#i watched a young man do coke in the parking lot

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Where in the heck do you work were there's a shitting problem of that magnitude?

[vixenpen]

Our Year (Eddie Munson x Black Fem y/n)

Okaaayyyy, sooo, hi 👋🏾 it’s been five fucking ever since I’ve written anything on this page. But I love this story so much and I missed writing for a new fandom. So, before you guys read on, I have to mention that I’ll be moving this fic onto AO3. I’m also going to making y/n into an OC (still black of course) so if you enjoy this fic, feel free to read it over there and get to know Alissa Porter!

“Look, they’re leaving.” Michaela giggled.

“Aawww, did we do that?” Liz added, with a mocking chuckle.

“Guys, that wasn’t cool.” Chrissy replied.

“God, Chrissy, you’re such a drag tonight.” Michaela rolled her eyes. “Where is your sense of fun?”

“Where’s yours?” Chrissy snapped back. “We were supposed to be having girls night out and we’ve spent the entire night worried about y/n and Eddie. Can we just watch the rest of the movie, please?”

The rest of the girls fell silent in the wake of Chrissy’s outburst until finally Frenchie replied: “Fine, geez. No need to spaz out over it.”

The girls fell silent, turning their attention to the screen rather than argue back with Chrissy. Lucky thing too, because Chrissy was finally able to relax for the first time all night as they enjoyed the movie. An hour later, the movie was over and the night was still young.

“It’s only 10:30, what do you guys wanna do now?” Liz asked.

“We could always call up the guys and see if there’s a party going on.” Michaela suggested.

“Liz, aren’t your parents out?” Chrissy quizzed. “Why don’t we have The Team over for a get together?” She suggested.

“No way, remember how close we cut it last time when my parents told me they were coming home early?” Lizzie steered her station wagon into the procession of cars leaving the drive-in. “Let’s do Frenchie’s place.”

“Oh, so I get in trouble?” Frenchie exclaimed.

As they exited the parking lot, a loud fizzing sound caught Chrissy’s attention. Before any of the girls could figure out what was happening, Liz’s windshield was splattered with coke and soggy napkins.

The girls screamed as Liz slammed on the brakes, sending everyone lurching forward.

Tires screeched against concrete as the culprit sped away, but the perpetrators were far from anonymous as Eddie’s voice yelled from the distance.

“That’s for my tapes, you cheer cunts!”

“Oh. My. GOD!” Lizzie screamed.

“Those freaks!”

Chrissy’s mouth dropped. She hadn’t thought Eddie or y/n would have that in them.

“Now, should we just ignore them, Chrissy?” Liz turned to her, angrily. “Those freaks ruined my car.”

“They didn’t ruin your car, Liz.” Chrissy replied, rolling her eyes. “We got them and they got us back. Let’s just get to your place and hose it off before it gets sticky.”

“Fine.” Liz grumbled. “But this isn’t over. Especially not with The Freak’s bride.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe we did that!” You laughed as the two of you drove away.

“Your aim and timing was perfect, babe.” Eddie laughed.

“Yeah, but I have a feeling I’m gonna be dealing with the consequences come next practice.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Eddie scowled.

“Oh no, Eddie please don’t start any trouble.”

“I’m not starting it, I’m finishing it. If those cheer cunts wanna come after you, I’ll be ready.”

“I can take care of myself, babe, don’t worry. You should be worried about those hoop heads coming after you after that stunt. Especially Jason.”

“I’m not worried. Jason’s scared of me. Has been since I kicked his ass in the locker room that time and definitely since everyone thinks I’m a devil worshipping magic man.” He wiggled his fingers at you, playfully.

“Wait, you fought him before?” You gawked.

“Oh yeah, Sophomore year. His sophomore year that is. He and his hoop head friends were talking shit about me being behind in my grade so I told him to say it to my face. He did, and I put him in a headlock. Body slammed him and everything. He’s only come at me twice since. I’ll admit, he definitely holds his own better since bulking up from basketball, but he’s never beat me in a fight.”

“Woooah! What!” You exclaimed, shocked by Eddie’s revelation. “Let me find out I’m dating a secret bad boy. Since when was my lover boy a fighter?”

Eddie shot you a sidelong smile that almost turned you on as much as learning about his hidden fighting skills.

“Hey, you learn a few things when your dickhead of a dad was a former jock. Anyway, his buddies keep his ass kicking under wraps, but they know the truth.“

You could only stare at your boyfriend’s unassuming profile as he stared ahead wearing a soft smile. As if kicking Jason Carver’s ass was a fond memory. His big, brown eyes were so soft and boyish and his smile was adorably innocent. Never would you have imagined a soul as gentle as Eddie’s could be capable of that kind of violence.

He took his eyes off the road for a split second to glance at you.

“Y/n? What’s up?”

“I can’t stop imagining you body slamming Jason Carver.” You shook your head. “That’s really fucking hot.”

Eddie chuckled.

“And here I thought you weren’t like the other girls who only liked bad boys.”

“I’m not,” you replied stroking his thigh,“but a good guy with a secret bad boy streak is a turn on.”

Eddie shifted in his seat as your hand inched closer to his crotch.

“Oh yeah?” His voice cracked.

“Yeah.” You giggled back. “And we never got to finish what we started at the movie…”

Eddie bit his lip.

“The night’s still young.” He eyed you back. “Wanna go back to my place?”

“Duh.” You smirked

“Alright ladies, let’s welcome our newest Hawkins High Tigerettes!” Coach Stacy clapped. She was a peppy forty something Asian woman with a valley girl accent and her ever perky attitude was both annoying and endearing.

You ignored the glares of Liz Rawlins and Michaela Washington as your fellow cheer sisters clapped along to welcome you and the six other new girls on the team. Once that was over, Coach Stacy continued.

“Now, we have a lot of work to do to prepare for the upcoming season, starting with a new cheer and chant. So, I want my veterans to help out the newbies as much as possible. The faster we can get through these new cheers the faster we can get to our stunt routines! Captains, let’s get started.”

Chrissy and Liz stepped forward all bright smiles to lead you guys in your stretches. So far so good. Most of the head cheerleaders hated your guts, but at least with an adult present they wouldn’t try to do anything about it.

Or so you thought. As Coach Stacy began to show you guys the moves for the new routine, you found yourself getting tripped, poked, and “accidentally” punched in the arm as the girls found their formation. It was clear, the core four, Chrissy, Michaela, Frenchie, and Liz had already spread the news that you were the team punching bag.

“Y/n, is everything ok?” Stacy asked, her brows wrinkled. “You seem a little off.”

“I’m fine coach, but the girls in my line are a little too close to me. I keep tripping. Maybe if I stepped forward on three instead, I could avoid their fists and feet.”

You demonstrated the step differently and Stacy nodded.

“Hmm, you might be on to something, y/n. We’ll try it your way on that count. Keep showing initiative like that, and you could be captain.” She winked.

Coach Stacy might’ve been impressed but your squad mates were anything but as they glared at you. Whatever. They were lucky you didn’t snitch on them.

Eventually, the girls gave up trying to get your goat in practice and things started running smoothly. Finally, it was time for your first ten minute break.

Coach Stacy exited the gym to make a call while the other girls gathered on the bleachers. Except for you. You headed for the exit, only to be intercepted by Frenchie, Liz, and Michaela.

Your heart revved with adrenaline, but your straightened and crossed your arms to stare them down.

“May I help you ladies?”

“You sure can.” Liz replied. “You can start by cleaning my car, Freakella.”

“Excuse you?”

“You heard her.” Frenchie cut in. “We know it was you and your shaggy dog of a boyfriend who trashed Liz’s car on Saturday.”

“And I know it was you three stooges who trashed my boyfriend’s on Saturday. So, as I see it, we got even. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need water.” You shoved Lizzie out of the way. “I’m exhausted from carrying this team on my back for the past half hour.”

The girls gasped as you pushed past them.

“Bitch.”

“Who does she think she is?”

You heard them whisper as you entered the half empty halls. The only people left at this time of the day were a few students in clubs, a handful of teachers, and the janitors.

You found the nearest water fountain and took your time hydrating. At that moment a wolf whistle piped up from behind you.

You whipped around to see your boyfriend’s sweet grin.

“Lookin’ good in that skirt, future captain.”

“Eddie!” You exclaimed, immediately running into his arms.

Eddie picked you up off your feet, holding you tight. After being picked on for the last thirty minutes straight, his warm comforting frame was such a relief. He smelled like his favorite cheap cologne and weed.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as he lowered you to the floor, never releasing your waist.

“Gotta make sure my little minions get home in one peace. They got AV club today.”

“Oh, the freshies you adopted?” You giggled, referring to the nerdy group of boys that Eddie had taken under his wing. Lucas, Dustin, and Mike were sweet, smart, misunderstood kids, and you loved how brotherly Eddie was with them.

“Yeah, my little protégés in training. You know some of these douchey upperclassmen can’t wait to pick on the fresh meat.” He rolled his eyes. “Cowards. Anyway, how’s practice going?”

“It’s… going…” You sighed.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s probing brown eyes took in your expression. “I know it’s going, y/n, is it going well or is it going bad is what I’m asked.”

“The core four are kinda out for my head right now.”

“Do I have to come in there?” Eddie frowned.

“No, don’t just… be here to walk me out when it finishes. It’ll be over in another half hour.”

“As the lady wishes.” Eddie booped your nose. “The kiddos should be done by then too.”

“Cool. Well, I gotta get back in, babe. See in a minute.”

Eddie kissed your forehead gently before letting you back into the gym.

The rest of practice went well enough, but it dawned on you that if these girls were trying their hardest to hurt you during the regular cheers and chants they could really hurt you during the stunt routines.

Shit. How were you going to navigate that?

As you guys started doing your last rundown of the choreography Coach Stacy taught you, the door cracked open and in walked Eddie.

He shot you a smile and a wave and you returned the gesture. That was when you heard the whispers start out. Before you could tell them to say it to your face, the door opened a second time and Jason entered followed by two of his fellow teammates.

Oh fuck.

You thought as your eyes darted to Eddie. You silently begged him to not engage with those assholes if they started shit. With fifteen minutes to go in practice, there was nothing you could do except hope the boys stayed in their own corners until it was over.

[the-flaming-nightmare]

Tagged by the wonderful @anewkindofme! 💜

Here's a little more of the PSON co-parent spanking fic:

~

The drive to his childhood home somehow felt a lot quicker than it normally did. Before Malcolm knew it, Gil was parking the LeMans in front of the grand old house. Gil was the first out of the car, with Malcolm following behind him at a much slower pace.

Before Gil even had the chance to ring the doorbell, the door was being yanked open. Jessica stood on the other side, appearing both angry and relieved all at once. She looked him over with a critical eye, seeming to be searching for any physical injuries that he may have sustained during his excursion at the club and drug fueled night.

"How is he? Any nasty side effects we should be worried about or on the lookout for concerning the mix of the coke with his medications?" She asked Gil, stepping aside to allow room for both men to enter.

"I had the paramedics check him out before Dani took him home, and they said that so long as he didn't experience any shortness of breath or prolonged numbness in any of his limbs within the first twelve hours, then other than a bad trip there was not much to be worried about."

"Well, that's relieving to hear. Though, it would have been nice to hear that from our son himself when I called and texted him this morning."

Malcolm grit his teeth against the retort that wanted to crawl up his throat, crossing his arms and adverting his gaze to glare down at the floor. He hated when they talked about him as if he wasn't standing right next to them. It made him feel like a child.

"Go upstairs to my room and wait for us, young man," Jessica said, turning her attention back to him. "Your dad and I need a few minutes to discuss exactly how we're going to handle your punishment."

"Why?" He looked back up, aiming his glare at the woman. "You didn't seem to have an issue with talking about me like I wasn't here just a few seconds ago."

"Hey, watch the attitude," Gil said before Jessica could reprimand him herself.

"Or what?" A sardonic smile spread across the young man's face. "You'll spank me?"

Jessica narrowed her eyes back at him. "Unless you want to spend the next ten minutes in the corner with a bar of soap in your mouth, young man, then I highly suggest you cease this disrespectful back talk and do as you're told."

Tagging (if you wanna): @angelique-of-the-volturi-guard, @actualalligator, @snowviolettwhite, @autisticalastor, @snarkythewoecrow, @tomwise, @nottapossum and anyone else who wants to join!

[gegewrites]

mr.whites daughter Chapter 4- a mistake

your pov

It was 3 when I realized I missed my dads appointment. I forgot to take my phone off silent. I rubbed my face as a voice chimed in.

"Waiting for someone?" He asked, I looked up from my phone which sat on the bar and looked at the man sitting in front of me.

"Just missed my dads appointment where i would've been able to see if his cancer was shrinking or growing." I sighed,"what can I get you?"

"My body just won best bike at sturgus, wanted to get a round of shots and see if you join us for one maybe." He smirked.

"I don't drink on the job, but can gladly get you those shots. How much and what?" I put my phone in my back pocket.

"One shot ain't gonna hurt a women like you." He smiled,"5 shots of Jack, put it on The Lansom tab, I'll go get my guys."

He got up and I watch him leave to the pool table and start talking to three guys, I turned around and grabbed five shot glasses and out them on the bar, they walked over as I grabbed the bottle of Jack.

"Whose the winner?" I asked with a smile.

"That'll me be me." A bigger man said, they all seemed decently young, in their 30s.

"Free shot on the house for you then." I filled a shot glass up and slid it to him, he took it, gave me a cheers and a wink and downed it. He out the glass back and I filled them all Back up again. I put the bottle bavk on the rack and Andy came over to talk.

"The ketter tab is closed." He whispered,"Fuckin assholes."

"What they do?"

"Couple of drunk ass Baffons." He rolled his eyes and walked away. I grabbed the shot glass on the end of the line and we all picked one up.

"To the winner of best bike." I put my glass up.

"For the honor." One said and I giggled.

"To the honor." The youngest said.

"If you can't cum in here!" The one I talked to said.

"Co on her!" The winner boomed and we clinked and shot them back. I gathered all the shots and put them towards the sink.

"Need anything else while you're here?"

"Me and the boys are good for now." He smiled, I walked away and out the five shots on the lansom tab.

"Put two Jack and cokes on the Renalds tab." He said and Pat my shoulder.

"Cool if I take five minutes?" I asked and he nodded. I walked out from Behind the bar and to the back exit, grabbing my cigarette packet as I pushed the door open.

I walked away from the door and I put my cigarette between my lips, shuffling my lighter out of the packet, I lit it, put my lighter back, and put them back in my pocket.i held the cigarette in my fingers as I grabbed my phone out, I turned it off silent and listened to the voicemails.

Mom:

Hey sweetheart, we're all here. Im guessing you couldn't get the time, that's okay. I'll tell you what happens.

Marie:

(y/n) where are you? I haven't seen you in awhile was hoping you'd show up, well we'll um...I'll call and tell you the news.

And then a few other random ones just about where I was, hank sent one, so did junior, and so did dad.

Dad:

Got the report back, it's shrinking! Haha, look we're gonna have a small party at 3:30 if you can come. Everyone Would love to see you.

I flipped my phone back and put it in my pocket, taking a drag from my cigarette. I shook my head, knowing I should go but, I didn't want to. It was more of the fact that I didn't want friends and family to see me like this. I saw Rena walk down the ally to the employee back entrance.

"How bad is it in there?" She asked.

"Bikers taking back road from sturgus, you saw the parking lot." She groaned and reached into her purse.

"Want a line?" She offered as he held up the bag of white power.

"You know it."

Jesses pov-

Jane and I fucked and then we got my new bed set up in the bedroom. She was looking at all of my old drawings.

"Kanga-man?" She asked.

"Ya he's half kangaroo and half man." I chuckled.

"And whose this?" She pointed to Joey.

"That's Joey, his side kick, he sits in that pouch and helps him fight crime." I took a drag.

"So kanga-man is a she?" She looked at me,"only female kangaroos have pouches."

"I was a kid when I made these." I laughed,"it was like 4 years ago."

She flipped through some of the pages and giggled.

"These are all you."

"No they're not."

"Ya, they all look like you." She fixed her position and laid against the wall and me,"I wonder what I shrink would say if saw these."

"Yo you're tellin me you never wanted a super power?"I smiled, sitting up to look at her better. She smiled back at me as someone started knocking at the door. We listened for a few seconds.

"Is that your door, or mine?" She asked and listened for. A few seconds and then jumped out of bed,"that's mine."

She threw her pants on as I got outta bed and put mine on as well.

"Wait!" I walked after her as she went through the back door,"Jane!" She uncooked her door and went in.

I walked down the hall and to the front door and heard her open it and start talking. A few seconds after I opened the door.

"That's your dad?" I asked rubbing the back of my head.

"Dad this is the guy who lives next door." She looked at me,"wanna come inside?"

"Sure." He said.

"Nice seeing you." She walked into the house.

"Nice to meet you." He followed behind her and closed tye door.

"What the fuck was that?" I whispered to myself as I went back into my apartment. I heard my phone ringing in my room so I walked down the hall and back it. I grabbed it off the bed and sat down and answered it, I didn't even check who it was.

"Yo." The other line stayed silent so I checked who it was,"(y/n)? Hey (y/n)!"

"Look guys, it's fine. I was just working the middle day shift." I heard her say and I heard other voices,"I have to go, I've got a family get together." I heard her car door close.

"(y/n)! Yo what's goin on?"

"I fucked up." She said and I heard her car engine start,"I knew shouldn't have and I did and now-now-"

"Yo yo what happened? Where are you going?" I asked.

"I don't know, somewhere far from the bar." She was talking quick,"Pretty sure one of the assholes I was serving out something into the shot I poured and took with them." I heard her car tires screech.

"Don't drive (y/n), aight, yo just park somewhere busy and imma come to get you." I got off my bed.

"I didn't even mean to call you." I heard her voice break,"I was just-just trying to get them to leave me alone but they followed me out the bar, and-and- fuck!"

"Pull over and calm down, where are you?!" I rushed out of my room and grabbed my keys from the counter, she didn't respond,"where are you?"

"The Mobil ya station and car wash by the bar." I knew where she worked and I knew it was a half hour from her house so I didn't want her driving there.

"Aight, look, I'm on my way. Do not leave ur car (y/n), don't Fuckin leave it." I closed and locked my door and ran down the stairs,"I'm on my way, imma send badg to get your car okay?"

"Okay." I could tell she was crying,"okay okay."

"Aight? I'm on my way, I'll be there soon."

I made it there in 20 minutes, I pulled into the gas station and saw her car by the tire fill up station. I pulled over to her and got out quick, she did too. I walked around the back of my car and she ran over to me and hugged me, she was shaking like hell.

"Hey hey it's okay." I held her tightly,"it's okay, aight? I'm right here." Her hands had my shirt balled up into them and I had one hand behind her head. Her face was burried into my neck.

"I'm so Fuckin stupid." She whispered.

"Yo No you're not."

A few minutes later I got her into the car and saw badger and skinny pull up as I pulled out. (y/n) kept her keys in the car, they were gonna bring it to her apartment. I looked over at her, her mascara was smudge under her eyes, her lips were red from cryin. I wasn't gonna leave her alone, I had no clue was she was slipped and I don't even think she did. I could see she was shaking, so my guess was Molly or something.

"Bring me to my apartment." She whispered.

"Hell no." I shook my head as I pulled up to a red light.

"Jesse." I looked over at her,"just bring me to my apartment."

"Like I said, hell no." I pressed on the gas snd started driving as the light turned green,"look whatever they gave you...look I'm not leavin you alone, you're gonna sleep it off at my place."

"I'm supposed to be at my dads cancer free party right now, I missed his appointment to se the results. I full on told them I would be there." I reached over with my right hand and grabbed her hand that sat on her thigh.

"That doesnt matter right now, okay?" I turned left, following the same route I took to get her,"what's important is making sure you're okay."

"Why are you being nice?" I glanced over at her"I've been a Dick to you for the past few days, why are you doing this?"

"Because you can't take what an addict says to heart yo." I shrugged my shoulder,"trust me, I know."

She ended up falling asleep by the time we got to my crib. I got out of the car and went to the passenger side, i unbuckled the seat belt and picked her up making sure to not hit her head on the way out. I carrying her like men do at the end of those movies where they have a wedding so I guess I was carrying her bridal style?

She was lighter then usual, that scared me. I was scared for her. I unlocked the door and pushed it open and closed it with my foot and saw Jane sitting on one of the chairs in the living room.

"Whose that?" She asked standing Ik as I walked last her.

"My best friend." I walked down the hall and to my bedroom.

"What happened to her?" I put (y/n) down on my side of the bed. I unzipped her boots and took them off and threw the blanket her her.

"She got drugged at work." I looked over at her.

"Wow." She answered. And I sat down if the end of the bed,"she gonna be okay?"

"I'm hopin." I rubbed my face,"what was that earlier?"

"What do you mean?" She leaned on the door way.

"The whole I don't know you thing."

"I wasn't gonna be like,'hey dad, this is the stoner guy who lives next door who I'm sleeping with.'" She crossed her arms.

"Is that what you think this is?" I motioned at her and I,"just sleepin together?" I did have feelings for Jane, trust me I did, but (y/n)...she was my Fuckin soul mate.

"Jess." She said stood up off the frame,"I'm not gonna tell him that I'm seeing you, do you know how mad he'd be?"

"So?"

"I'm not trying to ruin or hurt my relationship with him." She shook her head,"what do you think she was slipped?"

"She shaking, Her jaw was trembling like she was cold..."

"So Molly?" I nodded,"she um...this happen before?"

"She's never been drugged, not that I know of." Jane nodded,"she's...she's had a rough few days."

"Seems like it." I held my head in my hands,"you're guilty about something, arent you?"

"She relapsed and I called her a junkie whore." I admitted.

"Wow." She whispered.

"Mmm." I nodded.

"Is she the person you based the healer off of?" I looked up at her,"drawing has the same Hand tattoo she has."

"Ya." I rubbed the back of my neck,"i um...drew that after we broke up, she went to college."

"You use to date her?" She sat down next to me,"was she the one who came to ur door the first night you moved in? I saw someone out there from my window."

"Ya." I nodded.

"Im gonna go get a makeup wipe or two from my place and clean her eyes up, massacre after it's been wet with tears is a bitch to wake up to." She laughed lightly.

"Jane.." she stood up.

"Girls have to support girls, weather or not they dated your boyfriend. Plus, she seems like my type of gal." She winked at me and my brows furrowed and she whispered,"might steal her."

"Just go get the makeup wipe." With that she walked out. I laid down on the bed and looked over at (y/n).

I heard my front door open and it didn't close but I heard Jane's open and close. Within a few minutes, my door closed and I heard her walk back.

"I'm getting her out of the jacket." She stated walking around the bed,"come on, hold her up for me." And so I did, I moved further up on the bed, and held her uo my her waist as Jane took off her jacket and out it next to her. I laid her back down as she opened the the blue packet of makeup wipes.

"Come on, tell me about her." I watched as she gently rubbed the wipe with her index finger under and over her eyes lightly.

"She's um...she smart as fuck. Her dads a chemist, she definitely got his smarts." I rolled onto my stomach,"she went to college for pharmaceutical chemistry."

"That's interesting." She smiled.

"Then she dropped out just last year." She nodded, using a clean part of the wipe to get the black tear stains on her cheek,"she's the oldest child, her brother is...16? I think, her parents had her before they got married."

"Best people come out of wedlock." She joked.

"She's wicked on the guitar." I laughed,"like it's insane, I don't know if she still plays but she use to play for our band in high school with our other guitarist. We were called Twaüghthämmer." She stopped wiping the makeup and moved her shirt a bit, looking at her shoulder.

"How do you think she got that?" There was a large, red and black bruise on her shoulder, obviously new but definitely from something painful,"looks like she was shoved into something."

"We haven't talked in a few days." Her phone rang from her jacket, so I dug into the pocket and looked at the caller.

"Who is it?" She resumed taking off her mascara.

"Her mom." I put it on her jacket as the ringer quieted sending it to voicemail,"she's supposed to be at a family get together, something about her dads cancer."

"Geez." She whispered,"can't blame her for relapsing with news like that."

"Ya." I nodded.

"She hit her temple? Her lip is busted."

"We ran into some not kind dudes a day or two before her relapse." She hummed.

"You have a type Jesse." She pointed out.

"Ya I guess I do."I chuckled.

She finished wiping away the mascara the way she could with (y/n) being asleep and she sat on the edge of the bed.

"You're worried about her,huh?" I nodded,"she know?"

"Yeah, she um...she doesn't care."

"If she didn't care she wouldn't have called you to come get her."

"She only called me because, well I was the first contact she saw. She's been dodging my calls." I rested my head on my arms as she stared at (y/n), my brows furrowed as she leaned down,"what?"

"Does she use herion?" She asked and looked at me,"cause she had track marks on her arm."

"Are you serious?" I sat up, she held her arm to me and I could see 3 small bruises from the needle,"Jesus. She's-shes been hanging out with some guys, ya know random guys, I thought...fuck man."

[canonicallyanxious]

Got a lot of free time on my hands rn [who could say why...] so i put a bit of effort into this year's top 10 lists by which i mean i stole canva's assets for myself and rubbed my gay little hands all over them pls enjoy

absolutely did not have braincells for a proper movies/shows list this year but i will have a special shows-adjacent list out at... some point idk

Full lists along with notes/ramblings under the cut:

Favorite 2023 Album Drops

10. Cherish - Vacationer

9. Phone Orphans - Laura Veirs

8. Praise a Lord Who Chews but Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds) - Yves Tumor / this album is gender and no i will not be offering further explanations at this time

7. Red Moon in Venus - Kali Uchis

6. My Big Day - Bombay Bicycle Club

5. Metro Boomin Presents Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse - Metro Boomin, various artists / specifically the deluxe version which has some personal faves the og doesn't, like take it to the top and infamous

4. Unreal Unearth - Hozier

3. The Age of Pleasure - Janelle Monae / full disclosure this one is so high on this year's list because watching them perform this live did rewire my entire brain

2. The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We - Mitski

1. Javelin - Sufjan Stevens / the vinyl for this album comes with an art booklet made by Sufjan that includes 10 mini-essays about love, and reading them for the first time felt like putting my heart in a fucking blender. [you can also read them all here for free if you feel like doing that to yourself tonight]

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

SOS - SZA / the greatest mistake of my life was leaving SOS off my 2022 album list and it will forever haunt me. unfortunately it was also a big grower for me and was released too late in the year for me to realize its genius in time. can't put it on my 2023 list either but pls know it is number one album of the year. in my heart

Soft Machine - Arlo Parks / i think this could have ranked higher had i managed to get around to checking it out when it actually dropped but unfortunately my dumb ass didn't catch it until v late in the year so there you go

House of Groove - Roche Musique / compilation so technically there's a bunch of artists on this record, found this one a little late in the year but wanted to shout it out bc i really enjoyed every track i heard off of it, no small feat

Sorry I Haven't Called - Vagabon / i have no excuse or explanation for this exclusion, there were simply too many records i loved this year

Favorite 2023 Song Finds

(note: per tradition, not confined to 2023 releases, just bops i listened to for the first time this year)

10. So I Danced - DPR IAN (2023) / i forgot to include the year in the graphic and i am too lazy to change it soz

9. Angelina - Milo Korbenski (2021)

8. No Good - Young & Sick (2019)

7. Better Now - SebastiAn, Mayer Hawthorne (2019)

6. Liquid Love (Mr Jukes Remix) - Billie Marten (2021) / one of those remixes i like better than the og, and to be clear i like the og quite a lot. also as i was putting together this list i learned that Mr Jukes is actually the name of the solo project of Bombay Bicycle Club's lead singer so like the more you know!

5. Hair Receding - Xenia Rubinos (2013) / i heard this song for the first time in December which usually would put it at an unfair disadvantage compared to songs that i've had the full year to get attached to but listening to it shook my molecules so vigorously i had no choice but to put it on this list

4. Zero (JID Remix) - Newjeans (2023) / look i am fully aware this song is a blatant kpop ad for coke zero and the chorus literally translates to "coca-cola is tasty / coca-cola is tasty" but that doesn't mean it isn't a BOP. another remix i prefer to the og, i think jid's verse and subtle production tweaks really elevate it to something i never want to stop playing when it comes on

3. Been Thinkin' - Hikes (2019) / or: my most played song of the year! don't examine what this probably reveals about the state of my psyche too closely!

2. I'm Your Man - Mitski (2023)

1. Bruises - Angel Haze (2015) / though i was genuinely v surprised this one did not make it onto my spotify top 5, considering every time it came on this year a fugue state did overtake my whole body and did not dissipate until i had played it at least another four or five times

[cheguevaraismydaddy666]

he was no longer really affectionate. he often seemed annyoed at me. his parents had moved to a small town, almost a village, next to my town to stop him from doing so many drugs. he was born and grew up in a big city. his parents had always, from a young age, been given him big sums of money. partly because his family was catholic but also just because. the result was that he started doing drugs at a very young age. he was doing coke by the time he was 13 for example. soon he got a hold of downers. tilidin,oxys, heroin. because he had access to so much money, he didn't only do drugs casually with his friends the ways other teens do, he did A LOT. he almost died multiple times and completed numerous addiction treatment programs. but it was no use. the guy was a polytoxicomaniac if i ever saw one. well so they moved there after he got out of his last treatment center. he had tried to kill himself while there, that's how we met: at the closed off section of a mental hospital. i had just gotten kicked out of my second foster home after six months of living there for kicking the care of a caretaker. i got put into the shelter. my mother told me she didn't want to have anything to do with me for some time. and well, i CAN NOT deal with rejection and abandonement. especially not from someone like my mother, the only person i could ever honestly call my family. i picked up my antidepressants from the foster home. i was supposed to give them to the care takers at the shelter. werll, i didn't do that. i swallowed them all. i didn't know what was gonna happen. i just knew i needed to do something. i ended up panicking and telling the social workers. i was put in the hospital, and afterwards in the suicide-watch section of the kids and teen asylum that i already knew. i met both him there and another guy who ended up being my first real boyfriend. my first kiss with a boy, my first time giving head, my first time having sex.....he's a jerk who just used me but that's another story. well, the first guy, my 'friend' was my type. he was cute,smart,charming. he read. i liked that. and not just regular books, he liked classics. he was impressed that i had read nietzsche. we three made plans to meet up when we'd get out to do drugs together. molly, we decided. that never happened but maybe that's better. because they're both bi and i feel like if we would've hung out on molly together they would've tried something. whatever. i thought he was hella cute. i didn't really thought we'd actually meet tho. he seemed way too cool for me. and also, well his girlfriend. he told me later, that he had sexual fantasies including me since he met me. i was so flattered.... i don't know, whenever a man has an erection because of me i feel validated and worthy. when i was a bit more promiscuous online i used to get a lot of messages from guys asking me for pics, offering me money for services and telling me they jerked off to this and that pic or vid of me. i lived for that shit. well, whatever. me and the second boy met up shortly after we were both discharged. we met in a park to smoke a joint. then we went to mcdonalds. then it started raining so we went to his place. he was a typical basic straight boy. well, he turned out to be bi, but that was his image. he had relatively short hair that he had permed. he was pretty sporty, had a sixpack etc. he liked basic music, and basic fashion.....well he was a normie, basic dude. so i didn't think he'd be into me. because well.....i'm me. i had short black her doing the time. i had always been alternative. we were different,didn't really match.

[twinkleimagines]

frenemies

summary: You catch feelings for your nemesis Rafe Cameron and notice his change of how he started interacting with you, so you begin and hoping he feels the same, so you decide to take the risk to confront him and see what his true intentions are.

5.5k words

LONG!

Part two, part 3 , part four (final)

Warning: Language, smut, physical and verbal fighting.

Rafe Cameron.

The most loved and also the most hated Kook in the OBX.

You and your pogue friends despised this guy, or at least you were suppose to.

But for some reason, between all the bickering you two had done over the summer, you've managed to fall for him.

I know- what the fuck.

It blew your mind too. He was never nice. Always making fun of the Pogues, practically humiliating you all every chance he got. You guys were nothing but broke thieves who took whatever you wanted no matter who it hurt. You guys were scum, the dirt on the bottom of his shoe, a bunch of nobody's that will never make it anywhere in life.

Which is obviously not true, but to Rafe - that's what you ‘dirty Pogues’ were.

You didn’t care for the name calling though. You honestly could say the same thing about the Kooks. They cheat their way into life, never have to work for anything , always have mommy and daddy's money to get them through any obstacle. But you knew not all Kooks were like that. Take your best friend Kiara for example. She's a 'kook' by the book, but by the streets she’s a Full Pogue at heart.

but for some reason though, Rafe would spend most his time trying to find a way to harass the shit out of you specifically. He could have a million Pogues around him yet he always found his way through the crowd to have some conversation with you even if it was to drag your name through the mud.

You first realized the feelings you had for Rafe when you began craving his presence.

It was the annual bonfire that you and your friends had went to , a place where all teens and young adults mixed from all clicks. Tourists, Pogues, and even Kooks. Everyone was there.

You stood next to the fire with JJ and Pope, two of your closest friends as the night grew louder, more people filling in. You watched the crowds as the piled up on the sand, but your eyes roamed for Rafe himself. You were almost mad at yourself for actively searching for him. And it wasn’t even like you were looking for him so you could avoid him, but searching so you could see him and hopefully grab his attention.

You continuously questioned yourself as to Why you were looking for this jerk off to begin with. All he was going to do was put you down and try to humiliate you in front of all of your friends.

But for some reason, when your eyes landed on that tall brown headed boy, his hair for once not greased back, a wide grin on his face as he wore a black t-shirt and a red cup in his hand- your heart fluttered. You began to grin slightly, seeing him in the distance.

Despite how much of an ass hole he was, Rafe was unbelievably hot. He was toned, Tall, jaw line so sharp it could probably cut you and you could get lost in those blue eyes of his. It excited you so much when he would give you attention. Even the negative attention. At this point you just enjoyed looking at him and hearing your name flow out of his mouth.

"earth to Y/n" JJ spoke out stepping out in front of you blocking your view to Rafe, and ultimately bringing you out of your trance.

“huh” you responded dumbfounded .

“Pope thinks I’m stupid for eating food with mold on it” JJ said throwing his hands up, you grin as you watched the blonde boy try to seriously defend his theory. Pope’s eyes widened throwing his hands up as well, looking towards you for agreement.

“It’s a Fungi bro! nothing good comes from Eating mold!” Pope argued back. JJ shook his head, disagreeing with Pope’s statement .

“dude, mold is good for you ok it’s just a natural organism “ He stated, dropping his hands down to his sides.

“You’re fucking nasty” You laughed out before pushing onto JJ’s shoulder. You hadn’t realized it yet, but your laugh caught a certain boy’s attention. the moment Rafe heard that familiar tune, his head turned to your direction, his eyes focused on you as you threw your head back with laughter.

“Well well well if it isn’t Ms. Sarah Cameron “ JJ spoke as he walked up towards one of your best friend, John B, and Rafe’s younger sister, Sarah. They both looked in your direction taking a few steps away from each other as if it wasn’t obvious that they were talking.

You didn’t hate Sarah per-say, but one time she did make out with your ex boyfriend while at a party. She claimed he told her he was single and she was just looking for a good night but Sarah was known for always wanting attention so you were doubtful on the fact that she was ‘unaware’ that he was your boyfriend.

You were the only one who knew John B’s crush on Sarah. He had started working for her father after his father went missing, and you were the only one who had caught on to his different approach when Sarah was ever mentioned, or how his cheeks would go slightly red when she would walk by. You didn’t blame him, the Cameron siblings were fucking hot.

“Hi JJ’ Sarah said with a grin. You stood to the side of Pope, looking around for Kiara, only to find her sat with a group of more Pogues talking their heads off.

JJ began trying to include Sarah into his previous ‘mold is good for you’ argument while your focus drifted off, your eyes roaming the crowd once again.

You managed to look back over to where you had first saw Rafe standing, only this time he was no where to be found.

“sarah baby c’mon” you heard someone say. You looked over, Your eyes widening to see Rafe and Topper standing in front of you next to Sarah. You knew this wasn’t a group that needed to be mixed, but seeing Rafe excited you. Your eyes landed on his, your heart beginning to flutter. You hated the fact that you two were enemies. It sucked looking at someone the way you did, knowing they were only looking back at you with hatred and pure disgust. At least you thought.

“Oh c’mon Topper can’t the girl just have a little fun?” JJ laughed out, his alcohol clearly running through his veins.

“You Pogues don’t know the meaning of fun JJ” Topper laughed out. You rolled your eyes shaking your head.

“Go the fuck on Topper “ you spat out, your eyes lifting some towards Rafe before going back to Topper. You could feel yourself kicking up a sweat, maybe from the alcohol , or maybe from the fact that Rafe’s eyes were already on yours when you looked at him. He even had a smirk plastered on his face, probably from the fact he gets off on the fighting.

“Oooohhh someone’s ballsy tonight huh?” Topper laughed bringing the attention to you.

“No im just sick and tired of you stuck up kooks always trying to ruin a good time” You scoffed out, crossing your arms over chest.

“Y/n you wouldn’t know the meaning of a good time if it slapped you in the face alright?” Rafe said. He furrowed his brows together when he realized a smirk rising on your face once you looked over at him. He didn’t know what to think considering the other times you were giving him an ‘ eat shit ‘ look, but this time it was almost as if you were happy he was commenting towards you.

“Oh right, having random hook ups and snorting a line of coke every night is a good time huh Rafe?” You scoffed out sarcastly. “ yeah I think I’ll pass” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“ Listen JJ you and your little bitch need to just go back to the cut where you came from-“ you glanced at Rafe, only to see him looking at Topper with anger as if he was upset at him for calling you that , but before you could further analyze his expression, JJ pushed against Topper’s chest, slinging Topper backwards.

“you watch your mouth” JJ spat out pointing his finger towards Topper’s face. John B quickly stepped in , pulling JJ back away from Topper who was now laughing like an idiot, excited for the action that he thought was about to happen.

“Yeah go ahead Johnny boy go ahead and play dad “ Topper spat out as John B continued practically dragging JJ away from the group. “just don’t go abandoning him like your dad did ” He yelled out. Your mouth flew open in shock, seeing John B stop in his tracks but before he could even respond, your hand slapped straight across Topper’s cheek, causing his head to bounce side ways.

“go suck on your moms tits some more you fucking prick” You scowled before turning on your heals, following your friends. You didn’t even bother to stick around for anymore commentary, your only goal at this point was getting your friends the hell away from here before all hell broke loose.

“never fails man” you heard JJ screamed out in anger as you made it to the parking lot all while Pope continued trying to hush them as they stood next to the twinkie.

“JJ chill!” Pope yelled out as he tried pushing JJ into the Volkswagen but to no avail.

“no man they always get to do and say whatever the hell they want and never get any repercussions for it !” he exclaimed.

He wasn’t wrong, they really did. And if the Pogues fought back they were deemed bad and out of control. You sighed heavily as you watched JJ try to calm himself down, only to realize you had left your phone on the Log you were originally sitting at by the fire.

“Fuck I’ll be right back” You stated, only for your arm to get grabbed by John B.

“No don’t go back there” He instructed but you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine I just left my phone. “ You exclaimed before making your way back down towards the crowd of people.

“Xcuse’ me “ you mumbled as you brushed past people, making your way to the fire.

“Y/n what happened?” Kiara asked popping up from the side, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll explain later , meet you at the twinkie ok? go calm JJ down” You responded, pointing behind you with your thumb towards the van. She rolled her eyes, realizing it was a fight that had happened before turning around, making her way to your friends.

“Just can’t stay away can you?” You heard from behind you. You turn around to see none other than Rafe himself standing proudly. You rolled your eyes before turning back around, walking towards the fire once again. Despite you usually being excited to see him, tonight really put things into perspective for you.

You really were just a ‘dirty pogue’ to these guys, nothing more. There was no point to continue entertaining the thought of anything ever happening between the two of you. You were enemies, and that was all you’d ever be.

“I just came to get something Rafe go away” You huffed out.

“Oh you mean this?” He yelled out , making you stop in your track. You turned around to see Rafe holding your phone up, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Give me that” you demanded, reaching your hand out, but Rafe pulled back, pulling it out of your reach.

“Rafe!” You yelled out with anger. “Give me my fucking phone dude” You spat out , reaching out again.

“Well what’s in it for me?” he asked , that smirk still obvious on his face.

“Rafe , please” You sighed out, dropping your shoulders slowly giving up. Between the alcohol and it being so late, you didn’t have any energy in you at this point to argue and you were just ready to go home and crash. Rafe noticed the body change in you, his grin falling from his face.

“I’m sorry” he said softly as he held out your phone to you. You were shocked. Rafe apologizing? Nobody but his father had ever heard those words coming from him so for him to say this to you really took you by surprise.

You slowly took the phone from him, your brows furrowed together in confusion.

“uhm,” you said as you pulled your arm back towards yourself. “thanks” you mumbled before turning on your heels making your way back to your friends.

“Y/n stop arguing and just do it!” Your mom yelled at you as she pushed the cleaing cart your way. You had to work with your mom today at the country club unfortunately and you were not even the slightest bit happy about it. She needed help and ‘You teenagers don’t do anything for yourselves’ as she would say, so you were stuck cleaning the floors while she did whatever it is that she does.

“Okay!” you huffed out as you picked up the broom off of the cart, aggressively beginning to sweep against the floor. You rolled your eyes as she mumbled something else to you before walking away, leaving you to clean the room alone.

It wasn’t long after that you heard some familiar voices walking down the hall way towards the room you were in. It most definitely sounded like the horrible three, Topper, Kelce and Rafe. You quickly turned your back towards the door, hoping none of them would notice you since you were alone and you against 3 just didn’t sound like a good time. You continued sweeping as you heard the group laughing as they passed the room you were in, not even paying you no mind. You sighed with relief as you realized they hadn’t noticed you and continued back to sweeping the floors.

“Hey” you heard from behind you. You jumped up gasping loudly as you turned around quickly, only to see Rafe himself standing there .

“God – fuck Rafe you scared the shit out of me. “ You breathed out, your hand over your chest as you tried to calm your heart beat down.

“sorry” he responded. There was that word again that didn’t exist in Rafe’s dictionary. You caught yourself staring before you quickly snapped yourself out of your trance, placing your hand on your hip.

“What do you want Rafe?” You scoffed out. He smirked before walking over to one of the Desks that sat in the room. You watched as he sat down on the edge, grinning as he stared over at you.

“ Never seen you here before.” He stated. You rolled your eyes before you propped your elbow up on your broom, sighing heavily.

“my mom works here. I’m just helping” You exclaimed, not that it was any of his business anyway.

“Huh” He responded nodding his head. He kept quiet once again, leaving the room silent and you beyond confused. You eventually shook your head at him, indicating for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“Look Rafe “ you started, standing yourself up straight. “I have to get back to work so unless you’re here for something important, you can go the fuck on” you finished. Rafe hopped off the edge of the desk, taking a few steps towards you , his body now hovering over yours. You began to feel your heart pound again, this time from the nerves as he stood so close to you. The smell of his cologne, grass and sweat from his Golfing lingering in your nose. you felt your hands begin getting clammy as you tried to hold your composer, your breath hitched in the back of your throat.

Rafe slowly lifted his hands, placing it under your chin, his blue eyes focused on yours. You didn’t know what to do at this point. You’ve had one on one Arguments with rafe before but none where he stood this close, and this quiet with you.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he lifted your chin, your face close together. He grinned once again, leaning in closer to you.

“You’re so beautiful” He said softly. You stared back into his blue eyes for a second before leaning in slightly. You were taken back though as he let go of your face , taking a step back and putting his hands in his pockets.

“ see ya” He responded calmy before walking back out of the room, following back to his friends.

You stood in shock, confused by Rafes actions. You were for sure positive that he was going to kiss you but he didn’t.

“what the fuck?” you mumbled before shaking your head in confusion at Rafe’s actions. You sighed heavily before sweeping your broom across the floor again, trying to regain your compose.

Most of your day went on like normal. You finished work with your mom, your mind only focused on your brief conversation you had with Rafe earlier.

It sucked because you had feelings towards Rafe, and you couldn’t tell if you were overthinking his actions or if he actually was in to you as well.

You had come to a conclusion though- it was one of two options. He was either fucking with you, or he wanted to fuck you. And you were determined to find out by tonight.

“Here goes nothing” You sighed to yourself as you stood outside TannyHill, the outside lights lighting up the big white house. You quickly jumped over the concrete fence, your feet landing in the wet grass.

Your eyes roamed the balcony, trying to remember which area you had seen Rafe standing at before. You bit your bottom lip as you concentrated, only to see Rafe himself walk by one of the windows.

“gotcha” You spoke softly before crouching down some, doing a quick jog across the field in hopes no one would see you.

You quickly managed to climb your way up the house onto the balcony you had just recently seen Rafe at. This was one of the pro’s of being a Pogue. You guys were very athletic and could always find your way to anything no matter the obstacles. You stood catching your breath as your feet finally landed on the wooden floor, the area barely lit by the light from the windows.

“What the fuck am I doing?” You said to yourself as you stood in the dark outside of what looked to be Rafe’s bedroom. You ran your hands through your hair, turning back around to face the field.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you said to yourself again as you began pacing. This is Rafe we’re talking about. Of course this man is just fucking with you. He’s been nothing but a dick to you and your friends for years. why in God’s name would he want you now? You knew you weren’t’ ugly. You were in shape, had decent hair (Even though you probably smelt like sweat sometimes because of how much you spent outside with the gang) But for the most part you cleaned up well.

Plenty of guys wanted you- but you looked nothing like any of the rich girls Rafe hooked up with. Why would he ever want you? It was clear that he was only acting this way towards you so him and his friends could have a good laugh later.

You shook your head in disbelief that you even had the balls to climb this guys house and actually think you could even ask him if he was interested in you. You began to climb back over before you heard a door open. You froze instantly, hoping they wouldn’t see you in the dark but that was just wishful thinking.

“Y/n?” You heard someone say. You mumbled a ‘ fuck’ as you recognized the voice to be Rafe.

“Uhm” You replied awkwardly as you climbed down, turning towards him to face him.

“Care to explain?” He asked throwing his hand up in your direction.

“Uhh” You said awkwardly as you ran your hand through your hair before placing them down your side.

“Y/n what the fuck are you doing climbing up my house at fucking 11 at night” he spat out. You flinched slightly at the harsh tone of his voice, your eyes roaming everywhere but his face , afraid to look at him in humiliation.

“okay so” you started, looking down at your feet. You stood for a second, wondering how you were going to explain yourself without sounding like ta total creep.

“Alight fuck it. “ you breathed out, looking up at Rafe. “You’ve been acting weird towards me, and being all like nice and flirty one minute and a complete ass the next and like – I just need clarification “ You exclaimed before you took in a deep breath, staring at Rafe as you waited for a response. You bit your bottom lip as he continued staring at you with a blank expression.

“Well?” You repeated, but he stayed quiet. You rolled your eyes, annoyed with the mind games he continued to play. “Rafe what is it? You like me or are you like fucking with me?” You spat out in frustration.

He finally changed his expression, this time a cocky smirk forming on his face. He reached out, grabbing one of your hands before walking backwards, leading you to follow him into his bedroom.

“uhh Rafe?” You questioned, confusion written all over your face as his eyes continued staring into yours.

“I’m not explaining myself” He finally spoke, his hair draped over his eyes as he looked down at you. You scrunched your face up as he reached behind you, closing the patio door. He chuckled slightly at your confusion before taking a step back away from you. “I’m just gonna show you” He exclaimed before pulling against your arm, leading you towards the bed before pushing against your shoulder, making you flop down. Your eyes widened as he walked over towards you, a smirk never leaving his face as his hand reached up, pushing away the stray hair in your face.

“You know, I’ve wanted to fuck you for quite sometime” He stated, leaning forward. “I mean look at you,-“ his eyes looked down and then back up your body, landing back onto your eyes, “You’re hot as fuck” He responded. You didn’t have a clue on what to say, so you continued in the same spot , sitting on his bed propped up on your hands behind you.

“You know for a pogue,” He finished, chucking as you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“Why didn’t you say anything ?” You finally spoke, looking up at him through your lashes. His cocky smirk left his face, only to return shortly after.

“Had to make sure the feelings mutual.” He replied , standing back up straight.

“and Who said it was?” You asked , trying to build your confidence back up. Rafe’s smirk widened before he let out a chuckle, his finger pointed out towards the balcony you were just climbing a few minutes ago.

“You did” he replied . you lowered your head some without responding, knowing he wasn’t wrong. HE stared down at you for a few seconds before he leaned in, the tip of his nose touching yours.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he stayed teasingly close.

“Hm” he hummed, not moving his face.

“Just fucking kiss me already” You demanded. Rafe happily obliged, his lips colliding with yours. Your hands immediately made their way to the back of his head, tugging on his hair.

“You wanna lay down for me ?” He asked after a few minutes of your tongues fighting for dominance. You didn’t respond other than nodding before you slowly laid yourself down, your eyes not leaving Rafe’s. Rafe grinned before unbuttoning your shorts, tugging on them. You lifted your hips up from the bed, helping him slide your shorts down as your teeth clamped down around your bottom lip. He stared at your hot pink panties, seeing the darkened area as you were already soaked.

“Soaking wet and I haven’t even touched you” He indicated. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as attempted to lower your head in embarrassment even though he could see you. Your mouth flew open as Rafe leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your damp panties, applying friction against your clit. You moaned out, leaning your head back as he placed the palm of his hand against you, rubbing up and down at a slow pace.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, his voice low and deep. You bit your bottom lip before nodding your head. Rafe grinned before he tugged on your panties, pulling them down to your ankles.

“Spread your legs open baby” He demanded , his voice calming but deep and intimidating.

You grinned before slowly spreading them open, his eyes focused on your heated core the whole time.

You laid your back flat against his bed as he got down on his knees, pulling you by your hips down to the edge of the bed, your bottom hanging off directly across his face .

“Rafe” You moaned out as you felt his warm tongue glide along your slit, his tongue stopping against your clit before he enclosed his lips, sucking slightly. He wiggled his tongue back and forth as his inserted his two index fingers into you, curving upwards. You gripped your hands against his navy blue sheets, gasping loudly as his fingers hit against your g-spot, sending tingling feelings through your body.

Rafe took one of his hands and trailed it up your stomach under your crop top, his hand groping around breasts.

You continued moaning loudly as his finger tips swirled around your nipples while his other hand continued moving rapidly against you, his eyes looking up at you in admiration.

Rafe lifted himself up, his face close to yours as his fingers continued moving inside you.

Y/n” he called out softly causing you to open your eyed and look over at him.

He placed his lips against yours as he slowly grinded himself against your side, pushing his rock hard shaft against you.

“You wanna do this?” He breathed out as he looked down at you, the pace of his fingers slowing down. You nodded looking up at him, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest.

“Yes Rafe” you practically whined out. Rafe moved himself to where he was hovering over you, his lips placed against your neck as he pulled his joggers down some, his member popping against his abs. You breathed out deeply as you watched him line himself up before slowly sliding himself in.

“ fuck” He groaned out as he felt your walls wrap tightly against him. Rafe was not only long, but he was thick all the way around, filling you more than anyone had ever done before. You placed your arms around his neck, holding him close as he began moving his hips against you.

The room was silent, only the sounds of your deep breathing and small groaning from Rafe as he continued rocking his hips in you at a steady pace, one hand placed above your head as the other gripped tightly under your thigh to hold your leg up.

“Rafe go harder” You pleaded. Rafe instead stopped his movements completely before rolling you over onto your stomach. He pulled slightly against your hips causing your bottom to stick up in the air as your face was pressed into the bed.

You gasped loudly as Rafe inserted himself into you again from behind, the new position giving him access to going deeper in you, which was exactly what he did. You felt his hand land on the back of your head, pressing you deeper into the bed as he began grinding his hips deep into you. He began slow at first but then began giving you exactly what you wanted , slamming himself into you over and over again.

At this point the pleasure was overwhelming and you couldn’t hold the moaning in as he continued rocking his hips into you, the sound of skin slapping echoing the room.

“Fuck im gonna cum” Rafe groaned out deeply in your ear, the feeling of your tight warm walls around him bringing him close to his own climax. He began placing sloppy kisses on your back, his pace speeding up. You arched your back feeling yourself clench around him as you orgasmed, your clit pulsing. You whined out, tugging on his sheets as Rafe continued to pound into you, riding out your high.

“Fuck y/n “ Rafe groaned out as he quickly pulled out, pumping himself off shooting his load on your back.

You both stayed in the same position for a few more minutes as you tried catching your breath before Rafe grabbed a napkin from his nightstand, wiping your back off.

You rolled over, laying on your back as Rafe put his bottoms back On before looking back over at you out of breath. You grinned as your eyes roamed his glistening body, his abs very prominent and his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat.

“ You should’ve definitely came to me sooner” you finally spoke out with a giggle. He sat down on the edge if the bed chuckling slightly.

“Yeah, that was nice. “ He responded. The room became silent, you both just sitting awkwardly while you laid on his bed still naked. After a moment of silence, you finally sat up, pulling his top sheet with you while getting up off the bed.

“Soo” You said awkwardly as you wrapped the sheet over your sweaty body.

“you can use the front door ” He responded looking up at you. You almost wanted to slap him at this point, realizing he was indicating for you to leave. You scoffed while rolling your eyes before turning away, picking your clothing up off the floor.

“What?” He asked as he continued sitting on the edge of the bed, noticing you aggressively picking your clothes up in anger.

“Nothing Rafe” you mumbled as you pulled your shorts back up up your legs, turning your back towards him.

“Hey” He responded standing up, grabbing your hand after you pulled your top over your head.

“What” You replied back, looking up at him with anger.

“I wasn’t saying you had to leave now I was just saying you didn’t have to climb down the house again” He exclaimed. You stood for a second before shaking your head.

“I should go anyways, it’s late” You replied before walking over towards your shoes, sliding them on over you feet. “but don’t worry I’ll take the balcony so no one sees me”. Rafe wanted to reply to your comment but instead he stayed quiet as he watched you make your way back to his balcony before stopping, leaving your hand on the doorknob.

“Uhm” You spoke , causing him to look up at you. “I’ll see you later?” You stated, more like questioned just for your own clarification. He grinned before nodding his head, walking towards you. He walked you out to the balcony, helping you over the edge before watching you climb down to the ground to make sure you made it down safely.

You did a light jog back towards the concrete wall before turning around, looking up at the balcony. You grinned when you saw him still standing there watching you. You gave him a wave before turning on your feet, climbing back over the fence and going home.

***

Sorry I’ve been incognito for a while but ya girl is back 🥲

Also,

✨As always feedback, like, and a reblog is always appreciated ! ✨

Masterlist

[pascalpanic]

Alpha Beta Charlie- A Frankie Morales Story

Summary: Frankie is a lonely man with a big heart. His life changes when a new girl comes into his life.

W/C: 4.1k

Warnings: This one is a little heavy. Lots of language, talk of poor mental health (Frankie has depression and anxiety), Frankie’s recovering from a coke addiction, alcohol is prevalent here, harm to animals, lots of talk of blood and injuries.

A/N: This story is different than I normally write. There’s no reader in the story, this is just a story about Frankie Morales and a moment in his life. Please note that this is darker as it centers around an injured animal. Be warned of that. P.S. some of my friends might see ur names in here :) thank u to all of my friends who helped me pick Charlie’s name, and to @ilikechocolatemilkh who helped me create this whole story!

Frankie Morales is a kindhearted man. Anyone who meets him knows it instantly. He’s got a wonderful laugh that’s warm and inviting, and it’s often on display to anyone who chats with him for more than a few seconds. He’s caring, it’s clear, with big brown eyes that radiate compassion. 

His friends would describe him more as an idiot. Frankie, who they call Catfish from their days in the military, insists that they’re the idiots. He’s the voice of reason in their group, making the rational decisions and de-escalating fights within their group. 

That’s not to say Frankie is entirely sunshine and rainbows. He’s now several months sober from a long and grueling addiction to cocaine. It ruined him: it took away his pilot’s license, his everything in life. Flying helicopters was Frankie’s passion, but he’s recovering. He’s on the right track.

He had a girlfriend, who became his fiancée, and left him not long after he returned home from a dangerous mission in South America. It didn’t matter anyway; her child, who Frankie had dedicated all of his heart to before the birth, was revealed to be another man’s. As much as she resented him for taking the mission, he resented her for cheating and lying and holding the information back.

So now Frankie lives on his own. He resides out in a more rural town, not far from where Benny has his weekly fights and Will (also known as Ironhead) works with young military recruits. It’s been a couple of months, and it’s hard to be alone. Santiago pops into town once or twice a month, and it’s always the highlight of Frankie’s very being. His best friend brings light and laughter into his life. When he leaves again, Frankie’s small home feels massive and quiet.

He plays lots of CDs. He has bluetooth speakers all around the home and blasts his favorite songs. He’s learned how to cook and clean and has even learned how to bake a decent, basic version of a nice loaf of bread. He works as a mechanic at a shop in his small town’s center, working the odd hours that no one else wants, the hours where others want to be home with their families.

He’d considered different options to make the house more home-like, more welcoming. He tried his hand at gardening, only to find that he had the opposite of a green thumb. He painted the walls a warmer color, then painted them again. He was currently considering changing the colors for the third time. He’d burn candles that he thought smelled nice. He’d hung up a few photos of him and his friends, or his family. Nothing really worked.

A typical night for Frankie held one of two patterns:

-Night A: Frankie gets home from the shop at about 7:30, hands covered in grease and smelling of burnt motor oil. He gets in the shower and cleans up, then either ends up at Benny’s arena to cheer him on, or at the bar with both Miller brothers.

-Night B: Frankie gets home at the same time. He showers to clean himself, simply because he hates leaving smudges over his home. He cooks a nice dinner or orders takeout. He eats it on the couch and watches a new Netflix series. He gets sad and feels alone and drinks a beer, then a few more, to drown the sensation. He goes to bed early and calls into the shop to see if any of the morning shift workers want to go home early, because he can come in an hour or two before his shift. He claims it’s for the overtime pay. It’s really to avoid the loneliness.

Frankie likes patterns. He likes routine. It’s soothing. Maybe it’s a remnant of his military days, where not a second would pass without having a title affixed to the very second he was living in. Predictability made the hurt easier.

Tonight was an A Night. Frankie and the Miller brothers sat at the bar of McCreary’s and talked about everything and nothing at once. Will talked about the new girl he was seeing. Benny made lewd comments. Frankie smacked his arm and ordered another round for the other two, then nursed one beer for the entire night.

Winters were the worst for Catfish. He lived in the South, where snow was uncommon, but the dreary February weather stole whatever energy he could muster up and sent it up to join the gray masses that hung in the sky, yet never shed their raindrops. It gets dark early, another thing Frankie hates. It reminds him of the look on Tom’s face when he died. Of the way his bachelor home never made sounds unless he created them. Of the way the craving for one more hit of that devious white powder felt, the way it scrambled his brain until he thought it was the only thing that could take it away. 

This A Night, which also happened to be an especially chilly Tuesday, Frankie drove home from the bar at 12:21. The backroads that lead from the suburbs out to the rolling hills are dark, with a rare streetlight or two illuminating a fork in the road that led to a house. The radio droned on, some old Waylon Jennings song that was threatening to send Frankie into a fit of rage and smash a fist into his dashboard. He turned off the radio instead.

Another car drove the opposite way, far in the distance. He could see the lights approaching, then dim slightly. Frankie turned off his brights, instead allowing the road to be illuminated just by his front headlights. He turns up the heat in his truck as a shiver runs down his spine.

Something is running across the road. Frankie can see it now. It’s far from him, but visible in the other car’s light. He slams on his brakes, his body jerking forward.

The other car doesn’t slow.

He slams his horn several times, for whatever is in the road and the other driver.

The thing doesn’t move.

The car doesn’t slow.

The car and the creature- oh fuck, it’s an animal- collide.

Everything that happens next is too quick. The car stops for a moment. Frankie whips the truck into park and turns on his hazards.

The other car stops for a moment. Frankie can just make out a silhouette inside. He gets out of his truck, eyes wide and frantic. He runs to the animal’s side.

The car drives off.

Dust swirls across the road as the car’s tail lights fade into the distance. Leaving just Frankie and his truck and the mangled mess of fur and blood.

“Fucker!” Frankie screams after the car. “You fuckin’ bastard! You didn’t even check, you motherfucker!”

He gets closer and realizes it’s a dog. Its fur is white and brown and so painstakingly red with its own blood, and it whimpers and cries and Frankie realizes the poor fucking thing is still alive. Whether it’s his caretaking or his military instincts that kick in, Frankie isn’t sure, but before he knows it he’s ripping off his jacket and picking up the poor poor baby, oh you little angel, he coos to it, wrapping it in the denim and setting it in his passenger seat.

It’s still whimpering and crying, and Frankie gets in the driver’s seat and grabs his phone. “Nearest 24-hour pet hospital,” he shouts into it, hands shaking. He doesn’t realize either reaction is happening. It gets the words wrong. “No, fuck,” he groans, shifting the truck into drive and whipping a U-turn. He types in the words as he starts to speed back in the direction of the town. He knows he shouldn’t text and drive and normally he doesn’t, but he’s a fucking former military helicopter pilot, he rationalizes with himself, he can handle this. He finds the directions and types them in and tears start dripping from his eyes.

“Hang in there, buddy, hey,” he says and rubs the poor dog’s big ears as they drive. “It’s gonna be 30 minutes. Think you can hang on for me?” he asks it, not expecting a response. He wants to check the dog’s sex but now is certainly not the time, not while he’s doing 85 in a 60 zone and the dog’s blood is seeping into his denim jacket and his passenger seat.

The tears are flowing freely from his eyes now, his heart breaking. He can feel the animal’s shallow breaths as he drives, and he sobs to himself. “Hang on, buddy. It’s gonna be okay, I gotcha. I’m Frankie,” he introduces himself to the dog, “and I’m gonna take real good care of you. You’re gonna be alright and we’re gonna get you fixed up and back to your owners.”

The drive takes 24 minutes when Frankie is flying down the backroads. Fuck if a cop sees him. Fuck blowing a tire. That can be cared for later, when there’s not a dying creature next to him. A steady murmur of ‘it’s okay’ spills from Frankie’s lips. He’s not sure if he’s saying it to the dog or himself. One hand firmly grips the steering wheel and the other never leaves the animal’s body. He comforts the poor creature, murmuring more reassurances the closer they get. 

“Please hang in there for me, cariño,” Frankie whimpers, chewing his bleeding lip. “I gotcha. It’s all gonna be alright, bud.”

When he sees the hospital, he drives a little faster. He pulls into the emergency room area and parks in front of the door, turning on his hazards and running inside. There are a few veterinary nurses inside and they greet him, but their looks turn to fear when they see the denim-wrapped animal. “Please, please, Idon’tknowthisisn’tmydogitwasahitandrunandIpickeditup-”

“It’s alright, sir, come with us. Please breathe and tell us again,” a kind woman tells him with a hand on his arm, rushing him and the dog back. Frankie calms down after a moment and explains what happened. “It’s not my dog, I don’t know whose dog this is, you gotta check it for a chip-” he rambles.

“It’s alright, sir,” the nurse tells him kindly and takes the dog from his arms. Frankie clutches after it and a new woman pushes his arms down. “We’re going to take it back and operate on it. Would you please wait here for us? We’ll come give you updates as we get them,” she tells him, gesturing to the waiting room. He nods. “And is this your dog’s first time here?” She asks.

The tears come back, choking his throat as water falls steadily from his eyes. “It’s not even my fuckin’ dog, man,” he whimpers, worrying his lip between his teeth again.

The woman is still kind. “I see. Please, sit, Mr….”

“Morales,” he manages out.

She nods. “Mr. Morales. I understand you’re worried. Please just wait in here for us and we’ll bring you information when we have it.” He nods softly, grabbing a tissue from the front desk. He wipes his eyes and nose. “My truck is parked right outside, it’s in the way, I’ll go park it somewhere else,” he tells her.

“That’s perfectly fine, sir. You can even leave and come back if you’d like.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her and walk-jogs outside, getting in his car and bringing it around to park.

-

Frankie enters the emergency room again and sits in a chair. He worries and worries for hours, texting his group chat with the Millers and Santiago. He gives them a play-by-play, but only Santiago responds. He sits awake for another hour, nervously wringing his ball cap.

The dog must be alive, or at least be able to save, he rationalizes with himself. After a while, the worry fades and he falls asleep. Two hours later, no other patients around to disrupt him, he’s woken by the nurse who took the dog back. “Mr. Morales?” She calls out gently.

He jumps awake. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me.” He sits up from his slumped state, readjusting the cap from where it had been resting over his eyes.

The nurse smiles softly at him and sits in a chair across the waiting room from him. “The dog is safe now. We had to amputate her front left leg, and she had a lot of stitches, but she’s stable and looks like she’ll do well.” He lets out a sigh and her smile becomes more genuine. “You told us she isn’t yours?”

She. The dog is a girl. Of course she is, Frankie smiles a little. The smile falls as he remembers the fact again. “No, no. It was a hit and run. I saw it happen, the other guy took off, it wasn’t me who hit her, I’m-”

“Mr. Morales.”

“Right. No, she’s not mine.”

The nurse nods and writes that down. “Well, we scanned her several times. She has no chip, no identifiers at all. Our options now are to send her to some rescue or kennel of some sort, or you can take her home with you.”

His heart breaks at the image of the sweet dog in the front seat of his car going somewhere without daily love and affection. “She’ll come with me,” he answers before he can rationally think about it.

“Wonderful,” she nods, marking that down as well. “She’s looped up now on some drugs. We’ll let her sleep them off for a bit and then she’s all yours. We do have some procedures we’ll need you to follow, for caring for the wound and such. But after that, it should be all good. You’re free to head out now. We can call you when she wakes up.”

Frankie nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.” He looks down at his watch and notices how early in the morning it is. “Thanks,” he tells her with a genuine smile, taking off his cap and running his hands through his hair before replacing it.

- From that moment on, Frankie was enamored with the dog. He called in from work when the shop opened bright and early at 6:00 A.M. 

“Hey Carol. It’s Morales.”

“You can stop asking if you can come in early, Frank. Just do it,” the woman chuckles on the other line. A loud slurp is audible- it’s the coffee she’s always drinking, the dark sludgy shit that she brews in the break room that Frankie can’t stand but she absolutely adores.

“No, uh. Actually, I was calling in to see if someone else could cover for me today.” He explains the whole story to her, wringing his cap between his hands. “So. I was kind of hoping I could take the day to look for the dog’s owners and care for her.”

There’s a beat of silence over the phone. “Of course, Frankie,” the older woman says kindly. “You got a real big heart, kid. Real big. That’s awful kind.”

He smiles a little. “Just doing what I can. Thanks, Carol.”

“Keep me posted, Catfish.” The woman hangs up.

Frankie’s in more comfortable clothes now. He didn’t sleep at all once he got home, waiting for the hospital’s call. He distracts himself, cooking a breakfast he only picks at, watching his new series halfheartedly on the couch.

The animal hospital calls him again at 7:30. He gets off the couch immediately and into the truck. There’s a bit of blood on the passenger seat, from where the dog wasn’t immediately covered by his jacket. It’s not a worry, though, he thinks to himself. He’ll get some stain remover and maybe a new and nicer jacket. 

When he arrives, they usher him back to a check-up room. The dog is lying down but she wags her tail at Frankie, looking up at him with big brown eyes that could rival his own. “Hey, sweet thing,” he calls softly, and the dog stands and walks over to him. It’s pained, that much is clear, but she’s already adjusting to walking with one less limb. She rests her head on Frankie’s lap and he scratches her ears gently. 

Some paperwork is filled out and Frankie leads the dog out to his truck with the leash and collar the hospital provided. He lifts her into the passenger seat and she snuggles in. The scent is familiar to her. 

Frankie drives her to a pet store nearby, smiling over at her. She looks at ease with him, relaxed and trusting. Of course she is. This is the man who saved her. 

He helps her down once they arrive and leads her inside. Her walking is pained, he can tell. “Aw, honey,” he frowns. There are carts right inside; Frankie sees the immediate solution. He scoops her up and sets her in a cart. Her tongue hangs out happily as they go through the store. “We’re gonna get you all kinds of fun stuff, huh?” He asks, scratching her head. 

Frankie spares no expense for the dog. As they cross through the store, the cart fills: bags of food and treats, a new leash, and a pink collar decorated with donuts “because you’re such a sweetie, right cutie?”, doggie bags, and food and water dishes. Finally they reach the toy aisle. “Do you wanna pick your own toy?”

He picks her up and sets her down on the ground, unclipping her leash to allow her to explore the toy aisle. She meanders, sniffing toys here and there, even considering one big bone. A few moments later, she comes tottering back to the cart with a toy in her mouth. It’s a big plush hedgehog.  Frankie grins. “Aw, that’s a good one! Good choice, cutie.” He kisses her head as he puts her back in the cart. 

They check out and drive home, and Frankie allows her to wander inside. “Welcome home. At least for now. I suppose I should put an ad out for you online.” 

The dog doesn’t respond, just wanders around the house, sniffing the furniture warily and looking back at Frankie. Asking if he’s coming. He smiles and leads her to the couch, sitting down on it. “I know they say you shouldn’t let dogs on the furniture, but I think you and I can share.” She jumps up and Frankie praises her, giving her a smooch and earning a big lick in return. “Oh, pretty girl, I think you’ll like it here,” he coos to her. She snuggles into his side with a sigh and Frankie sighs too. 

Over the next few days, he posts ads for her, but no one responds. He reaches out to people from the area he was driving in, but no one responds. After Day 4 of searching, there’s no response and he allows himself to sigh in relief. “You’re mine now, baby girl,” he coos to the dog, who’s happily panting and grinning. 

During the first week, Frankie tries out different names for her. None of them seem to stick. He wonders if she ever even had a name before. Ada, Lucille, Thea, Sunny, Miki, Zulu, Fox, Pancake. None of them work right for her personality. 

It’s not until late one night when Frankie’s coke cravings decide upon a name for her. 

It’s 2:24 in the morning and Frankie is quaking like a leaf. The dog is cuddled up into his side on the bed. Wherever he goes around the house, she follows. He’s biting his lip so hard it’s drawing blood. Normally when he’s this anxious, when he yearns to call his dealer, he rides it out by balling his fists so tight his knuckles turn white. But his dog seems to notice. 

She rests her chin on his hip, wagging her tail against the mattress with a steady thump. She whines quietly. She knows. 

Frankie’s at least momentarily distracted. “Hey, beautiful, what’s wrong?” He asks her, scratching his head and rolling over to pet her. He’s still desperate but the focus shifts from the sensation of one last hit to the feeling of her soft fur beneath his fingers. She sighs happily and snuggles into Frankie’s side, and he starts to cry. 

No one has ever needed him. Not his plants: they’re succulents. He deals with them once every other week. Not his former fiancée. She didn’t need him, just liked him for his money and his dick late at night. Not his friends. They had other friends to go to. No, this dog needs him, and it makes his heart feel like it’s going to burst. 

Sitting up, Frankie turns on the television. He hits a random button to choose a channel, and Princess and the Frog comes on. He chuckles a little. “How about Tiana?” He asks his dog and scratches her ears. She doesn’t react. 

It’s near the beginning of the movie. The relaxing music soothes him as the movie starts. The dog lies with her head on his thigh, happily receiving scratchies from her new father. Her head perks up when she hears a shrill noise from the television: Tiana’s best friend in her puffy pink dress. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay baby. It’s just Charlotte.”

Charlotte. Her ears perk up and she looks at him. “Charlotte?” He asks again, and she looks at him in confusion. “Do you like that one? How about Lottie?” No response. “Or Charlie?”

The dog pounces on him with her one front paw and licks his face. Frankie laughs happily scratching her sides. “Is that your name, pretty girl? Is your name Charlie?”

The answer, it seems, is yes.

It’s funny, Frankie thinks. Charlie is the third letter of the military alphabet, after Alpha and Beta.

Before Delta.

She would be, he realizes. She’s more important to him than his Delta Squadron guys. More important to him than the terrible things he did in the military. She comes before Delta.

And that’s how Charlie got her name. 

-

The guys finally came over to Frankie’s house on Night 9 of owning Charlie. 

All of the men are dog lovers, and Charlie takes to Benny quickly. He gives her her favorite kind of scratches: one hand behind the ear, one hand on the tummy. “Yeah, that’s a good tripod,” he teases her as he snuggles her. 

“Hey man, cut it out,” Frankie frowns and smacks his arm. “She’s insecure about it! Be nice.”

Santiago laughs. “Hey, you know what, Fish? This isn’t what I meant when I said that you should get a girl, but I’ll take it. Especially when she’s such a sweetie- oh hi, beautiful,” he coos as Charlie hops his way and licks his face. 

Frankie shakes his head. “Isn’t she a cutie?” He laughs happily as he watches his dog. “I tried posting ads for her, but no one answered. She’s such a sweetheart, potty trained and everything. I can’t believe I got so lucky.”

Benny grins. “And all because we asked you to get a beer and you caved and said yes.”

“What the hell do you mean caved, Ben? I get beers with you two fuckers three times a week,” he laughs and shakes his head. 

He’s been home alone with her all week, but he hasn’t felt as anxious as he normally does. Her companionship is all he needs, the way she snuggles up tight against him, the way her meal schedule motivates him to eat more. He has a purpose now. 

After the initial excitement, Charlie finds her place sitting at her dad’s feet, panting happily and looking around the room. “She fits in well,” Will nods and leans over as he scratches her head. “She’s the newest member of our group, I suppose.”

“She’s much less work than Fish. Maybe we replace him with her,” Santiago teases and Frankie flips him off, chuckling softly. 

This was a pattern that came to be known as the newly named C Night in Frankie’s head. These are the nights where they order a pizza or takeout and hang out in Frankie’s living room with Charlie. She’s the entertainer of the group, giving the men each some individual snuggles and wandering around the room. She’s funny, flopping onto her back at a human’s feet so that she can get tummy rubs, spending an absurd amount of time sniffing one specific spot on one man’s jeans. They all adore her. 

Life improves for Frankie when he has Charlie. He works shorter hours, spends time brushing her fur. He sleeps at better hours and cares for himself better as a result of caring for her. 

He takes her on a jog every morning. At first, he was nervous to do it. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to pass those Special Ops fitness tests. The thing that encourages him most is that Charlie is just the same speed as him. She runs along happily on three legs at the perfect pace for Frankie to match. 

Frankie lovingly refers to her as his copilot. She loves riding in the passenger seat of his truck, letting the wind from the open windows run through her fur. She gets excited when she hears the word truck and demands that Frankie snuggle her when they’re on a long drive. She even fell asleep on his lap once, with her face resting in the curve of the steering wheel.

Charlie is Frankie’s baby, and Frankie is her favorite human. The two of them are each other’s soulmates, Frankie thinks. His baby girl, his fluffy baby, his cuddlebug. His girl. His one true love is his dog, his Charlie. 

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence.

A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy!

The Purest Things Masterlist

(my gif! please credit if you use.)

january 2008

Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”

+++++

Your alarm is often hushed before it even has an opportunity to set off nowadays because you usually wake up before it even has the chance.

4:25 A.M.

You groan and toss your pillow over your face. Maybe, just maybe, you can will yourself to sleep for a little longer. As if someone heard your pleas for slumber, your phone starts buzzing on your bedside table. Of course, it is unnecessary for you even to read the messages. There is a case.

+++++

"Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted," J.J. begins, "She's the third to go missing in the last 6 weeks. All disappeared from public places. No one's seen them since until now. A couple days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park that was once the site of the battle of Chancellorsville."

"Were they able to make an I.D.?" you and Hotch ask simultaneously. Your eyes meet, but he breaks the contact abruptly. Flustered and insecure, you bury your focus deep into the file in front of you. The group discusses the case for a couple of minutes, but you are so concentrated on the papers that you hardly absorb any information they've shared.

There is something familiar about this case to you. Suddenly, realization strikes.

Rejoining the discussions, you say, "I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania county. Similar markings on the bone. It was the winter of 1980, also in Fredericksburg. There were 5 women aged 16 to 24. They were buried in pieces."

"Same markings. Same civil war battlefield," J.J. responds in agreement.

The team agrees that this could be the works of the same killer. There are aspects of the more recent killings that would be impossible to copycat since those details had never been released to the public. But, if this is the same unsub, what's he been doing for the past 27 years?

+++++

Hotch focuses on the road while you watch out the window of the passenger seat. Occasionally, you sneak the odd peek at him. His stoicism is alluring, and you find yourself drawn to this demeanor like a moth to a flame. Piecing together the tiny glimpses you've collected thus far as if working on a mental puzzle, you scrutinize his attributes. His eyes bare the beginnings of crow's feet. Only his sideburns tease the speckling of salt and pepper undertones. His lips turn downwards at the corners, no doubt from years of scowling at unsubs.

Reid speaks up from behind you both and breaks your train of thought. Probably for the better, there's no reason why you should examine your unit chief so intently.

"It's funny--he always dumps the bodies in this battlefield, no matter what the risk."

"It's a respected landmark. He's flaunting," Aaron reckons.

"It makes him feel important," you say in agreement.  

Once you have arrived at the crime scene, you follow Agent Hotchner closely. Reid trails ahead, most likely trying to keep up with his own train of thought.

"How does someone not see or hear them?" You ask the sheriff.

He turns to you with a defeated expression, "It was dark. He had the advantage. Molly's boyfriend was the last person to see her. He said she was alone for a minute, maybe less."

Hotch surveys the surroundings, "He's patient and works fast."

"He's perfected his M.O.," Reid states while looking around.

You cross your arms as a wave of unease gets the best of you as you envision the moments leading to Molly's attack.

"If our unsub's pushing 60, he's gotta be strong enough to carry her a long way without her struggling," you bring out.

Hotch looks to you with a concerned squint. You shake your head, signaling to him that it's nothing you can't get under control. He nods in response. The sheriff agrees to point out the various entrances to the park.

"I'll catch up with you," your Unit Chief states. He motions for you to step aside with him, and you comply.

"You know, ever since my wife and I had our son, I dread receiving cases involving children," he discloses to you.

Tears well up in your eyes, "I can't even imagine, but sir, why are you telling me this?"

"This job will inevitably strike close to home on some cases more than others. It's okay for you to feel overwhelmed by it all every once and a while," he assures you.

"You never lose it, though."

He sighs heavily, "Maybe I should have."

Shortly before you joined the BAU, Hotch's wife Haley left with their son Jack. You never ask questions or stick your nose where it doesn't belong. It isn't your place, and you can't blame him for not wanting to bring his family struggles to work. He deals with enough broken families on the job as it is. Mixing his own personal life into the field would only make it more challenging to prioritize. Despite all this, you cannot help but wonder what exactly led to his and his wife's separation. You hope that they can find their way back to each other. The crimes you investigate do not need to claim the Hotchner's as victims as well.

+++++

"I'll let you talk to Chrissy Wilkenson," Hotch directs you towards the kitchen. You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants and make your way into the kitchen, Hotch following closely behind you.

"Mrs. Wilkenson," you say gently, "My name is Y/F/N. I have just a few questions about your husband. Where does Charlie usually go when he's stressed?"

"The barn," she stutters. You can tell she's anxious and afraid for the well-being of her family.

"Anywhere else, Chrissy?"

Hotch is called into the other room, and you continue questioning Chrissy. She's becoming overwhelmed, so you guide her to the dining room.

"I know this is difficult, Chrissy."

"Did the father of my child really do that to those poor women?" She cradles her baby bump.

Your heart breaks for her, and you choose to remain silent. Sometimes saying nothing speaks louder than words.

Footsteps bound throughout the house, and Hotch appears in the doorway, "The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkenson. We need you with us."

Standing up from your chair, you place your hand atop Chrissy's, "History doesn't have to repeat itself." It is almost as if she could tell you were reading her thoughts. The endless whispers that cloud her mind making her feel like she's left with only one choice, but there's always another option. That is all you are trying to remind her of.

+++++

As you and your team trek through the forest, you see a clearing.

"Hotch, this way," you beckon him to pursue your course.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, and you stop in your tracks. You make eye contact with Hotch and mirror each other's actions, dashing towards the opening in the trees. Your heart pounds in rhythm with your footsteps colliding against the ground. It is clear to you from your exchange with Chrissy at the house that the origin of the gunshot will shock everyone but yourself. As you reach the clearing and rush down the hill, your speculation is validated.

Chrissy Wilkenson is standing over the body of her husband, the unsub. A traumatized young man haunted by his father's past and plagued by the idea that children are trapped in the endless cycles created by their parents.

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Jesus. Now is not the time for that.

The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyways. Inside, you feel conflicted while watching her get into the back of the squad car.

Hotch appears by your side but remains silent. Again, sometimes silence speaks louder than words. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the fact that it is trembling.

"What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?"

"I told her that history does not have to repeat itself. I wanted her to know that even when it feels like you are backed into a corner, there is always another way out. Sometimes people don't know where to look for their out thought," you quiver.

He lightly touches your arm and gives you a reassuring tilt of the head, "Just know that you did everything you could. We will never do this job perfectly. Doing the right thing usually costs more than it pays. You did your part.  I'm not a saint, and I am far from a hero, but I have integrity and honor, and I do this job to the best of my ability."

"If you can leave a case with a clear conscience," he continues, "you know you did the best you could. Any other thought process will eat away at you slowly but surely, and ultimately, it will result in the demise of your career and destruction of yourself."

+++++

After a seemingly neverending day, you all arrive back at Quantico.

"I could really go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie's buying," you wave your wallet around frivolously.

"I could go for 5 drinks!" Prentiss exclaims.

"Count me in," Morgan winks at you. He never fails to make you blush.

Reid hesitates and you pout your bottom lip, "Please Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?"

Hotch comes down the stairs, "Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?"

You and Derek snicker to each other as Spencer attempts to diffuse his own embarassment.

"9 to 5 is an iconic female anthem that certainly has a rather bewitching affect on a man when mixed with alcohol."

"You only drank Diet Coke that night," you roll your eyes at him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group formed around the desks.

Making your way over to him, you invite him to join, "Want a beer?" You second guess yourself, but it seems as though his rather stern expression softens ever so slightly when he pivots on his heels to look at you.

"I would like that," he answers softly.

He immediately returns to his original path and hovers near the glass doors. You casually make your way over to him, joined by Dave and Emily. A man barges in through the glass doors announcing Aaron's name.

"Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes," the subject in question breaths out almost defeatedly.  

The yellow package he holds in his hands is all too familiar and instantly churns your stomach into knots. You gnaw at your bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste that causes you to cringe.

"What is it?" Emily speaks up.

There's no question as to what it is. Oh Hotch. I’m so sorry.

Hotch's eyes trace the package from corner to corner in disbelief, "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

When he eventually takes his eyes off of the lettering, his eyes meet yours. They lock onto you and it is in that moment that you feel as though you have been given the key to unlock his soul. His eyes are so unusual at this moment; they are more vulnerable than you have ever seen. The stoic man is gone, and instead, it is the eyes of one who is in tremendous pain. You had mistaken his bloodshot eyes for physical fatigue on the plane, but now you see that it is emotional exhaustion as well.

If only you knew how badly I want to hug you and tell you that you won't be swallowed up by this darkness. There's a long road ahead, but you have so many people here who love you and are here to support you through this. You aren't alone. Trust me, I know.

In some way, you pray that he can read into your soul and see the pain you feel for him. Once more, your shared silence proves to speak for itself.  

At last, he breaks eye contact with you and finally releases the breath that you had been holding in. Dave grabs onto your arm, seeing the clear impact Hotch's news has on you, no doubt having also noticed Hotch's immediate response in looking at you.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can join you tonight," he excuses himself and escapes to the seclusion of his office.

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

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[myfeetkeepdancing]

Saint and Sinner  |  Arvin Russell x Male!Reader

Summary: This continues where the movie ends. You pick up Arvin as you are on your way to Cincinnati. But he’s awfully quiet, haunted by his past. Not the ideal companion for a long journey, but you make most of it. 

Warnings: Smoking, drinking and smut

Words: 7814

-----

The orange glow of his cigarette illuminated the features underneath the cap for a brief moment. The cindering bud scattered across the tarmac as it parted with an almost spent cigarette. A puff of smoke blew from his lips. Carried away by the wind, into the forest beside him. Another car drove past him. A visible sigh racked his frame as he dragged his feet back into action. You spot the man from miles away. His appearance became more apparent the closer you got.

His intentions didn't change; you see his hand signal coming into view again. With his cigarette almost burned up, you leave your foot off the gas, and you let the car roll to a standstill a few yards after him. His jeans were dirty, torn, and worn long last past its intended lifetime. Just like the loose shirt hanging around his frame, the collar broad and wide. Blown by the wind. Spots of grime, sweat, and soil soaked in. A few locks of brown hair protruded from beneath his cap. Worn and colors fading. His expression was tired, and features that were gaunt like. Roadworkers were common in the area. And he sure looked the part.

"Hey there, where you be headin'?" You ask as he walks up to your window.

"I… haven't figured that out yet." He said in a beaten-down tone. "I was thinking somewhere north."

"I'm heading towards Cincinnati. You can travel along that way."

You could see him pondering, looking back down the road the way you came. If something was keeping him here. Reminding him of something. Before looking back at you. "I've been meaning to get up there."

"Well, hop on in." Leaning over to unlock the door. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Thank you...." Taking the last pull of his cigarette before tossing the smoldering remains on the floor. Closing the door behind him. "I didn't think anybody was gonna pick me up." Cradling the knapsack in his lap. And sharing a glance at you, forcing a small smile. Tightening his arms around his bag. His voice is dark and heavy. Carrying a sense of grim. "I'm Arvin."

"Rough day?"

"Hmmhm." He confirmed, avoiding any further eye contact. "Yeah…" Mumbling under his voice. Locked in a cold stare, reserved and absent.

There wasn't much to talk about. He sat there beside you, staring into the distance. You put the car into gear and steer back onto the road—a two-way road dissecting the large looming forest. Tall pine trees scattered up and beyond the horizon. As far as the eye can see. In the distance, a single-car drove ahead of you. A loaded truck passed by, and that was it. And as you pick up speed, a cool breeze of air began circulating through the open rolled windows. Following into the bending road, you spot the lay of the land ahead of you. A long stretch of road, rolling over the hills and valleys of the countryside. The branched off dirt roads dotted here and there all connected to a long stretch of road—a single lane connecting the smaller settlements to the cities. The road was uneven like most of them. The journey was going to be long. With the nob on the radio, you turn the volume down, the local radio broadcasting nothing noteworthy other then news and music replayed over and over again. Trying your best to keep your eyes on the road, you can't help but notice the boy's head bobbing. He must be the same age as you. Maybe a bit younger. His features were young, yet his expression was grave. He'd been through something. The way his eye pierced through the windshield. Roughed up by the countryside.

"You can sleep if you want, I'll wake you up once we hit town."

He just shook his head, fighting to stay awake. Arvin didn't want to fall asleep beside a stranger. Things were keeping him awake. His head heavy with sleep, burdened by his thoughts and deeds, bobbing on his neck. Swaying to the bounces and rockings of the car. His mind occupied elsewhere. Taking him back to times that were.

You weren't entirely sure if he was awake or not. He breathed somewhat heavily, and his head jerked back once in a while. "You… joining me?" You ask, motioning to the diner opposite the car. You hear a few grumbles, the sleepyhead still fighting to stay awake. His eyes small and narrow. With your coat hanging on your lap, ready to go, you give him some more time. He had been dozing off for little moments during the ride. But something was keeping him away, he'd jerk back into life, awake again and again. As if his nightmares were pushing him from his sleep. You slip open the pack of cigarettes and offer him one before taking one yourself. Something he didn't decline.

"I'll wait." He grumbled, voice hoarse and dry. "I'm not hungry."

"Hmm…" You watch him with interest, slowly awakening himself from the small naps. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, you notice the long brown locks of hair as he readjusted his cap, racking his fingers through as he coughed a little. Both still seated in the car, you quietly offer him a light. He leans over to you, catching the flame with his cigarette. "Something troubling you?" The question got out before you knew it.

The small flame of the lighter gave his appearance a somber look. He looked at you briefly through his lashes before seating back up. "It's nothin', just a… busy day." Pulling a big one from his cigarette. You remain seated like that for a while. Smoking a cigarette in peace and quiet. The parking lot at the dinner was almost empty, two cars and a lorry. From the car, you both watch the few customers dine and the young server walking up and down the diner. The sun was setting on the horizon, darkness slowly creeping into the surrounding woods.

"Here." Tossing the pack of cigarettes his way. "Just make sure no one gets into the car." You say and step outside, putting on your coat as the cold breeze crept upon you. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Don't worry about me." Sinking back into the chair. Taking another cigarette between his lips as he watches you enter the diner. Drawing a long pull and releasing a plume of smoke together with a long sorrowful sigh. Arvin was all alone in this world. Sitting in a strangers car, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He couldn't help but feel pity for himself. More and more questions began flooding his mind. Where should he go? What should he do? Would they be looking for him? And most importantly, did he do right? He rolled up the windows more to block out the cold wind blowing in. Arvin was alone once again. He wanted to. It's what he choose. Trust was hard to come by. Especially after all that had happened. He couldn't trust anyone. He sank deeper into his seat. His gaze stuck in nothing but mindless thoughts.

"Shit!" Arvin cursed, jumping in his seat. His instinct kicked in, holding a charged fist at whoever tried to get to him. But as he looked better, he could see a familiar face beside the car.

"Sorry, didn't mean to." You apologize while opening his door. "But I was wondering if you brought your jacket? Didn't see it on you, and you know, since you won't join me, you better get dressed. Gets pretty cold outside."

"Have my denim jacket with me." He said. Looking a bit puzzled by your concerns. "I'll be fine."

"Here." Slipping off your coat and handing it to him. "That denim jacket won't keep you warm. You sure you're not coming with me?"

He shrugged it off without even looking at you. You also let if go, and continue inwards. Like a typical diner, seating benches row after row. There was space for no more than fifteen to twenty people. At the end of the path cutting across the diner sat a jukebox. A nifty apparatus that was popping up everywhere. Even in small places like this. Behind the small bar with stools in flashy red and white accents all over stood the young server. She gave you a kind smile. Through a small gap in the wall, you could see the kitchen. The smell of bacon and fries welcome you—a sure pleasant one since you were in need of a good meal after such a long drive. A few seating away from the door sat an older couple, behind them, the lorry driver—just a quiet evening in the diner. You take a seat further up, close to the window to keep an eye on your car. And most importantly, your passenger. At first, he sat in the car, smoking one after the other, before finally dressing himself in your coat. Cold must be creeping into the metal.

In your mind, you couldn't understand nor figure out why he'd stay outside. He stretched his legs outside the car several times but regretted it moments later. The weather is getting a grip on him soon enough. Surprisingly enough, sleep didn't bother him anymore. Dinner alone didn't take long. The meal was good, a nice piece of tender meat with fries and a coke—a real classic. When you dine alone, you tend to finish quickly. Some small talk with the server might drag it out. But not tonight.

During your meal, you browse through the local paper. Read in upon the local and national news. Check the adverts and job offers. Ponder about work, family, and other matters. But somehow, your thoughts keep getting pulled away—more than once. And when you look up from your meal, your eyes automatically divert to your car. Catching his eye. The distance wasn't that far. But the contact was there. And feel caught nonetheless. He wasn't staring at you. But you keep catching each other's gaze—more than once. Your meal was interesting, but outside was something more worth your attention.

The red neon lights illuminated the entranceway and part of the parking lot. You were flooded by it once you stepped outside. In the small cluster of buildings on this side of the road, this one stood out the most. A local watering hole further up was the only other noteworthy building. The rest was wrapped in darkness. Two lamp posts illuminated the main street. Furthermore, no light. Just quiet and darkness. All in all, the small place was a sad display; most buildings were dilapidated, poorly maintained, and without much charm. Life went one elsewhere, but here, somehow, time seemed to stand still. A chill ran up your spine to tell you it was time for another stretch on the road.

The windows were rolled up all the way, except the one on his side—a small opening near the top, big enough to rid excess ash from his cigarette. You take a seat behind the wheel again, placing the paper bag beside him. A look of surprise shoots across his face; the smell must have caught on. "It's for you." You say while starting the car. The headlights illuminate the parking, and it's silent metal habitants.

"You didn't have to." Coughing his smoker's breath away, peaking into the bag. "But 't smells good."

"Dig in, my friend." Pushing the bag further towards him. "Can't imagine you're not hungry." A thin, forced smile softened his otherwise tired and lackluster expression. "It'll do you good."

"Thank you." He says while looking up at you. You feel the words carry their message across. The way he looks at you, straight into your eyes. "That's... real kind of you." Taking the contents from the bag. He carefully begins to unfold the wrap from the steaming hot burger on his lap. A sip from the cold milkshake seems to make him whole again. So did the first bite into the burger, leaning back as he slowly lets the flavors overwhelm him. "That's real good." He nods. "Yeah..."

"Good to hear…" Giving him a smile as you bring the car into action. The road ahead was dark and still so many miles to make. "Still got plenty of miles to go."

With the headlights of your car being the only source of light in the vicinity, driving became a tiresome experience. Staring ahead of you. No proper focal point. Just the road, two beams of light, and a pitch-black horizon. The sound coming from the radio was nothing special, pretty much the same as the jukebox from earlier. Your back began to feel sore and worn, annoying you. Small talk had been minimal. Arvin wasn't much of a talker. Not a storyteller. He kept his answers short. Therefore the whole chatter didn't have any deep subjects. Just plain chit chat about work and life. The work he did. The news. Yet, not mentioning his family. He avoided it. For a reason, you guess.

"What's there for you in Cincinnati?" He asked. For once, you were taken aback by his interest. Managing to speak a whole sentence. You chuckle to yourself lightly. Arvin noticed but didn't react.

"Home." You said, giving him a smile as he looks at you. "Been on a family visit for a couple of days."

"Hmmm…" He shifts his gaze from you back to the road. "Parents?"

"Yeah, I... used to live there. Farm life wasn't for me." You said. "Have you figured out where you're going?"

"Not yet." He sighed, sinking back further down in his seat. "Thank you for the coat. Glad the heater is back on again." Warming his hands in front of the vent. "It's cold."

"The least I can do."

The drive from the diner to the motel was a mere four-hour drive. Again in full darkness, only with a few more cars here and there. You knew the route for a certain bit. Arvin didn't pay attention to the road numbers when you tried to recall the last one. Arvin just raised his shoulder questionably. He didn't know. And it wasn't his fault, but you were trying to involve him in the process nonetheless. At least try to make the best of your company. When you stopped, he did join you looking on the map. Decked out onto the hood of the car, finding your way across the spiderweb of roads. He did look. But didn't say much. Smoking a cigarette, nothing more. In the last miles fifty or so miles, you made a stop to refuel, bought another pack of cigarettes, some small snacks, and went on for the final stretch. Arvin was said very little. Like before.

"Alright... so." You said, waiting for Arvin to catch up. "I've booked a room for the night here, perh-"

"I better go." He nodded, with a notion of defeat in posture. Adjusting his cap over his long curls again. With his gaze to the floor, he throws the knapsack over his shoulder.

"That's not what I meant." You chuckle out laughter, scratching yourself behind your ear. His eyes widen as he looks up, you see the grip on the strap tighten. "It's not that late." You say. "How about a beer? I know a bar further up. On me."

His pursed lips and a downcast glance told you enough. One hand on the strap of his bag, he tucked the other away in his pocket. A sigh followed that was louder than even he expected. The shadow created underneath his cap by the lamppost was enough to be unable to read in expression. Or see his eyes.

From what you have seen from this man, this Arvin. The words he spoke were few. Very few. But the eyes didn't. Once you looked into those eyes, they didn't deceive. They tell you more than his words could make out. He removed the last cigarette from the package you gave him. "Got a light?" He asked with a heavy voice. From your pocket, you flip open your lighter. Before giving you one more look. "Thank you (Y/N)." And with that, he starts walking away from you.

"Arvin." His steps slowed down before glancing back in your direction. Not at you. "Take good care of yourself."

He simply nodded, blew the smoke from his lips, and walked away. You try to shake it off and continue to check-in. The small room was furnished like any other. A small room centered around the bed, a tiny bathroom in the back, a wardrobe to one side, a chair to the other. Colors were near the same throughout the rooms. This was simple, dark, and drab greens. An old model of a television stood on a wooden counter near the wall. You seat yourself into the chair and tune into the first channel of only six. There wasn't much time that went by as sleep began to creep in. Eyelids heavy with sleep. Thoughts turned to none. Gazing mindlessly at the black and white images dancing on the screen.

You veer up in your seat, completely awake—two knocks on your door, loud and powerful, resonated through the room. You didn't have a bad conscience, as some would suggest. But this was far from expected. With your eyes wide open, heart beating in your chest, you approach the little spyhole in the door. Focusing one eye on…

"Arvin?" You pull open the door with a more than a surprised look. "How' d-... W-...?"

He'd clearly been beaten up by the weather. His breath fanned out before him like a small cloud, the cold from outside, riding up against you. Bringing your senses back to life again. It must have been more than an hour since you last saw him. Outside was cold, like before, windy and above all dark as the night could be. He reeled from the cold. Shaking to his very core. "Can I come back on that offer?"

"Of course." Taking a step back and holding the door open to him. "C'mon in."

"Thank you." He said, rubbing his hands together feverishly. "Tis damn cold outside." Standing uncomfortably in the room. Rocking on his heels, trying to warm himself up.

"It is…" Closing the door behind him, you don't know what to expect. But a sense of relief did surface for a brief moment. Something about him made your heart flutter. "So... what happened?"

Arvin didn't look pleased with himself. Sighing deeply, forcing his gaze to the floor if he was about to confess something. "Nothin' happened. That's the problem. I..." He shook his head, as if conflicted by his train of thought. Embarrassed to admit something.

"I'm just curious, Arvin. No more."

"I... didn't know where else to go..." He confessed, shoulders sinking, head hanging low.

"It's ok." Feeling pity for the man. What you didn't know was that Arvin had been standing there, in the darkness, for a long time. He'd walked the streets alone. Trains weren't there. Money he didn't have. Nor any family. Lost in his thoughts. Alone and cold. Without anything but a knapsack filled with old belongings. What was he going to do? He was a lost cause either way.

What he needed was hope. A light at the end of the tunnel. So he returned, standing in the distance, shivering from the cold in some alleyway. Catching the last glimpse of you as you unloaded your suitcase. Arvin had wondered for how long he should stay there. Was ten minutes long enough? Half an hour, maybe? He troubled himself with all sorts of thoughts, as he observed the small window which a little bit of light shone through.

"You mind if I...?" Pointing at the glass and bottle of liquor beside the chair—another reason for you why sleep began to set in earlier than usual.

"No, not at all." He handed you the glass with your remaining bit, downing it in one go. "It helps me sleep from time to time." Releasing a small hiss as is burned down your throat. Watching Arvin putting his lips to the bottle. Downing a few good swigs. "Might help you as well."

"Hmmm... I sure could use it." He looked at you with dreary eyes. "Sure could use it..." Wiping the drool from his lips with the back of his hand. His whole body was still shaking and shuddering on his legs. The glass trembling in his hand. You could see the pale white skin of his fingers gripping the glass. They were whiter than his grime stained shirt.

"So, what's your plan?" You ask, taking a comfortable position leaning against the wall.

Arvin had thought about the question beforehand. If he was going to escape the former life, he needed to go far away. Somewhere where he couldn't be found easily. The city was a good start. "Could I… travel with you… to Cincinnati?" He asked with a slight hint of hesitation in his voice. "If you don't I…"

"No problem." You said, cutting him off. He might not have been the perfect companion from the start. But you have to start somewhere. Not everyone earns their trust as quickly. "If all goes well, we'll hit Cincinnati tomorrow around noon. You can figure out what to do next on our way down there."

"I appreciate that." He smiled thinly. "Thank you, mister."

"Alright, alright." You nod and head for your suitcase. "And it's (Y/N). No more mister." You warn him with a raised finger and a smile. "I think we might be of the same age."

"Twenty-two."

"See." Confirming your suspicions. From there, you sort some clothing out. A clean white shirt, pair of jeans, and a sweater. You walk over to the door and take your coat from the hanger. "Go take a bath, freshen up. And those are yours." Pointing to the fresh pair of clothes on the foot end of the bed. You slip on your coat and pull a cigarette from the pack in your pocket. "I know what you're thinking. I'll wait outside."

Arvin looked at you with suspicious eyes, as if you had a whole different intention. He stared at you while you unlocked the door and took the keys. "Are you gonna call the cops?" His entire body stiffened as he asked the question. Terrified of the answer.

"What?" You chuckle into laughter. "No. What makes you think that?"

"Then why are you doing this?!" He shot back. "Why do all of this?! Why give me clothes?"

"You came back for a reason, Arvin." You didn't need to think about it long. One of two things was possible. Either good or bad. And soon you would find out which. “I'm just trying to help. But feel free to leave..." Taking a step aside, holding the door open for him. Letting the cold wind wash in. "You may have trust issues. But I don't." Revealing your wallet from your back pocket. "I know exactly what's in here." Tossing it on the bedsheets. "If you change your mind, or have a suspicion..." Nudging towards the wallet. "Have a go, might survive a couple days on it. Figure things out."

"I won't." He said resolutely. Taking a stance.

"I know." You nodded. "But I'm trying to make a point here. I'm not bad, either. And I know you're a good lad."

He stared at you with troubled eyes. "You don't know that." Shaking his head, his jaw locked, and lips pursed thin. "I have done things." His voice was dark, and spoke with a sense of guilt. "I have sinned." He spoke it like some warning.

"We all have." You preached wisely. "And you don't need faith to do it."

"What did you just say?!"

"You have no faith, Arvin. At least, not anymore. You either lost it or… something happened." The tension was thick. The way he looked at you. A sight that made you shudder. If he might turn hostile at any moment. Yet the more you look into his eyes. The more lost you feel yourself. Something was amiss with him. "You don't thank the Lord for your food. Nor mention him in every third sentence like those folk down in the countryside." Arvin's nostrils flared as he listened and let the words sink in. "I've seen it without my own family. Everyone there puts their trust in faith. But it only gives false hope."

"You don't know." Averting his gaze. "I'm not like one of them."

"That's my point."

"What about all this?" Throwing hands at the clothes. "Won't they miss these at home?"

"My wallet would be worse." You shake your head while suppressing laughter. "There's also a lock on the door in the bathroom. If you don't trust me, that is." Taking the cigarette in between your lips. "Which is up to you." And step outside. The howling wind welcoming you as you struggle to catch the flame. Turning your back to the wind, facing Arvin again. "Also, I live alone. They… don't give a damn for giving away a pair of clothes." Shooting him a smile. "I'll be back in thirty." Closing the door behind you.

Forty minutes had passed when you returned. With caution, you unlocked the door, careful not to scare or walk into him. Not to your surprise, Arvin appeared in a better-suited attire than earlier. Standing beside the bed with his denim jacket on. His hair freshly combed, and the dirt and stains removed from his face and neck. In his hand, he held a cigarette, the other tucked into this pocket. He looked so much better. Cleaner, fresher and more man than before. You both locked eyes on each other. Still not sure whether the tension had cleared from earlier.

But the cold had done enough on you, your nose was running, and the wind had found every little inch of exposed skin. Freezing you to your very bone. "Good God…." Cursing something more while sniffing your nose. "I'm freezing." And close the door behind you. Warming your hands together while looking at Arvin. "You look much better." Reaching for the bottle for a swig. "Hope it did you good." Sneezing your nose after in your handkerchief.

An adorable smile cracked his features as he flipped away the half-smoked cigarette onto the street. Chuckling to himself as he closed the door, stepping into the room. His smile brightened the room. "It did." He said with a terribly precious smile. "Thank you (Y/N)."

"You're welcome." Planting yourself on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleepers from your eyes. The room had warmed up adequately since you turned up the radiators before you left for a cigarette outside. The warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. Feeling your ears glow like never before.

"I was about to come look for ya."

"Oh..." Releasing a long stretched yawn. "Well, I'm here." You rub your face wrecked with sleep.

"This is yours." Handing back your wallet.

"Thank you. What'd you do with it?"

"Nothing. Like you said."

"I knew you would." Flashing him a smile. In that short moment of eye contact, you notice a small shimmer in his eyes. It was brief. Something had happened.

"Thank you (Y/N). And my apologies."

"I'm just glad you're still here."

"I owe you that beer." He said, nudging towards the door. "Should we?"

"We'll figure that out later. I'm feeling tired." You knew full well Arvin had changed for the occasion. You detected a hint of disappointment in his reaction—the snort of air through his nose. But sleep had set in. With the cold crept into your bones, you longed for the warm sheets of a bed. Not a cold, stale beer in some backwater bar. "I've been to the reception… and uh... there's another room available. But…-"

"I don't want you to go through that much trouble for me." He raised his voice.

"I only wanted to say, I just... don't have that kind of money to spare right now. And-"

"I don't expect you to. You've already done enough." He smiled thankfully, but unexpected. "It's my own fault. I'll sleep in the car, or on the flo-..."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous." You cut him short. "Is that the alcohol talkin'?"

 "There's only one bed for the two of us." He said, his thin smile more of a joking kind than anything else. "It has the space, but…"

"As long as you don't elbow me. I'm fine with it." You yawn out loud, stretching your limbs. "I just need some rest. I'll take this side-" Patting the cushion beside you. "-you the other."

"Fine." He snorted and sat on the other side. "Fine…" With the switch on your side of the bed, you dim most of the lights. Turning up the heat slightly on the thermostat, you make sure neither one gets cold in case someone pulls the cover from one another. The sheets were big enough, but just in case. You thought about sleeping in the chair, or the car. But neither of those were good options. As far as you know, a cheaper motel was miles ahead. Not that you had the money to spend on another room. But…

"G'night." Arvin mumbled while pulling his socks off. You glance back as his comment pulled you from your thoughts. A shudder of some sort short up through your spine. Followed by a growing glow of warmth. Boiling your insides slowly. Churning your stomach. In that instance, that moment you glanced back, Arvin sat at the edge of the bed. Just like you, but without a shirt. His broad shoulder and masculine back did something to you, you couldn't describe. The air stocked in your throat. Your eyes meet, sudden and short, as he turned his head slightly, his gaze locking into yours momentarily as he glanced back over his shoulder. The brown locks of hair dangling in front of him.

"Goodnight." Stripping yourself of the remaining pieces of clothing. Feeling the motion of Arvin shifting on the mattress, slipping himself under the covers. You turn the lights off with the switch beside your bed. Letting your eyes adjust to the darkness, and slide under the covers on the opposite side. Arvin lay on his back, gaze to the ceiling. And join him in doing so. Leaving a small space in-between. Like a neutral zone. It was mutually agreed without exchanging a single word about it. One arm propped under your cushion, the other resting on your stomach. Yet your heart hammered in your chest. You were glowing, cheeks burning. Not from the alcohol. Not from the cold. You were far more awake than you ever have been that day. Eyes wide open. Swallowing the lump down your throat. You just keep your gaze to the ceiling, but you wanted to… to look beside you.

"At what time do you want to leave tomorrow morning?" He said quietly, feeling his gaze shift towards you. Every bit of movement on the mattress made your heart pump harder. Laying on your back, the bed wasn't small. You made yourself small, close to the edge, a bit of cover draped over you. Yet he felt so close by. The sound of him breathing alone made you…

"I… I... d-don't know… We'll see…" You clear your throat, keeping your eyes in afront. "We'll see." The everlasting silence returning again. The night turned dark and quiet. No cars driving past. No birds singing. No music from across the street. There was nothing, just silence. You don't know how long you've been laying there, staring at the ceiling. The tension building up. Listening to his breathing. You can't help it; you're too focused on it. Only the howling wind outside, the rustling of branches outside, brought a change of sound—every lick of lips, movement of his tongue in his mouth. You could hear it.

"(Y/N)?" He asked, rolling his head on the cushion, meeting your gaze for a second as you looked over. The cushions touched each other, that wasn't the problem. They were big enough, but the space between the two of you. That wasn't. The touch of arms was enough for you to jump a little.

"Yes… I'm awake." You sighed and continue to spit out a lie blatantly. "It's the weather. I always have trouble falling asleep when it's windy." You glance at him. "And you?"

"I don't know..." He said, bringing the conversation to a dead stop. You swing yourself onto the edge of the bed and lift yourself onto your legs. Making your way to the bathroom and lower yourself on the throne. Relieving yourself of the necessary. Before rounding the corner of the room, you halted for a moment. Standing there, several meters away from the bed. Even in the dark, you could see Arvin lying on his back. The outlines of his body, masculine shapes draped under the covers. You wish he didn't see you standing there. But you could feel his eyes shifting towards your direction. You shuffle back towards the bed and crawl back under. A sigh escaped you, trying to focus your mind on something else. The rustling leaves of the trees outside. The ticking radiator. The rumbling clouds. Time crept by slowly. Your eyelids felt heavy, yet sleep didn't seem to set in. "I can feel the sheets… shaking. You ok?"

"Oh, yeah...I' m-... I'm fine." You said with a sigh. Scratching the back of your head. "It's cold." Tugging the sheets in and around you. "That's all."

Everything beneath you moved and swayed. You expect he must have rolled onto his side, perhaps facing your way. The thought alone made you… warm. His breathing again remaining the only sound you could focus on. Added to that, the increasing warmth radiating from his side of the bed. You could still feel your toes being cold, hands numb, and ears glowing. Yet the heat was creeping into you. As if the radiator had crept under the covers. Was it Arvin…? Was he closer? The thought alone was tantalizing. Sending the hairs rising on your harm. You notice your breath becoming irregular, shuddering even.

"I should-...You tried to say, turning towards him by rolling onto your back. But you let out a small gasp in a semi terrified, panicking state. It all went so fast. You bumped up against him. Body against body. Warm and inviting. Yet in your reflex, you try to roll back on your side.

But his hand… His hand held in your place, resting on your hip. "You're freezing..." He breathed heavily, fanning along the skin of your neck. Shivers rushed across your spine as his hand lowered. Feeling your cold body with his hands. Shaking lightly as he touched upon your frame. Trailing up and down with his fingers. Your senses were in complete overdrive. Every point of contact was intensified by your mind. Slow and careful. You were numbed on the spot. Feeling your shoulder resting against his chest. Strong and masculine, like you glimpsed upon earlier.

"Y-Yes… Ar-... Arvin…" The words came out stuttering. You couldn't help it. Your hands shook, and your body was heating up quicker than ever before. "M-Maybe I… I should g-g-get a b...b-ath."

"You could have..." He said as his breath fanned against your neck. Sending shivers down your spine. The mattress moved again, Arvin began closing the distance between the two of you. If you had a chance to stop him now, it was right here. His hand moved from side to your stomach, his arm wrapping around your waist. Behind you, you feel the heat literally rising. His entire body came in contact with yours. Torso flat against your back, legs cupped by his. "But there's a reason you didn't..." He whispered into your ear. "It's the same why I came back." Before you had a chance to react, let alone sigh of relief. His lips followed, nose trailing along the back of your neck. You could feel the sloppy kiss burning on the skin of your neck. “Isn’t it, (Y/N)”? 

It made everything different. All this strange tension that had circulated for the past hours had manifested in this one kiss. It burned barriers, tore down walls, and fulfilled your wildest thoughts. You let out a groaning moan as your body stiffened as he moved closer onto you. Sliding his hand further across your stomach, pulling you in closer. Feeling the warmth and curves of his body, pressed against you. 

You try to regain your senses, not resisting his hold on you, but instead, turn towards him. And he let you, his hand that pulled you in, now slid along your frame, fingers roaming from your stomach to your back. Finally coming even with him. Even in the dark, this up close, you see the stunning outlines of his features. The dimples on his cheeks and freckles dotting his skin. Leaning into his lips, the kiss was everything you wanted. Soft and warm, but a particular ferocity to it. A gasp escaped your lips as you parted, cupping the back of his head with your hand. "Say it…(Y/N)" He said with a slightly shaking voice. The very mention of your name, in that harsh tone, made you shudder in excitement. "-tell me I'm right..." Pulling your lips back onto his. Arvin was the moving force in this; he could play you like anything else. And you would let him. "Say it… (Y/N)...You wanted this to happen..."

He still continued to advance on you. "I've been through enough…" His one hand touched on your inner thigh. Moving up every so slowly. "I've seen so much darkness." He said, pressing a kiss to your chest. Looking up at you as you groaned. "I don't want to anymore." Pushing himself further onto you. Shifting his weight towards you. And you let it happen, rolling onto your back. His lips take the skin of your shoulder for granted. Leaving behind hickeys. "I want it to change." He muttered in between the kisses, moving further along with the lines of your body, from the shoulder to your collarbone and chest. Forcing the wind from your lungs as his body followed along, resting on top of you.

"Shit, A...A-Arvin." You freeze on the spot, feeling his member pressed against you. Long rigid and firm, poking wantingly into you. The nerves in your system get the better of you. "I...I...I... can… help…and…a-and... I want to..." Every word took an effort to speak as he grinded against you slowly. Searching for friction, taking every ounce of concentration to utter a word. "But… B-But there a-are... other w-w-ways?!"

"No... The way you look at me." At the same time, his hand found its way to your pelvis. You had felt yourself growing in mere seconds. Blood racing your system. And now, those outlines, throbbing in your shorts, were traced by his fingers. "You make me feel like… like... I've never felt... in years." He groaned.

"Please A-Arvin... Don't mistake my kindness... f-for love. I… I-..." The touch of your cold hands on his warm, nurturing skin was everything you could ask for. His touch rocking your very being. The feeling of his naked body on yours. Your mind is almost blank. Captivated by his motions. Wanting more.

"Say it… (Y/N)..." He growled while kissing you hard. Your lips trembled upon his, shaking from pure ecstasy racing through your system. You can't help but kiss back. You wanted more. But you didn't have the courage. Thank God he did. “Tell me I’m right.” 

"Y-Yes…A-Arvin…" You confirmed wholeheartedly, with a full-fledged groan of excitement. “Yes!” But were silenced in the moment again by his lips. Cradling your cheeks in his hands. Your heart fluttered, leaving you absolutely breathless. A smile grew on your face. And you could feel his growing against your lips. "Arvin... P-P-Please..."

"You either stop me if you want me to...." Hooking his finger on the band of your shorts. Adding finger by finger, until his entire hand slid in. He looked at you with small eyes, a flicker of innocence shining through. “Or you help me...” He growled. "But… what I'm about to do... I do because I want to." A smile showed on his otherwise troubled face. A smile you had never seen before. So soft, so kind. So loving. It showed a side of Arvin, you didn't expect to see. "Not because I have to… I… want to." Smacking his lips on yours. His hand palming your boner. Your breath stoked in your throat, feeling unable to respond. His fingers sliding along the pulsating flesh of your cock. Initiating the first strokes as he forced away your shorts. The covers were no longer there, and your eyes had accustomed to the darkness. The little light that the moon shone into the room was more than enough. His body resting against yours, feeling the heaving of his chest and the moving of his body. Every heartbeat, every breath he took. You felt it.

He stroked rough, with an intensity you couldn't match as your shaking hand reached for his. Even in the darkness, it stood out. The stiffness poking into your side, reminding you. His groaned breaths said enough as you brought them together. More than a handful for him. It's thrilling and highly intoxicating, invigorating, flesh against flesh. There was nothing else but his member on yours. His cockhead rubbing against yours. His shaft rock hard and wet. The veins and ridges of his, pulsating and desperate. Craving for more. A sensation you wish would never end.

The position was awkward at first. Arvin laying half on top of you. Cocks brushing in the middle. But as the heat rises, the momentum picks up. It all fell in place. With his one hand, he stroked, long and hard. The other arm, wrapped around your neck. Holding onto you.

His moans were short but charismatic. Your eyes get drawn to his every growl. Massaging your erections together in a lustful vigor. Everything was intensified. The veins on his arm showed. The muscles rippled in motion. The pressure of his worked masculine chest forcing into you. His glances helped you work together to a common goal. A shuddering touch of your fingers along his frame forced out more sounds than you could bear. Droplets of wetness shimmer in the moonlight. Holding them together in perfect pairs.

The shaking intensified, for both of you. Groaning to each other's touches. Senses rising beyond the unthinkable. As Arvin came first. His motions became sloppy, irregular, and twitching. His grip faltered as he came. His body trembled on yours, groaning as he held onto you for dear life. It's quick and messy. As you take over his grip. Struggling with the wetness and hard sensations in your hand. But it's helping you reach your high even faster. The reality of your hand holding them both together is hypnotizing. Even more when you feel him reaching his climax. He held you, with his strong arms, tight against his body. Groaning your name as all looked up at you. Locks of brown hair, tangled and messy, hanging before his eyes. His eyes widened, big and full of emotion. Gasping for air as you stroked harder. You bring your lips onto his, closing his gasping mouth. He moaned and shook through and through. The fierce kiss interrupted by his climax, he parted with a shuddering gasp as you both glanced down in between you. These boys did look at explosions.

And it sure was mesmerizing. His pulsating and jolting climax spilled over the pair. From the slit, a string of cum streamed from his cock. The first shots went airborne, splattering your pelvis and stomach. Each stroke of your hand initiates another wave. It began to cover your hand and both lengths. It's slippery, wet, and extremely satisfying to force out of someone else then yourself. Especially when he took over once again. You didn't need much more. The firm grip of his hand returned once again. He was strong. And his grip was more than satisfying. Heavenly. Regaining his breath on your chest. Focused on one thing. You suck the air into your lungs, almost if you need that to force your load out. The pressure builds up fast enough. And Arvin went for it. Stroking every last drop from you. Turning everything in a panting mess of growled, exhilarated lovemaking and passion. You both heaved for air in silence. Arvin still on top of you. In turn, stealing kisses from each other.

"I… have…" You muttered through your heavy breathing. "so... many questions..." You caught a glimpse of a smile on Arvin's face as he moved off the bed. Returning moments later with a towel. Hunched on his knees beside you, he cleaned every drop from you. With a careful finger, he inspected your areas to see if there was any left. His touch is slow and somewhat sensual. Dragging his finger over your, now, glowing skin. "Arvin?"

"Hmmm." He hummed softly, pulling the covers towards himself and began to cuddle up to you. Arvin completely naked, slowly cradling onto you. You can still feel his member rubbing into your skin. "Your warm again." He said while looking at you. His eyes had more life to it. Slowly putting an arm around your neck. Cuddling himself up on your chest. Pulling the cover along with him. Resting his head on your chest. You can't resist the temptation to twirl your fingers through those brown curls. Long and beautiful.

"What happened to you?"

He sighed and sank deep into your embrace. Folding himself around you. Embracing you. "I have sinned… and lost my faith." He said peacefully. "You were right." Pressing a small kiss to your chest. "Parts of me have died… and more. But here… today... I found a piece of me… I didn't know I lost."

You didn't expect those kinds of words from him. For a man with as few as his, this had emotion. For once you didn't have to read his eyes, or his expression to know what he meant what he said. A slight snore shook you from your thoughts as you trailed your fingers through his hair, adjusting yourself into a comfortable position. Arvin didn't move. He snored softly in your embrace. He looked peaceful. At ease. Curled up to you like that. You didn't track time, but you had a feeling, deep down inside of him, something was healing. He was sleeping, without being awoken by his nightmares. At least not yet.

Only the name remained, muttered softly from his lips.

A girl?

[apinklion01]

Going Angst

Day Three: Family

Walker didn’t go far from his post at the prison unless it was for patrols or if a prisoner escaped. He had a very private corner tucked away within the walls which served as his main lair where no other ghost could go.

So any other ghost stood clear when he did venture further out into the Ghost Zone. He liked that they kept their distance. They knew the consequences if they didn’t. He was the only one trying to keep any sense of order down here, and he worked hard to keep it that way.

There were only two occurrences where a ghost didn’t give him respect: the mangy excuse for a werewolf and the Phantom.

The werewolf he could care less for. The ghost was powerful, yes, but Walker knew more about his time in the living realm than the mutt would ever know, and that was all he needed to give him an upper edge when dealing with the furry convict.

The Phantom was another story.

He was a freak even by ghost standards. A spirit boundless from the planes of life and death who moved between them freely thanks to the wrenched machine his family had built within a place called Amity Park.

The teen was impulsive, rash, and even led a prison escape that left Walker and his squadrons beaten up and reinforcing the security measures.

However due to being half ghost, the Phantom remained the sole convict that the warden knew he couldn’t lock up permanently.

But something was odd during the time he talked to the teen.

Walker heard an unusual song in his ears. One he hadn’t heard since his time in the living world. A song from his mother, supposedly handed down from members of her side of the family tree.

That very song kept repeating while he fought the Phantom, and only stopped after he was long gone. 

But why?

Tired of asking himself questions, Walker decided to venture to the Library of Alexandria. The legendary building was open to any in the Ghost Zone so long as you didn’t start any fights that could damage the books and scrolls inside.

Walker didn’t learn everything about ghosts from word of the ear. Prior to dying, he came across a few books teaching him an intermediate amount of how the spectors worked. Their powers, obsessions, weaknesses. While Walker didn’t have access to the more offensive abilities, the knowledge was all he needed to fight such supernatural entities, even beyond his final breath.

He continued building more knowledge by returning to the library. There was a section specifically for new ghosts who wanted to learn about how to handle the afterlife, but also for older ones to learn of rituals, common spells, and caring for their cores.

Walker made his way down the aisle, a young apprentice of a librarian having handed out the book that might have the answers he needed.

His eyes spotted the name of a book: Melbourne’s Guide to a Spectral Entity. It appeared to be far older than anything Walker had read, the spine of the book faded and tearing apart, the threads loose on the covers.

Walker took out the book from the shelf, a few lowly blob ghosts scuttling away to undisturbed places of the library. Prying the book open, he grazed through the pages, the words mostly in Old English, yet he somehow was able to read them.

One page stood out. A ghost and a human side by side, the older being a ghost, a depiction of their core present.

If a ghost dies prior to learning about any future descendants or relatives, a song they hold dear will be heard when they encounter them. The living or dead relatives will not be able to hear the song until the older one speaks the truth. When they do, then the relative will be seen as a true descendant. 

Rediscovering and reuniting is held as sacred to all ghosts. To break the bonds of family is viewed as disgraceful unless done properly. If not, dire consequences may occur to both the living and dead members.

Walker nearly dropped the book. It was impossible. There couldn’t be any connection between the Phantom and him. 

Either the book was speaking blasphemy, or it was some sort of joke that the half ghost conceived. But the boy looked too young to think up such an act.

There was only one ghost who had the answer: the master of time himself.

One doesn’t simply wander into Clockwork’s lair. To some it’s visible occasionally, and to others it doesn’t even appear in the Ghost Zone unless they need his assistance.

Clockwork already had seen a few timelines where Walker would come inside, but didn’t bother to turn around, cleaning up a gear connecting the multiple clocks the building held inside.

“A simple greeting wouldn’t be too much to ask,” He said.

“I need you to show me something,” The warden’s deep voice spoke.

“Do you know what you need to see?” Clockwork answered, drifting down to the place where the ghost stood. He noted in several timelines that the ghost preferred touching the ground, avoiding acting like a ghost during his time in the Ghost Zone for more than half a century.

“I need you to show me a family. Any related descendants of John James Walker,” The ghost narrowed his eyes. It was dangerous to reveal the true name a ghost had prior to dying, but Clockwork had no usage for such knowledge and never told a soul any when they asked. Not even a certain Daniel James Fenton had the privilege.

“As you wish, though I warn you Walker, you may not like what you’ll see.”

Clockwork escorted Walker to an old mirror, where a small clock was inserted on the wooden frame. Nothing was visible on the mirror except both their reflections. A small flick of his wrist to the right, and the hands turned back fast until they were a mere blur. 

Clockwork held his hand out and the clock stopped. In the mirror there were three children running on a farm. One was Will, a red headed boy, the other a brown haired girl named Elizabeth. The third was one he knew Walker recognized: himself. His hair was a dirty blonde color, yet his eyes were a stormy gray.

“Is this you,” Clockwork asked. Walker didn’t respond, stunned at the sight that he thought was all but in his memories.

“Bet you can’t catch me,” He heard his eldest brother shout.

“No fair, you had a head start,” His younger self cried out. Walker tentatively placed a hand on the mirror, the surface flickering like a leaf touching a puddle.

The ghost was silent as he watched the scene play out: a normal game of tag, with not a care in the world.

“Continue forward,” He spoke dryly, and Clockwork obliged.

The clock spun forward, and Clockwork halted it. The scene had changed to the inside of an old house. The sky beyond the windows was a dull gray, the grass in the distance muted green and brown colors.

A woman, Walker’s mother, stands by the door, reading a letter she had long awaited back from the army. Her anxious smile soon faded into disdain, and she muttered a few lines of the telegram to herself before she began to shake her head and cried. Her daughter Elizabeth, who was standing nearby, tries to console her but her words falter, and tears too begin pouring from her eyes.

A young Walker runs down the stairs, looking at both his family members. “Liz, what’s going on?” He asked worryingly.

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes wet from crying. “Dad,” She began, pausing as she coked up. “He’s not… coming back from the war…”

Clockwork maintained his distance, but saw Walker’s shoulders tense up. He took his hand away from the mirror, placing it inside one of his pockets.

The younger Walker in the mirror appeared confused. “Did he get held back again? Liz, tell me-”

“He’s gone Walker!” Elizabeth shouted before biting her lip. A shaky sigh escaped her mouth. “He’s gone…”

Clockwork turned the clock forward again. Walker didn’t seem to mind.

They paused again. Walker backed away again as the scene unfolded. It was a funeral being held around sunset. His mother appeared older, having begun growing gray hair and crying gently. William and Elizabeth were nearby with their own kids. Clockwork reckoned they were but six years old at the time of the unpleasant event.

“John, you didn’t deserve to go like this,” William spoke solemnly. “If we had known this was going to happen, maybe I’d have tried harder to convince you to tell the army to give you a break.”

“But you were an awful lot like dad,” He continued. “You didn’t want us to get too wrapped up in your troubles. I don’t know how many you had on your hands, ranging from learning I was drafted into the war to getting into the paranormal. All we have left of you are our memories. “

He set down a white lily onto the headstone marked with Walker’s name. 

“I hope you still have them when I meet you on the other side.”

The rest of the funeral played in silence. 

“Why are you showing me this,” Walker spoke, his head hung low.

“Your mother died sometime after your funeral,” Clockwork said quietly. “But her name lives on in one of your living relatives, Maddison. Elizabeth’s granddaughter.”

Walker perked up at the news, his eyes uncertain but wanting answers. “... Show me,” He muttered in slight disbelief.

The scene changed quickly, the hands slowing to a stop inside a modern home. Four figures were present. A woman, presumably Maddison, held a baby in her hands. It was easy to see the reason she was given the name, as she had a resemblance to Walker’s mother.

A man, the father of the baby, stood by, beckoning a smaller child to come forward. This one had reddish hair like her mother’s. The baby looked like it was recently born, their eyes remaining closed.

“Jazz, meet your baby brother,” The father spoke. 

Jazz looked at the baby with big eyes. “He’s small.”

“He’s only a baby Jazz,” Maddie said quietly, her eyes full of nothing but love for her children. “And he’ll need you to be there for him, even if we’re not around. Can you promise me that?”

Jazz gave a tiny nod.

“Here, you can hold him,” Maddie spoke, handing the sleeping child into the other’s hands. Jazz carefully held him. The baby stirred, but didn’t wake up. Jazz gave a smile in awe.

“What’s his name?” Jazz asked.

“We’re giving him a special name,” Jack told her. “One part comes from a relative of your mother’s.”

“I had a great great grandfather who was around long before you or I were born,” Maddie said. “He passed away in a war, but he gave a name to one of my great grandfathers, John James Walker.”

Walker let a faintly audible gasp that Clockwork made out.

“We’re naming him Daniel James Fenton,” Maddie continued. “So he can grow up and be just as good as both of them.”

At that moment, baby Danny started to cry, startling Jazz. Maddie took her younger child back into her arms, rocking him back and forth.

“Shhh, don’t cry sweetie,” she spoke softly. “Shhh. I’m right here, I’ll always be here to protect you, my little Danny.” She began humming a melody Clockwork knew Walker had known his whole life.

Clockwork let the hand return to the present, and the mirror reflected both ghosts.

“So,” Clockwork said, floating over to clean the clock on the mirror. It had been a while since he had done so. “What will you do now?”

Walker didn’t respond for a minute, placing together the pieces in his head. The older ghost counted till the moment where the warden would ask the question.

 “...He doesn’t know anything about this yet, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Clockwork said.

“You better not do any funny business, old man,” Walker muttered, walking toward the exit.

“What do you intend to do,” the time keeper questioned.

Walker stopped at the steps. “My job. I’m the one making any attempt at order. Only something like Pariah Dark could stop me from doing that.”

Clockwork sensed that the ghost had left before glancing at another mirror playing a particular timeline scenario: Danny looking through a scrapbook detailing Maddie’s side of the family tree.

“Fate isn’t kind to you, is it Daniel,” The Master of Time muttered.

[staticscreenwriting]

LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES // 3

THREE - Little Shop Of Horrors

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Bucky vividly remembers being about 10 years old and sitting on the living room floor watching his father assemble a heavy cabinet made from dark, massive wood. It had intricate gold ornaments along the sides and around the edges and even at that young age, he knew that it must’ve been expensive.

He likes thinking back to that memory, mostly because it’s one of the few that he can still tightly hold onto and recount the exact way he’s felt then, and partly because it’s so seemingly insignificant. It’s nice to know that some of the memories he regained after having his mind wiped clean, are tiny unimportant ones. It’s not just the big moments and grand gestures that make life worth living. Sometimes it’s the little things, the small details you look back on and fondly remember with a smile on your face.

Looking at the furniture before him, Bucky can’t imagine what his mother would think of these cabinets. Everything is white or beige or grey and there’s a lot of shiny black fronts and glass doors. The place is huge, so huge they have to tape arrows on the floor so people don’t get lost, and it smells of artificial vanilla and sawdust.

It’s not like he hates the furniture here, it’s just a lot and quite honestly, he’s not sure what really matches his personal style. Hell, he hasn’t had a personal style since before he went to fight in the war.

“ Ooooh, this one is very you! “ (Y/N) exclaims as she lets herself fall onto a fluffy brown 2-seat sofa.

If it wasn’t for her, Bucky wouldn’t be here. Not only because he wants her to come around more often and actually be able to sit on a couch, but also because she was literally the one driving them both here.

“Watcha doin? “

That was the text that started it, and before he knew she had pulled up to his apartment building, arm hanging from her open car window, and yelled “Get in loser, we’re going furniture shopping! “

Bucky assumes that is another movie reference though he doesn’t dare ask her about it.

“Nope, that’s a two-seater. Too small. I want to be able to sleep on it. “

“ Or, and hear me out on this one, you could get a new bed to sleep in. “

He doesn’t have any reply to that. It’s not like he doesn’t want to sleep in his bed, it’s just — it’s too soft. It’s too comfortable. It makes it easy to fall asleep and dream. And it’s never pleasant dreams. It’s nightmares. It’s faces that haunt him. Innocent faces. Eyes filled with terror. Fear. Fear of him. It’s nightmares. It’s memories.

When he doesn’t answer, (Y/N) pulls herself back up from the sofa and wanders on “or we’ll just have to find a bigger couch, that’s fine too. “

And at that moment he’s entirely grateful that she doesn’t push him any further.

They wander around the store for a while longer, slalom in between sofas and recliners, swerve in and out of mock-up rooms, all the while (Y/N) keeps throwing puns at him incorporating the Swedish names of the furniture.

Hanging out with her kind of reminds him of the times he hung out with Steve when both of them were so much younger. Of course, it’s nothing alike. He’s not even close to the person he was then, the boy he was then. The thing is, back then everything was easy and light. Being here with her and listening to her horrible puns, that’s easy too. For right now, he doesn’t even notice the weight that’s constantly resting on his heart or the perpetual shadow that seems to rest above him. This is easy and it feels so nice.

They step into yet another room, this one painted a dark forest green. Against the wall, there’s a dark wooden cabinet holding books and a fake tv and in the middle is a corner sofa made from dark brown leather. It’s big enough to fit both him and (Y/N) and maybe even Lady if she’s okay with cuddling up a little to either of them.

“ I like that one,” Bucky says and lets himself plop down on the couch. It’s comfortable but not too soft. It’s just right. Is this what Goldilocks felt like?

(Y/N) sits down next to him, rests her feet on top of the couch table and for a second it’s just them and the black screen of the fake tv and the intercom system calling out for little Kyle to be picked up at the Småland play area.

“ Honey, “ (Y/N) speaks up after a moment, “ I think the tv is broken? “ her voice ringing through the mock-up in a thick Transatlantic accent, making her sound like the women in the movies he grew up with.

“ Huh. Ain’t that something ?”

“ Well didn’t you fix it like I told you? “

“ Guess I must’ve forgotten,” Bucky plays along, trying to suppress the smirk pulling the corner of his lips upwards.

“ Ugh, remind me again why I married you? “

Bucky shrugs his shoulders casually “ my good looks? “

“ Oh, don’t flatter yourself. It’s very unbecoming. Good thing is — “ she announces as jumps up, pulling Bucky up with her and right over into the next mock-up living room. “ We have another tv.”

As Kyle’s parents are called out again, (Y/N) and Bucky tumble from one room into the next. From kitchen to bathroom to fake little balcony. All setting the stage for another chapter from their made-up marriage. Scenes from a movie never made, a book never written. A beautiful kaleidoscope of could-be and never-was. A nice fantasy to get lost in.

If this was a rom-com, (Y/N) thinks, this would be the falling in love montage. Some killer indie track would play in the background and it would be featured in at least one Buzzfeed article about romantic gestures.

But it’s not a movie, it’s real life and she isn’t the romantic lead and Bucky is — well he would make a great leading man now that she thinks about it.

They make their way back to the green living room with the brown couch and the ‘broken’ tv and fall back against the leather, laughter shaking their bodies, tears of joy stinging at the corners of their eyes. As she catches her breath, (Y/N) taps Bucky softly on the right shoulder and drops her voice to a whisper.

“Honey,” she says “I don’t know how to tell you this but uh — there’s a family on our balcony.”

Bucky’s eyes follow her outstretched hand and sure enough on the adjacent fake balcony is a family of 4 staring back at them. And just like that, they fall back into a beautiful harmony of laughter.

“So explain to me again what this movie is about?” Bucky asks as (Y/N) takes another sip from her coke can.

“Dude buys a plant, it starts eating people.”

“And this is gonna show me what women want these days?”

A joyful chuckle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. “I mean … there is a love story and a moral about how far you’re willing to go for the people you love even if it might be morally questionable, but maybe — maybe we should consider this one the Halloween special.”

Bucky shrugs his shoulder as if to say “okay fine with me” and leans back against the car seat. The massive screen of the drive-in is currently playing some kind of ice cream commercial that has (Y/N) softly humming along to the jingle.

This trip wasn’t planned, in fact, they’d been on their way back home when a billboard at the side of the road caught (Y/N)’s attention and put a huge grin on her face, so wide it could’ve split her face in two.

That’s how he ended up parked neatly in a row of cars, Coca-Cola in hand, popcorn resting in between him and (Y/N) waiting for the commercials to end and the movie to begin.

“You’re gonna love this one,” she’s told him beforehand. He’s a little skeptical about it but he’s not gonna tell her. Bucky is just so appreciative of the fact that she bothers trying to introduce him to these things. They might not end up being for him but it’s a good feeling to have someone care this much. Someone who hasn’t been with him through all the shit. Someone who doesn’t feel responsible because they pity him. Someone who doesn’t owe it to Steve to look after Bucky…

“So … I still have some homework to do.” He chimes in thinking back to their conversation on his living room floor.

“Homework that involves me?”

“Mmh. Doc thinks I should learn some more things about you. Apparently, it’s not enough to know that you’re crazy about movies and talk a lot.”

“I do talk a lot.” (Y/N) agrees and pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you. What you want to know?”

“Anything.”

Since coming back from oblivion, Bucky hasn’t really made an effort to get to know anyone. Growing closer to people only means there’s more for you to lose. More people you can potentially hurt. He doesn’t usually learn new things about people because he doesn’t ask. Because he doesn’t want to know. It’s a lonely life but it’s safe. It’s comfortable.

But this is different. He’s in too deep now to stop. And yeah, maybe this is his homework. Maybe he asks because his therapist told him too but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He wants to know about (Y/N). Even the little things. The insignificant details.

“Well as I said before, I’ve studied literature and creative writing. I want to be an author. That’s uh — that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. The thing is it’s very hard to actually get people to give your writing a chance. Especially now. The world is in such a weird limbo after everyone came back. There’s no room for my art right now. So I work as a waitress to make ends meet. “

“What would you write about?” Bucky asks and in her eyes, in the surprise that’s so clearly written on her face, he can see that people don’t ask her that all too often.

“I don’t know, life? “

“Love stories?”

She lets out a mix between a scoff and a snort “what do I know about romance? I can tell you all about the love the movies and the songs and the books want to sell us, and don’t get me wrong, I love that. But I don’t think I’ve ever really experienced true and honest romantic love. So how could I ever write about it ?”

For a moment silence falls upon them. It’s neither comfortable nor awkward. It just is. Sometimes that’s enough.

“Look, I might not know a lot about love either, but I do know that dreams are worth holding on to, no matter how out of reach they seem. If it’s something you believe in and that you’re passionate about, it’s worth fighting for it.”

“Huh, didn’t put you for such a motivational speaker. Where’ve you got that from”

“Didn’t think the skinny boy from Brooklyn was ever gonna save a whole bunch of lives and fight in a war. Steve was the walking proof that you can do anything. “

“You miss him, huh?”

People don’t usually ask about Steve. They either don’t care how Bucky feels about the whole situation or they know it’s a tough topic and avoid it altogether. The worst part is he doesn’t even know how to respond. Yes of course he misses Steve, more than anything really, but there’s also a little bit of resentment swinging along. With Steve here by his side, it always felt like there was someone there who understood exactly what Bucky was going through. Someone who also had to figure out how to navigate this new life. But now with Steve gone, he feels so utterly alone.

“Every day.”

“Look I’m not going to ask what happened because quite honestly I’m still trying to grasp the fact that there are aliens and superheroes and wizards — “

“Wizards are not a thing.”

“You sure?”

Bucky lets out a slightly annoyed sigh “Yup. 100%”

“What’s the Strange guy?”

“Sorcerer.”

“That’s not the same?”

“No.”

(Y/N) considers for a moment, eyes screwed up in uncertainty before she shrugs her shoulder “ alright if you say so. Anyway, my point is, I don’t know if you have that many people to talk to and I don’t know if you even want to talk about Steve but if you do … well you can talk to me. I know I talk a lot but I’m also a really good listener. “

There’s no doubt in his mind that she is. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to talk about Steve yet though. Not when his heart is still at war whether or not to be angry. Not when he’s still so uncertain about his own complicated emotions.

“Thanks, I uh — I appreciate it.”

Loud music starts to play and (Y/N)’s head snaps towards the screen just in time for the title card to pop up in big colorful letters as three women shimmy across the street and start singing.

Bucky can’t help but let his gaze travel back towards (Y/N) every once in a while. There’s something about her he can’t quite figure out, but the way her eyes light up as she watches the movie and the smile on her face, it gives him a warm feeling. Like bad things don’t exist for the 90 minutes they sit together and watch a film.

“Sooooo?” (Y/N) asks as she parks the car in front of Bucky’s place. Her eyes still hold a sparkle that’s both mischievous and excited.

“I actually liked this one a little.”

“A little?”

“Look it’s not gonna be my favorite movie but I had fun. But uh — maybe that’s just because I’ve watched it with you.”

(Y/N) grants him a beautiful smile. It’s full of warmth and care and honesty. And he’s glad he told her, even if it makes him vulnerable.

“You telling me I’m a good friend?”

“Guess so.”

“Well, you’re a good friend too, Bucky.”

He hopes she’s right though he has a hard time believing it. He’s never seen himself as the greatest friend. Everything he did for Steve he did because he knew Steve would do the same. It came so naturally from both of them that it never felt like he was doing anything special or exceptional. It was as easy as breathing.

“Do you wanna come up? We could order some food.”

“Oh, I can’t. Gotta pick up Lady from Robin’s place. But as soon as your couch is delivered count me in as the first sleepover guest. “

“Will do. Hey, you think I should name the plant we bought (Y/N) 2?”

“Depends, you wanna feed the neighborhood Dentist to it”

“Maybe.”

They fall into another fit of laughter and even though it’s not that funny, and even though it’s really dumb and silly actually, Bucky enjoys it so much. He can’t remember a day when he laughed this much, felt this light.

“Oh, by the way, I’m throwing a pre-Halloween-party next weekend. If you’re free you should totally drop by.”

“I um — A friend is coming around that weekend.”

“Then bring your friend! The more the merrier, right ?”

Sam is gonna be down, there’s no doubt in Bucky’s mind about it. Sam isn't the problem, he never is. It’s Bucky. Going to a party is terrifying for someone who’s never known anything but the 1940s. This can only end up in disasters.

And yet …

“Okay, I’ll let him know.”

“Cool. Awesome. Just uh — Just text me when you know. Also, there’s no special theme so you can dress up as whatever.”

“I’m not dressing up.”

(Y/N) blows a raspberry against her arm “lame! But whatever, you do you.”

He guesses that means as much as “suit yourself”.

They bid each other goodbye with a hug and a promise from (Y/N) to Bucky to text him once she’s home just so he knows she’s safe.

To her, that’s a gesture so sweet and endearing it sends a jolt through her heart. To him, it’s as natural as breathing. You do what you can to keep those safe that you care about, even if it’s just a simple little text.

“You dressed up!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Man, You’re wearing a costume. I’m looking at you right now. I can see it. You dressed up.”

“These are just my clothes.”

“These are just your clothes? Your normal clothes?”

“Yes.”

“You’re wearing Converse now?”

“ mmh.”

“Your Jeans are cuffed, man. I’ve never seen you cuff your jeans.”

“It’s something I do now.”

Bucky isn’t a very religious person. He doesn’t pray very often. At that moment though, he prays to god and every higher spirit one might choose to believe in, to open up the earth and let it swallow him whole.

“Look,” Sam says and gives Bucks a friendly pat on the back “you don’t gotta be embarrassed by it. I dressed up!”

“Yeah, what even are you, by the way? An exterminator?”

“I — what? No! I’m a ghostbuster.”

“Okay. Whatever that is.”

“Whatev— Bucky, Man you really gotta go with the times a little. I know you’re practically ancient but the Ghostbusters? Catch up!”

“Whatever. I'm not dressing up. Can we go?” Bucky sighs in exasperation, making Sam’s grin grow even bigger. Bucky knows that he’s just playing into his game, that Sam loves riling him up. That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to not let it get to him.

“Alright alright. Hold your horses. I’m ready. Let’s go … Danny Zuko.”

Bucky wants to punch him then but Sam is out the door faster than Bucky can even react, his loud laughter sounding through the hallway.

There are people everywhere. Sitting on the kitchen counter, lounging on the couches, leaning against the wall by the open windows. Everywhere. The apartment is small and with so many people inside, it looks absolutely packed. Like sardines in a tin.

Music echos through the place, a song Bucky faintly recognizes from the radio but can’t name. Sam seems to enjoy it though, his body already swaying along to the tune.

“Hey Buck, where’s your girl?” He asks as both of them let their eyes travel across the room and over the crowd.

“She’s not my girl and I don’t —“

In the middle of the room is a fish tank. It separates the living room area from the dining room and kitchen. Blue and green hues radiate from it as colorful fish circle around and swerve in and out of the plants.

But Bucky hardly noticedsthe fish, as his eyes fall onto the girl at the other side of the tank. The water sends a blue shimmer across her skin but her smile doesn’t lose any of the warmth it always holds. She looks beautiful. She always does but there’s something about her tonight that’s different from all the times he’s seen her before. Something ethereal.

At that moment, Bucky feels a fluttery feeling in his heart, in his bones, in his blood. He knows this feeling, has felt it before, a long time ago. Maybe, he thinks, maybe there could be more than friendship there.

And that thought absolutely terrifies him. Because falling for someone makes you foolish and dumb and vulnerable. And that’s awfully scary.

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[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Eight: They Don’t Want to be Found

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read previous chapters here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder calls in to work the next day, too sleep deprived and mentally exhausted to function. After sleeping until nearly noon, he gets back in his car and returns to Philly. He checks into a hotel that’s just a few blocks from the club and then spends the next several hours trying to watch TV, trying to read, and jacking off picturing Scully topless. A short time later, he jacks off again, this time imagining what he’ll see tonight.

He isn’t really sure what he’s doing or why he’s here. The best excuse he can cook up is that she doesn’t have a weapon and he’s protecting her, but realistically he knows she can take care of herself. Is it really just perversion, that he wants to see her…exposed? What will he say if she spots him? He can imagine her level of mortification if she knew he was here, that he’d seen her, and he feels guilt churn in his gut. She might never forgive him for this.

He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t seem to stop himself from going back. He has to see her again.

Scully had lay awake for hours after Angel left, thinking about what had happened, wondering how it happened in the first place. She’s on a case, how stupid could she be? What if it comes to light that she’s become involved with a witness in the case? She might be suspended. At least then maybe they’d never ask her to do something like this again. What if Mulder finds out? Would he feel betrayed somehow? Would it turn him on?

Somewhere around 6 am, she had finally caved in and slid her hand down the front of her panties, groaning when she felt how wet she was. She swirled her finger around her clit, using her own arousal as lubricant, and imagined what might have happened if Angel’s phone hadn’t rung. Would Angel have touched her? With her hands, or her mouth? Maybe both. Would she have touched Angel? She was approaching the brink just thinking about it. She stopped suddenly, remembering something, and grabbed the bullet vibrator from her bedside table, switching it on and pressing it to her clit as she plunged the middle finger of her other hand as far inside herself as she could reach. Within 30 seconds she was unravelling, images of Angel and Mulder dancing in her head as her walls clamped tightly around her finger. Finally, she had slept.

She manages to sleep until nearly three in the afternoon again, then spends the day getting her nails done, reading, and devising a plan for how she might look through the files in that closet. Without knowing what’s in them, she has no way of gaging whether Ricky is likely to notice if she takes a few at a time and returns them later. Worse still, Lexie is working tonight and that gives any risk she takes the potential to blow the whole investigation. She’s positive that given one more red flag, Lexie will sing like a canary. The silver lining is that Angel won’t be at work for the next three days, so they can get some space from what happened between them.

The evening is mostly business as usual, and she’s a bit horrified to realize that this is becoming as dull and predictable as any other job. She lets her mind wander while she flexes and rolls over horny married men, wondering what Mulder is up to, whether he’s worried about her or even misses her. Part of her wonders if he might realize that his life is less complicated without her, and that he prefers it that way. She feels an ache in her chest, a bit further north than she has grown accustomed to, and realizes how much she misses him.

When he enters the club, she’s at the bar. Half her torso is resting on the bar top as she shouts to be heard by the bartender, who’s laughing at whatever she’s saying. The position she’s in pops her barely covered ass out prominently behind her and his eyes go big at how exposed she is, and how comfortable she seems with it. Her bare breasts are smushed against the lacquered countertop and he feels his cock twitch thinking about how hard her nipples will be when she stands up. Unfortunately, it would be too risky to stick around and find out, so he tugs his ball cap lower and finds a table in the back. The dancers never seem to come back here for some reason.

He keeps his head trained towards one of the other dancers at all times, while his eyes follow Scully’s every move. If he knows one thing, it’s that Scully can feel his eyes on her, so he needs to be careful. His disguise is painfully basic and all it would take is one solid look for her to know it’s him. He watches her give a lap dance to a blushing young woman, a soft smile on her face the whole time, and he can’t decide if he’s more turned on or touched by how hard she’s working to make the woman feel comfortable. The aching hard-on in his jeans suggests the former.

This time he’s mentally prepared for her stage set, and also realizes she can barely see beyond the tip rail with all the stage lights on her, so he lets himself enjoy it. He’s known from the moment he met her that Scully is beautiful, sexy, incredible in every way imaginable, but he never could have imagined her moving like this. She’s so graceful and captivating. He lets himself block out all the other jerks who are leering at her, stuffing bills into her underwear, and just watches her. His Scully. She’s ethereal.

“Seems like you’ve found your ATF,” a voice to his left startles him from his reverie.

“Huh?” he turns to see the same waitress who’d served him last night, clad in a fishnet body suit.

“You were here last night, right? You like Desi?”

He panics. “No! I mean, yes. But, don’t send her over here or anything.”

She nods in understanding. “You like to watch. That’s cool, whatever floats your boat, man. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, can I get a Captain and Coke?” He walked here, why not enjoy himself, right?

Four drinks for him and ten lap dances for her later, he stumbles into the balmy night and back to his hotel room where he jacks off again. Twice.

Everyone is trickling out slowly at the end of what has been a busy shift. Scully takes her time counting her tips, sharing a cut with her bird dog and the bartender on shift tonight. While she would not say that she likes working here by any stretch of the imagination, her coworkers at the club are her only source of socialization and (with the exception of Lexie) she truly enjoys their company. She’s helping one of the custodial staff, a wiry young man they called Don Juan, put up the chairs on the club floor so he can mop when Ricky approaches her.

“Desi, can I see you in my office, please?” He has a somber demeanor that concerns her.

“Um, sure, of course.” She bids the young man farewell and follows Ricky down the hall. He closes the door behind them and she feels her heart start to race.

Ricky sits down behind his desk and motions for her to take a seat across from him. She’s reminded of her first day here and the feelings of fear and anticipation.

“I need to ask you something, Desi, and I want to make sure you don’t mention it to the other girls.”

“Okay,” she responds, taking shallow breaths to obscure the fact that she’s afraid.

“Angel told me what happened.”

Her mouth falls open but no words come out. Is she in trouble for kissing Angel?

“That’s why she was so upset the other night, when you saw her in here. She told me that she’d talked to you about her past a bit,” he shakes his head ruefully. “Some gall those dirtbags have, shaming her for being sexual in any way, then coming to a titty club on the sly.”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Right, yes, the people who came in. She was very upset. “

“It was really nice of you to spend some time with her after work. Anyway, I gave her a few nights off. She needs a break.”

Scully nods. “You wanted to ask me something?”

“Right! So, Angel is my right hand gal, she helps me with a lot of stuff around here. With her being out, I wanted to ask you to kind of be her backup, if you will.”

For a moment she’s afraid Ricky is asking her to perform some kind of sexual favor, but she recalls that Angel had said he’s gay. “What did you have in mind?” she asks hesitantly.

“Well mostly, I wanted to give you a set of keys for the club. Angel has one, in case something happens to me and I’m not here to open and close the doors, stuff like that.”

A set of keys? Scully feels a flush of adrenaline. “Of course, I can do that.”

“That’d be great, Desi. I know you haven’t been with us all that long, but you seem pretty trustworthy, at least compared to the other girls. Like I mentioned, I’m hoping we can keep this between us, just so there are no hurt feelings from anyone who’s been here longer than you.”

Her heart is pounding with excitement at the opportunity to gain access to those files. “Is there an alarm code or something I should know about?” She recalls a sign on the door for ADT.

Ricky dismisses her concern with a flick of his wrist. “No, nothing like that. I should get one, but I just pilfered those signs from my buddy to scare off vagrants.”

She nods in understanding.

“Ninety-nine percent chance nothing will happen and there’ll be no need, but thanks for being on deck, just in case,” he says as he hands her a playboy bunny shaped keychain with a single key dangling from it.

Scully smiles at him. “I’m more than happy to help.”

After she leaves the club, she first goes home to stash her tips and change into comfortable, dark clothes, and then gets a big cup of coffee and a disposable camera from the 7-11 near her apartment.

By the time she’s lurking in the corner of the club’s parking lot, watching the door, it’s nearly 4am and there’s still a light on inside the foyer. She sips her coffee and waits, shuffling her feet to keep warm. Finally at 4:50, Denny and Ricky emerge, locking the door behind them. After they leave the parking lot, Scully waits another 20 minutes before she creeps around the perimeter of the lot and approaches the door. Glancing around to be sure no one is watching her, she turns the key and steps inside, locking it behind her.

The quiet stillness is eerie in contrast to the throbbing hive of activity it had been earlier in the night and she flicks on her flashlight, making her way to Ricky’s office. She fits the same front door key into the lock and sighs in relief when it turns. Ricky’s security standards aren’t incredibly high, apparently, but in this case it’s to her advantage. She tries the key on the hallway closets just in case, to no avail, and returns to the office. Navigating to his desk, she pulls open drawers quickly, scanning their contents. Nothing is of interest, and she’s disappointed though not surprised that his keys to other areas of the club aren’t in here. That makes things more challenging, but not impossible. She’s spent her days off at the library researching how to pick locks, including buying a lock picking kit and some padlocks at the local hardware store to practice with, and she feels relatively confident she can get this door open without a key. She might just have to be the one to pick the lock next time she and Mulder have the need. She smiles to herself knowing how impressed he’d be.

Back in the hallway, she pulls the small lock picking kit out of her back pocket and kneels in front of the door, the pen light perched between her teeth. She studies the lock and then inserts a torque wrench at the bottom, turning it slightly to put resistance in the direction it will spin when unlocked. From the kit, she selects a straight, flat pick and runs it from back to front at the top of the keyhole a couple times. Next she exchanges it for a pick with a curved end, pushing it as far back and high as she can reach as she holds her ear close to the lock in the stony silence of the hallway. Bumping against the pins inside the lock, she listens and feels for a small click or give that indicates the pin has settled in its unlocked position. She continues this until she counts five pins clicking into place, then removes the pick and turns the torque wrench.

The lock releases with a soft click and she laughs out loud as the door swings open, beyond pleased with herself. Stepping into the closet, there’s enough room for her to close the door behind her and she does so, pulling a cord to turn on the overhead light. Taking stock of the beige bank of file cabinets, she works top to bottom, left to right, and immediately feels her heart sink when the first four drawers she tries are empty. Would this be yet another dead end? When the fifth drawer snicks open, she sees a small set of files hanging towards the back. She quickly checks all the other drawers so she’ll have a good idea of how much material she has to review, but they’re all empty.

She pulls the files out and sits down with them on the floor, setting the disposable camera near her thigh. There are eight folders nestled inside the hanging file, each one with a set of initials on the tab. The first one is marked “G.A.” and inside she finds an intake form, a personal statement that’s filled out by hand, and a release of liability form. The intake form is sparse and includes nearly no identifying information. The name is listed as simply GA and the fields below it include “entry date,” “exit date,” “reason for sheltering,” and “responsible individual.” On the form for GA, the entry and exit date are both a year and a half prior, about six months apart. Reason for sheltering is listed as “threat of violence-domestic,” and the responsible individual reads “brother.” She turns to the second page, which contains GA’s personal statement.

Continue Reading Here

[polaroid15]

With Great Power...

Chapter Three: With great power comes a great inability to sleep

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30579050/chapters/75545900

TW: panic attacks

------

As requested by Peter, Tony parks two blocks away from the school lot.

He idles his car and waits for the kid to appear with a careful eye in the rearview mirror. It’s just shy of five o’clock. Peter should be out of decathlon by now. His fingers itch to reach for his phone, to send the kid a flurry of texts until he materializes and puts him out of his low patience torture.

But with a righteous amount of self-control, he refrains. After what seems like decades Peter appears at the passenger door. He raps his knuckles against the window before slipping inside. Tony smiles at this, a warm fondness growing in his chest.

“Did you just knock on my car?”

Peter freezes in the middle of securing his seatbelt. “Uh, yeah? It’s polite.”

“Last week you and Thor had a competition to see who could down a two liter of Diet Coke the fastest.”

Lips quirking, Peter shrugs. “Your point?”

“That wasn’t very polite.”

“I won, didn’t I?”

“You sure did kiddo.”

Peter finishes buckling his seatbelt and shoves his heavy backpack down between his legs. The setting sun shines through the windshield into his eyes and Peter winces against it, reaching up to shield them. His hand shakes in the air and Tony’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “You alright kid?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah Mr. Stark. Totally. Long day is all.”

Unconvinced, Tony peels out onto the road. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

Sighing dramatically, Peter settles further into his seat. “I patrolled before school. Stopped a mugging. That was cool I guess. Then I took a couple exams. Decathlon, obviously. Oh, and I totally failed the beep test in gym-”

Tony raises a brow. “You failed the beep test?”

“On purpose!”

“Why the hell would you fail a test on purpose?”

“Because Peter Parker isn’t exactly a track star, Mr. Stark.”

God, this kid. Tony hopes the admiration doesn’t show on his face. “I see.”

“Anyways,” Peter plows on, caught in a yawn. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know. The usual.”

“That’s a terrible answer.”

“Well it’s the one you’re getting.”

Peter scoffs. His eyes droop against the gentle rumble of the car. “You’re just as bad as Happy.”

“I’m telling him you said that.”

Peter only smiles in response, eyes closing all the way. Tony lets the silence sit. He’s read enough of Karen’s reports to know that the kid hasn’t been sleeping well.

And good god can he relate.

They only make it through three Black Sabbath songs before Peter’s head dips down towards his chest. The momentum must shock him back into the waking world because he gasps, flailing out and landing one hand on Tony's arm and the other on the window. Immediately flushing, Peter yanks his limbs back into his chest. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

“You can sleep. It’s okay kiddo.”

“No,” Peter says all too quickly. A chord of worry strikes in Tony’s chest. “I mean, I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be polite.”

“Pete, if you say that word one more time I swear I’ll set DUM-E on you.”

“Polite, polite, polite, polite-”

Something floods in Tony’s chest. It feels as if he’s being warmed from the inside out and for a moment, his concern for Peter’s health takes a place on his mind’s backburner. He cracks a smile. “Be sure to remember this moment Pete. You asked for it.”

-----

“Dr. Banner!” Peter drops his backpack heavily on the ground, skipping and stumbling into the lab and towards the man in question. Bruce is sitting in front of a laptop, the buttons on his shirt secured incorrectly and glasses sitting crooked on his nose. He smiles widely when he sees them. “Hey Peter. Tony said to expect you. How’ve you been?”

“Oh you know,” Peter says, giving Tony a pointed look, “the usual.”

Tony snorts as Peter pulls up a chair beside Bruce, propping his chin up on his hands and staring intently at the screen. After a few seconds his eyes light up. “No way! Is this skin-cell regeneration technology?”

Looking surprised, Bruce nods. “How did you-”

“He’s a smart cookie,” Tony interjects, walking up behind them and ruffling Peter’s hair. Peter swats him away, though he’s smiling.

“Is this what you and Mr. Stark are presenting tomorrow? At the conference?”

“Yep. Though procrastination hasn’t really done us any favours-”

“I’ll help!” Peter blurts.

Bruce looks to Tony like he’s a parent to grant permission. Trying to ignore the implications behind it, Tony concedes with a grin. “Oh what the hell. Where do we start?”

“Yes!”

----

The hours blur and melt together. So engrossed in their project, Tony doesn’t really notice Peter losing steam until he’s gripping the counter so tightly Tony knows it can only be to keep himself steady. Only now does he see the deep rings of purple under the kid’s eyes.

The nagging in the back of his mind pulls harder but he lets it go. Peter is running Bruce through a genius theory on how to approach increased somatic cell growth that he would be an idiot to interrupt. Not for the first time, watching Peter work is like looking at a mirror image of his younger self, fresh-faced and enthusiastic at MIT. It’s enough to distract him, a small smile morphing his exhaustion into something softer.

Piggybacking off Peter’s ideas, Bruce proposes his own theory concerning the role of red blood cells and Tony loses track of time in his own contributions. The next time he comes back to himself it’s nearly two in the morning.

And Peter looks dead on his feet.

Bruce must notice when Tony does because he closes the laptop, though with some reluctance. “Well then. There’s history. Or, the start of it at least.”

Laughing softly, Peter rubs at his eyes. He sways and Tony resists the urge to grab him. Bruce stands and squeezes Tony’s shoulder. “He’s a good kid,” he says quietly, privately. Then, louder, “see you both tomorrow.”

And he leaves.

For a moment him and Peter simply stand in silence, relishing in the exhausted high of their scientific breakthrough. Then Peter yawns and it snaps Tony into action. He uses one hand to grab Peter’s elbow and the other to collect his backpack from the floor. They walk in silence from the lab to the elevator and miraculously make it to the outside of Peter’s door.

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter says softly, his words slurred on their edges. He takes his backpack and sinks a few inches into the ground at the weight of it.

“Straight to bed, capiche?”

“Mm. Yep.”

“Goodnight, kid.”

“G’night.”

Tony should’ve known it was too good to be true.

-----

Pepper’s out of town. His bed is big and empty and cold.

He can’t sleep.

He thinks of Peter.

“Hey FRI? Is the kid asleep yet?”

“It appears Mr. Parker is doing calculus homework.”

“Of course he is.”

Tony sighs long and deep. It carries out into the empty room and dies. It’s nearly three in the morning now. He debates getting up and telling Peter off for his wakefulness, but deep down he understands it’s not really his place.

“FRI, let me know when he falls asleep.”

“Of course.”

Tony waits and waits. The alert never comes.

Finally, his eyes droop.

It doesn’t last long.

FRIDAY’s voice jars him back into wakefulness. “Boss, it appears Mr. Parker has fallen asleep.”

“Mm. Good.”

“It also appears that Mr. Parker’s heart rate has risen significantly along with his breathing. He seems to be in distress.”

Damn it.

“Boss-”

“On it, FRI.”

Head rushing from standing too fast, Tony just barely manages to catch himself against the wall as he stumbles out into the hall. Even in the dark he knows the route by heart. One door, two doors, three doors-

“Pete?” Tony stops and hits his palm against the entrance. He’s reminded of Peter knocking on the window after decathlon and his heart seems to twist. When there’s no response, he cracks open the door.

“Peter?”

He expects to find the kid in bed. Instead, Peter is slouched over his desk, his tense face pressed into the pages of a heavy textbook. He’s whining and twitching in his sleep, a look too similar to physical pain for Tony to be comfortable stealing his expression.

He’s at Peter’s side in seconds. However, once there, his own heart rate seems to accelerate. “Uh FRI?” he whispers. “Any tips?”

“Start by waking Mr. Parker up.”

“Right, right. Good plan.” Hesitantly, Tony digs his fingers into Peter’s shoulder. When he doesn’t stir, he opts to shake it instead. “Pete? Hey. You with me buddy?”

“Please. St-stop-”

“Peter!”

“Stop. Stop-”

In a flash of worry, Tony shakes Peter harder. FRIDAY’s warning voice fills the room but it’s too late. Peter wakes up with an earth-shattering gasp, flying back in his chair. It would’ve been funny under different circumstances. But it’s not, because Peter is too pale and covered in a cold sweat. His young eyes are wide and terrified, a weak hand reaching up to wrap around his throat.

Then Tony understands.

“Breathe,” he instructs. “Peter, can you hear me? Look at me. Breathe.”

Peter makes a horrible strangled noise in the back of his throat, his eyes trying and failing to lock on Tony as his chest works overtime to pull in nothing. Tony grabs the boy’s hand away from his throat and places it over his own heart. He uses his other to direct Peter’s face more intently on his own. “You can do this Pete. You’re having a panic attack. I know it’s scary, but you have to focus on getting in some air, okay? I know you can do it.”

Peter tries.

“Listen to my breathing. Try and follow it.” He takes in an exaggerated breath and feels tears bite at his eyes when Peter manages to copy the behaviour. “Good. That’s really good Pete. Keep listening.”

“‘M-m-”

“Don’t try and talk. Focus on breathing. I’m right here.” I’m not going anywhere.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. It’s the longest ten minutes of Tony’s life, but eventually Peter’s breaths even out. Exhausted, he slumps forward into Tony’s shoulder, shaking horribly. “O’side.”

“What was that kiddo?”

“Out-outside.” Weakly, Peter tries to push himself up. His unfocused eyes land on Tony desperately as he continues his struggle. “Gotta- gotta go outside. P-please.”

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Tony nods. He helps Peter stand, grabs a blanket from off the kid’s bed, and with combined effort they make their way out into the hall. Tony keeps his hands planted firmly on Peter’s shoulders to keep him steady.

As soon as the fresh air hits Peter visibly relaxes. It must not do wonders for his balance because he lists heavily to the side and Tony is too caught off guard to fully catch him. They end up in a tangled heap on stairs. Peter inhales deeply through his nose and exhales out of his mouth, holding his breath in a careful pattern. “Thanks,” he murmurs eventually. “Better now.”

Feeling threateningly close to tears, Tony drapes the blanket he had grabbed carefully around Peter’s shoulder, fussing with it until it’s secure. “Wanna talk about it?” he asks softly.

Looking weighed down, Peter shrugs. He looks up at the night sky, at the stars, and turns up his lips in a sad smile. “I still dream about it sometimes.”

“About what?”

“Mm. The warehouse. Being stuck.”

Tony frowns, his insides turning to ice. Peter’s face is relaxed now, but in the dim light Tony can still make out the underlying exhaustion. The stress and the fear. God, he’s just a kid.

“Is that why you haven’t been sleeping?”

“I know it’s dumb. But I wake up and I can’t breathe and-” Peter frowns. “It’s just not worth it.”

“It isn’t dumb kiddo.”

“I’m just- I’m so tired, Mr. Stark. You know?”

Overcoming the paralysis in his limbs, Tony scoots closer to Peter and pulls him up against his chest. When Peter leans into the gesture he runs his hand through the kid’s hair. “I know Pete. I’m sorry. This never should’ve been you. I hate that it’s you.”

Peter sighs. The usual glint in his eyes is gone. “Occupational hazard, right?”

It isn’t fair, but it’s true. Tony wishes he could fix it. He’ll work his whole damn life trying. “Yeah kiddo. I guess it is.”

Tony shivers. Peter notices and shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. We can go back inside. I’m okay now. I promise.”

“Pete-”

“No really.”

When Peter stands without toppling over, Tony caves and stands too. For a moment they stand still. It’s safe, quiet. Crickets and frogs can be heard from across the dewy lawn. “Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah kid?”

“How- how do I make it stop? The nightmares, I mean.”

It feels like a sucker punch to the gut.

“You can’t stop fear,” Tony says, and it takes a lot of effort to keep his voice even. He thinks of Afghanistan and the Battle of New York, of finding Peter collapsed on the Cyclone after bringing his plane out of the sky. “Every single person on this damn earth is scared of something Pete. It’s part of being human.”

Peter nods, then smiles weakly. “Well technically Mr. Stark, I’m a superhuman.”

“True, but that still doesn’t make you exempt.”

“I know.”

Tony is quiet. The world is quiet. “Talking about it helps too,” Tony says finally. “There are lots of people who want to help Pete. You just- you just have to let them. You have to let us take some of the responsibility too.”

Peter looks at his feet. He rubs a tired hand over his eyes.

“Come on kiddo. You good to go inside now?”

After a slight nod, they walk back into the warmth of the compound. Peter lingers before closing the door and Tony stares at his small shadowed frame. He swallows down a rush of emotion and clears his throat. “How do you feel about a movie?”

Again, Peter seems to relax. Only then does he close the door. “Only if it’s Back to the Future.”

“I’d accept nothing else.”

Peter smiles. For the first time that night, it’s genuine. They sit side by side on the couch and even before the opening credits finish Peter is snoring softly into his ribs. Tony relaxes against the kid’s even breathing. He takes some of Peter’s burden and shoulders it gladly.

He’ll take as much as Peter will give him.

[imaginesbymk]

“Find Me Under The Giant Rabbit.”

Reservoir Dogs/Pulp Fiction One Shot

SUMMARY: I read a Reddit fan theory that Mr. Pink survived, escaped the cops, got arrested and was then put on parole - leaving behind his old life and lying low as a waiter at Jack Rabbit Slims. What happens when you show up to the restaurant one night?

PAIRING: Mr. Pink/Buddy Holly waiter x Reader

TAGS: swearing, smoking + mentions of basically everything that happened in reservoir dogs which is the heist, violence, etc

NON REQUESTED

WORD COUNT: 2,870 (it’s long i’m sorry)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is probably the cheesiest thing i’ve ever written, and it’s nothing tarantino would ever put in his films, also there’s no way PF and RS can legitimately tie in together 100% even though there are some factors to support otherwise, but i wanted to write this and see something lol :( leave a like/reblog + feedback!!!

[gif credit]

YOU put your car in park, shutting off the engine, and observed it from afar. It was one hell of a big restaurant, almost a bit too cartoon-like. There was a giant anthropomorphic rabbit on top, and the lights claiming the name were glowing a bright red and yellow. Mind you, this was in Los Angeles, so who wouldn’t blame you if you took one look at Jack Rabbit Slim’s, and mistake it for a restaurant at Six Flags? 

Dozens of bikers came in with their motorcycles, yet their engines couldn’t even overpower the chatter coming from newcomers left and right. You ignored a heavy tattooed biker dressed in all leather and denim catcalling you from afar, and you reached the front desk. 

A man dressed in uniform, most definitely in character, tipped his hat at you and led you to a table with only two chairs. You weren’t expecting anyone to join you in the other seat across. So what if you went for dinner by yourself? You didn’t bother asking anyone to join you for that matter. Not anyone you could think of at the top of your head would be any less boring.

You began tracing your fingers around the rim of the ketchup bottle when not even five seconds after sitting down, a lady approached your table with ruby red lips. 

Of course, you thought. Servers were dressed up as icons from the 50s era.

“Marilyn,” you say in awe.

“Close enough,” Instead of being seated in the Marilyn Monroe section being served by a Marilyn Monroe-looking Marilyn Monroe, you were greeted with a tall Mamie Van Doren, who is just as breathtaking as Marilyn refilling everyone’s coffee mugs from the other side of the restaurant. “How about I get you started with drinks?”

Ricky Nelson’s performance on stage came to an end when Mamie arrived with your food. You looked around the place while eating. People weren’t eating by themselves. Families, friends, dates, all of them occupied their seats. Now that you’ve noticed, you sort of wished you brought someone with you, otherwise the seat across from you is used as a footrest. 

So there, you propped your feet on top, and relaxed… then you sat upright. Your eyes fixated on the waiter in his section, which were the cars back in the 50s used as booths. You watch him walk towards one of them. The couple was a young woman in a blunt bob cut with bangs, and a man wearing a black suit with long black hair tied back.

You squint your eyes. It couldn’t be...

“Hi, I’m Buddy. What can I get ya?”

You blinked, dropping the half bitten French fry from your mouth. Holy fucking shit.

It was all coming back to you. The news broke out about the heist going wrong at the wholesale, all dead except for one, a cop who laid dead on the ramp inside the rendezvous was identified as Mr. Orange. Since he wasn’t supposed to know where you were from, Mr. Pink never turned up to your door as an emergency hideout, or to drag you with him on his getaway because he never had one. You never heard of him ever since. 

Here he was, Mr. Pink, alive and well, wearing glasses. What the hell happened? How long has he been working here? Is he supposed to be Buddy Holly?

“How do you want that cooked? Burnt to a crisp or bloody as hell?” you hear him ask the man in the suit who ordered a steak.

“Bloody as hell, and oh, yeah, look at this- vanilla coke.”

You noticed the irony. He left you in a black suit - and he comes back in white. Like he’d ever want to be caught dead in white, or pink.

“What about you, Peggy Sue?” he asks the woman, jotting in his notepad. You recognized the pun.

“I’ll have the Durwood Kirby burger, bloody. And… the five dollar shake.”

Were you about to laugh? Call out his name? That was enough for you to get antsy in your seat, but you didn’t want to draw attention. You saw him again while finishing up half of your meal, giving the couple their drinks and disappearing back into the kitchen. He was doing his job, but it wasn’t like he was giving his one hundred percent. For someone who preached to the Gods about professionalism, Mr. Pink sure lacked work ethic. Every employee was on point with their character impersonations as if you had travelled back in time. Meanwhile, he acted like himself and seemed bored while wearing an emotionless face, as if he hated his job and epitome of his existence. It was never a dull moment for him whenever he was with you, though.

You got up to use the restroom.

“We’re lucky we got anything at all. I don’t think Buddy Holly’s much of a waiter,” you heard the man at the booth tell the woman as you walk past them, spotting their food from the corner of your eye. It’s no surprise hearing that. Mr. Pink never looked like the type to work at a job like this.

You sat back down and soon, Mr. Pink reappeared, standing over to the side and watched the announcement of the twisting contest, smoking a cigarette. You see him eyeing two pretty blonde women walking past him, and he looked back his way, now in your direction.

He finally did what you wanted him to do, and he stares at you for nearly a solid minute.

You waved awkwardly. 

Mr. Pink tosses the cigarette in a random person’s ashtray and disappears behind the door once again. You darted out of your chair, and marched your way to where he headed, just as the couple he served got up on stage to participate in the twisting contest.

A Zorro waiter jumps in front of you. “Stop right there, mi amor!” his eyes darted at you through the cheap black mask he was wearing. “I believe the bathroom’s on the other side of the bar.”

“Where’s Buddy?” you ask Zorro.

“I’m afraid Mr. Holly is taking a quick break from unenthusiastically serving love birds in their cars.”

“Can you tell him I’m looking for him?”

“Once I see him.” Zorro then took out his sword and pointed it at you, a grin plastered on his face. “Now, shall I escort you back to your dining spot?”

Although you were aware this guy was only in character, you didn’t wanna risk getting kicked out, or having a realistic looking sword ripped through your body. You sighed and turned around, heading back. You noticed at your table a folded napkin beside your empty plate. Mamie Van Doren was last seen there, her back facing you with her heels clicking away on the tiles.

“Excuse me!” you called after the waitress. She ignores you, smiling down at new customers at an umbrella table.

Cocking an eyebrow, you used your finger to flatten the crease and read the note in bold handwriting.

FIND ME UNDER THE GIANT RABBIT. - BUDDY 

You threw the door open and ran outside, precisely under the giant rabbit of the Jack Rabbit Slim’s sign, just like he said on the napkin. You felt like an idiot checking every direction to find no one. Not a lot of the bikers were seen riding or hanging out around the parking lot, some people were coming and going, but you couldn’t find Buddy Holly.

Defeated, you turn to walk back inside. 

Mr. Pink rushed out the door and caught his breath. It looked like he was chasing you down before you could take off. A song used for the twisting contest kept playing from inside.

You didn’t run up to him and jumped in his arms or anything dramatic in that matter. You both stared at each other.

A few days before the heist you two stood across each other waiting for Mr. Brown and Mr. White inside the hideout. It was a quiet moment, not an awkward one. He just took that opportunity to study you, as you did him. It took him that moment to realize he was warming up to you. 

“Well hello there, Buddy,” you smile smugly.

YOU and Pink loitered at the side of the eatery, where the back door to the kitchen was located. He had taken off his fake glasses, showing his full frame.

“Okay,” you watch him lean against the wall, lighting his cigarette. “Talk to me. What happened to you?”

“What the hell do you think? Cops tagged me when I tried driving away. I was put behind bars, and by some fucking miracle this place took me in when I needed money.”

“You didn’t know any other crime bosses looking for a lanky dude?” Pink rolls his eyes at your joke. “I know the heist went terribly wrong, I saw the news. Everyone’s dead as Dillinger.”

“That briefcase had a shit load of two million dollars worth of stones,” Pink blew smoke out. “I swear, if that asshole undercover cop was never sent to set us up, I could have been enjoying a cocktail in Santorini. You’re lucky you called in sick that day.”

You shuddered, remembering how god-awful the illness was. “Never again. I felt like I was being hot glued to a sauna.”

You remembered the day of the heist. In fact, you mentally prepared yourself for something that you’ve never done before. You braced for what was supposed to go smoothly as Joe promised. Instead, you were woken up by the worst case scenario above 38 degrees. You were thankful Joe took it easy on you and promised another job next time. 

“All right, your turn. What did you do after that shit show went down?” Pink asks you.

“Just did my own thing. I wasn’t there so the cops never searched for me.” Pink took a slow drag, staring at nothing. He didn’t really look the same as before. Still lanky, except his hair was a bit more darkened and styled in curls, possibly because Buddy Holly had it permed that way. But his face read that he had been through a lot. Normally you felt zero pity for assholes like him, but you managed to blurt out, “I missed you.”

Pink, blowing out smoke in the air, eyed you up and down and furrowed his brows. “Likewise.”

Not only did it suck not being able to make money, you also couldn’t do it with Mr. Pink. As much as he kept his professionalism to a T, he squeezed in time to get along with you. It was no wonder Joe hired you - you were different than the guys, you moved differently and never felt small. Mr. Pink was drawn to that. 

Maybe that was just an understatement. He grew intimidated by something he expected to experience the least from in the job, and of course, straight out of a fairytale, you had to stop and ask yourself if you felt the same way, and if what you felt was right. Neither of you had any idea. It was against the rules to give out personal information to each other, and Mr. Pink took those rules very seriously, even if it was just one job that he most likely wouldn’t come back to unless a higher pay was involved and Joe Cabot liked him enough to recruit him again. 

If Mr. Pink grew too attached, if he let his guard down for one second, God forbid something would have happened to you. Without a doubt, he would have heavily blamed himself and walked away from the job without saying another word. 

His options were to wait until after the robbery to make a move, or do his job, get paid and leave. Whether or not it was out of selfishness was out of the question. Mr. Pink is already selfish in an intuitive kind of way, he’d rather avoid spiraling into a wave of emotions for one person - so he chose the latter.

“What?” Pink looked at you, feeling a bit tense. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Huh? No. It’s nothing,” you blinked, realizing you were staring at him longer than you should have. You shook your head, most likely shaking off the intrusive thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t a good time to tell him what’s on your mind. 

If anything, he’s most likely sleeping with the Marilyn Monroe waitress. “It’s just… you shaved the goatee.”

Pink nodded, looking a bit annoyed that there was no facial hair left on his chin to rub. “Buddy Holly had a clean face. For the record, the only advantage of this job is that I’m under disguise. Other than that, this place is a circus. I’m zooming back in time whenever I clock in.”

“It’s a 50s themed restaurant,” you state. “Working here sounds like fun. At least you get to dress up and experience pop culture.”

He scoffs. “No, fuck the 50s. Shit was all I Love Lucy and those puffy ass dresses.”

“They’re called poodle skirts, Pink.”

“Like I give a fuck what they’re called.”

“You know Buddy Holly smiled. He was a singer and a guitarist. If you keep up the attitude, no one’s gonna tip you. Nice Guy Eddie told me about your rant on tipping.”

“Ha! And? You will never find me up on that stage performing That’ll Be The Day, moving like a fucking animatronic.” Halfway finished, Pink tossed his cigarette aside and looked at you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

You felt your cheeks flushing. Fuck. “I am?”

He nodded, putting his Buddy Holly glasses back on his face. “Yeah. It’s a breath of fresh air seeing you here.” He stares down at his wristwatch for a moment.

“Your break’s done?”

“It’s been done,” he says. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “You’re so fired.”

“This isn’t the first time I stopped caring, so my boss isn’t gonna bat an eye.” He had his hand wrapped around the back door which was supported by a wooden block to keep it open. “Look, I’ll see ya arou-”

“Pink?” Your heart rose up to your throat.

He turned back to you. “Hm?” 

You just had to do it. You reached up and kissed him softly. Pink didn’t shove or curse at you. His features softened, pulling you close to him and kissed you deeply. Even when you two pulled away, his arms didn’t unwrap from your waist. His forehead was pressed against yours now.

“My name’s Y/N,” you tell him.

He stares at you, no snarky, sarcastic comment left for him to give.

“I know you’re not willing to give your name up just yet, you can’t fully trust me, and I get that, but I won’t tell anyone what happened. You got lucky, I think… but I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m serious.”

“Y/N,” he says your name for the first time. “You don’t have to go all sappy for me. Karma came in hot. Jesus Christ, I mean, I left you.”

“Not really. You didn’t know me. The cops had the place staked out the entire day, there was nothing you could do.”

He looked down at his shoes. “All right. But still, I feel shitty. Can I at least make it up to you?”

“How?”

Pink shrugs. “I get paid tomorrow.”

“Good for you,” you reply. “Save it like you’re gonna lose it.”

“I’ve had this job for a while now, I got enough to last. But once I win the lottery, I’m gone.”

“To Santorini?”

“With a cocktail in my hand. But that’s besides the point, right now I got enough to take you out on a date… if you’re down.”

“Where would you plan on taking me? Here?” you laugh.

“You’re funny. How about the movies? Overruled, I’m taking you to see a movie. I gotta know where you live first. It’s okay to know now.”

You nodded, you couldn't argue with that. Besides, you two would just be making out in the dark the entire time.

His hand was back on the handle of the back door. Pink pulled it open, looked back at you and smiled for the first time tonight. That warmed your heart, and you were certain it warmed his. He watched you stuff something inside his pocket square as you told him your address. He went back inside, shutting the door on you. You walked back to the front of the restaurant to pay for the bill, and went straight home. 

Mr. Pink shuffles past the chefs in the kitchen, feeling through his suit pocket to pull out his notepad and whatever you stuffed inside just moments ago.

I didn’t even serve them. Is this supposed to be for Mamie Van Doren? He stares down at the dollar bill crumpled in his hand. His frown suddenly transitions to a small but genuine smile. 

Fuck it. Nothing could stop him now. He definitely owes you a date night. He quickly stuffs the tip back in his pocket square, and comes out the sliding door. 

THE END

—

TAGLIST: @locke-writes​ @aryn-the-bearheart​

[thiswasinevitableid]

Dr. Cold’s Chiller Theater (Indruck)

Prompt for the 16: Chills. This fill is NSFW

Duck is carefully gluing a mast to his model of the USS Constellation when a comically loud crash rattles down the outside stairs. His new neighbor must be having a hell of a Sunday morning.

He caps his glue and steps out the door to see if he needs to call an ambulance. A stack of boxes outside the door has toppled, sending posters, books, and DVD cases waterfalling to the parking lot. Another box has tipped towards the house, and a man’s voice is busy cursing as Duck calls, “hey, you need a hand?”

“If one is available, yes.”

“On it.” He picks his way down, gathering DVDs into a smaller, cardboard box. It’s an interesting mix of horror from every decade of film and rom coms with titles like A Cowboy for Christmas and Red Dust on His Soul. When the box is full, he tucks to stray posters under his arm and picks up a third that’s partially unrolled.  A face surrounded by silver hair and sporting blood-red glasses peeks out at him.

“Holy shit” he laughs with delighted recognition, “Dr. Cold’s Chiller Theater, I fuckin loved that show. Didn’t know there was anyone else in Kepler who’d seen his stuff. Wonder what he’s up to now.”

“Currently he’s hauling boxes to and fro and exceedingly grateful for his helpful neighbor.”

Duck looks up. The face from the poster, aged-up a few decades, grins down at him as red glasses are lowered down the bridge of a narrow nose. 

“And it’s always nice to meet a fan.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The worst part of being a broke college student is ping-ponging between exhaustion and boredom. Duck is stewing in the latter feeling as he flips channels at eleven forty-five p.m, wishing he could go out and do something but knowing he doesn’t have the cash for it. And all his friends are busy working some shitty job or another (he’s still in his Blockbuster polo). The only benefit is Charleston has more T.V stations than Kepler, so his channel flipping isn’t quite as bleak as it was in high school. 

Just as he hits channel ten, the words “Dr. Cold’s Chiller Theater” splatter on the screen, giving way to a chorus of canned screams, maniacal laughs, and organ music. Then he’s staring at a plush, red chair surrounded by bubbling test tubes. In it perches a man wearing a mad scientist's lab coat and a wide, unnerving grin. 

“Good evening my gorgeous ghouls. It is I, Dr. Cold, here with another little story to chill you, thrill you, and probably not fulfill you. We’re on a budget, after all.” He winks as a boom mic lowers into the shot, “tonight we’ll be screening an old favorite of mine; ‘The Thing From Another World.” Descriptive title, no?”

Duck snickers, rolls onto his side for a comfier view.

“Since this film is set at the snowy north pole, I suggest cuddling up with a warm beverage” he lifts one of the smoking flasks to his lips, “while we enjoy ‘The Thing from Another World.”

The flick is okay, but Duck keeps watching for the in-between segments, where Dr. Cold sends them off to or leads them back from the commercial breaks. He quips about loving how the film shows “the good, wholesome fun of young men tying each other up” and, when scolding them not to touch that dial, adds, “you know better than to disobey your doctor” with such a purr that Duck’s cheeks go pink. 

By the time the show ends and Dr. Cold bids them goodnight and reminds them not to leave their windows open because  “you never know where I might be” Duck is hooked

“I’m serious man, I watched your show every week. Er, I guess twice a week that last year when they ran you Friday and Saturday.” Duck slides a Coke can over to Indrid.  They’re taking a well earned break after herding all the remaining boxes inside. 

“That was a wild time; those were the same years that people actually paid me to host events and such. I was just excited that I could have more than one costume. I had fun matching them to the movies.”

Duck remembers those; the vampire and the demon joining the mad scientist. He never knew which one would be grinning at him from the screen, just that he’d have his hand down his boxers by the second time they were shown. 

The strangest revelation of the afternoon is that Indrid is only two years older than him; he was a starving artist and a college drop-out with a friend at a local T.V station who put in a good word for him. 

He’s spent much of their time together asking Duck about himself and what he likes about Kepler, showing genuine excitement when Duck offers to show him around the national forest. Duck’s happy to chat about his hometown, but his curiosity his getting the best of him. 

“So, uh, how’d you end up in Kepler.”

Indrid fidgets with a moth-shaped necklace, “I, ah, purchased the Orion Theater.”

“Holy shit, really? I thought they were gonna close it.”

“I slipped in a bid at the last moment. You, ah, it may sound silly and old fashioned but I’ve always wanted to own a movie theater. The Orion serves Kepler at three other small towns, so it stands a better chance of survival than some other options I considered. And I can do most of the repairs myself.”

“That’s so fuckin’ cool. If you, uh, ever want an extra set of hands gettin’ it ready I’m happy to help. Might even be able to rope a few friends into it.”

“Thank you, Duck.” Indrid smiles, fingers with chipped black polish curling around his drink, “If I need aid, I know who to come to.”

-----------------------------------------------

“...Pigeon, if you could help test the concession machines, then everyone else will be on paint or spackle duty. Oh, and I’ll order pizza for lunch for everyone again, and please help yourselves to the drinks case if you need it.” Indrid grabs the polish he’s been using for the wooden frames of the seats and follows one half of the group into theater one. Orion only has two, both decorated in a faux-Egyptian style; columns, stars on the ceiling, palms and pyramids painted on the walls. Luckily the shapes are intact and just need touching up, and he has a whole crowd to help him. 

When Duck offered assistance, Indrid assumed it would be one or two extra sets of hands. It turns out that having your neighbor and friend be a long-time Keplerite with accumulated goodwill is rather handy. 

“‘Drid, you mind bracing the ladder for me?” 

He hurries over to stand on the base as Duck hauls a can of green paint up to fix some palm fronds. Their positions mean Indrid is eye-level with his belly, making desire popcorn through his chest. 

It barely took them a week to become friends, joining each other for dinner or walks through the woods. Then Duck would sit on Indrid’s couch, reading while he drew up a list of public domain movies that might draw a crowd at the Orion. Or Indrid would sketch while Duck worked on a model ship, conversation flowing like a river that learned it’s path long ago. 

One of those nights, Duck chuckled his way through a confession. 

“Y’know, Dr. Cold was one of the first dude celebrity crushes I allowed myself. You looked so goddamn cool and, I dunno, spine-chilling in a good way that I even bought a poster to put in my room.”

Indrid bites his lip to keep from asking if he inspires the same feelings now, “That’s very sweet; I got lewd fanmail now and then, but my looks were an acquired taste before I even put on my monster make-up.”

“Not everyone appreciates a good lookin’ fella when they see one.” Duck winks, then hops up to shoo Winnie the cat from where she’s trying to open a bag of Cheetos.

Ever since that conversation, Indrid indulges in the occasional moment of monstrous hunger. When he and Duck pass each other in the mornings, the ranger in his uniform, Indrid watches him walk to his car, eyes on the shape of his ass and thighs. When they’re on the couch talking or watching a movie and Duck stretches, Indrid imagines pinning him down, nails digging into the muscles of his arms. And right now, he wants to surge up like a creature from the deep and sink his teeth through the well-worn Cramps shirt and suck a hickey into his belly. 

He refrains, since he doesn’t want to make his friend fall and also he’s yet to hit upon the right words to express, “Your body was designed to drive me wild and I regularly cum thinking about groping your belly while I fuck you.”

“It look good from down there?” Duck glances at him for approval.

Indrid peers over the rims of his glasses, “It looks wonderful.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck’s on his way back from dinner at Juno’s when he spots the lights on in the Orion. Indrid’s car is in front, so he pulls in next to it and grabs the tupperware of brownies Juno made him take home. 

The theater is due to re-open in two days, and he knows Indrid is stressed. But so help him if he finds him at his desk, half-buried in screening contracts, he’s throwing him over his shoulder and carrying him to the car.

As he tucks his spare key into his pocket, his friends voice lilts, “Duck? Is everything alright?”

“Yep, just came to check...on...holy fuck.” He sets the tupperware on the concession counter, eyes firmly on the brand new mural between the theaters. It’s a swirl of black and white, with splashes of color thrown in on a costume or a pair of eyes, showing characters from classic movies. 

“You like it? I finished it in two days and I’m rather pleased.” Indrid wipes his hands on paint-spatter jeans.

“It’s amazing, ‘Drid.” He steps closer, drapes an arm over his friend’s shoulder, “you really done right by this place, you know that? Folks are gonna come just cause they can feel how much goddamn love and care went into it.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Indrid sighs, rests his head against Duck, “though I do hope they come for the movies too.”

To Duck’s joy, Indrid’s hopes are soon realized. His friend picks a good mixture of new releases and classics, budgets smartly so he can get big-ticket movies on their opening weekends. He takes audience feedback in a recycled film canister, runs double features where you can buy two boxes of candy for the price of one, sets aside Sunday afternoons and weeks with lots of forecasted rain for screening kids movies. 

When Duck’s birthday rolls around, the marquee announces a double feature of Jurassic Park and Into the Wild for the night after his birthday party. 

Indrid works Kepler with the same eye towards making himself a community fixture he did when he was doing Dr. Cold. He and Ned--the owner of the Cryptonomica--coordinate so Indrid will show cheesy movies that tie to Ned’s latest exhibit. He lets people rent the theater for birthday parties and, on one occasion, a wedding. And he hires high schoolers and kids from the community college, never scolds them for doing homework in the ticket booth as long as everyone gets served and pays them well. 

Duck is especially grateful for that last choice; he wants Indrid to succeed, but it would suck to lose their lazy nights together. Indrid has gotten more comfortable being demonstrative, lounging against Duck as they watch T.V or read, and Duck hates the thought of losing those hours of comforting contact. 

Tonight they’ve rooted through Indrid’s DVD collection and are halfway through Creature from the Haunted Sea. Indrid is heckling the screen, cracking Duck up whenever he does.

“Hey, you ever think of bringing back Dr. Cold? Just at the Orion? You could host in-person, make it a whole thing where heckling is encouraged..”

“Hmm” Indrid flops so his head is in Duck’s lap, “I’d certainly enjoy such a thing. But I doubt many other people have the attachment to the show that you do.”

“Don’t mean you couldn’t create a whole new fan base. And I ain’t just sayin’ that because I loved the old show; you’re good at that stuff, ‘Drid. You deserve a chance to show off, to have folks cheer for you a little.”

Indrid blushes, hides his face in Duck’s stomach, “Will you promise to come to the first one?”

“You know it.”

He feels the grin against his shirt, “Then I’ll do it.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Gonna go out on a limb and say we’re at the theater.” Duck smirks at Indrid from the passenger seat. 

“The blindfold doesn’t happen until we’re through the doors.” In his leather jacket and tight pants, Indrid looks like every skinny art punk Duck had a crush on in college. He suspects Indrid knows this, though he’s not sure why he’s bringing him to the theater well after the last showing of the day is done.

Once they’re in the lobby, Indrid ties a blindfold around his head and leads him down into theater one. When the fabric is whipped away, Duck is seated in the front row with a cart of food in front of it and Indrid looking very proud of himself beside that. 

“I got at least one of all your favorite items from concessions. I have also queued up three of the worst movies I’ve ever seen for us to enjoy.”

“What’s all this for?” Duck grabs the box of peanut M&Ms.

“I, ah, since Chiller Theater is such a success I’ve been giving up more of my weekends and well I, ah, I miss our movie nights together. I thought it could be nice to have one here for a change.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ve missed ‘em too.”

Indrid rushes up to the projector room then back down, dropping into his seat as the title card for The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies blares across the screen. It’s so bad that by the time the “climax” arrives they’re busy trying to land popcorn in each other's mouths. 

“Damn, used to be good at this.” Duck bounces a kernel off Indrid’s chin. 

“Perhaps try something weightier?”

Duck grabs a plain M&M and manages to land it in Indrids pocket.

“Impressive. Oh, one moment, let me go put in the next film.”

Once Indrid switches to the The Hideous Sun Demon, Duck hands him the box of candy.

“You try me some more.”

Indrid bonks two off his cheek, then gets one onto his tongue.

“Success! You make an excellent target.”

“Been told I got a big mouth.”

“I like your mouth.” Indrid winks, then blushes and looks away.

Duck sets his popcorn safely on the next chair, “Wanna see what else it can do?”

Indrid’s eyes widen like a horror movie hero noticing a shape in the darkness, “Yes, yes so very badly.”

Duck grabs his lapels and hauls him halfway over the armrest, shoving his tongue between his lips with all the grace of an impatient teenager. Indrid laughs, muffled and ecstatic, pulling back long enough to remove his glasses. The black and white light makes his features all the more alien and twice as lovely. 

“Fuck you’re amazing.” Duck strokes silvery hair. 

“Such praise for one little kiss.”                                        

“Get your cute ass in my lap so it can be more.”

“I could do that” Indrid traces a finger in a heart on Duck’s cheek, “or…” He slides from the seat and onto his knees in front of the ranger, hands hovering above his fly, “assuming that is alright?”

“It’s so fuckin alright.” He untucks his as Indrid undoes the zipper. When his bare stomach appears, Indrid goes strangely still. 

“You okay?”

“Yes” Indrid licks his lips, “very. I, ah, I...never mind.”

Duck grips his chin, “Uh uh, you don’t get to look at my fully-clothed body like you’re watchin a hardcore porn and not tell me what you’re thinkin’ about.”

“I, I, ah, I think you are an exceedingly handsome man but I, ah, I’m very fond of your” his voice softens, “belly in particular.”

Duck sets his hand on his stomach, raising an eyebrow, “this thing?”

“Yes.” Indrid tips forward to nuzzle the buttons of his shirt, needy little sounds creeping from his throat. 

“In that case, howsabout you show it some love while you jerk me off?”

“Yes, yesyesplease.” Indrid bounces in place as Duck gets his pants and boxers below his knees, doesn’t even give him the chance to start on his buttons. He just shoves his shirt up and presses a kiss above his belly button.

“Heh, kinda tickles” Duck pets his hair as monstrous shadows flicker on it, groans when cool fingers tease his dick, “that don’t, fuck I ain’t gotten a decent handjob in ages.”

Indrid kisses an arc across his stomach, “that is a shame. I wish you’d told me sooner, I’m just dying to make that right.”

“Seems to me all I had to do was lift my shirt durin’ one of our movie and you woulda been on the rug with my dick in your mouth.”

“Indeed” Indrid nips his skin.

“I’ll keep that in miIIIInnnd ohfuck, yeah, little more pressure please, fuck, that’s it.” He tangles his hands into Indrid’s hair, holding his moaning mouth against him as two fingers stroke and press inside him. Then a thought flashes in his mind and he laughs, “hang on, is this why you had to stay in the water so long that time we went to the lake?”

In place of a reply, Indrid whines, embarrassed, and nods, the movement giving way to affectionate rubbing of his cheek and nose on Duck’s abdomen. 

“Just about makes us even for all the times I had to rub one out because of your show.”

Indrid sits back on his heels, swiping his thumb along Duck’s dick, “Are you joking?”

“Dead seriousohFUCK” he gasps as steady, precise touches give way to full-on finger fucking, Indrid surging up to kiss him, “‘Drid, darlin’, right there, fuck fuck.”

“I, I cannot believe you wanted me then, want me now, Duck, sweetheart” he licks and nips at Duck’s neck, their gasps drowning out the horror stings ringing from the speakers. He works his hips in time with Indrid’s hand, chasing an orgasm that hovers out of reach for several agonizingly delicious minutes before crashing into him when Indrid confesses he’s fantasized about this since his second week in Kepler. 

As Duck catches his breath, Indrid stands on unsteady legs to wipe his hand on a napkin. He’s so hard, Duck’s pretty sure he can hear his zipper splitting. 

The ranger pats his lap, “C’mere, doctor.” 

Indrid snorts, amused, and does his best to straddle him in the cramped theater seat. Duck pops his black jeans open, sets Indrid’s hands on his shoulders, “keep those there.”

“Wh-oh! Ohhhhhhhyes” He wiggles excitedly as Duck grips his cock with one hand while placing the other on the small of his back, making it so he’s jerking the other man off against his belly.

“You, uh wanna know another secret?”

“Y-yes” Indrid bucks his hips, scattering kisses across Duck’s face. 

“Had different fantasies about you depending on the costume. Used to think about you in the vampire one, layin’ me out in some fancy-ass bed and biting my skin black and blue. Or the mad scientist one, that was my favorite, you looked so fuckin hot and unhinged in it. I’d imagine I was some fella you kidnapped and kept in your lab for all kinds of experiments, that you’d fuck me open with toy after toy or make me cum so many times I lost count, all in the name of your ‘research,’ laughing at me when I begged and kissin’ me whenever you wanted because you fuckin owned me.”

“Ohgoodness.” Indrid squeaks, cumming on Duck’s torso and spasming in his arms as he finishes. They hold each other tight as the sun demon leaves a trail of destruction through Los Angeles. 

Gradually, Indrid zips his pants up and half-heartedly starts smoothing Duck’s clothes as he murmurs, “I should get you something to clean off with. And I need to clean this chair before we leave.”

“Guess it’s mighty rude to have customers sittin’ somewhere your boyfriend got cum all over.”

“Boyfriend?” Indrid sits up enough that he can look down at Duck, brown eyes sleepy and intrigued. 

“Uh, I mean, if you want me to be. If this is just a spur of the moment thing-”

A finger shushes him, “I want it so badly, my gorgeous ghoul.”

Duck giggles, pulls him down for another kiss, “In that case, can your boyfriend take you on a date next week. If, uh, you need a break from movies, we could go bowlin’ or somethin’.”

“You pick, sweetheart. As long as you’re with me, I know I’ll be happy.”