#hes too much of a puzzle for miserable me to figure out.

[teakoodrawz]

" Remember people~ You're in my game so play it very well~! It's all about the tricks from people and life~ Time has already started! so tick tock! once it reaches to zero, you're OUT! "

[kyletogaz]

kyle seducing the cold detached woman who's levels above his station 😔

yeah so i wrote way too much

pairing: kyle garrick x fem!reader | cw: third person pov, hints to childhood trauma, therapy is mentioned, smut

it doesn’t help that he has a big fat crush on her. and she knows this, but couldn’t give two fucks.

kyle has never had to work this hard to get someone into his bed. he’d barely turn on the charm and would still have them dropping their panties. but this woman in particular, she made him realize it wasn’t going to be easy and he’d have to work for it.

kyle starts giving her flowers with cute little notes attached and she just chucks them into the trash because, “i don’t like roses, garrick. stop sending me flowers.”

kyle does not listen to her at all though. every bouquet he buys gets thrown away, much to his dismay. she’ll never tell him this, but one day she ended up giving a vase of flowers to one of her girlfriends because they were far too pretty to be in someone’s trash bin. eventually, kyle stops sending flowers and steps his game up.

he starts leaving chocolate on her desk, her favorite brands at that. it’s the fancy and expensive kind too.

at first, the chocolate just sits on her desk untouched. she would rather eat a jean jacket than to admit she finds it kind of cute that kyle refuses to give up. her icy exterior begins to dissolve a little when he starts popping up with snacks, jumbo crossword puzzles, and books for her to read.

“i’m still not entertaining whatever you think is going to happen between us, garrick. keep your delusions to yourself,” she says flatly, but thanks him and accepts his gifts anyway.

kyle just laughs and says, “we’ll see.”

his response bothers her for the rest of the day and she can’t figure out why.

her heart softens even more when her birthday arrives and she’s stuck in her office doing paperwork. she’s absolutely miserable about it, until kyle knocks on her door, her words getting stuck in her throat when she sees the cake and balloons he has for her.

“why would you do all of this!?” she asks hotly, once she’s regained her composure. she doesn’t even know why she’s so upset with him in the first place. he’s just being nice.

“because you deserve it, and you shouldn’t have to spend your birthday alone.”

she wants to rage at him some more. she wants to throw him out and tell him to never come back because somehow he’s managed to worm his way into her heart. she wants to kick him in his shin for making her fall for him. but because she can’t bring herself to do any of that, she lets him stay to sing happy birthday to her.

and if kyle’s visits become more frequent after that, she can’t find it in herself to complain. his presence makes her happy.

kyle can be a very persistent man when he needs to be, but he chooses to believe she’ll change her mind about him eventually. she’s been opening up to him more, and he considers that progress.

he remembers the first time he met her. she was a pretty thing with a no nonsense attitude. he knew he was down bad for this woman when he’d come to her defense whenever he heard people calling her a bitch around base.

and today was no different. she was well aware of the names people called her, but she really didn’t give a shit. “it doesn’t hurt me,” she says to kyle, who’s currently holding a recruit by the collar of his shirt.

he’d been within earshot of the little bastard addressing his soon to be sweetheart by several unpleasant names that made his blood boil.

kyle is more than pissed off, especially after she orders him to let the young recruit go. “you hear the names they call you, the things they say. and yet you do fuck all about it,” he snaps before sighing. he’s not mad at her though. he’s just a little frustrated because she won’t so anything about it. he refuses to believe that nothing bothers her.

she stares at kyle in shock. he’s never spoken to her like this before, and she doesn’t like it one bit. so she tells him to get out.

but unfortunately for her, kyle doesn’t budge. “nah,” he says, before taking a seat on the chair in front of her desk. “i think i’ll sit here a little longer. you can finish your work, i won’t bother you.”

she just huffs at him, then picks her pen up and resumes her work.

when she’s done, kyle is still there. he has his earbuds in and he’s laughing quietly at something on his phone. she just knows he’s on tiktok. probably watching some video about a cat. when she finds herself staring too hard and enjoying his laughter just a bit too much, she nudges him under the desk with her foot.

kyle pulls his earbuds out and sits up straight. “you finished, love?”

love?

it’s the first time he’s called her that, and it wrecks her a little bit. i don’t deserve him, she thinks to herself.

she just nods silently in response to his question, not trusting herself to speak and only doing so when kyle offers to walk her to her quarters. if he’s surprised when she says yes, he doesn’t show it. he just ushers her out of the office and down the hallway.

when they arrive at her door, she thanks him. kyle just waves her off and says, “anything for you, sweetheart.”

“stop calling me that,” she huffs. “and stop doing whatever this is.”

she watches as kyle’s brows furrow in confusion. “what is it that you think i’m doing?”

“if you wanted to get into my pants, you could have just asked.” she actually laughs when kyle stares at her in surprise. “and don’t act so shocked, garrick. i’ve known what you wanted since day one.”

“do you?” kyle asks as he steps into her space, watching in amusement as she fumbles to come up with an answer. he knew she would have told him to fuck off when they first met. “if you think sex is all i want, then you’re wrong. i want you.”

she’ll lie about it for the rest of her life if anyone ever asks her how she responded to kyle’s statement. instead of tearing him apart with her words, she gets a little teary eyed, much to her embarrassment.

“you shouldn’t want me,” she whimpers. “i haven’t been very nice to you.”

kyle just shrugs and lets her know that he likes a challenge every now and then. he doesn’t let her respond. he bids her goodnight with a kiss on her forehead, then gently shoves her into her room.

kyle walks her to her room again the next evening, and this time, he bullies her into inviting him in. she almost had a fit when he climbed into her bed and demanded she cuddle with him. at first, the word no was at the tip of her tongue, but then the intrusive thoughts won that round.

she’d struggled with how intimate it was to have kyle’s arms around her, not wanting him to touch her because she knew it would shatter the walls she’d carefully built over the years. he took one look at her and told her to stop fighting her feelings. she’d almost snapped at him, until she saw the look in his eyes. she’d hurt him and herself if she told him no. so she surrendered herself to him completely.

“it’s just for tonight, you can go back to hating me tomorrow.”

her heart breaks when kyle says it so casually, as if he’s trying not to make it a big thing, when it absolutely is.

she’s never hated kyle a day in her life. she just doesn’t understand why he wants to be with someone as cold as her? why would he want to be with a woman who was so damn traumatized, she thought everyone who approached her had some ulterior motive. having an unpleasant childhood and learning not to trust anyone would do that to a person.

during a session, she spoke to her therapist about kyle. she even told the other woman about the gifts he gave her. he won’t leave me alone, she had complained.

have you asked him to leave you be?

well, no. but—

think about why that is.

she’d almost quit therapy that day. she didn’t want to think about kyle and the way he made her feel.

after the life she’d lived, she promised to never let anyone get close enough to see how vulnerable she could be. she was convinced they would just take advantage. so she hardened her heart and became more frigid as the years went by. sometimes when she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see an ounce of her past self.

“you’re tense.”

her body gives a little surprised jolt at the sound of kyle’s voice. “i’m sorry,” she mumbles, while trying to relax in his arms.

“what’s on your mind?” kyle asks, before pressing a kiss to her forehead and stroking a hand down her back.

she shrugs and tells him not to worry about it, even though she knows it’s already too late for that.

“don’t do that. there’s something bothering you, sweetheart.”

she sighs softly, before lifting her head off his chest. “you’re right, but i don’t want to talk about it right now. just hold me please.”

and it’s truly a blur after that, not knowing how she ended up on her back with kyle’s fingers intertwined with hers and his cock buried deep in her pussy. he’s already syphoned one orgasm out of her with his tongue, and now he wants to have her creaming around his cock this time.

she’s not sure what she’s gotten herself into. because when kyle gives her the filthiest grind against her pussy, his leaking cock pressing up against her g-spot, her eyes roll so far back into her head, she’s surprised they don’t get stuck. a pleasure filled sob spills from her lips when kyle does it again and again until she’s clawing at his back and wailing so loud, he has to quickly smother her cries with his mouth.

he knows she’ll probably never life it down if someone walks by the room and hears how loud she can be when she’s getting fucked within an inch of her life.

kyle actually has the audacity to pause mid thrust to say, “damn, i didn’t know you could sing like that.”

he laughs when she gives him a whiny shut up and fuck me please. he watches the way her scowl disappears when he pulls out, then bullies his cock back into her drooling pussy.

“fuck, pussy’s so tight and wet around my dick, just gushing,” kyle hisses out with a roll of his hips, eyes almost crossing when she tightens around his cock. “you’re gonna strangle me to death. christ.”

“i’m sorry,” she manages to choke out through the overwhelming sensation of his cock hitting her sweet spot repeatedly. she was in fucking heaven.

“don’t be. you’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart,” kyle croons in her ear. “you’re takin’ me so well. gonna have you fallin’ apart on this dick every night.”

“please.” his words are entirely too much for her handle.

“please what?” kyle coos, as his cock drags against her spongy walls. “gonna see how good you’ll be when i stretch that ass out with my fingers first, and then on my cock.”

the cry she emits when her senses white out completely and all she can feel is the sheer pleasure of her orgasm, is loud enough to be heard out in the hallway.

kyle doesn’t slow down when he tells her to give him one more. she wants to call him greedy, but she’s too busy moaning and writhing underneath him while he rubs her clit in sync with his thrusts. when she cums again, kyle is filling her pussy up to the brim with his seed and moaning her name.

kyle has to force her out of bed after he suggests they shower and change the sheets. she whines about being tired, but lets him guide her to the bathroom anyway.

she spirals a little when she’s sure she kyle is sleeping. she doesn’t want him to hear her weeping. and the second a pitiful whimper escapes her mouth, she’s out of the bed and locking herself in the bathroom, where she can cry freely.

she tries to avoids kyle after that, but he’s not having it.

he won’t let her run from this. when she tries to deny it, he calls her out on it and lets her know that they’ll be having a lengthy discussion when he gets back. “my teammates and i are leaving base. gotta put an end to some shit none of us want to deal with, and i’m not sure when i’ll be back, sweetheart.”

during the three months that kyle is gone, she’s missing him more than she thought she would. phone calls and video calls aren’t enough anymore. he tries to soothe her by telling her he’ll be seeing her soon, but she cries anyway.

it’s only then that she comes to a startling realization.

she finally tells her therapist what she’s been wanting to tell kyle for weeks.

i think i love him. no, i know i love him.

when she sees kyle again, she launches herself at him immediately, much to everyone’s surprise, because since when was kyle dating anyone.

soap, price, and ghost can’t help but to stare at her and kyle in wonder. she’s clutching at kyle, while crying her eyes out and telling him how much she loves him and how much she misses him. eyebrows raise when she drags him into a kiss that’s damn near pornographic.

kyle beams at her when he pulls away from the kiss, before he pulls her in for a soft peck and a hug that leaves her a little breathless.

and leave it up to him to ruin the moment when he says, “so, about that talk.”

she just groans and let him drag her across the tarmac.

-

a/n: thank you for sending this message and i hope you enjoy.

[lollytea]

how do think willow and hunter first talked about them being bi/pan? or do you think it's just so accepted on the boiling isles that they probably would never bring it up?

(This ask is from back when we got the bi/pan confirmation and I've been saving it, kinda thinking of putting effort into writing something cute and good quality. However I ended up waking up from a nap while the Q&A was happening and somebody told my confused disoriented ass that Zeno was talking about Hunter exploring his identity and going on dates while in the human realm. And I tapped out something very messy and stream of consciousness-y in my notes app in my sleepy state. So you're getting this instead. I don't feel like cleaning it up.)

Like like like it's. Luz putting together her little coming out slideshow for Camila. And the topic of sexualities comes up. And Amity and Willow puzzle out what theirs are nearly immediately. Gus doesn't but he's unfazed by it. While Hunter is like....I...can't say for certain and its bothering me. Like this is a THING that has a chance of helping him feel like more of a person. He wants his very own flag. He just doesn't know what it is yet. He'd like to know.

He likes Willow. He knows he likes Willow. But...there isn't a flag for liking Willow. (As far as he knows. He's thinking of making one. But for now he's stumped.)

There's a very specific route the kids take to the grocery store to collect stuff for Camila. Hunter likes to take the task because he likes feeling useful. Willow also likes to help but she'd be lying if she said another reason wasn't long walks with Hunter. Usually one of the other kids tags along too. Or more than one. But today it's just Hunter and Willow.

They always pass that damn statue but Hunter always averts his eyes and hopes Willow does too. He doesn't like to look at it. But maybe if he turned his gaze towards it every once in a while he'd notice the boy who always sits beneath the statue with a little handheld game console. The boy who always lifts his head when Hunter strolls by.

This is the day when the boy chooses to be brave. There's no gaggle of friends around him today. Just one girl. This is it. This is his chance. The boy marches up to Hunter and Willow in a way that Hunter immediately clocks as similar to his own Golden Guard body language. When he was trying to feel big but failing miserably.

The boy IS big tho. That's the weird thing. Tall with broad shoulders and chunky arms. A cluster of metal pierced into his left ear and a silver stud in his nose. He looks....so cool. So very very cool. Hunter misses the first words out of this dude's mouth cuz he was too busy looking at him and he needs to repeat himself.

So. Hm. Okay. Well. APPARENTLY. Piercings boy thinks Hunter is cute. Which is a staggering revelation that leaves Hunter a little speechless. And if that weren't surprising enough, he's now pushing a little piece of paper in Hunter's direction, babbling something about talking some time. Or maybe going out, whatever.

While all this is going down Willow just.....watches. Smiling. Nudging Hunter when it's his turn to speak and he's forgotten. It's cute. He gets like that with her sometimes too. It made her feel very cool and pretty that she made such a handsome boy nervous. But now....she's watching this little interaction play out and she's realizing....

Hunter's obvious little crush on her. Just how easy would it go away if he met somebody cooler. Somebody prettier. Somebody who's not clearly living a lie and hiding everything from everyone all the time. Somebody brave enough to actually ask him out.

It seems like just as she's getting comfortable in these kinds of situations, an Amity always sweeps in. And that's fine. She's used to it by now.

And also...she....she really cares about Hunter. He's been getting so much happier and experimental in the Human Realm. She wants him to try new things. She wants him to figure out who he really is. And....maybe that version of himself won't always have a little crush on Willow Park. Maybe he'll realize that there's better people out there. And that's okay. Whatever it takes for him to smile.

There's something very ugly writhing in her stomach and Willow pretends it's not there. Instead she yanks up her smile wider and as the mystery boy strides away, she pounces on Hunter. She teases him a little, she asks why he got so very shy. Is it because he liiiiiiiikes Mr Mystery Boy huh? And Hunter doesn't know what to say. He doesn't KNOW Mr Mystery Boy. Willow counters that's what the number is for. That's what dates are for. After a long back-and-forth discussion, its Willow that urges him to dial that number. They have to borrow Camila's phone. And Willow stands there as moral support as Hunter stumbles through the question.

Hunter has a date this Saturday. Which is very exciting. And also weird. And scary. He blushes whenever you bring it up. But Willow happily hypes him up for it every day leading up to it.

On Saturday, Hunter leaves the house at mid day and Willow sees him off, waving enthusiastically. He smiles softly and waves back at her, still twitchy with nerves. She gives a finger guns and assures him it's gonna go fine. He's a catch! This makes him giggle and she swells with pride.

The door clicks shut. Hunter is gone. It feels like a light has been sucked out of the household. Willow's smile slips.

She could head upstairs and hang out with the other girls. She could go down to the basement with Gus. But....right now she'd prefer to be alone.

Willow cleans the kitchen, which Camila is very grateful for once she gets home from work. And then she settles in the living room, snuggles up on the couch and throws something on the TV. Willow sits there and watches for hours. She barely processes any of it. And yet, she's simultaneously so wrapped up in the television that she doesn't hear the door click.

"Eyyyyy, I'm back," Hunter says in that awkward way he always announces his return. And just like that, a light switches and Willow is all zazzed again.

"Ooooooh Casanova has returned!!" She chirps. "A little.....earlier than I expected....?"

Hunter looks a little sheepish but doesn't comment on that. Willow thumps the couch cushion opposite her. "Cmere boy. Tell me everything."

Hunter sits down beside her and after turning to look at her huge grin, he smiles warmly.

"What?" She asks.

"Nothing."

"You gonna tell me how it went?"

"Fine. Um. Normal. For a date. I think? I dunno I've never been on one but I'm pretty sure I did an okay job."

Willow decides to rip the bandaid off immediately. "Any lip action?"

Hunter's reaction was a funny choking noise and a volatile flush across his neck "No!" He blurted. "Just...."

"Juuuuust?"

"Just hands! He held my hand! He held my hand and it was nice! I liked it!"

"Oh."

It's nice that Hunter got his hand held. He has such pretty hands. She's always thought they were very holdable. She's really happy. She's delighted. Just great.

She's a good person who is happy when good things happen to her friends, Titandamn it. And not a secretly ugly resentful person who wishes for selfish things.

"Yeah and. Uh..." He's scrubbing the back of his neck. "We...um. Ended up talking. A lot."

"About date number two, no doubt...." Willow sings.

"There's not going to be a date number two," Hunter answers immediately, knocking Willow out of her depth.

.....huh?

"I....thought you liked him?" She asks.

"I mean. Yeah. He's. He's nice but...but when I said we talked a lot...I might have told him that...." Hunter trails away.

"Told him what?"

There's a pause before Hunter speaks again, his voice a little higher pitched. "Oh! J-just. Just told him about a ton of stuff. Told him I like birds. And I like to read. And...and about Camila being a vet and....and I talked a lot about my friends. Gus. A-and Luz and Amity. And Vee. And uh. And you. And....we...we both decided that this probably wasn't gonna work out."

"Oh...." Willow....doesn't know how to feel about this. She doesn't have to pretend to be disappointed because she really is. Her friend had a chance to have a sweet little romance with somebody cute. And it just didn't work out. "I'm sorry, Hunter,"

But Hunter shakes his head. "I'm not disappointed. I actually....um. I liked it. I've never been on a date before and it....I dunno, it made me feel like a real teenager. Which is dumb to say because I know I AM a real teenager but..."

He perks up. "Oh! Oh and-and um...." His words tumble one over the other though there's a grin tugging at the corner of his lip. "Josh and I we....we figured it out. Me. We...we figured out me. I'm..."

He catches himself and clears his throat, extending a hand to her. "Hi, Willow! My name is bisexual!...Wait! Wait, no! Hunter! My name is....I'm bisexual and I'm Hunter! I...Agh!! Josh said I should come out to you in a smooth way but...."

Willow is grinning ear to ear, always transfixed by his frequent fumbles over the complicated act of putting words together. "You're bisexual!" She declares happily. "Hunter that's fantastic!"

Hunter's smile is soft but there's a hint of pride there too. "Yeah...thanks. I know it is...."

A pause.

"I have completely forgotten what bisexual means tho," Admits Willow.

"O-oh! Oh it's just um. I-I like multiple genders. Today I found out for certain that boys are....wow...."

Willow smirks. "Boys are wow?"

"Well.....arent they?"

She thinks about it for a moment, raking her eyes across the splotchy blush still clinging to his pretty face. Her insides are in a riot of fluttering flower petals.

"I guess they are," She agrees fondly.

"But also I...." He cuts himself off with a sudden bout of breathlessness. He inhales sharply. "Girls..."

"Girls," Repeats Willow expectantly.

Hunter, who has cut his gaze down to his tangling fingers, looks back up at her, manages to hold eye contact for a few very telling extra seconds and says, very clearly. "Girls."

"I see..." Willow is a little frustrated to find that she's also a little short of breath. "So maybe your next date will be with a girl then,"

Hunter's blush flares. "I'd like it to be..." He mumbles. "But..."

"Buuuuuut?"

There's some sort of internal battle raging on. She can see it in the violent twist and turns of his facial expressions. Finally, his throat bobs. "Nothing." He answers.

"Sorry...." He continues. "For coming home early. I just really wanted to...." Why does he keep trailing off? "It looks like you were trying to have some time to yourself. I can leave if...."

"You stay right here, Mr heartbreaker," Says Willow. "Stay here and watch weird human crystal ball shows with me."

A stiffness she didn't notice until now melts out of his shoulders. "Okay. I'd like that. A lot."

Hunter attempts to shuffle into a comfortable position, but what he's not prepared for is his friend Willow suddenly lunging and knocking him against the cushions in a tight tackle hug.

"Congratulations on your name being Bisexual," She mutters against the fabric of his shirt. "I like being the first one told,"

"N-no problem...." His voice cracks a little.

It takes maybe three minutes of comfortable silence and human realm TV babbling for Hunter to pipe up "And I'm not a heartbreaker. I didn't break anyone's heart."

"You could," Willow answers smoothly, not taking her eyes off the TV. "You have way more power over some people's hearts than you realize."

[one-and-a-half-yikes]

Thought that hit me outta nowhere when I was half asleep this afternoon-

What the hell was Fanny doing at the gala???

We never come back to this, and although Cuphead calls it out:

We never find out if this is true or not. Will we later on? I fucking hope so cause I seriously want to know what the point was.

If we go with Cuphead's assumption here, that she was planning to "crash the party to prove a point" I am endlessly curious to know what point was proven and to who? Her parents (or more specifically her father)??? Oswald??? Did she think he was going to be there and wanted to show out (see what you're missing if you hadn't settled?) But that seems silly, she'd probably want to avoid him.

So maybe herself? Prove to herself that she made it to where she wants to be in life.

I think this one makes a little more sense to me. As I've mentioned in my Fanny meta, Fanny's life is stressful, and she's constantly dealing with so much shit on her plate. Between her controlling husband whose presence doesn't allow for the home to be a safe environment for her to escape the troubles of work life. Work life, where she's dealing with entitled and ungrateful patients on one hand, and on another rude colleagues who make her job harder for no reason; not to mention supervisors and managers above her who she has to answer to. Then, dealing with the smell and sight of bodily fluids of all kinds on top of that. Nursing is a thankless job, that part Fanny was right about. So at the end of the day you want to relax, right?

Well it's hard to do that when all your friends are busy, and your husband's idea for a night of fun is completely different from yours.

Fanny doesn't like to be in her own head. Ever. I think going to the gala was a way for her to let go of her worries and reassure herself that she'd made the right choices. Her life was great. Or actually I guess a better way to frame it would be that Fanny was PRETENDING she had made it. The fact that she was insistent on reminding Cup that she could "go alone" was interesting because I'm almost positive she didn't bring her wedding ring with her that night.

I think for her, this was a different form of escapism than what we are used to seeing. One where she envisions a life of luxury amongst the high echleons of society. Where she could pretend for one night that she wasn't going to go home to a loveless, abusive marriage. Where she won't have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn for grueling work as a nurse dealing with ink illness patients. One where she could be Cinderella for just one moment before the clock struck twelve. To pretend for a night that she was a single, young woman without a care in the world.

But we see how that turned out for her, and THIS is the part that left me puzzled by the end.

This girl is DRUNK.

And not even in the fun way where you go out with friends and come back fucking washed. She's pouty, miserable, and moody as hell when Cuphead stumbles upon her while leaving.

To get that bedazzled and feeling yourself. Pulling out all the stops to look good for a fun night out to THE biggest party of the year, only to be midway through the gala and sloshed put of your damn mind bemoaning how much you ended up hating the whole thing. I have a good guess as to why she hated the party, probably along the same reasons that Cuphead despises events like these. In Fanny's case, I think it reminds her a little too much of what she came from.

I suppose I'm more confused as to why she assumed this party would NOT be like that? What exactly did she expect from an event like this? Why go at all? She knew she would be the third wheel of what was very clearly an expensive all-out date between Puphead and Dovil. Why even waste your time on something like this? You wouldn't have any company, and as far as I know, I don't think Red went to that event either and stayed at the house with the patients? Even if she had gone, she's as much of a public figure as Oddswell, being his assistant and all, and wouldn't have had time to properly chat with Fanny through the night.

Betty isn't anyone important enough to go to an event like that. So, with few options and all her friends fairly busy, I ask, what the hell was the point? Of course, any single person could go to the gala alone, but most of those women who would go alone were probably of some importance enough that they could mingle with those in their class, right? Plus, the dance floor. Plenty of seats available to simply observe while eating and drinking. Diné, the black cat woman Bendy danced with at the gala, is a good example of this. Far as I know she didn't come with anyone and yet she was clearly having a grand time.

Anyways, I just find the whole thing strange, but this is my general speculation on why I believe she went. Even then I still think it odd, cause I feel like she could have just as easily gone to a regular club and had that experience.

NOTE: Was going to originally include Cuphead as a possibility, taking into account that the Cupanny Evil Author chapter seemed to hint that Fanny asked Cuphead to be her plus one to the gala. But that part just doesn't make sense to me, there's no way it didn't slip that Cup had a plus one, it would be silly to think she would pull a goofy stunt like that when she knew he was a public figure and all eyes would be on him through the night.

[moremaybank]

I'LL GO ANYWHERE YOU GO — j.m

pairing jj maybank x fem!reader

summary your best friend jj gives you a token to show you how much he treasures you.

warnings none, just soft!jj with hella fluff because i said so

jj masterlist

you stood in front of your mirror, desperately trying to fasten the clasp of your necklace but failing miserably. 

“you almost ready? the kegger’s about to— oh. need a hand?” jj asks, walking into your room and tossing his backpack on your bed carelessly. 

“actually, yeah. this clasp is tricky as hell.”

he chuckles wordlessly, striding over to you so he can help. or so you thought. jj takes the necklace out of your hands and discards it on your dresser, and your brows furrow in response.

“hey,” you frown, “what are you doing? i need help putting it on, not taking it off.”

“i have a surprise for you,” he replies, as if he isn’t up to no good. he reaches into the back pocket of his distressed shorts and pulls out a small black velvet box. he extends his hand to you, but you give him a puzzled look.

“oh god, what did you do?”

he chuckles, “why are you just assuming that i’ve done something?”

“because you’re you. i know you way too well, and at this point, if you’re giving me something in a velvet-wrapped box, it means you’ve done something bad. possibly illegal.”

“not true. i’m doing this out of the goodness of my own heart.”

you stare at him warily, not sure what to make of whatever the blonde boy is handing you. he looks a little too eager for your liking, and you’re not sure if you should be nervous or aiding and abetting an escape from the law. but then he flashes you a grin, his signature dimple on full display, and you know you can’t resist him.

“come on. i worked my ass off to get you this. even had the store put it on hold,” he tells you. 

“jj, how many times do i have to tell you that i don’t want you spending your hard-earned money on me? it should be spent on you.”

“princess, i only need three things in life to be happy; weed, beer, and you.”

“so you’ve given up on food and water?” you question, cocking your head at him with a smart-ass look.

“alcohol and the devil’s lettuce will sustain me for as long as god intends, pretty girl. now will you open the box?” he asks, placing the small box into your hands. 

“you’re not proposing to me, are you? ‘cause if you are, you should buy me dinner first.”

“for the love of all things holy, will you just open it?”

you huff a sigh, “fine.” 

you open the lid, and your eyes instantly land on a breathtaking necklace. the pendant was of the letter ‘j,’ and it reflected off the sunlight beaming into your bedroom. 

“jj…” you breathe, not being able to help the tears from welling up in your eyes. “i— it’s beautiful. you sure you didn’t steal it? be honest,” you deflect. you try your hardest not to read too much into it, but you can’t help it. the thought of jj, your jj, giving you a necklace with the initial of his first name to take the place of your current everyday necklace makes your heart swell. it’s like carrying him with you, right next to it, everywhere you go.

“i swear, princess. i didn’t steal it. i saw it a couple of months ago when i was with john b and sarah in some kook store over on figure eight, and i decided to save up for it so i could give it to you. consider it an early birthday present for my favourite girl.”

“j, my birthday isn’t for six months. and it’s not that i don’t appreciate it, but you shouldn’t have had to pinch pennies to give me this. you work so hard, and you deserve every cent you earn.”

he sets the small jewelry box aside on your dresser and takes your hands into his, thumbs brushing over your knuckles as he gazes deeply into your eyes. the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen.

“listen. you’ve given me everything. a place to rest my head when i need it, the most beautiful heart i’ve ever known, and my favourite person in the world. you deserve this and so much more. plus, you’re my best friend, and i can spoil you any time i goddamn please.”

you blush, avoiding his gaze as you stare down at your intertwined fingers. “you are so sweet, y’know that? too much for your own good.”

“i try,” he beams at you but shrugs his shoulders casually as if to say it isn’t a big deal.

“you succeed,” you say. “will you put it on for me?” 

he smiles so wide that you can tell how much you and the personal piece of jewelry mean to him. “of course, pretty girl. turn around.”

you do as he says, facing your back to him and gathering your hair so you can move it out of the way. jj carefully removes the necklace from the miniature jewelry box and places the chain over your collarbone as he fastens it behind your neck. his fingers linger for a moment as he moves to retreat, and you feel a warmth, his warmth surge through you as he touches you. goosebumps erupt all over your skin as you feel the electricity from his hands course throughout your body.

you both look at your shared reflection in the mirror, and your gaze locks on his ocean-blue eyes. jj offers you a smile that’s impossible not to return as you both stand together so close. you can practically feel the quick thump-thumping of his heart against the skin of your back as he begins to blush.

his hands move to your shoulders. “now you’ll always have a piece of me with you. it’s cheesy as hell, but you’re destined for greatness. i believe that. so, no matter where you go, what you conquer, or how far you are from me, i’ll always be there for you. i’ll always protect you.”

“i love you, j,” you breathe. you turn back to face him. “you know that if i ever get out of here, i’m bringing you with me, right? i’m not me without you,” you mumble into his shoulder after throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace.

of course, you mean it more than platonically, but the words are true to your heart either way. your love for him constantly overtook your being, but it was to the most significant degree at this moment. you’re desperate to ensure that he knows how much you appreciate him. jj has gone through so much of his life thinking he wasn’t enough for anyone that crossed his path, but that was never the case for you. he always came through, no matter when you needed him. especially then. 

“i’ll go anywhere you go,” he whispers. his hand cradled the back of your head as he held you to him, instantly sighing in contentment at how close the two of you were. “and i love you too, my pretty girl. so much more than you’ll ever know. and i hope that someday i can prove it to you.”

little did he know that he proved the strength of his adoration for you every day.

jj tag list (join here!): @maybankslover @kittyqrt @v-velvetykisscs @hobiibobii @rafesdior @fool4him @hemogloban @pankhoeforlife @rafesmuse @lyn07 @houseofperfecttaste @qualitybelieverflower @dudenhaaa27 @princessbetsy123-blog @tori-loves1 @alexxavicry @kenzi-woycehoski @elijahssuit @skydisneylover @adoreyouusugar @obxjjpouge @conniesanchor @baby-maybank @angel037 @wotfasked @rafelover

[differenteagletragedy]

RIP MC (Sorry Baxter)

So i got a request for Baxter finding out MC had died during the five years he was gone and I wrote this WHOLE ASS THING without realizing what that meant. So if I do two Baxter angst fics in a row with a dead MC, please don't call me out on it, I already know :(

"Did you have fun in Cali, Ass-ter?"

"I did, Richard, and that's very clever, as always."

Baxter let out a light sigh, not very excited to be reunited with his college roommates. He tried to focus on his task on unpacking his things as Richard and Matt, the two spoiled rich boys he shared a suite with in one of the school's more expensive dorms, high fived over the unbearably stupid nickname they'd given him during their freshman year.

He was a spoiled rich boy too, he recognized. But at least he was a little quieter about it.

He began the task of putting his finer clothes in his closet, carefully picking up the hanger his tux was on and putting it away first. He ran a hand fondly over the coat, remembering the last time he'd worn it. With you.

When his roommates decided to turn on the tv, looking for a game, he barely paid attention, instead lost in his thoughts. He'd been miserable, even more miserable than normal, since he'd left you. He kept telling himself that it was for the best, that it made sense, that you wouldn't miss him nearly as much as you'd thought you would -- probably not even at all. He was fun for a little while, he knew that much about himself, but carrying out a relationship, even just a friendship, over texts and phone calls across the country?

He wasn't worth that. He'd hated seeing you so upset with the way he left, but at least it was a sharp sort of pain over the dull ache that would had happened as you inevitably lost interest in him.

"Hey Baxter, isn't this where you were?"

"Hmm?" he asked, barely registering what Matt had asked. Both boys were looking at the television, so that's where he turned his attention.

There was your picture on the screen. You were smiling brightly, dressed in a swimsuit. He recognized both.

He stared at the photo, puzzled, trying to piece together what your photo would be doing on the news. It was like his brain got a little foggy trying to figure it out, but a few words did fight their way through.

"Rip current," was one he heard. Another was "drowned."

His heart started beating faster, so hard that it became all he could hear. The room started getting hot, much hotter than it had been, and breathing became difficult.

He vaguely registered his roommates approaching him, but instead of trying to fight through whatever he was feeling to respond to them, he promptly turned and left the suite.

Baxter wasn't sure where he was going, he just knew that the room had suddenly become much too small. Without thinking much about it, he made his way out of the building and started walking. He wasn't aware of any conscious thought he had, too overwhelmed by the pounding of his own heart, and suddenly he was by a small pond on campus, kneeling by the edge of the water and gasping for air.

It didn't make sense, he thought. That couldn't have been you. It must have been someone who looked like you. Why would you be on the news all the way in Virginia? And there was no possible way you could have drowned. Not in the ocean you knew like the back of your hand.

Still, as much as he tried to convince himself that he'd misunderstood what he'd heard, an aching pain began forming in his chest, and soon he was sobbing.

If anyone else had noticed him down by the pond, they didn't approach him. He sat like that for a while, trying to remember how to breathe and telling himself over and over that you were ok, before he remembered the phone stuck down in his pocket.

With a considerable amount of hesitation, he pulled it out, then opened his browser. After shaking out his hand a few times in an attempt to steady it, he did a search for your name.

He'd heard right the first time.

He read as much as he could stand -- you'd gone out to the beach by your house the night before to swim, but you hadn't come home. That morning, as people from the neighborhood searched, your body ...

That's where he stopped reading.

Baxter hadn't planned on ever seeing you again. He knew that. As he flew over the country after leaving you, he'd tried to minimalize the entire summer and what it had meant to him until he'd almost convinced himself that that's what he actually wanted.

But knowing now that it wasn't a possibility to see you again, that it would never happen ... that even if he magically became a person who could believe in himself and fight for what he really wanted, that he couldn't have you, was a pain he couldn't have ever prepared himself for.

Once his tears slowed, he pulled himself up, absentmindedly brushing off his legs. He looked in the water. It was dark and still, nothing like the ocean he'd seen with you over the summer. Even so, he couldn't stop himself from picturing you in there, struggling.

He slammed his eyes shut and put both hands in his hair, then balled them into fists, pulling. The pain became forefront in his mind, and he managed to take a breath. Then another.

You were going to be there, Baxter realized. In the water. In the sand, in the mountains, in bowling alleys and cupcakes and feather boas and coffee shops. In summer. There was no way of changing that.

He was just going to have to find a way to live with it.

[flownwrong]

something like this (due south fic)

F/K + F/K/V, rated T; ~1000 words

Summary: Ten ways Ray Kowalski's day can go.

A/N: For @thegoodthebadandtheart's birthday. Hap birth, friend! You're the real one <3

read on ao3

1. Back before The Great Frasering, my days went something like this: groan my way out of bed, try not to slip in the shower with my eyes not quite opening the whole way, inhale the coffee smell from the coffee mug, inhale the coffee from the coffee mug, Turtle feeding time, pants, shirt, holster, car, work—repeat in reverse, swapping coffee for beer and shower for a jerk-off-and-feel-sorry-for-myself session. Sprinkle in some evenings out with the guys—good collars, or someone's birthday, or impending fatherhood, or retirement—with bar games and shooting the shit, out of which I'm mostly good at that last one.

Work went something like this: come in, argue with anyone who's looking for an argument, try to make sure that doesn't include the witnesses or the Lieu, talk to people, shout at people, slap cuffs on people. On a good day, help people. Or at least try. Sprinkle in staying late in the attempts to keep all the papers in check, which wasn't as hard as you'd think considering back home it was mostly the TV and the Turtle waiting.

2. Then there was one day when work went something like this: Lieu calls me in, says, here's a doozy, wham, bam, I'm outta there, outta my own skin, outta my depth.

3. During The Great Frasering, my days went something like this: get to the station, hang out with Fraser, take a fat pill's worth of trippy shit, argue with Fraser, work with Fraser, hang out with Fraser, get slobbered on by wolf, go to bed, sleep the sleep of the dead—not necessarily in that order. Same on weekends, only without work. Well, not every time. Sprinkle in some letting Stella go, some letting Fraser in, some times my heart would feel so huge with needing him I was sure that was all she wrote.

4. Then there was one day that went something like this: Fraser catches a weirdass fish, gets on the trail of the killer of his mother, wham, bam, I'm outta Vecchio's skin, outta a plane, outta a partner. I'm lucky Fraser didn't get the memo.

5. The adventure went something like this: learn so much new stuff my brain felt three sizes too big for my skull, get why Fraser can't shut up about this place, spend so much time looking up at the sky one night I got a crick in my neck and felt dizzy, kiss Fraser, some more dizzy, try to figure out whether I said I loved him out loud only for him to say it first. Not find any hands, reaching out or otherwise, except for Fraser's hand down my pants, which, I'll be honest, I'll take over Franklin's any day of the week.

6. Then there was one day that went something like this: pack up my shit and go back to Chicago, listen to Fraser snuffle in his sleep on the plane, thank whoever's in charge about two hundred and eighteen times. Come home, curl up together in bed in the puzzle pieces way we worked out, only this time it's my bed, and technically it's the next day, but it's not like I stay up to check the clock.

7. After, it was The Great Frasering 2, bigger and better and like nothing I ever hoped for, until—

8. —the day that went something like this: Fraser sneaks off after lunch, which is nothing that pings my radar because he's his own guy, but then he comes home late and miserable and tells me Vecchio's back in town, which, yeah, maybe isn't something I was gonna do a victory lap about, but he looks way worse than I feel, which is ten different kinds of wrong, and then he says he owes me a bare minimum of honesty about his desires, with this face that gives me the idea he maybe isn't talking about me decked out in latex swinging a whip at him kind of desires, which scares the brains out of me because when it comes to the big feely things Fraser hardly ever talks, and I don't know if I will sock him one or curl up on the floor and sob until he tells me and it's so queer I end up laughing.

9. The days after that went something like—like something I don't even—but the important part is Fraser stays right where I want him, where I will always want him, and it turns out that's not the only thing I can want.

10. So, today went something like this: wake up late to an empty bed, inhale the coffee—the good stuff I never ask for but get nonetheless, have a bad hair day, go to work pissed off, piss Fraser off, piss the perp off, watch Fraser piss the perp off, take one in the jaw, give as good as I got, slap cuffs on the perp, sit through his song and dance, finally get rid of him. Endure the party, blow the party early, drive Fraser home. Open the door to Vecchio cooking, see him see me and swear, get the third bag of peas today slapped onto my face, get a beer and watch him chew Fraser out, better than TV. Eat half the whatever Vecchio's cooking right from the pan, listen to Fraser chew me out for bad behavior when all he really cares about is that there's less left for him. Make out with Fraser, pause for dinner, make out with Vecchio, try to stop the wolf from making out with me because I still smell like the good sauce, watch Vecchio make out with Fraser. Say wait, wait, what about the cake, hear Vecchio say what cake, say the one you made, hear the eyeroll as he says if you wanted one, should've made it yourself, say fuck you and get only today, Kowalski. Get herded off into the bedroom by Fraser, get horizontal, get—well, use your imagination.

So maybe this isn't exactly how I envisioned forty, but hey, my definition of a good day? Probably something like this.

[suzukiblu]

excerpt from "you make a really good girl (as girls go)" sequel:

“How long until we get off this miserable iceberg?” Azula asks as Ty Lee is pinning her topknot in place for her. She hasn’t slept since the wedding—there’s been too much to do—but getting out of the wedding robes she'd knocked it loose. 

“We can be ready to leave within the hour, Princess Azula,” the captain says from the hallway outside her bunk. 

“Good,” Azula says crisply. “Expect to be.” 

“Where should we put Yue?” Ty Lee pipes up. “All her stuff’s still on the dock, right?” 

"Yes, I suppose it is," Azula replies with a sigh. Yue is currently outside the ship being fussed over by more servants than Azula had previously seen in the entirety of the North Pole, and she has no idea how the other’s standing it. “Put her things in the hold with mine. And . . . do we actually have another respectable bunk on this ship, Captain?” 

“Er,” he says with a wince. “No, Princess Azula. Your quarters are the only ones in any condition to house . . . well, a princess.” 

“Of course they are,” Azula mutters. This ship is pathetic. “Fine, figure out what she needs to have immediate access to and bring it here. We’re not going to start off a brand-new treaty by offending the locals now.” 

“I think we’ve already offended the locals,” Mai says dryly. 

“Yes, by intentional calculation,” Azula says. “Not because some damn fool decided we only needed one presentable room in this entire ship. Where are you two even sleeping?” 

“There’s some little bunks. And there’s hammocks in the hold,” Ty Lee says with a shrug, slipping the ornament into her hair. Azula makes a face at the thought, appalled. 

“I’m getting a bigger boat commissioned,” she says. “Someone somewhere owes me a wedding present, they’ll do it.” 

“Please do,” Mai says. “I’m sick of sleeping in a box.” 

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Ty Lee says airily as she finishes the last little adjustments to Azula’s hair, then pauses and frowns down at the back of her head. Azula eyes her in the mirror. 

“What is it?” she says. 

“There’s . . . ink?” Ty Lee says, sounding puzzled. “On the back of your neck.” 

“There’s what?” Azula’s nose wrinkles in distaste. 

[c0mbatchameleon]

anna, i’m intrigued by dr house has come to euthanize me, tell me about it pleaseee

omg thank u 4 asking babe. so.

this is the one I have virtually nothing on except vibes. I think I posted once that regulus would make a perfect Dr house because well. duh.

Just this cynical, miserable doctor who’s a genius at what he does and does not do it out of care for people or for the betterment of the world or whatever the fuck. he simply loves a problem to solve. patients are his perfect little inanimate puzzles. they might as well be dolls. no more real than the fake names on an exam question.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how regulus could be mistaken for a generally empathetic person (which he like is but also definitely isn’t), simply because of how much effort he puts into knowing people. it’s not that he wants to understand those around him and how they feel. it’s a compulsory need. a need to formulate some sort of prescription for the world at large, to understand why people do what they do like a game, an algorithm. and that’s very similar to House to me. although I haven’t watched the show in yrs.

and so he’s saved so many lives and it’s not at all out of the goodness of his heart.

My friend once told me abt tuberculosis and how it has had such a heavy influence on history that persists to this day. like there are randoms aspects of our present society that you would think “well this surely is not an indirect consequence of the widespread disease once known as Consumption” and then it IS. and Im a little obsessed with this idea of a Dr. Regulus Black who has this hyperfixation on disease and plague. he’s got this cynical worldview regarding how we are all shaped by disease, how we don’t need the pathogen itself to invade our body for it to still live in us, in all of us. we are diseased and we are doomed and love is just a meaningless chemical, love is an evolutionary response and my parents just didn’t get enough of those chemicals for whoever reason but it doesn’t matter because I don’t need love to survive.

and then enter cardiologist James (Wilson or whatever) who has the opposite outlook and loves too much and gets too attached to patients and allows Regulus to be soft meanwhile Regulus allows James to be mean or selfish or whatever in a way he doesn’t really get to be around anyone else.

also enter estranged Sirius who knows regulus doesn’t wanna see him but Remus is dying and no doctors can figure out why and this is his last hope.

eeeeeek

[cooliogirl101]

Per my last post, I mentioned how hyperintuition might be an interesting signet power to explore, combined with Violet's intelligence. Here's an experiment in how that might play out:

"Why?" Violet asked, sounding genuinely curious. Xaden blinked. Out of all the responses he'd expected, that hadn't been one of them.

"Why shouldn't we be friends?" Violet repeated, after Xaden didn't respond.

"The history between our families isn't enough for you?" Xaden scoffed, injecting as much scorn as possible into his voice.

"We agreed a long time ago not to let what happened between our parents influence our relationship," Violet said calmly, looking at him with those too-perceptive eyes of hers. "Try again."

"Look, let's not make this more awkward than it has to be. We're already tied together through our dragons which is difficult enough as it is. Adding emotions into the mix--" Longing, fondness, admiration so intense it made this chest hurt. "--is only going to complicate things."

"If anything, that only provides more reason for us to become friends," Violet argued. "You're right, it's not an ideal situation, but the fact of the matter is, we're bound together because our dragons are mated to each other. Your life is tied to mine, we're never going to be able to be apart from each other for any significant amount of time. If that's the case, why not make the best of it? If we're going to be stuck together, isn't it better if things are amicable between us? Otherwise we're just both going to be miserable all the time."

It all seemed very logical to Violet. She didn't understand why Xaden was being so stubborn about this whole thing.

"Have you ever considered that maybe I just don't want to be friends with you?" He asked bitingly. "That I don't care for you and I don't particularly want to try?"

Hurt bubbled up like a river of acid in Violet's throat and she swallowed, feeling the corners of her eyes prickle. She ignored it, shoving it back down and expertly wiping her face clean of any emotion-- say what you want about Liilith Sorrengail but she had taught her daughter some things, one of which was putting up emotional walls-- and focused instead on the feeling of wrongness sitting like a weight in her chest.

"That excuse would work better if you hadn't spent the past several months seeking me out," she murmured. "There's a reason why you don't want to get close to me. Or rather, why you don't want me to get close to you, isn't there?" There was a bell-like humming in her ears. She was on the right track. "And it's not because you don't care-- if you wanted me to think that, you shouldn't have made me those daggers or commissioned me that saddle, Xaden."

She tilted her head in thought as she considered what she knew about Xaden Riorson. Or rather, what she didn't know.

"The secret meetings you've been having. The trips you've been taking. The thing you've been hiding from me," Violet said, watching Xaden's face carefully. "That wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it?"

She exhaled as the air seemed to shift to the tune of a puzzle piece sliding into place.

"If that's the case, perhaps you don't want me getting closer to you because it increases my chances of figuring out what you're involved in. As for why you're so determined to keep the truth from me...maybe you think I'll report what you're doing? No-- that's not quite it. Or at least, it's not the whole truth," Violet mused as her chest twinged uncomfortably. "Maybe you're afraid it'll change how I view you? I think that's part of it. Or is it that what you're involved in is so dangerous that getting closer to you could potentially endanger me by association?" The thrumming in her ears got louder, even as she watched Xaden stiffen abruptly. "That's got to be it, hasn't it?"

Xaden fought to keep his expression blank as Violet continued talking with the confidence of someone who had Magic itself telling her she was right.

Even before receiving her signet ability, her mind was something formidable. Afterwards? Now it was more than a little terrifying being on the other side of that intelligence.

"Of course, that's only part of the puzzle. Now, as for what you're hiding...well, obviously you're not the only one involved. Garrick and Bodhi are clearly in on it, quite possibly all the Marked ones are. Now, a secret that involves the children of the rebellion leaders and is so damning that you worry I'll turn against you and that even being friends with you would drag me down by association--" Her voice faded into silence as she let the implications sink in.

Xaden's eyes widened with something like panic. "It's not what you think--!"

"No, I don't think you're plotting another revolution, Xaden," Violet said quietly, cutting him off. He relaxed slightly. "The thing is, whatever you know, Sgaeyl knows, and what Sgaeyl knows, Tairn knows."

Isn't that right, Tairn? She asked the dragon who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now.

I chose you for your intelligence. Tairn let out a resigned sigh. It was all the answer she needed.

"And if Tairn chose to keep this from me, then whatever you're doing is not something that will put me or Navarre at risk. But it is something that you would be killed for doing." Violet paused. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I don't think any amount of ignorance or emotional distance between us is going to shield me from getting dragged along with you if you go down. So let me ask you again, Xaden, because I think I have a right to know-- what are you hiding from me?"

A pause. Then Andarna's voice piped up in her head, impressed.

You got all that from 'I don't want to be friends with you'?!

(Violet: I don't like to pry into my friends' secrets. They're entitled to their privacy.

Xaden: We're not friends.

Violet: ...

Violet: Gonna make you regret saying that.)

[dmwrites]

The Beetlejoest was lost. Not that Joe was any better, really, but Beetlejoest hated being on the same level as Joe with anything, so you could understand how this was annoying. Joe had gone to the mangrove forest of the witch Shelby, to ask her for some mangrove roots and wood. He hadn't realized the time of night, the fool, and Beetlejoest had taken over, said fuck the system, and went into the thick forest himself to just yoink some roots for himself. However, the fog in and around the forest was thick, and within a few minutes, the Beetlejoest was hopelessly lost.

“Stupid fog.” The Beetlejoest muttered, hitting the side of a mangrove tree with a stick he’d found. “Stupid Joe, wanting mangrove roots. What, is normal wood too good for you, you hipster? I’ll fight the fog, that’s what I’ll do. Intimidation is the only way to get what you want, ya hear that, fog?”

“You can’t fight fog, you miserable shit.” A voice, airy and echoing, came from the fog.

“Ahh! Wha- who’s there? This ain’t my ex-wife, is it?”

“What? No, I don’t think I’m your ex-wife.” A tall figure stepped into view. The being was slightly translucent, although the Beetlejoest could still see that the figure wore a faded yellow sweater, with a peculiar blue stain. “I’m Ghostbur. Who are you? And have you seen a blue sheep around?”

“Ah, well, see, me here, I’m the Beetlejoest, in no way affiliated with Joe Hills, thank you very much.” The Beetlejoest adjusted his suit and stuck out a hand. Ghostbur tried to shake it, but since they were both ghosts, they just had an awkward moment where their hands went through each others. “I haven’t seen or heard a sheep, much less a blue one. Can’t see a darn thing in this fog.”

“Well, if you see one, it’s name is Friend, and it fucking ran off.” Ghostbur started to wander off, but the Beetlejoest ran after him.

“Wait! Wait! I would normally time you out and make you read the rules, and cursing is one of them, but beggars can’t be choosers! I am lost, and I need help getting out of this dumb forest! I can help you find your sheep, first, of course, I’m not a monster, just a ghost, a Beetlejoest doing the beetlemost, if you will.”

Ghostbur turned to look at him. “You talk so much, yet say so little. But I guess I also don’t have a choice, so come on then.”

The Beetlejoest opened and closed his mouth in surprise and outrage, but decided to wait to strike his revenge and followed the taller ghost.

“Friend! Friend! Come back I have some nice wheat for you!” Ghostbur called into the fog.

“What kind of name is Friend, anyway?” The Beetlejoest grumbled crossly. “Did you have to be 2014 tumblr quirky or something?”

“You must be American- you remind me of that annoying American guy with the onesie. Came into my house and put American flags up. I burnt them, naturally. You’re not Connor in disguise, are you? He’d be the type to get lost in fog.” Ghostbur sneered.

“No, I am The Beetlejoest through and through.” The Beetlejoest said. “But if you wish to speak on the American flag, did you know that-”

“Shut up, I hear baa-ing!” Ghostbur interrupted. “Friend? I have some wheat! Come here!”

And out of the fog came a fluffy blue sheep, which looked calmer then both of the ghosts combined. Ghostbur hugged it in relief and tied a lead to it.

“Right, so, I helped you, now will you help me find my way out?” The Beetlejoest asked.

Ghostbur laughed awkwardly. “Well, I’m afraid that I’m now in the same boat as you. I am also lost. I don’t even know how I got into this forest in the first place.”

The Beetlejoest looked at him in surprise. “How can you not know how you got here?”

Ghostbur frowned, a puzzled look on his face. “I don’t know. I wasn’t here, and then I was.”

“Well, where were you before, then?” The Beetlejoest asked.

Ghostbur shook his head. “I’d rather not… don’t worry about it, alright? I’m sure if we walk in a line, we’ll find an end. Where? I don’t know.”

So, with no other option, they walked. They made for quite a crew- a black and white ghost in a pinstripe suit, a ghost with a yellow sweater, and a blue sheep. They walked through the fog, avoiding mangrove trees that came out of nowhere and ignoring the whispers. And eventually, somehow, they emerged from the fog and were right in front of Shelby’s house.

“We did it!” The Beetlejoest said. “I’m back where I was. I don’t know how, but we did it!” He went to high-five Ghostbur, but found the man gone, the sheep as well. All that was left was a bit of blue substance on the ground, like a rock or something. The Beetlejoest picked it up, and as he did, the first rays of sun peaked over the treetops, and Joe Hills took his place. He held the blue substance in his hands, not a solid or a liquid, but something else entirely.

“Well, thanks Ghostbur. And Friend. Sorry we didn’t get to say goodbye.” Joe said. He pocketed the blue stuff, and took the nether portal nearby back home. He could just use something else in place of those mangrove roots. He didn’t need them that badly.

[banannabethchase]

I feel I'm rubbish at these, cos I don't give prompts, it's more a collection of words like "HangMatt, with lingerie maybe" *shrug emoji* 😉 Oooooh! Would you ever consider more details on the Hangman Matt experiments?? 🥺

Look So Good Underneath Me - also on AO3

~

Adam decides to try a new one of his experiments with Matt, and decides on pink panties. It backfires. Deliciously.

~

Jules I need you to be aware that this is ENTIRELY your fault. This prompt isn't rubbish, it's pure GOLD. Thank you! Title from Pink G-String by Scene Queen.

~

“I have a present for you,” Adam says once Matt picks up the phone. He lights up immediately.

“A present?” he asks. “What kind? Can I see?”

“Not until Dynamite,” Adam says, fighting his own grin. “You gotta wait.”

Matt huffs. “This is one of your stupid experiments again, isn’t it. Is this like the time you bought me a neon orange butt plug and had me wear it the night we won the six-man tags in Ring of Honor? Is this a throwback?”

Adam throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, my god, no. But we should revisit that. That was good.”

“But it is an experiment,” Matt says, and when Adam turns his eyes back to his phone screen, even FaceTime can’t hide Matt’s interest. “Right?”

“Maybe,” Adam singsongs. “Maybe I just want to get something pretty for my boyfriend.”

“So it’s something pretty!” Matt says, like he solved some sort of puzzle. “Just tell me.”

“Nope,” Adam says. “You have to wait.”

Matt groans, sounding like Adam’s high schoolers would get when he’d tell them they couldn’t skip any more classes or they’d fail. “Is this like the edging thing you did back before the pandemic that backfired?”

Adam frowns. “No. God. Why would you remind me of that disaster?”

“If I’m miserable, you’re miserable,” Matt says, with a grin.

“What a horrible line,” Adam laughs. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you,” Matt clarifies. “But you’re being mean to me so I figured I’d give it back to you.”

“Cute,” Adam says. “Very cute. I wish you were here so I could fuck that smug little smile off of you. I’ll have to wait until Wednesday, though.”

Matt turns pink. “Miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby,” Adam murmurs. “I’ll see you soon. Two days, okay?”

“Two days,” Matt confirms. “Love you.”

“I love you more.”

Adam hangs up and has to shove his face in a pillow with the stupid, fluffy feeling building in his chest. It’s been months back with Matt, and before that years with and without him, and he still gets all dumb about him.

When he’s finally gotten his shit together and has stopped mooning over his boyfriend, Adam grabs the box he’d ordered and pulls out the pink lacy thong, neon and so flimsy it’s almost pointless.

The sight of it alone, the image of what Matt might look like wearing it, is enough to get him hard. He gets off looking at a photo of Matt, and curling the lacy fabric in his free hand.

~

“Hi!”

Adam turns to see a familiar flurry barreling toward him and leaping into his arms.

“Hey, baby,” he says, hugging Matt close. Matt’s legs around his waist feel like home. “It’s only been a couple days, you really miss me that much?”

“Uh-huh,” Matt says, burying his face into Adam’s neck. He sighs. “Plus you did the teasy thing again with the present, and now that I see you, I know I’m gonna get it.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get it alright,” Adam says, sliding his hand up Matt’s thigh.

“For the love of god, not in the airport.”

Adam brushes some of Matt’s hair out of the way. “Oh! Hi, Nick.”

“Hey,” Nick nods. “Can you put my brother down, please?”

Matt lets out a long suffering sigh as he slides down Adam’s body to the floor. “You ruin the fun, Nicky.”

“I ruin the public indecency charges.” Nick hits Matt in the back with his own backpack. “Grab your stuff so we can all get to the hotel and I can have some peace away from you two heathens.”

“Heathens, schmeathens,” Matt says, rolling his eyes as he grabs his backpack and Adam’s hand. “I’m not the one who was checking out Billy Gunn’s ass last week.”

“Really!” Adam says. “Nick, do you have a thing for Billy?”

“Shut up, Matt,” Nick grumbles. He won’t meet Adam’s eyes. “Matt, you said you wouldn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but it’s Adam,” Matt says, like the name alone gives context. “You know. We tell him everything.”

“You tell him everything,” Nick corrects, shaking his head with a little smile on his face. “I try to keep a little mystery going.”

~

It’s a whirlwind to get back to the hotel, and they end up with less time than Adam had hoped to get ready. He’s in the middle of unpacking when Matt shuffles past him with his carryon thrown over his shoulder. Always the performer.

“You know you don’t have to show off the biceps all the time for me to think you’re hot, right?”

Matt throws a grin over his shoulder. “Yeah, but it’s fun.” He unzips his bag, and Adam is…concerned.

“Oh,” Adam says, blinking. “The white gear.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, taking the white gear and putting it carefully into his venue bag. “I thought you like the white gear.”

Adam bites his lip. “Oh, I do. I definitely do. I just, uh,” he turns around to go to his checked luggage, and pulls out the poorly wrapped gift. “Here. Open it.”

Matt’s brow furrows. “Oh, I know what this is.”

“You do?” Adam asks. “How?”

Matt locks his eyes on Adam’s as he rips it open, pulls out the box, and pulls out the panties. “Because you’re predictable, Adam.” He grins. “You’ve always liked me in pink.”

“Okay, see, but who wouldn’t?” He crowds into Matt’s space until Matt’s back hits the wall. He brushes some of Matt’s hair over his shoulder, careful to graze his fingers against Matt’s neck, just to make his shiver. He leans in, lips at Matt’s ear. “You look so good in it.”

Matt exhales. “Why are you doing this to me when we have to be at the venue in twenty minutes?” he whispers.

“Because I like it when you get riled up.”

Matt laughs. “So predictable.” But he’s breathing a little heavily, his eyes are a little blown, and he can’t stop looking at Adam’s mouth. “I – do you want me to wear this under my gear? Because, well, Nick and I thought white gear because it goes with everything, but we also brought something else.” Matt steps away from Adam and reaches into his bag.

“The purple and black and white would definitely make it harder to see the thong through the clothes.” Adam licks his lips. “Then it’s just you and me who know. Maybe I’ll snap at it a little during the match, just to remind you.”

“Okay, seriously, this is just mean,” Matt says, and he folds his arms across his chest. “You better get me really good after Rampage. I don’t care how tired I am.”

Adam tilts his head. “I – what?”

“You heard me,” Matt says, sliding a leg between Adam’s. “You’re gonna rail me so hard after tonight’s match, when we win those belts back, it’ll be like we’re back in our Ring of Honor days.”

Adam blinks. “That might be the most dominant you’ve ever been, and it’s begging me to fuck you. You’re an enigma, baby.”

Matt is snippy and on edge the whole night, and Adam fights the urge to laugh when Kenny says, “Jesus, what crawled up your ass.” Matt huffs and glares at Adam.

“Are you two in a fight?” Nick asks. “Because if you two are in a fight, I’ll be forced to kill you if we don’t win tonight. I don’t want to commit murder.”

“We’re not fighting,” Adam says, and his expression is apparently not blank enough because Nick groans.

“Jesus, you two,” but at least he’s laughing. “Don’t even tell me. Just,” he turns to Matt, “be normal for the match.”

“I am normal!”

“Are not.”

“Are too!”

“Okay,” Adam says, stepping between the two of them before they get each other riled up in the bad way. “Why don’t we all get back to the locker room and start getting ready, yeah?”

“I’ll see you three later,” Kenny says, eyes not leaving the screen next to Tony. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

It’s early to get ready, with Rampage just starting, but Adam would rather Nick and Matt be bitchy in private than to gather an audience.

“I don’t know why I got dragged in here,” Nick says, rolling his eyes.

“Because Matt’s bitchy and you were goading him,” Adam explains.

“Yeah, Nick –”

“Nope,” Adam says, shoving him into a chair. “Not on your side, baby.” He takes the moment to loom over Matt, who goes all giant eyed and soft. He adds the next sentence in a whisper. “Be good.”

Matt nods. “Okay.”

“I’d say teach me how to do that,” Nick says, flopping into a chair, “but I think that would be gross.”

Adam laughs. “No shit, Sherlock.”

They watch the rest of the show as they slowly pull their gear on. Nick is rambling about shoes while Matt stays extremely close to Adam.

“Matt, I’m not gonna fuck you until after the match,” Adam murmurs, disguising it with a kiss to Matt’s temple.

“Why not?”

“We have, like, twenty minutes before we have to be at gorilla.”

Matt gets this little smile on his face. “Well –”

“No!” Adam laughs. He falls onto the couch next to Matt and grabs him around the waist. “God, you’re the worst.”

“You both suck pretty bad right now,” says Nick, but he’s smiling down at his phone, so Adam thinks it’s not too bad. He resists the urge to ask if it’s Billy.

“I gotta go put on my gear,” Matt says, and he winks at Adam. When he gets his things out of his bag, Adam feels a shiver run up his spine when he spots a hint of neon pink. From where he’s bent over, Matt flashes him a grin that makes Adam rock hard in seconds.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and he realizes far later than he should have that, as much as this experiment messes with Matt, it’ll mess with him, too.

~

Adam thinks the universe is an absolute dickwad by sending Swerve out in the middle of his match with Matt. He’s able to focus when he gets flashes of pink, so slight and so infrequently he’s sure no one else can see it. But it powers him, and it focuses him, and it reminds him why he’s here.

He catches the pink in the corner of his eye right before he pins Cage.

“We did it!” Matt says, breathless and grinning, belt in his hands as he walks backstage. “We won!”

“We did,” Adam laughs, and he’s not doing the best job of staying in the moment, stuck on Swerve and what he might do next. “Holy shit, we did.”

“Hey,” Matt says firmly. “Focus on right now.” He raises his belt and bumps it with Adam’s, and it feels like a promise. “We did it.”

Nick barrels in. “Not to interrupt the love fest, but Hung Bucks champs for life!” He throws his arms around the both of them, and they stumble their way into a wall. Adam’s happy, the kind of soul expanding, deep, long term happy he only feels around Matt, around Nick, around his friends.

The way he used to feel around the Dark Order. But he’s going to listen to Matt. And he’ll focus on right now.

Still tangled with both Bucks, Adam pulls back a little and grins, locking eyes with Matt as he slides his hand down Matt’s back, just under the hem of his pants, and snaps the waistband of the panties.

Matt looks deliciously scandalized, the pink across his cheeks and the smile making it very clear where his mind went.

“Okay,” Nick laughs. “Let’s get backstage to the –”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Tony practically stomps over to them. “I need you two – not you, Adam, unless you want to, I guess – to help coordinate Ubers and Lyfts for some of the talent.”

 Matt blinks. “Why?”

“Because it’s much later than we usually wrap up Rampage and it feels like, I don’t know, wrong to have everybody just try their best to find a ride back to the hotel when it’s past midnight.” He wrinkles his nose. “And I have to talk to the owner of this place about how, no, the blood isn’t going to bring a bad reputation to the place.” He gives Nick a look. “Unless you want to do the political work.”

“I will begin setting up Uber and Lyft rides as long as you never threaten me with politics again,” Nick says. “Come on you, two. Adam, you can talk on a phone, right?”

“Literally no,” Adam says. “Like, anxious millennial is my whole vibe.”

“Deal with it,” Nick says, and he grabs Adam and Matt by the wrists and yanks them over to a quieter space.

Adam makes so many phone calls. So many. Matt, next to him, is chattering away with a big smile, and the tiny hint of pink peeking out from the back of his pants is enough to make Adam’s brain fry.

They go on like this for twenty full minutes, call after call to coordinate between people. The worst is giving specific Uber and Lyft codes out to talent until they can barely read numbers, until Tony comes back from his meeting with a smile.

“You three,” he says, pointing to them, “are godsends. The owner of this place figured out what was happening and thought that we could use that to combat any blood related PR for the night, so no more worries about the way things look.” He exhales. “Go back to the locker rooms, get ready to go. They’re giving us an extra forty-five minutes to clean up and give you time to get yourselves together.”

“Great,” Adam says, blood suddenly no longer in his head. “Wonderful.”

“I’m heading back to the hotel now,” Nick says, typing on his phone. “I can shower there. I’m beat.”

Adam laughs, almost accidentally. “Come on, Matty, let’s go clean up.”

Nick goes with them to get his gear, and Adam’s so hard he’s getting dizzy. Matt can’t even know how the way he bends over flashes the tiniest hint of pink every time, how Adam can tell, through the pants, Matt’s in a thong that Adam bought for him. For some ungodly reason, Matt pulls on a tee shirt. A shirt. He’s covering up that perfect body more.

Adam feels like a dick, but he tries to silently will Nick to pack faster.

Matt yawns a little, stretching enough to reveal another flash of pink, and Adam snaps.

“Nick,” he says, voice sounding tight. “Need help packing?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Nick says. He throws his bag over his shoulder. “You guys wanna get Denny’s or something?”

Matt opens his mouth, but Adam barrels over him. “Nah, we’re good.” He shoots Matt a look that he hopes conveys ‘stop talking so I can fuck you into oblivion.’ “We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Nick narrows his eyes, studying Adam’s face, and Adam tries to stay as neutral as possible. “If you end up on the news tomorrow for whatever this,” he waves his hand, “energy is, I’m not bailing you out.”

“Deal,” Adam says. “Fine. See you tomorrow. Love you. Bye.”

Nick’s still laughing as the door swings shut behind him.

“What is up with –”

Adam doesn’t give Matt the time to speak. He collides with Matt, grabbing at his shirt, ripping it at the hem at his haste to get it off.

“Mine,” he growls against Math’s mouth as he kisses him.

“Oh!” Matt yelps. “Oh, yes, love this.”

Adam shoves Matt against the wall, leaning in to suck a bruise into Matt’s neck, down his shoulder. Matt hums into it.

“I kind of liked that shirt,” he pants. “You ripped it.”

“Yeah?” Adam asks. He grabs at Matt’s thighs and lifts him. “Deal with it, baby, I’m gonna wreck a lot more.”

Matt lets out this delighted, high pitched little whine. “God, took you long enough.”

Adam drops Matt on the massage table, scrabbling at the waistband of Matt’s gear pants. He grabs Matt’s hand and pins it to he massage table when he tries to help, and Matt exhales.

“God, yes,” Matt exhales. “I love it when you get this way.”

“You in those fuckin’ panties,” Adam grumbles, roughly yanking Matt’s gear pants down. He lets go of Matt’s hand, needing an assist, and Matt reaches above his head to grab at the top of the table.

“Yeah?” Matt asks, lifting his hips so Adam can yank the pants down. “You like them a lot?”

“I can’t stand them,” Adam says, and he doesn’t even take the time to take the panties off. He leans in, mouths at Matt’s dick through the lace, and the whine that comes out of Matt is almost enough to make Adam come in his pants.

“Adam,” Matt gasps. “Oh – take ‘em off, now, I need you to fuck me immediately.”

Adam pulls back, grinning. “Did you just swear?”

Matt pushes up on his elbows. “Did you just stop?”

“Fair point.” Adam pulls back and locks his eyes on Matt as he walks back to the bags.

“Why are you leaving?” Matt asks, breathing so hard Adam can see the movement. “Come back.”

“Gotta get lube, baby,” Adam says, grinning. He slides his hand in his bag, and it’s right in the front pocket, in the ziplock one quart baggie that made the TSA agent blush. He flicks the bottle open with one thumb, and Matt drops back with a thud against the massage table.

Adam gets back to Matt and unbuckles his pants as fast as he can, his cock springing from his boxers when he shoves them down his hips. It’s almost a relief. He grabs Matt’s legs, yanking him half off the table.

“Yes,” Matt says. “Yes, now, anything.”

Adam laughs, and it sounds a little dark to his own ears. “Slow down baby, we gotta get you nice and open first.”

Matt whines, one of Adam’s favorite sounds, and throws his legs over Adam’s shoulders without another request. Adam presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh. “I gotta take these off first.”

“Okay,” Matt says, but Adam stops him before he moves his legs. Adam leans in and carefully grabs the band around Matt’s thighs with his teeth, dragging them down a thigh. It’s harder than he would have expected, but with a little help from his hands, the panties are gone. He shifts, ducking so he can yank them off and throw them somewhere in the room.

“You have no idea how hot that was,” Matt pants. “Get in me.”

“Hold on,” Adam laughs, turning to bite at the soft skin of Matt’s thigh. He drips lube on his fingers and watches, rapt, as he traces Matt’s hole for a second, listening to Matt’s pained whimpers.

“Adam, please.” He sounds like he’s near to tears. “I can’t wait any more. Please.”

Adam slides a finger inside of Matt, and it’s so easy, like he’s made to fit inside of Matt. Matt exhales and his body relaxes.

“Not enough,” he gasps, “but better.”

Adam grins as he works in another finger, Matt pleading for more as each twist of his fingers presses up against his prostate. With the third, Matt’s heels press into Adam’s shoulders so firmly Adam’s pretty sure there will be a mark.

“I’m ready, and you know it,” Matt bitches. “I want it now.”

Adam drops Matt down, grip iron on Matt’s thighs, until he’s at the right angle. Like this, he can pull Matt down on his dick, the leverage so perfect it feels impossible.

“Oh, god, yes,” Matt groans. “That’s – holy fuck.”

“Two fucks in one night,” Adam quips, finally clearheaded now that his dick is buried in Matt, “what a surprise.”

“I could go for two in one night,” Matt says, and he uses those obscene biceps and a grip on the table to fuck himself on Adam’s dick. “Back at the hotel?”

“Focus on getting railed right now, Matthew, Jesus,” Adam laughs, but he can’t stop smiling. It’s been years since they started doing this, months since they fell back together, and it’s still this good. He still can’t get enough of Matt’s attempts to keep a conversation going, of the way Matt yanks him down for a kiss, the way he’ll grab at Adam’s hand even when it’s impossible to hold hands.

“I love you,” Adam says, “just wanna make sure you know.”

“I know,” Matt says, eyes fluttering closed as Adam adjusts the pace and the angle. “I – know, Adam, I love you too. I wanna come soon, please?”

“You asking permission now?” Adam chuckles. “That something you might wanna try? Me saying no?”

“Not today, but yes,” Matt says. He’s got his teeth sunk down in that pretty pink lip of his, and Adam has to lean in and kiss it, just for the moment. He taps Matt’s leg to make sure he hooks it right around Adam’s waist, then moves his hand, still slick, to wrap around Matt’s cock. Matt whimpers when Adam keeps his grip lose and not quite what he wanted. He was tortured earlier with knowing all of this was covered in pretty pink. Matt can get a little teasing too. Only, he realizes, as he loosens his grip even further, now he’s thinking about those panties, and what Matt would look like in another pair, and his brain is flames again.

“Matt,” Adam laughs, a bit delirious, “fuck, I think this experiment backfired.”

“I disagree,” and he sounds far too put together. Adam picks up the pace of both his hand and his thrusts. “I – oh my god, right like that – think it proved that I look good in panties, right?”

“Yeah, of course you do. But I think it fucked with me more than it fucked with you.” He digs his fingers into Matt’s thighs, tightens his grip on Matt’s cock. “God, I want to be inside you all the time. Next time I’m fucking you with the panties on.”

“Yes,” Matt whines. “Yeah, get – get me all kinds of colors, rip ‘em off me.”

Adam isn’t used to feeling this, like he needs to fuck Matt and won’t settle until he does, like being hilt deep in the man is the only thing that will keep him stable. He may have accidentally edged himself, which he didn’t realize was possible to do. “Anything,” he growls in Matt’s ear, and he bites at Matt’s thigh. Matt gasps.

“If me in undies does this to you, I should have gotten some sooner,” Matt laughs breathlessly. But the laughter fades quickly as Adam fucks into him like his life depends on it. “I – just like – this is different – don’t you dare change anything or I’ll – yes!” Matt comes spectacularly, so emphatically it gets up on Adam’s chin, and it’s enough to make Adam’s head spin with how he’s the one who made this happen. He’s the one who gets to see Matt like this, who gets to fuck him, who gets to love him, who gets every perfect and messy piece of him.

When he comes, he wonders if he’s allow to start thinking about proposing again.

“Jesus,” Adam says, exhaling as he pushes Matt back up the massage table. He drops his elbows down on the massage table, dropping his forehead on Matt’s messy belly.

Matt laughs, hands sliding into Adam’s hair, gently stroking. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m glad we have our own room. Think how weird it would have been to do it in the locker room when anyone could walk in.”

Adam raises his head. “You say weird, but I think you mean hot.”

“Of course I mean hot, but I’m trying to be a normal person.”

“Nope,” Adam says, and he presses a kiss right above Matt’s belly button. “Not allowed to be normal. If you were normal, you wouldn’t be Matt.”

They kiss and touch and gently wash in their private shower. Adam shares his shampoo with Matt and tries not to think of how it’ll make Matt smell like him, how it’ll make everything that much more difficult for him to manage knowing Matt feels even more like his.

They stumble out of the showers naked, drying off together, and dress with the slowest hands and most wandering eyes.

Adam thinks they’re in the clear, for once. Most of the roster is long gone, Nick’s at the hotel. Tony’s probably packing up. They might have time to waste. He and Matt are giggling at each other, hands all over each other like they’re in high school behind bleachers, packing up their stuff, when the door swings open.

“Any of you EVP guys got a – the fuck is that?”

“Is what?” Matt asks, and his expression is so clearly feigning innocence that it’s almost embarrassing.

Mox laughs, nodding to the corner of the locker room by the showers. “I bet those are yours, Jackson. You always look so good in pink.”

Adam’s and Matt’s heads snap over to – yup. Matt’s panties are still in the corner.

“Oh,” Matt says, biting his lip. He looks over to Mox, and Adam can see the way he steels himself. “Yeah, they are. And I do look good in them. You’re right about something.”

Adam thinks his own astonishment is reflected by Mox’s face. “Oh,” Mox says. “Okay. Yeah, didn’t see you admitting to it so easily. Damn.” He scans Matt’s body, then his gaze flickers to Adam. “You ever want a third, you got my number.”

“What?” Adam asks. “I thought you hated me.”

Mox laughs so hard and for so long it gives Matt the time to grab the panties from the corner of the room and stuff them back in his venue bag. “Oh, dude, no.” He shakes his head. “You think I would put myself in the position to get my hands all over the two of you in matches because I hate you?” He chuckles, almost condescending. “Jesus, you’re stupid. I love it.”

“What did you even come in here for?” Matt asks, planting his hands on his hips. He’s got a that little blush back, high on his cheeks. Adam knows what that means.

“I figured one of you two would have a phone charger.” He wiggles a gigantic brick in his hand. “Only room in the building with a light still behind it.”

Matt scoffs. “I have a charger, but maybe not for something that ancient.”

“It’s got a lightning plug!”

Adam snorts. “Sounds like a butt plug brand.”

“That is not a butt plug brand,” Mox says, at the same time Matt goes, “I’d buy from them.”

Adam watches the two of them lock eyes, and that blush rises up Matt’s cheeks even deeper red. But, Adam notes, it’s matched by one on Mox’s cheeks. “Okay, well, if you two are done eye fucking, we can find you a charger.” Adam decides to keep the idea that just popped into his head safe for later, when he and Matt are alone.

“We weren’t – we didn’t –” Matt looks over at Adam, panicked, but settles at Adam’s grin.

“Yeah, we were, baby doll, and I think he liked it.” Mox winks at Matt, then Adam. “So. Where’s that charger?”

~

Mini Playlist:

Pink G-String - Scene Queen

Thong Song - Sisqo

Do Me - Kim Petras

3 - Britney Spears

[kaunis-sielu]

Sick: 3

When you wake up you don’t feel much better than you did when you went to sleep. You’re just, exhausted.

But you won’t tell Helen that, she doesn’t look like she’s slept yet, she and Simmons are looking at something in microscopes. You don’t say anything until both women are away from the eye pieces.

“Hey,” Jemma glances over her shoulder at you, she’s in full hazmat gear and looks miserable.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” Jemma asks but Helen doesn’t look at you. You know that she isn’t because you’ll be able to tell with a glance if she’s rested or not.

“Totally fine. Has Helen slept yet?”

“No.”

“Helen.” You scold but she doesn’t stop working.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s been over 24 hours.”

“Not the longest I’ve gone.” She argues and you frown at her back.

“Jemma a little help here.” You look over at her and you see her sigh.

“Helen, we can do this, you should take a break.” Jemma tells her but you don’t have much hope she’s going to listen.

“I’m fine I swear.” She still hasn’t looked at you so you know it’s bull shit.

“Then look at me and say it to my face.” Helen is a shit liar and you all know it. You see her shoulders slump in defeat as she turns toward you. “The last thing we need is one of us down.”

“You’ll have to do it for me.” She tells you with a heavy sigh. “I can’t turn off, not with a puzzle like this.” You nod, if this is what you need to do to make sure she stays healthy and get some rest you’re fine with that.

“Do you just wanna share a room?” You ask and she nods then follows you into the room you’d just left. She lays on the bed that you hadn’t used and once she’s comfortable she looks at you.

“I’m ready.” She says softly and you touch her shoulder. With two slow, heavy blinks she falls asleep.

You head back out into the lab and head directly for Tony, Sam and Clint.

“How are they?”

“No change.” Jemma says, “Which is probably a good and a bad thing.” You nod as you gently touch each of your friends to make sure they’re not in any pain. You’re relieved that they seem to not be in much pain, you’re sure the IV’s they have in probably have some pain killers in them but you’re still glad you can focus more on other things. Like helping figure out what’s wrong with them.

“How are you feeling?” Jemma asks as she watches you take Clint’s temperature.

“Fine. A little tired but nothing like this.”

“The second you feel any sort of symptoms I need to know.”

“Okay.” You agree absently, Clint’s temperature is still up, 100° is a little high but it’s nothing like the 102.7° Sam was yesterday.

“Nox, I mean it.” Jemma says and you meet her gaze.

“I will. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I wasn’t listening.”

“I just, I’ve never seen anything like this and neither has Helen.”

“You’re worried.” You don’t have to ask, you can see it.

“Yea,”

“Me too.” You admit softly this isn’t like anything you’ve seen either. Someone taps on the glass of the wall and when you look over you see Steve. He’s holding a bag and a to go cup, god you miss him.

“Hi Honey,” he says with a little smile, “can I give you some food?”

“You’ll have to put it in the slot and send it through.”

“Can I stay?” He asks and you nod. Jemma suddenly vanishes to give you and Steve a moment. “I miss you.”

“I know but it’s the only way until we can figure out how to make this stop I can’t risk you.” You tell him, you can’t imagine how loud he must be talking. “Do you want to send an ear piece through? So we can talk?”

“You’re a genius.” He says with a grin before shoving the food and drink into the little delivery slot and closes the door on his side.

“Is it safe to come back or are you two going to be all gross and lovey?”

“I mean he’s going to get ear pieces so we can talk so, it’s probably going to be gross and lovey for a minute.” You tell her with a laugh and she fake retches. “Excuse me, you’re the one who got married to your bestie so don’t even with me.” You tease her and she laughs.

“I wish he could be here.” You hum softly, you’re glad you know where Steve is but you also wish he was a lot further away.

“Why don’t you get your pepper pods and call him? I know you two like to bounce ideas off one another and he might be helpful.” You open the bag and see a bagel wrapped in paper towel and one sip of the drink reveals that it’s not coffee like it looks, instead it’s orange juice. God you love him.

Steve comes back and sends an ear piece through and then gets comfortable on the other side of the glass as you put in the ear piece.

“I brought our book.”

“Chronicles of Narnia?”

“Yea.”

“You don’t mind reading?”

“Of course not.” You hum happily and Steve starts to read as you work. You’re peering through a new sample of Sam’s blood, whose temperature has gone down even more than before. It’s still too high but you’ll take it as good news, you have to take it as good news.

Helen wakes up a few hours later, you’re still listening to Steve read, he’s finished the Magician’s Nephew and has moved onto the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. You love the way his rich voice fills your ear as you work.

“How’s it going?” Helen asks and Steve pauses, the two of you are still only wearing masks, not the full hazmat suit that Jemma is wearing.

“Temperatures are down and Jemma has been working with Leo, running through things but so far no big revelations. How are you feeling?”

“Well rested. Thank you.” She says and you nod, “I’m going to take more blood. I just, I feel like this is there somewhere.”

“Do you want to take bone marrow too?”

“Maybe. I want a look at the blood again.” She says and you nod. The door to Bucky’s quarantine room opens and when you glance up you’re shocked at what he looks like.

“Buck?” Steve says in your ear and you know you’re not the only one who noticed how pale and confused he looks. Bucky stumbles toward Helen, he looks furious and you dart in front of her.

“Кто ты? Где я?” He growls in Russian.

“Bucky,” you say crouching, you just need to get a hand on him. “I’m your friend, Nox.”

“Кто такой Баки? Я не знаю тебя.” You dive then, touching his leg and he stumbles back. “Doll?” He says in English, and you hear the door open with a hiss. Steve has overridden the safety protocols and is in the room.

“No!” You scream jumping up and crashing into Steve to try and force him back.

“Bucky!”

“Steve?”

“Steve! Get out! Get out!” You’re in a blind panic, if Bucky can get sick so can Steve. “You have to get out!”

“Honey, it’s too late.” He says down at you with a sad smile, “I’m already exposed so let me help.”

“Why.” You breathe, “why would you do this? I can’t, Steve, I can’t.” You can’t lose him and it’s suddenly a very, very real possibility.

“He didn’t know you.” Steve says simply, his hand cupping your face. Of course he would abandon any thought of keeping himself safe if you were in danger.

“Nox! A little help.” Helen says pulling your attention to the her, Jemma and Bucky. “Steve at least put a mask on you dumbass.” She snaps and he nods moving away from you as you move toward Bucky.

“James, I’m going to help you rest now.” You tell him gently cupping his face, you’re grateful he’s already on the floor propped up against the wall.

“I’ll get him into a bed.” Steve says coming toward you.

“No!” You snap, “stay away from him.”

“Honey, I don’t think you can lift him.”

“Watch us.” You snap, and thankfully he stays back.

“Steve you should go to one of the quarantine rooms.” Helen says, and he scowls down at her. You focus on getting Bucky onto a backboard, rolling him as a team you, Jemma and Helen get him onto the backboard.

“On three,” Helen says, “one, two, three.” You all lift him together and place him on one of the two last open beds in the room. God please, please don’t let Steve be the next one. After you get Bucky onto the bed you check his temperature while Helen and Jemma get him hooked up to some monitors. Then Helen takes some blood and hurries over to the microscopes are. Steve watches from the doorway of his own quarantine room, his arms folded across his chest and the sight of him, in here, makes you want to vomit, to scream, to break something and to cry all at the same time.

“We’re going to figure this out.” Jemma says softly, placing a hand on your arm. You know you will, but will it be too late?

Tag list:

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[bestworstcase]

Hey I think I remember you talking about the wonderland musical (or maybe just the original book) and mentioning a jabberwocky poem/riddle thing. Would you mind expanding on that thought?

hrgk this is tricky because i did talk about both jabberwocky (the poem, from the book) and the jabberwock’s riddle (from the 2009/2010 iterations of the musical) and they are not at all the same thing BUT as i recall i elaborated quite a bit more on the poem than the riddle at the time. so.

in brief: the earlier iterations of wonderland were premised on alice being a best-selling new author under intense pressure to write a sequel while her marriage and mental health disintegrates on account of her feeling pulled in a million directions at once. in wonderland—which is her dream, or her soul, sort of—she’s repeatedly confronted with the question “who are you?” and repeatedly reminded that this is a very different question from “what’s your name?”. this in no way stops her from answering with her name every time, with increasing frustration. it is gently implied that she literally cannot wake up until she answers it properly. 

the jabberwock, in this world, is a monstrous threshold guardian representing the unwritten pages of the book she hasn’t written. he guards the door to the eighth square (of the chessboard), where she needs to confront the hatter (herself, her dark mirror) and put all her pieces back together before she can go home. his riddle, the final riddle, is sort of a test and also sort of a guiding hand to lead alice to where she needs to be in order to prevail. 

it goes like this:

JABBER: What are you looking for? ALICE: This is a test, right? JABBER: Right! ALICE: Riddles—puzzles—I’ve had enough! JABBER: What are you looking for? ALICE: It’s complicated! JABBER: What are you going to do about it? ALICE: I’m trying to figure that out. JABBER: What are you looking for? ALICE: …I’m looking for my lost child. JABBER: Who’s stopping you? ALICE: I am! I keep getting in my own way, it’s all I do! JABBER: Who do you think you are? ALICE: [frustrated] I’m Alice Cornwinkle— JABBER: NO! Not that answer again!! [skipping a bit where she answers with her name and then uses the backwards watch to force him to give her a second try here] ALICE: I’m Chloe’s mom, I’m married to Jack, these two are my friends, I’m lots of things, I’m my own invention! JABBER: So what are you afraid of? ALICE: …Everyone’s afraid of something. That’s how you know you love someone, when you’re afraid of losing them.

& then he lets her through to face the hatter (and experience that fear through the death of the white knight, who represents her husband)

deep breath

anyway the point of the jabberwock’s riddle is that alice has hitherto spent all of her time ripping herself apart trying to be everything everybody wants her to be. (literally, “there’s just not enough of me/way too much to do and be/too many places to belong/too many right things going wrong/too little left for staying strong” is her establishing character moment and the opening number only gets more desperate from there.) and of course in doing that she’s completely lost touch with who she is and what she wants, and wonderland is a reckoning. 

so she has to find her “lost child” (who is really her, not her daughter) and she has to accept that her family is more important to her than doing what she’s expected to as a new author, first because trying to meet those expectations is making her miserable and second because she loves her family. and doing that breaks her writer’s block because the perfect ideal writer she was trying to be can’t write her book, only she can do that. and the jabberwock is the unwritten book itself screaming out of her subconscious to remind her of that. she’s the only one who can “tame” him, save her friends from him by solving his riddle.

and well,

gestures at 9.9 & 9.10. but especially 10.

RUBY: Are you just trying to tell me that it’s useless? That I shouldn’t even try? Is that the big lesson I’m supposed to learn? Just… give up? Become someone else?

BLACKSMITH: Is that what I’m telling you?

[…]

RUBY: What happens if I choose me?

BLACKSMITH: Then maybe that girl is enough. 

(whispers into a cup) that is the lesson the god of light tried to teach salem though. for the record.

the mood of the scenes is different, obviously—rwby strikes a much more somber tone—but the emotional essence is the same. ruby, too, is confronted repeatedly with a question, “what are you?” that she keeps answering wrong because she doesn’t understand what’s really being asked (and it is, fundamentally, the same question that alice has to answer—who are you, what are you, what is the essence of you?). her friends are in danger, and she needs to get to the last door so she can go home, but she has to answer the question properly first. and, like alice, she needs someone to push her reach that answer, because she’s too caught up in her pain and frustration to get it right the first time.

“not that answer again!” “is that what i’m telling you?”—the jabberwock can’t give alice hers answer any more than the blacksmith can give ruby hers, but both of them refute the wrong answer in no uncertain terms.

and that’s the jabberwock’s riddle. the wrong answer, the realization of the wrong answer, and the triumph of the right answer. 

[aeros-lab]

Hi I've had an insanely productive writing weekend for None Of My Actual Manuscripts but instead random fire and silver character moments so here are some that I found most amusing

Avril PoV stuff:

Valora shook her head, her lips quirking into something almost like a smile. “Because he was easy. Ellard was, is, so ordinary. He wasn’t too loud, too violent, too anything. He was just there. If I was going to have to marry within the pack anyway, I figured he was milquetoast enough to not make it miserable.”

“Man, if my ex ever talked about me like that, I think I’d request euthanasia.”

\o/

“It’s complicated,” I said finally. I tucked my hands between my thighs as if physically folding in on myself could make me disappear and not have to have this conversation with Valora Reins of all goddamn people.

“What, you mean the whole reanimated corpse thing?” she said. “You realize I can turn into a giant dog, right? That’s hardly the weirdest love story I’ve ever heard.”

“Not that,” I said. “Well, okay, not only that.” I focused on my mismatched socks–one white, one striped blue and green. “I made some stupid choices. By the time we’d worked past the mountain I’d built between us, I ended up here. With you.”

Her eyebrows rose. “So sorry to disappoint.”

“No you’re not.”

“You’re right.” She let out a sigh. I scowled. “I mean, I couldn’t care less if you two make it out of this happily ever after. But watching two people dance around each other is agonizing whether you’re invested or not. Trust me, I lived through it with Zieka and Madison. Now that was hell. The emotional constipation. The pining. Disgusting.”

 I raised an eyebrow at her as memories of Lyptic’s prejudiced language filtered through my brain. To Valora’s credit, she caught my look and clarified, “Christ, it’s not because they’re gay. I don’t give a shit. I’m a bitch, not a bigot.”

“We love an ally,” I said dryly.

\o/

She shrugged. “I was angry at a lot of things. I took it out on him because I knew he couldn’t do anything about it. The pack may have owned me but I owned him. It was the only thing I had.”

I hissed through my teeth. “You also hear how fucked up that is, right?”

Valora gazed at me through tired, lidded eyes. “We both know I’ve never claimed to be a good person.”

“Did you love him?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. I wasn’t sure if Valora loving Ellard made this better or so much worse. 

“In a way,” she admitted. “I loved that he was mine.”

“Yikes.”

“I wanted to love him,” she went on. “And I think I did. Still do. But not like that. Not the way that spellcaster girl does. The way she looks at him is kind of revolting.” She made a sick face. “I could never imagine belonging to a person like that–yes,” she sighed when I opened my mouth. “I see the hypocrisy. Once again, I never claimed to be a good person.”

“You know, it’s okay to love people platonically, too,” I said slowly, carefully. “In a non-possessive, healthy way, even.”

~~~

Ellard PoV

“It means Avril’s back and she spent the night with Kithara.”

Hel whirled around with a tiny gasp. “How do you know that?”

Ilum’s eyebrows rose and he went from being puzzled to uncomfortable to amused at my expense. “Wait, did you walk in on them?”

I squeezed Hel tighter, ignoring the question. “Anyway, the gang’s all here.”

“Oh my god, he walked in on them,” Charity said, bringing a hand to her mouth. 

“Listen–”

“My brother in Christ, you have wolf hearing,” Ilum chortled, doubling over. Charity looked away, biting back an onslaught of laughter. “How do you not know when two people are–”

“They weren’t actively doing it!” I exclaimed. 

Helena’s shoulders shook and when I peered around, I noticed she was also failing to hold back a fit of laughter. 

I sighed. “Et tu, my love?”

~~~

Ilum PoV

Charity's eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Everything she said is true. I’ve gotten too comfortable depending on you. In combat. Emotionally. It’s dragging you down. I’m dragging you down.”

“I thought I was the self loathing one,” I said.

“Be serious.”

“Before I met you, I probably wouldn’t have excused myself before tearing Avril a new asshole so at the very least, you’ve made me a more zen person.”

She shot me a bewildered look. “Sorry, did you just refer to yourself as zen?”

“I thought it would make you laugh.”

\o/

“Nobody gets to decide whether a person is good or bad for me,” I said. “Not Avril and not you. Because, clearly, neither of you knows shit.”

“I feel so comforted,” she said flatly. 

“Not here to comfort you,” I said, smirking a bit. “Just being honest.”

“I think I’ve had enough honesty for this morning." She faced the water, watching the sun rise from behind the foliage. Shards of light glittered on the surface. “How about you lie to me instead.”

“K,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze. “Uh…Charity, I think you’re really good at knife throwing.”

“Yeah, nevermind. Lying doesn’t have the same effect when it announces itself.” She scowled. “Also, I’m so not that bad. I have had at least two lucky shots in my life.”

“I’m not allowed to lie anymore, right?”

~~

Kithara PoV (tbh this was just self indulgent romance so it's mostly cheesy but I found 1 slightly silly bit)

“I’ve…never done that before. Was that okay?”

I could only stare at her. 

“That bad?” she chuckled. “It’s okay if you faked it.”

I cleared my throat but my voice came out at least two octaves higher than I’d been expecting. “Have I ever told you what an idiot you are sometimes?”

She burst out laughing, the anxiety sloughing off her at once. “There are worse ways to be called an idiot than by a gorgeous naked woman.”

[stalkedbytrains]

Dead Letters, Missing Wife; Letters 4 & 5

History

You wish you had a better excuse for why it took you almost a week to open letter number four. But really it was just nerves. There was something about the ring and everything. It makes everything feel so much more real.

You can't really picture how Siobhan looks, at least not how she would look now, with the years and maturity changing her into someone else.

But you can picture her hands. Burned, cracked, dry and peeling, looking like someone spilled acid on her hands and she's still dealing with the wounds. You don't know why that image is so stuck in your mind, but it is.

As is the image of those same hurt hands sitting down to write you a bunch of letters that couldn't be sent, couldn't be read until you did the work to get them, to open them, to choose to read them.

You spent longer than you'd like to admit, in your bed, just staring at the pile of mail that isn't addressed to you (you're trying to not look at the mail that is addressed to you).

There's this massive weight that you feel coming down upon you. Something like an ocean overhead that is struggling to remain in the air, in defiance of the natural laws and the efforts of the earth to call it home. You feel the massive weight of the water will come down and crush and drown you at any moment.

You put off the next letter a bit longer by trying to sort through the mountain of other mail of Siobhan's. You figure if you can start on a different puzzle, a less personal one, you can make progress without having to deal with that overhead ocean.

But you only get so far. You start to sort the mail by the cities that Siobhan was supposedly in. You have to stop when there's an address in your city. Close by. Super close to where you've been living your entire life. All the evidence points to Siobhan moving back to your city, only a mile away, and the dates on the postmarks seem to suggest that she was back as recently as two years ago.

And she didn't come find you.

That thought haunts you, like a spike through your soul.

You find yourself running your hands along the seal on letter number four.

You open it and read, trying to ignore the rain from the ocean above.

"My sweet,

This journey that I have sent you on must feel deeply overwhelming and I can never apologize enough.

There is something profoundly terrifying for me in doing this. I crafted this mask out of myself. I made something pretty and nice and wore it for so long. I'm afraid of letting you see what is beneath it, because it might be too much. And there are only so many secret things that I can share without revealing the things that are best left buried.

I know that part of this journey that I have set you on, must include pieces of myself, show you how I have grown and changed and who I have wanted to become all these years.

It is hard for me. The being that I am supposed to be, the thing that my father crafted me to be, is a miserable pile of secrets. That is not who I want to be, but it is the nature that has fostered me so I am working against all my better instincts.

I am sorry.

I know you disliked my father, even as a child.

I can't say that I blame you. He is an exacting man. Precise and distant and cold.

I was supposed to be a perfect little one. I was supposed to be quiet and just as cold and distant.

There was a plan. Some great architecture that we can't see when we are small.

We weren't supposed to stay in this one spot for as long as we did. I wasn't supposed to make such a good friend. I don't even know if I was supposed to have friends.

Everything changed for me on that first day in kindergarten when I was first dropped off by my father. He told me to watch and learn.

You loudly declared, "I don't like him! He's weird!" Pointing right at my father.

The teacher scolded you and told you to not say such things about the other kids parents.

As soon as she was done telling you that, you walked over to me. I thought you were going to apologize. Instead, you cupped my face and told me, "I'm sorry your dad is weird. You seem nice."

Not exactly an apology, but it did make me laugh.

It still makes me laugh.

That's when I knew you were someone special. And that was the start of us staying in one specific place for far too long.

I regret nothing, because it meant that I was allowed to stay with you for as long as possible.

I just wish it could have been longer.

But father is an exacting man. And there is a plan. I must follow the plan. Even if I don't want to be that person anymore.

I wish to simply be yours,

Siobhan"

You close the letter and just sit with it in your hands. This whole thing is starting to get much much bigger. Much heavier.

You sit and you think.

Does Siobhan need to be rescued from her father? Is that what this is all about? Is she stuck in some weird abusive cult? Are these dead letters the only way for her to communicate with you?

With a sick feeling in your stomach rising, you reach for the next letter to grab it and open it.

If Siobhan needs to be saved from her father, from her situation, and the only way to find her is to read through the letters in sequence, then it's on you to hurry up and finish.

You break the seal of the next letter and it already feels different from the first words.

"I'm sorry my dear.

It was only after I finished writing that last letter and sent it, that the realization set on me.

I am not in any danger. My father, while he is what he is and I am what I am, is not threat to me. I am not in any danger from him any more than he is from me at this point.

I simply wanted to explain, and perhaps vent my frustrations a little bit at you. I wanted you to understand the situation I am in.

There is no abuse or mistreatment beyond the attempts to make me the perfect tool for the cyclopean plan that I am but a tiny part in and my family is but a moderately larger cog.

There is no abuse. No danger or imminent threat.

I promise.

I would have told you if there were.

It is simply like being in class. Something you have to do, even if there are benefits and positives to it, it seems hard to discern at the moment you are in it, and you are always wishing you could be somewhere else, with someone else, being happy and doing whatever your heart desires.

I'll be more careful with my words in the future,

Siobhan"

You close the letter and you find that your heartbeat has been raging out of control.

You feel at once, reassured that there's nothing to concern yourself over, and a deep sense of worry that whatever this is will be more than you can handle.

i have a kofi with the rest of my work