bantering and bickering, because it’s familiar, because it’s normal. It makes things a bit difficult if he wants to be all serious, but as always, Mari is there for him when his mind comes up blank.

Until she isn’t. Until Sunny says something, and Basil corroborates it. Until every little success he’s been able to achieve with Mari’s help dissipates like the cheap discount foamer in Sally’s bubble baths. Until Kel isn’t sure what Mari would have wanted.

Until Kel is left with only himself. Mari would have wanted—

—he wants—

—everyone to be happy. Everyone to stick together this time. Everyone to help him figure out what the hell he’s feeling right now. Everyone to help him figure out how to stay together when all he wants is to run. Everyone to come back to the room so they can talk, before they split apart again. Again. Not again. Not again.

But how will he do it without Mari?

#kel omori #omori kel #omori #omori (game)#kel angst #the box files #witness: me going wild with the colored text function #oh MAN could you imagine if this were here in 2012 #we would have all gone BUCKSHIT WILD

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ellascreams · 1 year

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Dannymay Day 2: Backpack

Danny looked at the new seating arrangement. He sighed. At least they didn’t put him next to Dash or Paulina. That didn’t make it much better. He sat down next to Wes and placed his backpack on the floor between them. Wes’s backpack was right next to it. Wes glared at Danny. Danny pretended not to notice.

”Class,” said the teacher, “today we will be having a fire drill. Do not pani—“ but it was too late. The fire alarm started and the class was running out the door. Danny and Wes were both not fans of the ‘leave all your stuff behind’ rule. Their stuff was important! They quickly reached down, grabbed their backpacks, and tried their best to leave in an orderly fashion.

Turns out, it wasn’t a drill. One was planned for that day, that very hour in fact, but some smoke in the kitchen set off the alarm first. It still had to be investigated though. The next hour was spent in extreme boredom. Danny and Wes found their rivalry set aside to play rock paper scissors and pass the time. Once it it was over, it was already time for the next class.

Danny sat down in his seat exhausted and grabbed a pencil from his backpack. At least he unzipped the pocket where his pencil should have been. He found pencils, and pens, but they were way more organized then his backpack ever was. He closed the zipper pocket and looked at the backpack. It was black with an illustration of a UFO on it. It wasn’t his, but he recognized it. His heart sank.

Wes sat down in his seat and tried to drink some water from his water bottle, but he stopped as soon as he had the water bottle in his hand. It wasn’t a water bottle. It was a weird looking thermos. It was the exact weird looking thermos Danny used. This was perfect! He could finally get some real evidence! He looked through Danny’s backpack. It was pure chaos! It didn’t have any cameras either, unless you count his phone, but Danny would just delete any evidence he took with it.

Just as quickly as it came, all the excitement Wes had felt left. Unless he managed to find something useful in the mess Danny called a backpack he wouldn’t get any evidence. Wes missed his journals too. They were comfort items of sorts. He wanted his backpack back.

Danny and Wes had different classes next period, and it was the last period of the day. If they didn’t find each other between classes they might have each other’s backpacks until tomorrow. That meant they had five minutes. Well, theoretically they could have more time if they were late to class, but neither of them could afford more absences. Danny’s ghost fighting and Wes’s watching of Danny’s ghost fighting meant they missed classes a lot.

When the bell rang Danny and Wes were the first out the door. Their classes were on opposite sides of the school. As crowds poured out from every door into the empty hallways, they ran. Slowly the crowds became too thick, and they speed walked. Danny was actually pretty good at dodging through crowds, and occasionally making a limb or two intangible didn’t hurt either. Wes was worse but he had some practice from playing basketball.

Finally, they were in the same hallway. Both their classes were there, so they’d be able to swap backpacks and get in their seats in the nick of time! They locked eyes in the sea of teenagers. They weaved their way through. They were only a couple yards from each other. They took their backpacks off their backs and held them. It was like they had telepathy. They were perfectly in sync. They were almost there, they could actually do this, it was perfec—

Dash walked by and shoved Danny. He hit a wall and ended up sat on the floor. Wes lost sight of him, but he tried to go to where he saw him last. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Planning to be on time for once Weston?” Said Ms. Dorian. “I- yes, but first—“ “No buts, unless they’re in their seats.” Ms. Dorian dragged Wes away with a surprising amount of strength. All hope was lost.

At the end of the school day, Danny waited for Jazz to pick him up, looking sadly at the UFO backpack in his hands. He could have talked to the office about it but he didn’t want to. Someone else would have Danny’s backpack then. Even if it was just for a short time. Danny would rather have it in the hands of someone who already knew his secrets and was smart enough not to mess around with the thermos. Probably smart enough. Apparently Wes felt the same way about his notes.

What was he going to do when a ghost attacked? He felt bad for the ghosts already in the thermos. They’d have to spend a day in that cramped thing. Danny missed his navy blue backpack. He missed the keychains Tucker had gotten him for his birthday. They were for an anime Danny didn’t watch. He acted like he hated the joke, but truthfully it was pretty funny. More than anything he just liked having a reminder of his friends with him wherever he went.

The intercom turned on. “Attention, anyone who rides bus 21615. The bus will not be able to make it so you will be riding bus 21619 instead. Again, if you ride bus 21615 you will be riding bus 21619 instead. Thank you.” It turned off. Danny always listened to every announcement. He just knew the day he tuned one out would be the day he needed to listen. Maybe being Danny Phantom just made him paranoid.

“Doesn’t Wes ride that bus?” Said one student to their friend. “You mean that conspiracy theorist kid?” The friend replied. “Yeah, the one who has a crush on a boy and internalized homophobia.” Said the student. “Yeah, him. I feel kinda bad for him honestly. Him and that black haired guy would make a cute couple.” The friends nodded in solemn agreement as they walked passed Danny, not noticing he was there.

Danny’s eyes went wide. He didn’t even care about how much he hated the idea of him and Wes being a cute couple. There was something more important on his mind. Wes hadn’t left yet. It was a small chance, but there was still hope.

Wes looked at the keychain on Danny’s backpack. He really didn’t think Danny would be a Tokyo Mew Mew fan. Wes didn’t like to say it out loud, but he loved magical girls. He liked them when he was a kid so now they gave him a comforting nostalgic feeling.

As he thought, he walked up to the bus he was supposed to go home on. He sighed. Cool keychains or not, Wes wouldn’t have his journals or cameras, and he didn’t really know if this would put the town protector out of commission. Even though he thought Danny should tell everyone the truth Wes couldn’t deny that he was a hero. Wes hopped up onto the first step of the school bus’s entrance. Than the second.

“WES!” Someone shouted just before the third and final step. Wes turned around. Danny was running scarily fast, backpack in hand. Wes thought about the bus driver behind him. It was still the same driver as normal. He was the last one on the bus, and if he got off he knew the bus driver would just leave. They were sick of him being late too.

Wes felt his brain shut off to process everything around him. He knew this feeling. It was the same feeling he had when playing basketball. He called it The Basketball Zone. Look, he never claimed to be good at naming thing.

He planted his feet. A bounce pass is the easiest, but he didn’t want anything in the backpack to break. A chest pass was good too, but he didn’t have the room to step forward. That would be Danny’s best bet. He didn’t do them often but a baseball pass was the only real option. He put the backpack in his left hand and threw.

Danny didn’t play basketball. He just threw the backpack and hoped. He was pretty athletic these days, so like, there was a decent chance it would work out. Probably. Hopefully.

Wes’s backpack hit him square in the chest. The force surprised him a bit but he managed to put his hands around it before it fell. Then he felt an even bigger rush of adrenaline. Wes knew Danny’s backpack was lighter than a basketball but muscle memory prevailed. He threw the backpack too high and it was going over Danny’s head. Wes didn’t want to know what could happen if something in there broke.

Then he watched Danny jump. He jumped a bit higher than what seemed natural. He hovered there for a second too long as well. He caught the backpack, then he put it on and spun around once with excitement. The doors started to close. “Wes, take your seat.” Said the bus driver with a tired and annoyed tone. Wes knew better than to argue. He sat down and the bus drove away.

Danny ran back to where he knew Jazz would be. He hopped in the car and buckled his seatbelt. Jazz drove off without commenting on how he was late. She assumed it was some sort of ghost attack. Danny happily looked at his backpack. He looked at the keychains. He looked inside. It wasn’t nearly as chaotic as it had been. He found a sticky note. Danny smiled as he read it.

“I got bored so I decided to organize your mess. You’re welcome. Also, I like your keychains. /gen -Wes Weston”

On the bus, Wes looked inside his backpack as soon as he could. He let out a sigh of relief. Some of the color coding was messed up, but it wasn’t nearly as messy as Danny’s had been. Next he checked his journals. They were fine. Although, when he got to the notes on Danny Phantom, he found a few new additions.

Electric core was crossed out with red pen and ice core was written beside it. That was certainly interesting, but what really caught his eye was what was written next to the previously blank cause of death. “Two truths and a lie! :3 1. Electricity 2. Giraffe Attack 3. Boredom”

Typical. He was just messing with Wes again. However, Wes knew it wouldn’t be Danny’s style to mess with him by outright lying. That meant that two of them had to be true. Giraffe attack and boredom seemed less likely then electricity, but that very well could mean they were the true ones and it was a trick. A giraffe attack and electricity made practically no sense. That one couldn’t even be a trick answer. How would that even work?

Despite Wes’s best efforts to be annoyed at Danny’s trickery, it was clear to anyone on that bus who chose to pay attention that Wes had found new theories. He was absolutely giddy with excitement in the way he only was when he was cracking a code. The grin on his face refused to go away. It was a sweet, although mildly concerning sight.

#dannymay #dannymay2023 #danny phantom #danny fenton #wes weston #oneshot #I actually had to look up basketball terms for this lol

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iboatedhere · 11 months

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Thank you for the tag @lemonlyman-dotcom and @cha-melodius

From tomorrow's prompt.

“All the staff is gone?”

Henry nods.

“Even Shaan?”

“He was the first one out the door.”

“So I could, theoretically, go downstairs naked.”

Henry snorts. “If you wish.”

Alex hums. “Could be kind of freeing. Walking around butt-naked in a palace…..how many people can say that?”

“I can't begin to imagine."

“Dare me.”

Henry frowns. “Excuse me?”

“Dare me. It’s more fun on a dare.”

“You just want to shift responsibility if it goes wrong.”

“How could it go wrong if no one is here?”

“Point,” Henry concedes as he sits up. “I dare you to go get us a snack, stark naked, while I wait here and think of all the things I want to do to you when you come back.”

“Dare accepted. I’ll be back in five minutes.” He stops and looks Henry over—miles of bare, warm skin, all his. “Three minutes.”

“I can think a lot in three minutes.”

“Counting on it!” Alex calls before he’s out the door and in the hall.

Alex has spent a good amount of time at Kensington over the last few years. A long weekend here, a week vacation there. He knows the layout of the palace as if it were the residence at the White House but completely naked and in the dark, things are a little disorienting.

It’s only himself and Henry in the building (even David has been sent to stay with Bea for the night) Alex knows that, but for some reason he can shake the feeling of being watched.

Maybe it’s because he has his dick out in a nationally recognized historical landmark and the paintings of Henry’s ancestors that hang on the wall seem to follow him wherever he goes.

He stops to shake his ass in front of a faded portrait of some long-dead king then continues on to the kitchen.

Alex knows Henry has been spending more time here lately. He seems determined to learn how to cook for himself and sends Alex photos of whatever it is he’s attempting to make at all hours of the night, the counters covered with flour or bits of diced vegetables that didn’t make it into the final dish.

Alex, always the supportive boyfriend, texts back and tells him it looks great with a dozen exclamations points before he asks what it is.

Tonight the kitchen is quiet and clean and he moves quickly, eager to get back upstairs.

He grabs two bottles of Gatorade from the fridge, wincing as the cold air hits his body, then finds a box of Jaffa Cakes in the pantry.

Arms full, he turns toward the door as a maid crosses in front of him and rounds the table.

He screams in shock and drops the bottles so he can hold the Jaffa Cake box against his crotch, trying to save what’s left of his dignity.

“Fuck, shit,” he exclaims, heart pounding. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in there I….” He trails off as the woman walks calmly out the door and into the hall without even acknowledging him.

Slowly, he tiptoes after, the box of cookies still pressed to his junk and peeks down the hall. She’s gone, with no retreating footsteps or the sound of a door opening or closing to lend a clue as to which direction she went in.

Confused, Alex ducks back into the kitchen to retrieve the bottles, one of which had rolled beneath the dishwasher, then makes his way toward the stairs.

Halfway up, a chill shoots down his spine accompanied by the nagging feeling of being watched returns and he loses all cool and sprints the rest of the way, slamming into Henry’s closed door, fumbling with the knob before he gets inside and locks it behind him.

“We have a problem,” Alex says as Henry lifts his head off the pillow, the hand wrapped around his cock still stroking slowly.

“Indeed. You’re entirely too far away.”

“No, I’m being serious,” Alex says as he crosses the space between them and stands at the foot of the bed. “We have a I might be sued for sexual harassment kind of problem.”

Henry sits up. “You were gone for four minutes, how in the world could something like that have happened?”

#firstprince fic #firstprince #rwrb #rwrb fic #wip wednesday

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calmasyoghurt · 3 months

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The joker out pride project.

Also on ao3.

June 11th, promt 16. Coming out as a trans man.

“Hi boys, I don’t want to ruin your fun, but I thought I’d let you know that the last bus for Ljubljana leaves in about half an hour”.

The word ‘boys’, in plural, makes Kris’ heart do a little jump, before he can actually register what Jan’s mum said. But of course she’s correct, the last bus does leave in just over 30 minutes. Kris doesn’t really want to go home yet. Today has been an amazing day. Kris got a haircut that makes him feel good about himself. He and Jan has spent the majority of the day learning new songs on their guitars. Oh, and for the first time, Kris has spent almost an entire day being called ‘he’. So Kris doesn’t want to go home yet, where he’ll go back to being called a girl.

“Can’t Kris stay the night? He hasn’t taught me Črn Tulipan yet”, Jan asks his mum, and Kris hopes she’ll allow it.

“Sure, do you want me to call your parents? I don’t want them getting worried about you not coming home”.

“No, think it’s better I call them myself. Thank you for letting me stay”, Kris says, and Jan’s mum tells him he’s welcome to stay any time before leaving the room. Kris grabs his phone, the one he’d gotten for his birthday in January, and calls his mother. The call doesn’t last very long, Kris simply asks for permission to stay the night, his mother allows it. She tells Kris to have fun, and then they wish each other a good night. When Kris hangs up and looks at Jan, he looks amazed.

“What the fuck? Since when do you speak a whole other language?”, Jan asks.

“Since I learned how to speak? You do know my mother is from the Netherlands, right?”. Kris says.

“I guess, but that doesn’t have to mean you speak the language!”. Kris simply laughs at Jan, and suggest that now is the perfect time for Jan to start learning the song that brought Kris’ parents together.

A few hours later, Kris has borrowed one of Jan’s old, washed out band t-shirts to sleep in. He’s sitting on Jan’s bed waiting for him to get back from the bathroom. There’s a small nock on the door, and Jan’s mum enters the room.

“Hi love, are you settling in?”, she asks, and Kris nods.

“Now, I’m not saying that you or Jan aren’t responsible young boys, the contrary in fact. His dad and I have taught him all about the importance of protection. But I want you to be careful anyways, I’m sure you know that std’s aren’t the only thing you in particular can get from a guy. Okay?”. Kris' cheeks feel warm enough to fry an egg on.

“Uh, me and Jan are just friends. Nothing’s going to happen”. Luckily, Kris can hear the bathroom door open before Jan’s mum can give any more advice, and when Jan appears behind him, she just wishes them a good night and leaves.

“What was that about?”, Jan asks as he closes the bedroom door.

“I think your mum thinks we’re a couple or something. She was talking about protection and std’s and stuff”, Kris answers. This makes Jan burst out in laughter. He lays down on the bed next to Kris, and seems to be collecting his thoughts. A minute later, Jan speaks again.

“If we would have met for the first time today, or sometime in the future, then I probably would have a crush on you. The first time we met, I was close to developing feelings. But then you said Kris was short for Kristina and all those feelings flew out the window. Now, that I now you’re a boy and that I could theoretically have a chance, I want nothing else than to keep being friends”.

“How do you always say exactly the right thing? Come here, awkward friend hug time”, Kris says and throws an arm over Jans shoulders. Jan puts an arm over Kris’ hips, and in this moment, everything is peaceful. Tomorrow, Kris might tell mum and dad who he really is.

The next morning, Jan’s dad offers to drive Kris home, since he’s visiting a friend in Ljubljana. Jan says he’ll come with them, saying he wants to see all the guitars that Kris’ dad has. Kris knows it’s a lie, Jan has seen his dad’s guitars multiple times before. The real reason Jan is coming to Ljubljana is to support Kris when coming out. It’s something they discussed when they woke up, and Kris is once again so grateful for Jan’s endless support.

Forty minutes later, Kris and Jan are dropped of outside Kris’ building with a promise from Jan’s dad that he’ll be back in about an hour to pick Jan up. Together, the two friends enter the building, walk up a few stairs, and then they’re outside Kris’ apartment. Kris opens the door and enters, closely followed by Jan. They find Kris’ mum at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper. She greets them with a big smile before looking at Kris’ new hairstyle.

“Oh, you cut it short again? It suits you, and won’t make you as warm now that it’s summer”. It almost surprises Kris, how positive she is to the new haircut. But he’s not going to complain, definitely not, this is what he wanted. He wanted them to support him. So why not break the bigger news right away?

“Is dad home? I want to tell you something”, Kris says, and is informed that his dad is in the living room. The three of them walk in to the next room together. When they enter, Kris’ mum sits down in one of the couches, next to her husband, while Kris and Jan sit down in the other couch.

“Hi Jan, I didn’t know you where here! And Kris, new haircut I see, it looks good”, says Kris’ dad.

“What did you want to tell us, schatje?” asks Kris’ mum. This is it. This is the right moment to tell them.

“Well. It’s something I’ve thought about for a while now. I found something out about myself a while ago. When I thought about I realized I’ve been feeling this way for a really long time without knowing why. But I know why I’ve felt it now. It's- it's about who I am”. Kris can’t capture his thoughts. He doesn’t know how to turn them in to words. But then Jan grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly, and it brings Kris’ down to earth.

“There’s something called being transgender. It’s when you don’t feel like you belong in the body of the gender you were born as. I’ve learnt a lot about it, and the more I learn the more I feel like it’s me. During the whole day yesterday, Jan referred to me as if I was a boy, and I really, really enjoyed it. It felt so right, like I was finally being referred to as the person I really am. What I’m trying to say is that it is me, I’m transgender, I’m a boy. It would make me so happy if you referred to me as one, calling me he and a boy and your son and stuff like that”. Kris doesn’t look up at his parents while he’s speaking, and neither does he let go of Jan’s hand. But the room is quiet, too quiet, soo he finally looks up at his parents. They’re smiling at him. They don’t seem to hate him.

“Is that- is that okay with you?” he asks, because he can’t be sure.

“Of course that’s okay with us, schatje. All we want is for you to be happy. We’ll support you no matter what, won’t we, Miha?”.

“We will. You’re our son, it’s our job to love you no matter what. But I’m guessing you don’t want your name to be Kristina anymore, is that right?”.

“Yeah, that’s right. I like Kris though, and almost everyone calls me that already”.

A while later, when Jan gets a text from his dad saying he’s leaving his friends house, Kris feels like a giant weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He follows Jan to the door and watches him put his shoes on. When he straightens up, he looks at Kris.

“I’m proud of you dude. You’re brave. I’ll text you sometime, have a nice summer”. Then he ruffles Kris’ hair, opens the door and leaves.

#joker out #kris guštin #jan peteh #jo pride project

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arealphrooblem · 1 year

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A Favor for a Favor Part 6

Part one here

CW for the fic overall: kissing/fade to black off screen sex, mentions of non-consensual drugging, non-graphic wound care, off screen murder mention

Synopsis:

When Roxanne -- Agent name Rocket -- is back-stabbed by a friend and given a serum that drains her of her powers and leaves her helpless, she has no choice but to turn to the one person she can't trust: Her nemesis -- a politician and king of the underworld. With her powerless and in the palm of his hand, what he decides to do with her is greatly influenced by their chance meeting as teenagers that neither of them have been able to forget.

The Present

His soft footsteps crunched over the gravel path. She didn’t look up from her huddled form on the deck chair. A blanket dropped over her shoulders, smelling powerfully of his soap.

“Did you ever find out why he did it,” she asked softly.

“Will you believe me if I tell you?”

“I don’t know what else to do. You’re all I have right now.”

“It’s terrifying , isn’t it? Having to trust the unknown.”

He sat down on the chair next to her, legs stretched out.

“You are eating this role reversal up, aren’t you?”

He paused for a moment. “I don’t like seeing you this way. I much prefer you obnoxious and sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

She snorted at that.

“For someone so active in the Agency, your arrest record is relatively small. The criminals you catch serve community service hours or house arrest or time in mental hospitals and rehab centers more than jail. Why is that?”

She looked up at him finally, brow furrowed. What did that have to do with anything?

“Just answer the question,” he said softly.

“My mom,” she answered. “You know she was a defense attorney. She always told me that the systems we have help a select few and hurt the rest. She saw more people trapped and desperate, people who never stood a chance, than people who were just malicious. I never forgot that. And I never forgot you. You were living proof of that. At least, until you became this.”

She waved a hand over his designer clothes and at the penthouse terrace.

“That’s what he hated,” John told her. “He considered you unfit because you were too soft. Crime would only increase under you because you never made an example of anyone. They didn’t fear you. He acted on his own to solve the problem because the Agency refused to hear his concerns. I won’t get into the particulars of how he discovered my serum. But rest assured it won’t happen again, by him or anyone else.”

“That fucking bastard,” she whispered.

He had been the loudest voice about civilian safety, cleaning up neighborhoods, fighting gang activity. Sometimes it bordered on the insensitive, the oblivious and childish idea of black and white morality. She never thought he would stoop to this.

“He still should have had a trial,” she said, but the bitter part of her heart didn’t believe it anymore.

“I can’t have anyone else knowing what I created. I don’t feel guilty about it.”

“If it's such a risk, why the hell did you even make it? As far as I know, I’m the first Agent to get hit with it. You could have dismantled the whole Agency. Or sold it to the highest bidder who would do the same.”

“You love your power. I can tell how lost you are without it even without reading your mind. I depend on mine and it protects me. But there are people who have powers that do nothing but cause them misery. People whose powers make them a target everywhere they go. People who can’t hide. I made it for them.”

“Oh.”

It sounded too magnanimous to be true.

“They pay for it,” he assured her. “A favor for a favor.”

That sounded more like him.

“Can it . . .be reversed?” She forced herself to ask it. The answer terrified her.

“Theoretically. I have an antidote. It’s just never been tested before. It will be here tomorrow.”

Hope exploded, bright and overwhelming, in her chest.

“Are you serious?” she squealed. “Tomorrow?”

She launched herself at him, crawling in his lap and wrapping her arms around him, with a force strong enough to push them both back against the chair. He made a small oomph beneath her, arms flailing awkwardly at his side. Her ribs protested painfully but she didn’t care. She pressed her face in the juncture of his shoulder and neck and squeezed him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said grimly. “There’s no guarantee it will work. We may have to experiment with it. You may need to stay at the lab for a while.”

“I don’t care! Oh my God!”

She pulled back enough to look down at him. He could still be lying. It could still be a trick. But she decided to choose hope instead.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his arms came up to cradle her back. His hands bled warm through the thin t-shirt. She realized, suddenly, that she was almost straddling him. Face growing hot, she started to get up when his hands tightened their grip.

His gaze bore into her, dark and inscrutable. John Park was an untrustworthy, manipulative selfish bastard and she wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss him.

“You should do it,” he whispered.

She didn’t need any further encouragement. Her hands fisted in the front of his shirt and she kissed him fiercely. To her surprise, he kissed her back with equal enthusiasm, rising up to meet her. His hands slid up her spine to cup the back of her head, fingers tangling into her hair. She nipped at his bottom lip, grinning against his mouth when she felt his fingers tighten in her hair.

For years, Roxanne never saw John without his mask fixed perfectly in place. He was always collected, always in control, always unaffected. He walked into every interaction holding all the cards and he knew it.

Which was why every hitched breath, every beat of his thundering pulse under her roaming fingers, every bold, desperate slide of his tongue, felt like a victory. In the court of desire, it was undeniable proof that he felt something back. Every scrap of her yearning, attraction, fascination with him burned through her blood as pure, unfiltered need and he matched her with equal ferocity.

His hand crept under her shirt (his shirt), the feather light trace of his fingertips up her spine at odds with the sharp, sting of his lips sucking a bruise in her neck. His teeth dragged up the column of her throat to latch around her earlobe. A whine tore from her throat.

“This, Roxanne,” he breathed against her ear, “this is where I want you: fierce and needy and begging for me to touch you.”

He brushed over her ribs like a gentle breeze and she shuddered against him.

“Just like that.”

His other hand caressed up her thigh, stopping just short of its apex, and squeezed. She bit back a protesting groan.

“Can I have you, Roxanne?”

It sounded almost innocent, like she was a lollipop he plucked at the check out register. Except for the ragged edge of his voice, as if his self control was moments from slipping through his grasp. Or for the way his fingers swirled infuriatingly against her inner thigh, just the barest inch away from where she needed them most.

Her fingers clenched in his shirt. She had never been more turned on in her life. “Yes. Yes. Oh my God, please.”

A long time later, as she drifted in and out of sleep against his chest, he whispered something to her.

“What?” she murmured.

“It’s Ji-won,” he repeated.

“What is?”

“My name. My birth name.”

“Ji-Won,” she repeated, smiling sleepily against his chest.

The Past

Halfway through dinner, Roxanne dropped her fork and shouted,

“Oh shit!”

Cornelius jerked to his feet, gaze darting around.

“What?” he demanded, hand wrapped around his steak knife.

“My project,” she shrieked. “I forgot all about it! It’s due tomorrow and it’s almost my bedtime!”

“ . . .okay? What’s the big deal? Can’t you type that out in like thirty seconds?”

He slowly sat back down, glowering at her. She probably gave him a heart attack. And she’d be a little sympathetic to that if she wasn’t harboring her own heart attack right now.

“Yeah but I don’t think fast. I still have to finish the research, organize everything, get all the labels . . .”

The weight of all that work felt crushing. She thought she’d have two days -- not a few hours!

“Then skip school.”

She gasped, horrified. “I’ve never skipped school in my life.”

“Why am I not surprised?” he muttered. “Guess you’re pulling an all-nighter.”

She groaned, fingers threading nervously through her hair.“I’m not a night owl. I’ll crash by midnight, no matter what. I’ve never even seen the ball drop for New Years.”

“How old are you -- five?”

“Shut up, Cornelius. Having a consistent sleep schedule is good for you.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said.

“Yeah that much is obvious from the raccoon eyes you always have.” She fought the urge to cry. “Dude, I am so screwed. This is worth so much of my grade!”

Silence stretched out taut as a bow string between them. Then Cornelius sighed and stood up with his plate in his hand.

“No you’re not. I’ll help you. Finish your dinner and let's get this over with.”

Roxanne tried her best to hold out, but even with coffee she found herself nodding off just before one AM. Eventually she woke up to a hand gently shaking her shoulder.

“Go to bed,” came Cornelius’s voice softly by her ear.

“I can’t,” she mumbled. “I have to finish . . .the . . .thing.”

“It is finished.”

That jerked her awake. “What?”

She lifted her head off the kitchen table and peered around. While she slept, Cornelius had painstakingly drawn and labeled the majority of her project. It stretched out beautifully on the poster board, looking like it came from a professional.

“You did all that?” she gasped.

“Who else?”

“It’s gorgeous! You should be an artist!”

“You don’t have to pander to me to say thank you,” he said, arms crossed tightly against his chest.

“I’m not!” She leaned in to get a closer look at the poster. “This is detailed and so neat. Seriously, you should go to art school!”

He let out a bark of bitter laughter. “Yeah, okay.”

Her smile faded as she straightened back up. “Well, what is your grand plan, Cornelius? If art school is out of the question, what are you going to do with yourself?”

“If I tell you that, you’ll probably become an accessory to a crime.”

“I’m serious,” she said.

“So am I.” He gave her a half-hearted smirk. “Don’t worry about what I’m going to do. Worry about yourself. You clearly need to,” he added, gesturing to the poster board.

“How can I not worry about you?” she demanded. “You know, I could talk to my parents. We have that spare bedroom, we could --”

“Don’t even go there,” he said. “Your family is not going to adopt me or take me or what the fuck ever.”

“Yes, they would! My mom is a defense attorney -- she meets kids like you all the time. And you’re like, what, a senior by now? We could get you enrolled in my school; they have credit recovery programs and --”

He stepped forward and wrapped his fingers around her wrists. The sudden proximity, the pressure of the pads of his thumbs resting right against her pulse, the dark wells of his eyes, caught her voice in her throat.

“It’s very . . .kind of you to think about that,” he said stiltedly. “No one’s ever . . .but it’s not possible. It’s just not possible.

She swallowed, trying to find what would break through his thick, edge-lord, I Have To Suffer skull.

“It’s possible, you know. Lots of things are possible for you. You just have to let yourself believe you can have it.”

“Maybe for you. Not so much for me.”

She yanked her hands from his grip. “And why not? Lots of people who were born poor go to art school! Or law school. Or whatever else they want.”

“It’s not just about being poor, Roxanne.” He looked at her as if she was so painfully naive. “ I’ve already made certain choices, started down certain paths. There is no going back. There is no do-over.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It doesn’t matter if you do or don’t. The world is the way it is regardless.”

“It’s not fair,” she cried, petulant, like a little child.

“Life is never about being fair. Whoever told you that lied.”

“Well, I hate it.” Her throat grew tight, eyes stinging. “You deserve to have everything I have. Better, even. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have it.”

A stray tear fell, and then another. Roxanne bit her lip against them, feeling every bit the naive kindergartner in a PBS cartoon. Her parents never told her the world was fair. They knew it wasn’t. But it felt different, now, when she could see it in front of her, instead of just hearing about a statistic on the news.

Cornelius slowly cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs swiping away a stray tear.

“Go to bed, Roxanne,” he murmured. “And stop worrying so much about me. I will have the future I want. And I will be okay.”

Part 7 here

#heroine x villain #hero x villian #writeblr #enemies to lovers #a favor for a favor #dark villain

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