#it’s so funny that I was like yeah I’ll move here for six months on a whim and then be on my merry way…

[tomatoluvr69]

Went back to the indie cinemar to pick up my forgotten water bottle but they didn’t open for another hour…oh well lucky for me there’s always trespassing in the old disused trainyard from the halcyon days of domestic industry 👍

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

------------------------------

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure. 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine…Meeting Dean In Prison

Pairing: Prisoner!Dean x guard!reader

______

“Hi,” said prisoner 83907. You paid him no attention, the man with the cocky smiling offering a wink in your direction. You knew his type. A bastard behind his smirk. “Hello guard…52119608. That’s too long. How about sweetheart instead?”

“How about silence is golden, prisoner. The warden will be here soon.”

“I didn’t know they had women guards in a mens prison.”

“I work in the offices hence why I’m watching you. If you’d prefer one of the men to come in, be my guest. They might kick your ass after I’m finished but let’s go get one of you-“

“No. No, I’ll be on my best behavior.” He sat back in the chair, holding his cuffed hands in his lap. “You think the warden’s gonna throw me in solitary?”

“Depends on what you did. Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”

“Yeah but I might not have the chance to talk to anyone for awhile so I might as well while I can.” You sighed, the man shrugging. “I decked a guard.”

“Yeah, you’re getting solitary.”

“I had a good reason.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“He was feeling up some chick. Red head.” You instantly thought of Kelly in HR. She’d gone home sick all of a sudden, pretty shaken up. You looked at the door and figured you had some time alone still. 

“Tell me everything that happened. Now.”

Two Days Later

“Mr. Winchester,” you said. He lifted his head up from where he sat in the interview room. “Or do you prefer Dean?”

“Dean is good. What’s going on, sweetheart? I went from solitary to being told I’m out on early parole this afternoon.”

“We were able to verify the story you relayed to me. The parole board was already reviewing your case and your selflessness in protecting one of our staff swayed them into releasing you early.”

“Someone must have been in my corner. Not often a prisoner’s word is listened to,” he said. You leaned against the door frame, Dean’s smile soft now. “I wonder who vouched for me.”

“Kelly’s my friend. And that particular guard is an ass. So thank you.”

“You looked up my wrap sheet, didn’t you.”

“You stole a car to get your injured little brother to a hospital. You’re not exactly evil incarnate, Dean.”

“Yeah but I’m known to steal a heart or two. Might have to lock me up for that,” he said. You rolled your eyes and he offered you a coy smirk. “What do I owe you?”

“Stay out of trouble for me Dean.”

“Only the bad kind,” he said. “Scout’s honor.”

Six Months Later

“Get off! Jerk!” you shouted, turning and punching the man trying to steal your purse from behind you. You kneed him in the groin and he dropped, giving you enough time to get behind him and pin his wrists together. He reared his head and threw you off but a quick punch from someone else put him back on the ground.

“You okay?” said a familiar voice. Your head snapped up, the man shaking out his wrist, staring blankly. “My prison guardian angel?”

“Name’s Y/N,” you said, righting yourself, the man groaning on the ground. “Move and I’ll shoot you.”

Dean flagged down a cop car that drove past, the man quickly gone and leaving the two of you on the sidewalk. 

“Isn’t getting drunk a violation of your parole?” you asked. He smirked and held up his chin.

“I was pardoned two months ago by the state. Funny considering I never submitted an application.”

“You must be lucky,” you said with a nod. “You look good. Got a job?”

“Bar tend under the table right over there. Going to school right now. I probably shouldn’t have told you about the under the table thing.”

“Eh. I like you Winchester. You’re good,” you teased. He grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “What?”

“You’re not a prison guard anymore are you.”

“What gave it away?”

“You have flour in your hair.” You threw your head back and groaned. “You work in one of the restaurants around here?”

“Maybe,” you said, taking a step past him. “You want to buy me a drink?”

“Told you I’m good at stealing hearts sweetheart.” He grinned and you walked past him, heading for the bar. 

“It’s one drink. It’s a ‘you owe me’ drink in fact. No stolen hearts here,” you said. He caught up with you at the door and leaned in close, nearly brushing his lips over yours.

“No stolen heart. Yet.”

__________

[x-reader-theater]

Secret Messages from a Lover

summary: While you're streaming, your boyfriend sends you a message.

pairing: Corpse Husband x Gender Neutral Reader (no pronouns are used.)

word count: 670

warnings: none.

a/n: i really just needed to write something so self-indulgent because god i want this so bad. i figured others want it too. i've been so depressed lately that I just need a little fantasy, you know? my requests are open, and you can find my request rules here.

“God, that video is so fucking funny,” you say, pulling your blanket around your shoulders tighter with one hand while the other brings your patterned tumbler with the sparkly straw up to your mouth, so you can drink your water. Your knees pull further up to your chest, which is easily done in your very spacious gaming chair. “OTV never fucking misses.”

You press a button on your stream deck, switching from the video you were just watching to your face, with chat scrolling in the top left-hand corner. You take another sip from your tumbler and pick out one of the comments passing by, scrolling to stop it from moving as you read it aloud.

“Were you on the newest Fear& episode? I was. QT, Hasan, Will, and I just kinda chatted for a bit. That was a good fucking episode, though,” you say with a grin. “Love those guys. QT especially, she’s fucking hilarious. She makes me laugh so fucking hard whenever I talk to her, even if we disagree on Taylor Swift.”

You keep scrolling back down, so you can keep seeing the comments when another one jumps out at you. “Are you gonna keep streaming? Yeah, chatter, I actually just started before that OTV video. I think Toast is gonna invite me to some Pico Park today? If not, I’ll just play some Valorant or something to pass the time. I gotta git good if I wanna beat, well, anyone,” you admit with a laugh, hiding your shame by taking another drink of water.

You see your phone light up in front of you. It’s a Discord notification, which you quickly check on your second monitor, assuming it’s Toast inviting you to the Discord call.

It’s not. It’s your boyfriend, Corpse.

“You look so cute today babe. You look so cosy wrapped up in your blanket and your smile is so bright. I'll never get tired of seeing it. I love you and have a good stream 🖤”

You feel your cheeks heat up at that, and you take a sip of your water to try and hide your reaction. You haven’t told anyone you're dating Corpse yet, and you have no plans on it any time soon, but he makes you so happy you find it hard not to blurt it out whenever you can.

You send back a bunch of yellow hearts and an “I love you too!!!!!!! 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛”, biting your lip as you type on your very satisfying, clack-y keyboard.

That’s when you get the notification from Toast to join the shared call.

“Ah! Toast’s calling!” you exclaim for the benefit of your audience.

You quickly join the call, the connection sound filling you comfortable, over the ear headphones.

“Hey! What’s up!” you say into the call, getting a couple of “Hey!”’s and “Hello!”’s back.

Then you hear a familiar voice say, “What’s up.”

“Corpse!” You’re grinning at this point as you continue, “I didn't know you were gonna be playing!”

“Uh, yeah. Toast invited me last minute. Surprise?” he says like it’s a bad thing.

“We haven’t played anything together in a while and I saw him online and thought, ‘Fuck it,’ yaknow?” Toast asks and you chuckle.

“Well, it’s good to talk to you again, Corpse,” you say, setting your tumbler down on your desk. He got you that tumbler for your birthday not long ago, and it’s your favourite thing you own. He also got you the blanket that’s wrapped around your shoulders for your six-month anniversary, and it’s the warmest blanket in your house. You always wear it when you stream because the A/C is always blasting.

“It’s good to talk to you too,” you say, shivering as your heart hammers at his words.

You begin loading up Pico Park, just listening to everyone talk to each other, when you get another notification on Discord.

“I love you 🖤” it says.

“I love you too 💛” you reply, smiling into the camera for just a moment, just for him.

[confused-rat]

I’m about to blow some serious holes in Lily’s bullshit FireRose excuse.

First, this doesn’t address you shipping a grown man and an underage girl. At all. If it is, then it’s you saying “oh they eventually dated anyways, so it doesn’t matter.” It does, actually, but moving on.

Here’s the thing. When did they supposedly date, Lily? You said Josh was 23, but it had to have been close to the time of yours and Josh’s falling out too, in June 2016 (just a month before he turned 24). Otherwise why would you have been friends at all with the guy blackmailing you.

So if they were dating mid-2016, and only lasted six months, the earliest they could have dated was January, and the latest December. So I’ll be generous and mark all of 2016 off.

Now, when exactly did you make those shipping jokes about InkRose and Josh again, Lily?

Well that can’t be right, that’s several months before yours and Josh’s falling out, are you saying Josh was dating a 17 year old and you were still friends with him after all that?

You know what. I’ll be even more generous. Maybe Josh was blackmailing you into silence and compliance. Maybe you were afraid to cut ties until he cut them first. Or maybe your time span was a bit off, it has been almost a decade.

Okay, yeah. That would fit…as long as that was the earliest you joked about shipping them. It was, wasn’t it? Right, Lily?

Right???

For those who don’t know, this is from How to Win at Bronies, a video Lily uploaded all the way back in 2014. March, 2014. It’s since been deleted, but you know how the internet goes—nothing really ever goes away…. Anyways.

Wanna know how old InkRose was then?

She was 15.

Lily was making jokes about locking a 21 year old man in a room with a 15 year old girl until they “made sweet, sweet love.”

If they had dated later, do you know what that would have made you, Lily? Compliant. You made grooming a fucking joke and want to act outraged and innocent when the guy you kept pushing onto an underage girl actually went with it? Fuck off. You’re delusional.

And if anyone wants to go “oh, how do you even know that’s Ink!?” This is what InkRose looked like in 2014.

[cloveroctobers]

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🦇 — 11. Evan “Buck” Buckley

A/N: my man, my man, my man!! Hopefully we get to see you soon and I can actually get the nerve to finish season six—I only have maybe 4 episodes left? Then I’ll dive into 9-1-1 lone star while we wait. Regardless I thought this would be funny and a little creepy to write so here we are! Enjoy 😉

Synopsis: Buck loves the new house you live in together and although you’re not crazy about it…you decide to pull a prank on your boyfriend to liven up the place that perhaps leads to you opening doors for a uninvited guest?

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & HERE & I’m using: A buys a crappy sound machine and plants it in the house. While it plays ghost noises and spooky sounds, A hopes they can convince B that the place is haunted. + “Come on, if there was ever a time for me to be superstitious it’s definitely now.”

*GIF BELONGS TO: @911edit

<- read my previous anthology prompt here.

꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎ ꩜

“BABE!” Buck yelled into your ear after pulling the headphone away.

You flinch as you stand up straight from the kitchen island and away from your overnight oats, “Yes?” You press with raised brows.

Buck waves his hands around, “you don’t hear that?”

“Hear what?” You question, pausing the podcast and resting your headphones to lay around your neck, “I didn’t even know you were home.”

Buck immediately frowns, “don’t tell me that. That means anybody could be hiding in here and you wouldn’t even know because of those stupid things.”

“You bought them for me.”

“Yeah to use at the gym and keep those meathead douchebags away while I’m not around.” Buck explained which made you smirk with a roll of your eyes.

“Listen,” Buck said again as you moved around the modern kitchen (that you hated) to place the now empty bowl and spoon into the sink.

Placing a hand on your hip you glance around the new open floor plan home that you and Buck moved into together. The modern contemporary home was such a contrast from the outside to the inside with its exterior being too boxy for your liking but you enjoyed the black exterior and the courtyard and pool. The inside was much lighter, from white to cream walls, along with the high ceilings which made the home feel bigger and instantly sold Buck who believed this would be your forever home.

You on the other hand were not convinced but nobody could ever say you weren’t open to trying new experiences. It’s only been four months settling in and there were still some things you wanted to change like: mainly the wall colors but Buck was convinced furniture and decor could replace that urge.

Sighing you say, “I don’t hear anything Ev,” you tap the sink on, “maybe you should lay down? Was it a rough day?”

“No, it was a breeze.” Buck fanned his hand along before resting them both flat against the White Island counter, “…maybe it’s a bird or something?”

“Well what exactly did it sound like?”

“Like scratching. Kinda like Pearla when she tries to sneak into our room at night,” Buck answers before glancing around, “matter of fact, where is she?”

“At the groomers. She won’t be ready until after four,” you inform Buck of the whereabouts of your old English sheepdog.

Buck dips his head, looking at his watch, “it’s 3:42.”

“Shoot! time does really get away from me,” you widen your eyes as you quickly finish washing the dishes before spinning around to shove it into the dishwasher.

Buck nods his head, “I’ll drive.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Buck shrugs his shoulders, “it’s a nice crisp day and…I don’t want you having any accidents considering your hearing isn’t the best right now.” He playfully lifts the headphones from your neck to place down while you roll your eyes again.

You lean towards him smug, “ah, I see what this is…you’re scared to stay here by yourself because of this imaginary noise you’re hearing.”

“I’m not! And i don’t think it’s in my head.” Buck defended while you went over to the couch to shove your hoodie back over your gym attire.

“Uh huh,” you say as Buck scoffs ready to plead his case as you lock up the home behind you.

The next time Buck hears the noise is around 3am when you’re both tucked away at the back of the home in bed. It’s not a pleasant sound as his eyes snap open to the darkness of the room, the moaning and creaking almost sounds like a mixture of a whale and the cracking of a ship that meets the bottom of the ocean. Buck knows he should stop clicking on random things on YouTube before bed that leads him down a deep dive but this isn’t the first time he’s hearing that groaning sound.

It was brief before on his day off while you were at work and he was lounging on the couch watching some twisted documentary about Russ McKamey. Buck tried to brush it off as something that was on screen since it stopped when he paused the television but he couldn’t hear it while watching again. Was this truly in his head? He started to think but here he was— technically—the third time hearing the noise for much longer.

When he peaks over at you with your back to him, he lightly grips your shoulder and leans over to see that you’re still fast asleep and sits up in bed. By the edge of the bed, he spots Pearla on the floor with her fluffy ears perked up and Buck nods his head.

“You hear it too, girl? I know I’m not going crazy!” Buck whisper-yells to the dog who’s definitely more alert than you are.

Buck’s crawling out of bed with Pearla at his ankles, taking a deep inhale he opens the bedroom door to peak down the left of the hallway towards the front of the new home and only sees darkness. Pausing for a moment he listens for the noise again but the home is eerily quiet.

Buck stands there for at least two minutes before he considers closing the door but the creaking starts up again, sending Pearla flying out of the room barking as she tries to locate the noise first.

“Pearla!” Buck yells for the dog who disappears down the hallway and out of sight.

He blows a whistle with his fingers to get her attention, stepping into the hallway now but Pearla is nowhere to be seen. When he glances over his shoulder back in your direction, you’re still in fact sound asleep. Usually you’re the light sleeper out of the pair but somehow in this early morning, you’re having a grand time in dreamland.

Reaching for the doorknob, Buck slowly pulls the door closed with a soft click and begins taking the path to the main areas of the home. Pass the three bedrooms and the half bath on the left, Buck scans the dining room, kitchen, and living room to find it all empty. Confusion is written all over Buck’s face as he stands in the center of the home, hands on his hips as he’s searching but…for what?

The groaning picks up again just as a touch goes to his hips. Buck yelps, whipping around to face you who’s actually holding their composure. Buck holds onto his chest ready to let out a exhale but the look you cast behind your shoulder then back to meet Buck’s island water eyes you say, “the house is haunted.”

“What?” Buck let’s out a full exhale, trying to calm his heart rate.

You swallow, hands still holding onto Buck’s hips, “I hear it too.”

He tightens his jaw, ears picking up on the noise but now it’s the loudest it’s ever been, making you grip your very sensitive ears.

“Wait here,” Buck suggests, hands flexing as he picks up a fire poker that was left leaning against the industrial bookcase from his old apartment, “it sounds like it’s coming from the laundry room.”

You huff, feet slapping against the floor as you latch right onto the back of his shirt, “hell no! You’re not leaving me behind in this sketchy house.”

“Ohhh,” Buck sing songs, “now it’s sketchy but when I said it’s been weird lately you tell me I need a nap.”

You hiss, “be quiet, we’re supposed to be stealthy when sneaking up on a ghost.”

“I wasn’t aware that you had experience with the paranormal.” Buck looks back at you with a frown before slowly leading the way back towards the bedrooms.

“I’ve seen ghost whisperer you know?”

“…am i supposed to know what that is?”

“It’s a show Maddie and I are currently binge watching, now ssh!” Your attempt to silence the man was met but Buck used this silence to steady his heartbeat.

If this house was truly haunted then it was going to be hard to explain this to the insurance company when he’s done tearing up the place.

And we all know Buck’s not afraid of some action. His arm goes out to shield you as you both slide up against the wall opposite of the door that leads into the small laundry room. Buck couldn’t hear Pearla’s barking anymore and she did go in the opposite direction so he hoped whatever this is, didn’t harm your beloved dog.

“On my count,” Buck signals peering at you shortly to make sure you understood where he was going with this, “three…two…”

Of course he didn’t say “one” as he pushed the door back, revealing the very normal looking laundry room. Everything appeared in tack as Buck stepped into the room, hand reaching out to shove some clothes on the rack aside and then checking the cabinets above the washer and dryer.

“Huh,” Buck hummed before pulling the appliances open to find them both empty, “nothing.”

When he turns to face you, you’re hugging yourself but your brows are still furrowed in disbelief. He reaches to flick the light off and steps towards you to exit the room but a screeching noise picks up yet again. Instead of it sounding like it’s in the laundry room, it’s appears as if it’s coming from back towards the front of the home.

“No freaking way!” Buck yells, bringing the fire poker up like a bat as he runs down the hallway.

You scream at his back, “stop running towards danger you idiot!”

Buck ignores you, following the sound right to the pantry door, which is closed shut. He wastes no time, pulling the door back to reveal a gray and white Pearla fleeing from the room with a whine. Buck almost recoils at how loud the sound is coming from the pantry but steps in anyway, looking around the spacious storage room until the door shuts right behind him.

He tries the knob but to no avail, he turns back to the dark room, dropping down into a push up motion to check underneath the shelves. The thirty year old was just waiting to see something further unusual but got back to his feet just to be shoved towards the shelves.

Buck steadies his hands out in front of himself, catching himself against the shelves but not without the goods crashing onto the floor. He spins back around as the cracking noise picks up, almost making his teeth ache at the sound but that doesn’t stop him from swinging the fire poker wildly in the air. He’s not sure when the poker breaks one of the shelves but he spots a flash of red way at the top behind a acrylic container.

Panting Buck begins latching and crawling up on the shelves and swipes a hand across the top shelf, knocking the contents onto the floor to spot some sort of machine that suddenly shoots a weak steam of fog his way, followed by the creaking sound. Buck presses on top of it which sends out that screeching sound that makes Buck slip at the upsetting noise.

He’s shouting your name once he aims his footing right, landing back on it but not without the machine slipping right towards his face and knocking Buck off balance.

“I’m just glad it’s not broken,” you say for what felt like the thirteenth time as you hold the door open; ten am later that morning, leading your boyfriend back into your shared home that Buck secretly didn’t want to come back to.

The bandage on his bruised and cut up nose was prominent but Buck still sported a small smile on his face. “See what happens when you try to prank me. Now you have to tell everyone that I did in fact fight a ghost.”

The pantry door was jammed by the time you got to Buck, hearing him calling your name and Pearla barking for your attention. It wasn’t something it commonly did but you just deemed it as your anxiety getting the best of you, struggling to get it open. You were in on a bet with Chimney and Hen since Eddie (surprisingly) and Bobby didn’t want to participate—that you could convince Buck that your new home was haunted.

However you weren’t expecting for him to go investigating and get smacked in the face with the crap ghost machine you purchased off eBay. You were just happy that you weren’t the cause of Buck almost breaking his nose (you didn’t intend for the machine to slide off the shelf) but everything else you’ll take responsibility for.

“Sit,” you ordered Buck by his arms who laughed at you going into your nurturing role, “you know they’ll never believe that right?”

Buck kicks his feet up along the couch with a sigh, “but it could be a plot twist x2 with there actually being some haunted vibes going on. I mean…you did set me up.”

You pout as stood in the kitchen, “it was supposed to be all in good fun but then you had to go Rambo—being Buck. Did I mention how sorry I am?”

Buck laughs, “it’s just a scratch,” as Pearla jumps up beside him to rest her head in his lap, “it’ll heal and I can take a joke but just know…you did start a prank war for the rest of this fall season. You have no idea what you just unleashed.”

You didn’t like how Buck was rubbing his hands together in wicked joy but you’ll learn to deal with it.

“Yeah that’s what Maddie said,” you mumbled as you pulled open the fridge, “so before you come up with those ideas…I can make you your favorite breakfast.”

Buck grins, “that’ll be nice but I’d prefer a cuddle first.”

“Is your head hurting?”

Buck lolls his head, “I told you babe, I feel fine. Now get over here.”

You make a cross motion as you cautiously step over to Buck who shakes his head at you with a grin. Once you’re close enough, he reaches for your sweatshirt to yank you to his other side since Pearla made her claim on his left.

“Now that I know I’m not going crazy anymore, I can really enjoy this house with my two favorite people.” Buck curls a arm around you and rests the other along the back of the couch after patting Pearla’s head.

Resting your head against Buck’s chest you sink into the comfort each other. However that doesn’t last long with the sound of glass shattering from the mirror that once hung on the wall above the wooden chest that contained the record player on top of it.

The silence is almost deafening now as the both of you watch the pieces of the mirror decorate the floor.

Buck says, “Come on, if there was ever a time to be superstitious it’s definitely now.”

You knew a broken mirror was not a good sign and Buck started to feel like it wasn’t really all in his head as the flashes of what happened earlier this morning played back in his head. It couldn’t just be the trash machine you bought whenever and Buck really wasn’t that clumsy to trip over his feet so what gives?

Spookiness can be fun but Buck could always sense when things didn’t exactly feel right anymore? He believed in the full moon, mercury in retrograde and he strongly believed in when things weren’t just a good scare.

“So you agree, we should go house hunting?”

Again? Buck hated the process when he was on his own but with you it felt nice, like there was a definite future to look forward to.

“Yeah,” Buck states, “I think I’m done ghost hunting for awhile.”

“Hell yeah you are.” You respond, keeping your eyes towards the area just in case you saw something else that didn’t sit right with you; while reaching for your phone.

The both of you didn’t bother to debate over where you would be escaping to for the night as you searched your contacts for your realtor and fast.

꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎ ꩜

Continue with my fall anthology prompts here.

[crybabylulu]

Yall remember when I made a post about modern day Lin getting nudes from her girl yeah here’s a smut about that post….idk why I decided to write this. I have fun writing modern day Lin stuff it’s funny and I would love to do a series but idk!

Lin and I have been dating for a couple of months now. It’s really nice! She's so kind and funny but she doesn’t think she’s funny but I do. It’s been a while since she and I had sex so I thought it would be a good idea to rile her up a bit. I went through my lingerie drawer to pick something she’s never seen before. Once I found my outfit I laid it out then went to take a shower so I could shave. I wanted to be soft when she came over. I did my best to be patient as I shaved since I wanted to make sure I got every bit of hair. I know Lin doesn’t care but I care. When I finished I made sure to wash my body then get out.

I put on lotion to make myself baby soft. I fixed up my hair and did a little makeup then put on my outfit. It was a pink baby doll lingerie set that had pink thong panties. I fixed my boobs in the mirror to make sure they looked good for my pictures. I set my phone up and took multiple pictures and did multiple poses. I only liked seven of them but that’s better than nothing. After I finished I took a deep breath and texted Lin.

Me: hiii

Lin: hi sweetheart, are you alright?

Me: yeah I’m fine, are you busy?

Lin: not really just doing paperwork in my office

Me: ok good because I have a surprise for you

Lin: you do?

Me: mhm

I selected the seven pictures I wanted to send to her. I’m so nervous it’s not like I haven’t sent nudes before but things with Lin are just different.

Me: *attachments have been sent*

I closed my phone and ran off to the kitchen to make myself something to eat so I didn’t have to bother with my phone. I can’t imagine what she’s gonna say, we’ve never sent nudes to each other before. I tried to keep myself distracted in the kitchen for a long time but literally only six minutes have passed! When ten minutes had passed I couldn’t help myself. I had to check my phone! I just had to! I picked up my phone and opened it to Lin’s text.

Lin: you look magnificent

Lin: you truly are a work of art

I fell onto my bed and kicked my feet. I can’t believe she said that. My heart fluttered in my chest.

Me: theres more for you if you come over tonight

Lin: I’ll be there please keep the outfit on

Me: anything for you

Lin: good girl I’ll see you at six

Me: see you then

When she called me a good girl I let out a whimper. I can’t wait till she comes over! I need to make my room look presentable! I started cleaning up. Putting things back to where they need to be, vacuuming, and making my bed. When I finished I ate the food I made and tried to figure out what to cook for Lin, or if we should just order from somewhere after sex. I don’t think I’ll be able to cook when she’s done with me so maybe we’ll just get takeout.

Six o’clock came and I heard a knock at my door. I fixed my hair again then checked my makeup. “Everything is fine.” I mumbled to myself then went to answer the door in my lingerie. I opened it up to see my tall older girlfriend. “I’m glad you could make it.” I said as I let her in. I closed the door behind her. “I wouldn’t miss the opportunity of fucking you in your pretty outfit for anything.” Lin said and pushed me up against the door. I let out a gasp. “You’re so beautiful.” Lin said as she pinned my hands above my head. “Please.” I begged. “Please what?” Lin asked. “Please touch me, I’ve been thinking of you all day.” I said.

“I’ve been thinking of you too.” Lin said then started to kiss my neck. “Lin.” I moaned out. She moved her leg in between my thighs and I immediately started to grind on her. Lin let go of my hands and grabbed at my breast. “Fuck.” I sighed out. “You’re so beautiful.” Lin said and pulled down my baby doll dress. I could feel myself getting more wet. “You’re making a mess all over my thigh baby girl.” Lin said. “Please Lin more. Please.” I begged. “Tell me what you want, baby girl.” Lin said. “I need you.” I whined. “You need me to do what?” Lin asked.

“I need your fingers please.” I begged. “Good girl you have manners.” Lin said. She picked me up and carried me to my bedroom. Lin gently laid me down on the bed then put her bag down on the floor. “Take your panties off.” Lin commanded. I did as told and tossed my panties somewhere across my room. I looked over at Lin and she was stripping off her clothes. I bit my lip as I watched her. She's so beautiful. She had some scars that I know she didn’t like but I thought they were beautiful just because she’s beautiful.

“You like what you see?” Lin asked. “I love what I see.” I said. She smirked at me. “You’re absolutely stunning.” I told her. “So are you baby.” Lin said and leaned down to give me a quick kiss. I smiled and she climbed into the bed. She kissed down my body. “Linny.” I moaned. “My perfect girl.” Lin said as she kissed my thighs. “Please Lin, I need you. No more teasing.” I begged. “Since you said please.” Lin said. Her tongue swiped against my folds and I whimpered. She sucked on my clit and I gripped the bed sheets.

Her fingers slipped inside of me and she slowly pumped them in and out. “More daddy more.” I whined. She pumped her fingers faster and my back arched off the bed. “Lin.” I moaned out her name. She scissored her fingers. “Please don’t stop.” I begged her. Lin removed her mouth from my clit and replaced it with her thumb. “You look so pretty with my fingers inside of you.” Lin said. I pulled her down to kiss me. I need more of her. When Lin pulled away and I whined. She rubbed my clit faster and I arched my back. “So good daddy.” I moaned. “You’ve been waiting for this all day?” Lin asked. “Yes daddy.” I moaned.

Lin removed her fingers from my pussy and put them towards my mouth. I sucked them clean while she started to eat me out again. “Mmm!” I moaned around her finger. Her tongue plunged deep into my walls, licking every inch of me. I gripped her hair. “Fuck!” I cried out. My heart was pounding in my chest. She makes me feel so good. My legs started to shake. “Daddy please don’t stop, please!” I begged. She gently pinched my clit. I let out a yelp then orgasmed. I shook some more and she continued to eat me out. “No more daddy please.” I whined and tried to pull away from her.

Lin pulled away. “You can’t take anymore? I brought my strap.” Lin said. “You should have started off with that.” I told her. Lin chuckled. She got up then grabbed her bag and pulled out her strap. I watched as she put on the harness and I let out a whimper. “Be patient, my pretty girl.” Lin said as she tightened the straps. “I want you daddy.” I said and reached out to her. “I know, baby.” Lin replied as she got back into the bed. I kept my legs spread and she kissed my thighs then rubbed her cock on my slit.

“Daddy.” I whined. She slowly pushed inside of me and my eyes fluttered closed. Once she was all the way inside she slowly pulled out then slammed back in and started at a rough pace. “Mmm fuck!” I cried out. Her lips crashed against mine as she fucked me. I gripped her again and moaned against her lips. Lin’s nails dug into my thighs as she fucked me. “You make me feel so good daddy.” I whined. “You take me so well baby girl, I’m so proud of you.” Lin said. I whimpered. “You’re such a good girl for me aren’t you?” Lin asked.

“Yes daddy! I’m a good girl! I’m your good girl daddy.” I moaned. “Yes you are baby, you’re my good girl. My good fucking slut.” Lin growled. My eyes rolled back as she started going harder. The way she squeezed my throat and fucked me had me trembling. I could barely think. “You look so pretty while I fuck you.” Lin said. “Daddy!” I cried out. “Yes baby girl, what is it hm?” Lin asked mockingly. “Please faster.” I choked. “You want faster? Can you handle it?” Lin asked. “Yes daddy please.” I begged.

She started to pound into me faster and I arched my back off the bed. “Daddy I’m gonna cum.” I croaked. Lin let go of my throat and started to rub my clit. “Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock.” Lin growled. “Daddy I’m so close.” I whimpered. She rubbed my clit faster. “Cum for me.” Lin commanded. “Daddy!” I cried out as I orgasmed for the second time that night. “Good girl.” Lin praised as she fucked me through my orgasm. My body shook. “No more daddy please.” I said. She stopped. “You did such a good job, baby girl.” Lin told me.

“Thank you daddy.” I said. Lin slowly pulled out and I let out a soft sigh. “I love you.” I told her. “I love you too.” Lin said and kissed my cheek. I smiled. Lin left the room then came back with some water. “Here baby.” Lin said. “Thank you.” I said as I sat up and took it. Lin took off her strap then went to the bathroom. I drank the water. I heard Lin start the shower. Lin came out of the bathroom. “Come on baby.” Lin said. “Help.” I held out my arms to her. She came over to me and picked me up. We went into the bathroom then got into the shower. Lin put my shower cap on then washed my body.

I helped her wash her body then we got out and she dried me off. Then dressed me. “What do you want to eat?” Lin asked. “Cake.” I said. “Baby girl no.” Lin said. “Why?” I asked. “Because that’s not good food.” Lin said. “I want cake,” I pouted. “No baby girl.” Lin told me as she was drying off. I folded my arms. “Oh don’t you do that.” Lin said. I turned away. “Do you want pizza?” She asked. “Ok.” I said with a big smile on my face. “Good girl.” Lin said.

[vinvantae]

Can you do a New Year's Eve with Lewis! I loveeee holidays

Of course! Love a holiday fic 🧡

The air was filled with joyous and drunken laughter as everyone celebrated the year coming to a close. You found yourself leant over the railings of the balcony, taking a small moment away from the crowds to catch your breath. Gather your thoughts before the year drew to a close.

You’d had a bit of a hectic year, your career had massively been put on hold and you’d spent most of your time alone as your husband was out racing across the world and you didn’t want to distract him by sulking around every race. Especially with the championship battle being extra tough this year.

But you knew he was in the same boat. The final race win being stolen from him, ultimately meant the championship was lost. Both of you had ended the 2021 feeling pretty down, the only thing keeping you going through it all was each other.

So when you felt a warm hand on the small of your back, it was like all of the tension melted out of you. You lifted your gaze and smiled softly at Lewis as he rubbed your back gently.

“You okay?” He asked, his arm moving to wrap around your waist. “Lost you.”

“Yeah, just needed to get some air.” You hummed softly, kissing his cheek. “Got a lot to think about with this year ending.”

The driver hummed in agreement. “Definitely. You ready to get back to work?”

“I am. You ready to get your title back?” You turned and wrapped your arms around his neck, tracing your fingertips across the soft skin.

He smiled. “I’ll try my best. But, we’ve still got 3 months of break to enjoy first, baby.”

“Got anything in mind?”

Lewis took a moment to think, both of his arms linking around your waist - pulling you a little closer. “I’m not sure, definitely need a proper relax though.”

“We can sort it out next year.”

The driver groaned at your joke. “Very funny. Speaking of, it’s nearly time… wanna stay out here? I bet there will be fireworks.”

“Mhmm, sounds perfect, my love.”

And as if on cue, you could hear the countdown begin indoors.

“TEN! NINE! EIGHT!”

“Here’s to another year of us.” Lewis smiled.

“SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!”

“And to many more.”

“FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE!”

Lewis took your face in his and gave you a deep kiss as the world lit up around you - fireworks crashing in the sky, the clinking of glasses and cheers rang in your ears as you felt his soft lips moved against yours. You felt like a giddy teenager all over again when he pulled back and smiled at you.

“Happy new year, y/n.”

“Happy new year, Lewis.” You brushed your thumb across his jaw. “So I’m happy to be starting another year of my life with you.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Forever, baby. Now, fancy heading to bed? I’m getting too old for this and want to sleep.”

“Sounds perfect.”

**************************************************

Short and sweet. Hope you enjoyed 🧡🧡

[hereforanepilogue]

I'll wait for you (wait for me)

for @thefreakandthehair's spicy six spring challenge :)

ao3

Steve, surprisingly, has never minded Eddie’s driving. The first time the kids had told him Eddie was driving them somewhere he’d nearly panicked, but then he’d beaten them out to the quarry and had to listen to the little twerps complaining about how Eddie ‘drove like a grandma’ the whole way there.

He’d asked about it, and Eddie had just given him a wry smile and cracked a joke about ‘precious cargo’. It had made something flutter in Steve’s chest, and he’d brushed Max’s claims about Eddie’s driving off. In fact, he doesn’t really consider it again until April nearly six months later, when he finds himself calling Eddie from the pay phone across the street from Moretti’s Tires.

“Yeah?” Eddie says when he picks up. Steve groans.

“Is that how you answer the phone?” he asks.

“Oh, sorry - Munson’s Murders, you pick ‘em we brutalize ‘em.”

“That doesn’t even rhyme,” Steve says. “Wait, no, I only have one more quarter, can you pick me up?”

“Oh, sure, where are you?”

“The mechanic on Elm,” Steve says.

“Vinny’s? I’ll be right there, hold on,” Eddie says. Steve can hear him moving around before he hangs up unceremoniously.

“Rude,” Steve mutters. He looks back inside - the guy running the place is gone again.

Fifteen minutes later, Eddie’s van rolls up with music blasting out of the closed windows. Eddie doesn’t move to get out, so Steve just walks around to the passenger side. He tries the door and it won’t open, so Eddie pushes it from the other side.

“Sorry about that,” Eddie says, turning down the music. Steve hops into the van. “It’s a little sticky.”

“It’s fine, man, how’re you?”

“I’m alright. You need a ride back here when it’s done, or?”

“If you don’t mind? He said it’ll be a couple days.”

“Shit, good luck with that. Vin’s kind of an asshole, he might take longer.”

“Well, he’d better have it done by next Friday, I’m - we’re - I’m supposed to meet Rob in Chicago.”

“Yeah? Big date?” Eddie grins.

“Didn’t she beat that joke out of you yet?” Steve asks waspishly.

“Oh, come on, it’s funny,” Eddie says. Steve narrows his eyes.

“Anyway, she’s got a long weekend and I’m supposed to go see her.”

“I mean,” Eddie pauses. Steve looks over at him - he has one hand on the wheel and the other dangling in front of the armrest, and his eyebrows are furrowed. He’s wearing a cropped shirt under his jacket, and Steve can see the angry red scarring that hasn’t faded yet. It’s on his face, too, but Eddie only complains that his sides are still hurting. “I could drive you, if it’s not ready.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Steve says.

“You didn’t,” Eddie looks amused. “I’ve got shit I can do for however long you’re there -”

“We were gonna stay until Sunday night,” Steve says. The idea of sharing Robin’s tiny apartment with Eddie has Steve tapping his fingers nervously. “I’m not sure Robin’s place is big enough, though -”

“I can stay with my friends, we’ve got shit we can do for a weekend.”

“I’ll pay for gas?”

“Hell yeah, I’ll call Sam. If your car’s out of the shop by then I’m still coming with, though. Vampire rules.”

“I - what? What are you talking about?”

“Once I’m invited in, I’m in,” Eddie says. He makes some kind of weird ghost sound and wiggles his free hand around in front of Steve’s face, eyes still locked on the road.

“Sure, sure. Just - we can still hang out, some of the time. If you want to.” Steve doesn’t know if Robin’s told Eddie about herself, or their real reason for going to Chicago, but he’s sure she’ll be happy to hang out with him a bit if she has the chance.

“Sounds good! I’ll get you Friday morning?”

ao3

for

[loverssbythesea]

summary: steve comes to your rescue after a bad date

notes: unrelated to this blurb but someone please indulge me and my thoughts about clarinet player steve

You tried to stay on the parts of the sidewalk covered by the roof and shielded from the rain. You were cold, upset, and embarrassed, and you didn't want to add being soaked to that list. You were supposed to be on your second date with Tommy at the diner, but about 45 minutes after the time he'd said, you abandoned hope of him showing up. It was drizzling, and you had already gotten a few drinks trying to wait out the rain. Now it was 2 hours past and you were outside by the pay phone with a fistful of change from the bus boy.

You paused at the phone, thinking of who to call. Your mom was still at work having dropped you off before her shift. You quickly slipped in a quarter and pressed in the next number to come to mind.

“Hello?”

“Steve?”

You both paused, having started at the same time. “Y/n?”

“Hey, are you busy right now?” You heard shuffling over the line and when Steve answered he sounded clearer than before. “No, I'm not. Is everything okay? Didn’t you have that date today?”

“Could you come pick me up? I'm outside that diner by the arcade, I would just walk but it's raining and I don’t have a jacket.” You heard the clinking from his keys before he answered. “Yeah of course, I'll be right there, okay?” Steve waited for an affirmation from you before hanging up. You stood for a moment before putting the phone back, pulling the sleeves of your sweater down to cover your hands.

If you were reading the clock right through the window, it took Steve six minutes to make the ten minute drive from his house to the diner. You were making your way off the sidewalk before he finished pulling in, quickly opening the door and dropping into the passenger seat with a sigh.

"Funny seeing you here," Steve joked and you let out a breathy laugh.

“Hi, I'm sorry,” you rushed out with a glance at him, noticing his smile drop a bit, “My mom needed the car today so she just dropped me off and I got stuck in the rain.”

“Don't worry about it, here,” he reached into the back and handed you his old basketball hoodie. “Think I have a pair of sweatpants somewhere too, and I might have snacks in the glovebox if Dustin didn't nab them all.”

Steve fussed with the radio while you slipped your sweater off and Steve’s hoodie on, waiting for him to ask.

“So what happened with your date? This was the second one with this guy?” You sighed again, and Steve stared at the side of your face, watching you relax into the seat.

“First one wasn't great. I told you already how he just talked about himself the whole time but I figured I'd give it another try.” You paused and Steve stared at you expectedly. “And?”

“And he was supposed to be here two hours ago.” You gave Steve a sad smile. “I know I didn't do anything but I don't know what's wrong with me that I have such bad luck with guys.”

You weren't lying. You knew you hadn't done anything that would warrant getting stood up, or any of the other slights you'd experienced in the last few months from dates. But there was a small part of you, an evil little voice in the back of your mind, yelling that you must be at fault for how you've been treated. That there must be something about you that gets you treated like this.

Steve shook his head at you. “Guys are just douchebags.” You chuckled

“Look, it's not too late,” Steve’s hand moved to take the car out of park. “Let's go catch a movie and I’ll get you the popcorn with all the butter how you like it. Show you how a real date's done.”

You turned to the window so he couldn't see how hard you were smiling.

[secretsbehindthenine]

Thanks for kindly replying!

I sorta want to request a RC9GN story about Randy having a lonely birthday (which Howard has again forgotten about because… he forgets his bestie’s all the time!).

PS: Yeah, I’m a very sfw person but I don’t want to tread into shipping territory atm, so I’ll stay safe with the bromance friendship route.

Sorry about the late response! I'm currently halfway into the fall semester of college, so I'm working on a butt-load assignments at the moment. So, forgive me if any part of this feels rushed. 🥲

Also...I know your prompt wanted it to be centered on Howard forgetting Randy's birthday, but the whole "Randy having a lonely birthday" reminded me of a plot point in my Idol!AU that covers just that. Inspiration struck, so I had to write it out. I hope you don't mind! 😅

------

Time was a funny thing. Despite its consistency, the way it moves along at the same rhythm and tempo for everybody on earth, the way you process its passage will never be the same as how others go about it.

It had been six months since Randy came to Akemioka. 26 weeks since he decided to keep the other trainees at arm’s length, the last words Howard said to him replaying in his mind over and over again like a looped song. 181 days since he dedicated his time to testing the limits of his vocal range, improving his dancing skills, and practicing his Japanese. Anyone else would’ve thought those 4,344 hours were the longest they’ve ever endured, or the fastest that has ever managed to give them the slip. But Randy? He watched the clock in real time. Felt all 260,640 minutes pass by him like a classmate in a busy hallway. Time wasn’t a tangible thing; you couldn’t reach out and grasp it, as if it was a ball you had to catch or a bar you needed to grab. And yet, those 15,638,400 seconds churned something fierce in the depths of his stomach. It twisted his guts, pushed bile up his throat, got tears swelling up in the corners of his eyes. Every breath, whether slow-deep or shaky-shallow, was weighed down by the ticks that resonated from each clock Randy came across. All because Randy spent 15,638,400,000 milliseconds avoiding others like the plague, hoping—no, praying the thought of him being a major-league shoob would never cross any of their minds. Isolation was key. If he didn’t want to prove Howard right, if he didn’t want to run the risk of letting down anybody else, he had to alienate himself from everybody. He needed the loneliness, the company of himself and himself alone. That’s the only way he’ll be able to survive all this.

Except…

Birthdays weren’t a private thing. Not to Randy. It was unfathomable to him, to spend a day centered on the fact that you beat out the odds and lived another year in complete, utter seclusion. This accomplishment, this goal post, needed to be shared with others. It needed to be celebrated with the people you care about the most. That’s how it’s always been for Randy every time March 21st rolled around. He always had his friends and family at his side, congratulating him for the mere feat of being alive. He always had somebody to wish him a happy birthday, to give him a gift and lift up his spirits.

Until now, that is.

It had been 6 months since he left Norrisville right in the midst of the week before Thanksgiving break. 6 honking months since his fight with Howard and the end of a friendship he’d wholeheartedly believed would follow him to his grave. Randy knew 6 months after November was March. He knew he’d be spending his 15th birthday in Japan. Yet, it took his parents calling him at 6am sharp to actually accept that. It took his parents’ smiling faces on a tiny-ass screen, idly remarking that they had to get the timing just right so that their birthday message for him would be the first thing he woke up to, for him to finally acknowledge that, yes. It was his birthday now. Randy was officially 15 years old. And this phone call right here was all he’d be getting this year. No gifts. No parties. No…Howard. Just him and his parents on opposite sides of the Pacific, with only their phones keeping them connected.

If it wasn’t for the fact that his roommate was literally right next to him, Randy would’ve cried right then and there.

[ghostofaboy]

Double Whiskey On The Rocks

Pairing: Jack Daniels/Original Male Character Rating: Explicit. Over 18s only! Word count: 5880

Summary: Jack had a very unique Statesman recruitment. Shameless smut.

Warnings: Oral Sex (male giving and receiving), Face Fucking, Cum Eating, Anal Fingering (male receiving), Anal Sex (male receiving), Dirty Talk, Swearing

Note: No beta reader, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Jack slumped against the cold stone wall of the alley and sighed. This wasn’t how he’d wanted his life to go. Only twelve months prior, he’d had everything he’d ever wanted. A wife, a baby on the way, and a glittering career ahead of him in the airforce. That was all gone now. Taken from him in one brutal afternoon. Now he was here, outside yet another run-down bar smelling of piss, sweat, and booze and wishing he had the fucking guts to end it all.

A sharp pain in his side reminded him of the punch to the ribs he’d taken only moments ago. The local patrons clearly unhappy with his choice of songs on the jukebox. So fucking what if he wanted to play Whitney Houston six times in a row. I Will Always Love You was Lela’s favorite song. It had been. Past tense. He was still catching himself on that one.

“Not bad, kid.” A deep voice came from the entrance to the alley, and Jack snapped his head up to look in that direction. Stepping forward at a leisurely pace was an older man, perhaps in his mid to late fifties, wearing crisp blue jeans, a black wool blazer, and a goddamn cowboy hat. “Six drunk hicks an’ ya came out without a damn scratch.”

“Can I help you sir?” Jack eyed the man carefully. His ribs were aching now, probably not broken but definitely bruised, and the cuts on his knuckles from the previous fight were starting to make themselves known to him. The last thing he needed right now was another guy coming at him.

“Funny thing that.” The man drawled his accent not too dissimilar to Jack's. “I was gonna ask ya the same thing. Ya got a plan, son?”

“A plan?” Jack cocked his head. “Whaddya mean?”

“Well, ya come in here, playin’ the same damn song over an’ over till someone picks a fight with ya.” The man continued to step closer, and Jack could make out more details. Whoever this guy was, he was a handsome son of a bitch with a sharp clean-shaven jawline and vibrant blue eyes watching Jack with amusement and curiosity. “I gotta wonder what ya deal is. Ya ain’t from around here I know that much. But ya know how to fight. I’ll give ya that.”

“I ain’t lookin’ for trouble.” Jack growled as the man stopped a couple of feet from him. “The guys in there, they started shit, an’ I dealt with it. I just-”

“Yeah, ya did.” The man eyed Jack up and down, and Jack instinctively shifted. The man's gaze made him feel like he was being appraised. It reminded him of his old CO. “Look, ya clearly a little on edge right now, so why don’t I give ya my card.” The man pulled a business card from his pocket, handing it to Jack. “If ya get bored pickin’ fights with dumbass drunks, gimme a call.”

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but the man was already turning and walking away, leaving Jack still leaning against the cold wall, wondering what the hell that had been about.

/////

It was three days later that Jack saw the man again. This time he had sat drinking in the bar of a small casino when one of the other patrons had muttered something about Jack. It was something about his state or smell, accompanied by a disgusted look and a smirk to his friends. Jack was on him in one fluid motion, and after dealing with the men, he had been hauled outside by casino security.

Wiping blood from his nose, Jack glanced up to see a familiar face standing and watching him from across the street. The man, still in his smart jacket and Stetson, was leaning casually against a streetlamp, watching Jack. As their eyes met, the man simply tipped his hat to Jack but didn’t move.

What the fuck was this guy's problem? Jack scowled as he hauled himself to his feet and eyed the stranger. If the man was intimidated as Jack stalked toward him, he didn’t show it. He merely nodded again as Jack approached, stopping just in front of the stranger.

“You again.”

“Me again.” The man smirked. “Another fight? How’s that workin’ out for ya?”

“Workin’ out fine an’ dandy.” Jack spread his arms out to show the man that, yet again, there wasn’t a scratch on him. In fact, aside from one lucky hit to his face, the other guys hadn’t been able to land a punch.

“Uh-huh.” The man’s eyes drifted up and down Jack’s body, his smirk fixed. “Five guys this time, from what I counted. One with a knife too. Watched ya disarm him. Very nice.”

“Look, I don’t know why you keep followin’ me.” Jack pointed a finger at the still-smirking man. “But-”

“But what?” The man cut in. “But ya got this? But ya have a plan? Cos ya don’t, Jack. Ya don’t got shit but a goddamn attitude problem and no fuckin’ money to ya name.”

Jack’s blood ran cold as the stranger said his name. “How do you know my name?” He all but whispered. 

The man huffed out a laugh. “Looked ya up, o’course. Jackson Matthew Daniels. Husband of Lela, son of Henry and Mary. Honorably discharged from the US Airforce, although, let's be honest there, son. Given what you did to those men, it should have been a dishonorable discharge. Only reason it wasn’t was on account of the death of ya wife an’-”

“Stop!” Jack cried out. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Someone who can give ya an option better than gettin’ y’self killed.” The man tucked his thumbs into his belt and frowned at Jack. “For the last twelve months, y’ve been runnin’. Just drank an’ gambled. Gettin’ inta fights. Soon ya luck’ll run out, son. What then?”

Jack didn’t have an answer. He didn’t have a plan. None of this was meant to happen. He was supposed to be at home with his girl right now. Probably a little sleep deprived from having a new baby. He was supposed to be a dad, not a fucking drunk with dwindling savings.

“Fuck you.” Jack spat as he stormed off, leaving the man alone under the streetlamp.

/////

It was around five weeks later that Jack saw the man again. Making his way back to his motel room from the grimy bar Jack was weaving his way drunkenly along the sidewalk when he spotted him. The man, still dressed impeccably with a light brown Stetson this time, stood outside another bar on Jack’s route home. 

Home. That wasn’t where he was going. He was heading back to the dingy motel, which was all he could afford after his latest losses at the casinos.

The man glanced to his right as Jack approached, taking a long drag on his cigarette. He eyed Jack with an amused look as the younger man came to an unsteady stop next to him.

“Good night?”

“Yeah.” Jack slurred out, grinning. “Great night.”

“Uh-huh.” The man chuckled. He was kind of handsome for an older guy, and Jack couldn’t stop himself from staring as the stranger licked his lips. “Headin’ back to ya motel?”

Of course, that fucker knew where he was staying. Jack rolled his eyes. This guy thought he knew all about him. Well, it was time to turn the tables. Jack smiled and leaned closer.

“I was, but seein’ you here, I reckon it might be fate.” Edging a little closer, Jack got as close as he dared to the man's ear. “See, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you ever since I saw you last. I didn’t leave things right an’ I was hopin’ I’d get to see you again so I could make it up to you.”

“Are ya flirtin’ with me?” The man whispered back incredulously. “Brave thing to be doin’ so openly in Alabama, son.”

“You seen me fight, right?” Jack’s heart started thumping in his chest, hoping the guy would take the bait. “Then you know I’m a brave guy.”

“I know ya don’t know when ta back down.” The man chuckled, turning to face Jack. Jack could feel the other man’s breath on his lips. “But ya got balls gotta give ya that. So how exactly were ya hopin’ to make it up to me huh?”

All or nothing time. 

“I could blow you. Or, if you prefer, let you fuck me.” Jack whispered against the man’s lips watching with some satisfaction as his eyebrows shot up. “Though this bein’ Alabama, we should probably get somewhere a little more private. You stayin’ close by?”

“That I am.” The man took a final drag of his cigarette before throwing it to the floor and crushing it with his foot. “Follow me.”

/////

The man wasn’t staying that far away from Jack, which unnerved Jack a little. Clearly, the man was watching him, following him but why? He wasn’t muscle to one of the many people Jack now owed money to, or Jack would have been dealt with already. 

After the second time they met, Jack had dug out the card the man had given him, but it yielded no clues. The card had no name or organization, just a phone number that Jack had not called. If Jack was going to figure out who this guy was, he’d need to look through his things, so part one of the plan was to get the guy asleep. A good fucking should do the job. Jack was probably twenty years younger than him, so tiring the man out shouldn’t be too difficult. A good fucking should do the job.

Following the man up to his hotel room Jack stepped into the elevator, watching as the man pressed the button for the fifth floor before turning and closing in on Jack.

“We doin’ this?” His voice rumbled from deep in his chest, his eyes hungrily looking at Jack’s lips. Jack had barely nodded when the guy was on him. 

Lips clashed messily against lips as the old man pinned him against the elevator wall. Hands were everywhere, with Jack sending his to pull the man’s shirt out from its place tucked in his jeans. Pushing his hands up the still buttoned shirt, Jack could feel the man’s nipples pebble at his touch.

The man’s hands divided their attention between Jack’s ass, with the man’s left hand roughly squeezing his cheek and his hair locking him in place as the man continued to plunder Jack’s mouth. Jack could taste the cigarette from earlier as the man pushed his tongue deep into Jack’s mouth.

With a ding, the elevator door opened, making Jack jump, but the man calmly untangled himself and headed out. Jack followed, adjusting his jeans to accommodate his now hard cock. Down the corridor and a left turn later, he found himself standing outside the man’s hotel room. No turning back now.

This was no 5-star hotel, but the room was decent enough and a big step up from his own motel room. The room itself was modestly furnished. Off to the right of the door was a small bathroom with a toilet, sink, and bathtub, while in the center of the main room was a neat-looking double bed. The rest of the room was pretty plain, with a simple chair, nightstand, and drawers in the same dark wood.

The man closed the door behind Jack and immediately started removing his jacket. Jack shrugged his own denim jacket off, throwing it over the back of the chair before turning back to the man.

“So, you got a name?”

“Most folks do.” The man eyed Jack greedily, reaching forward and pulling his t-shirt out from his waistband. In one swift motion, he pulled it up over Jack's head and tossed it over to the chair to join Jack’s jacket.

“I mean,” Jack paused to gasp as the man gave one of his nipples a quick tweak before pulling Jack’s jeans open. “What do I call you?”

Pushing Jack’s jeans down slightly to his thighs, the man paused, looking at Jack with an amused expression as he considered the question. “Ya can call me Whiskey.”

“Whiskey?” Jack frowned, pulling off his boots while the man, Whiskey, unbuttoned his shirt. “That like a nickname?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Whiskey’s lip curled into a smile as Jack pushed his jeans down and off, leaving him standing there in nothing but his tented boxers. “Well, look at ya. Pretty little thing, ain’t ya? Gonna look prettier on ya knees with a cock down ya throat.”

Whiskey kept his eyes on Jack as he opened and shrugged off his shirt. Stepping forward, Jack reached for Whiskey’s chest, running his fingers over the pert nipples before leaning in to take one in his mouth. Whiskey hummed approvingly as Jack licked and sucked in each nipple while his hands went for Whiskey’s jeans, popping the buttons open before kneeling before the older man.

Feeling Whiskey’s eyes on him, Jack slowly and deliberately pulled the jeans open to reveal a thick bush of pubic hair. It seemed Whiskey preferred to go commando. Pulling the jeans down, Jack took a deep breath, breathing in the other man’s musk as Whiskey’s thick uncut erection sprang free. 

With one final glance up at Whiskey, who simply smiled down at him, Jack reached out and gently rolled back Whiskey’s foreskin to reveal a dark, fat red cockhead, then opened his mouth and gave it a small lick. This was by no means the first cock Jack had ever sucked, but it had been a while, and for a few moments, he was a little concerned he was out of practice. 

However, after a few long slow licks, Jack parted his lips and began to swirl his tongue around the head. Looking up to make eye contact with Whiskey, Jack could see the older man holding back moans as he watched glassy-eyed. Feeling emboldened, Jack reached forward, cupping Whiskey's balls with one hand and the base of his cock with the other before beginning to work Whiskey's length into his mouth.

Inch by inch, Jack took the cock, until his nose began to graze Whiskey's thick unruly bush. Listening to the breathy moans coming from above him, Jack held himself there for a few seconds before his gag reflex forced him to pull off, leaving behind a trail of saliva connecting the leaking head to Jack’s lips. Tears stung his eyes as he began to bob up and down Whiskey's shaft, letting the tip of the cock hit the back of his throat each time, hollowing his cheeks as he once again locked eyes with the mysterious man.

"Y've done this before." Whiskey panted, playfully stroking Jack's hair. Jack responded by gently rolling his balls in his hand and returning to the thick cockhead, sucking on it and pulling a shaky breath from Whiskey. Teasing the slit with his tongue, Jack was rewarded for his efforts with the bitter tang of precum spilling onto the tip of his tongue and his lips.

After a few minutes of sucking, Jack flattened his tongue before again working Whiskey's dick back into his mouth. As soon as Jack felt it hit the back of his throat, he hummed, swallowing around the length of the shaft, making Whiskey let out a giddy laugh. 

"Fuck son, until ya want a throat full o'cum ya need to ease off. I'm gettin' close." When Jack didn’t move and continued to glide up and down his cock Whiskey tightened his grip on Jack's hair. "All right, Jack, f-fuck, fair warnin'. Let's see what that pretty mouth can take."

Jack felt the hands of the older man gripping the back of his head as he began setting the pace, and Jack's eyes watered as Whiskey started fucking his face roughly. With each thrust, Whiskey's cock hit the back of his throat, making him gag and choke. It was all Jack could do to breathe through his nose as strangled wet sounds came from his throat as the older man's hips bucked.

"Tha's right, Jack baby." He could hear Whiskey growling. "Take it. Take it all. Ya enjoyin’ bein’ my dirty little slut ain’t ya?"

His own cock twitched at the words as Whiskey continued to mutter as his climax neared. After a few more thrusts, Whiskey pulled back just enough to let Jack breathe, as he let out a strangled noise spilling his seed into Jack's mouth and throat. As rope after rope of thick white seed flooded his mouth, all Jack could do was swallow every last drop as Whiskey felt his head firmly in place.

Finally, Whiskey loosened the grip on Jack's hair, letting his hand fall away, and Jack let the softening cock out of his mouth with a wet pop. Wiping drool and cum away from his lips with the back of his hand Jack looked up at Whiskey. The older man looked down at him, reaching out and softly, almost tenderly stroking Jack’s face.

“Not bad.” He panted, pulling Jack up off his knees. “Not bad at all. But we can do better. Let's get those off ya.”

Looking down at his damp boxers, Jack nodded, pulling them off and kicking them away as Whiskey began stripping himself of his jeans and boots. Once they were both naked, Whiskey ran a hand over Jack's chest, tracing his fingers down his stomach to his hips before reaching down and gripping Jack’s aching cock firmly.

“Very nice.” Whiskey murmured, gently pumping Jack a couple of times. Jack hissed, jerking his hips forwards and earning a low chuckle from the older man. “I wanna see ya cum. Ya wanna do that for me, Jack? Huh? Ya wanna cum while I watch?”

“Fuck yeah.” Jack moaned, still lazily thrusting into Whiskey’s grip. “You gonna fuck me?”

“Not just yet.” Whiskey laughed, motioning down to his now flaccid cock. “Let’s see how ya feel after I’m done with ya.”

“Done with me?” Jack raised his eyebrows but allowed himself to be maneuvered onto the bed, letting Whiskey lay him down on his back.

“Yeah.” Whiskey cooed at Jack as he retrieved a bottle of lube from the nightstand. “Let’s have some fun. There’s more to sex than just fuckin’ and suckin’.”

From the bed, Jack watched as Whiskey squeezed out a healthy dollop of lube onto the middle finger of his right hand before rubbing down the digit, warming the lube, and thoroughly coating the finger. With the other hand, Whiskey pushed Jack down until he was lying flat on the bed.

“Hold ya knees up.” It was a command, not a request, and Jack found himself obeying. Putting his hands behind each of his knees, Jack lifted his legs until his knees almost touched his shoulders, folding himself in two and baring his hole for Whiskey.

Wasting no time, Whiskey circled Jack’s entrance with his prepared finger, causing Jack to bite his lip to stifle a moan. Then, slowly and ever so gently, Whiskey pushed in, pausing momentarily to let Jack adjust before beginning to pump the finger in and out.

Jack shivered and panted as Whiskey soon began to increase the pace. At first, starting slowly, almost lazily, before pushing deeper and faster. A second finger soon joined the first, causing Jack to see stars as his thighs trembled and his cock throbbed in time with Whiskey's unrelenting pace.

"What a perfect fuckin' pussy." Whiskey mused, caressing Jack's balls as he scissored his fingers inside Jack's tight ass. Jack could feel his heart pounding and the blood buzzing in his ears.

"F-fuck, 'm gonna, shit, g-gonna, ‘m close..."

"Easy, son." Whiskey stilled his fingers, letting Jack catch his breath and allowing the waves of Jack's approaching climax to fade. "I wanna watch this show a little longer. Not just yet. Ya can cum when I say so." 

"Fuck, please." Jack whined, digging his fingers into his own legs. He could feel the trickle of precum making its way down his side from his cock. With every other thrust of Whiskey's fingers, his swollen dick was sending out small spurts, landing on his stomach before traveling down his ribs onto the sheets below him.

"But ya doin' so well, Jack." Whiskey teased, his eyes raking over Jack's glistening naked body wantonly. "Don't ya wanna last a little longer?

Jack simply whimpered, shaking his head. He really wasn’t sure he could. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this, and his head was swimming in arousal while his cock pulsed on his stomach.

"All right, baby. One more finger, then ya can cum." Whiskey playfully tugged on Jack's balls, sending spikes of pleasure shooting through him. “Ya can do that, right?”

"One... more..." Jack panted out, craning his head up to look at Whiskey. The older man nodded and smiled, seemingly satisfied, before returning to his previous lazy pace.

“Perfect.” Whiskey purred, adding more lube and pushing the final finger deep into Jack, filling and stretching his ass before pausing and locking eyes with Jack. “Ya ready for the big finish?”

“Y-yes.” Jack stammered out.

“Good.” Whiskey shifted on the bed, pressing all three fingers deeper into Jack. Letting go of Jack’s balls, the older man placed his other hand on Jack’s right leg, pushing it further back and steadying himself on it. “I’m not gonna go easy, but I know you can take it an’ I guarantee ya gonna enjoy it.”

Jack didn’t have a chance to respond before Whiskey began plumping his fingers into Jack at a brutal pace. Jack could feel his cock smacking against his stomach as it bounced with every thrust. The room was filled with the lewd wet noises of Jack’s ass, the soft slapping noise of flesh on flesh, and Jack’s increasingly loud moans. 

Already close to the edge, it didn't take long for Jack to reach his finish. Arching his back, he let out a choked "Fuck" as he shot ropes of thick release over himself, his vision going white as the ripples of pleasure undid him. As his orgasm ebbed away, he could feel Whiskey slow and then eventually halt his fingers.

“Let’s see just how much ya can take, huh?”

“W-what?” Jack could barely see, let alone speak, as he looked up at the other man, peering over his knee, past his softening cock. 

Whiskey smiled, his fingers still buried in Jack’s hole. Then, to Jack’s astonishment, he began to move them again. Gently pumping into Jack’s tender ass. Jack couldn’t stop himself from squirming. With his arousal gone, the sensation wasn’t exactly pleasant anymore. His ass felt stretched and sore, and the fingers, even covered in lube, stung.

“Ya want me to stop?” Whiskey leaned up and over Jack, keeping up his slowly rhythmic pace. 

“Hurts.” Jack frowned, shaking his head. 

“All right.” Whiskey looked downright disappointed but slowly withdrew his fingers and helped Jack to lower his shaking legs. “Shame, though. Reckon ya could take a whole hand.”

“‘M not sure. I-” Jack was still struggling to find words, his eyes following Whiskey as the older man stood up and headed for the bathroom.

“Sure ya can. But I won’t force ya.” Whiskey returned with a towel, wiping his fingers before throwing it onto the bed. Jack reached for the fluffy white fabric, but Whiskey caught his hands. “I’ll clean ya, honey. Let me have a little taste.”

Locking eyes with Jack Whiskey began to slowly and methodically lick the cum from his body. At first, starting with his stomach with gentle kitten licks, lapping up the sticky pearlescent seed, humming as he savored each drop. Then Whiskey kissed his way up to Jack’s chest, tracing circles around his hardened nipples until Jack was somewhat clean. Straightening up, Whiskey beamed at Jack before tenderly wiping him down with the towel.

“Well, I don’t know about y’self, but I’m near about ready to pass out.” Whiskey motioned for Jack to move so he could pull the bed sheet down. “Come on, gorgeous. Why don’t we get some shut-eye an’ continue this in th’ mornin’?”

“Won’t get no argument from me.” Jack’s limbs felt heavy as he climbed into bed next to the older man. 

Settling down, Jack was surprised when Whiskey pulled him into an almost affectionate embrace. Tucked against Whiskey’s frame, Jack could feel the other man’s breathing start to slow as he quickly drifted off. Good, he could get started with his plan now. Once he was sure Whiskey was fast asleep, he could search the room for clues to see who the hell Whiskey really was. All he had to do was stay awake…

/////

Jack came to consciousness with a start. His eyes flying open, and quickly darting around the unfamiliar room until memories of last night started to filter in. He’d see that man again and come to his hotel room and… fuck. 

Glancing to his right, Jack could see the man, Whiskey, still sleeping, his mouth slightly open. A peek under the covers confirmed what his memories were telling him. They were both still nude, the small patches of dried cum in his chest hair all the evidence from their relations the night before. Whiskey was lying on his back, his chest rising and falling with each gentle breath as his morning wood stood proudly beneath the sheets.

Jack’s cock twitched with interest as he took in the details of the other man’s erection. The veins, the way the head peeked out of the foreskin, how low his ball sat, making them look full and heavy. Jack allowed himself a couple of quick tugs of his own hardening length before gingerly climbing out of bed. He’d come up here for a reason, and he wasn’t going to get a second chance.

Briefly looking back at Whiskey’s sleeping form Jack started to slowly and methodically search the room. He started with the nightstand, carefully opening each drawer, but there was nothing. Just the standard Bible, a pamphlet about tourist attractions, and a comb. 

Frowning, Jack headed over to the set of drawers, but there were only clothes. They were nice, well-made clothes, and in some cases, Jack was sure hand tailored. No clues about who Whiskey worked for, but it did tell Jack the guy had money. That was something, at least. 

Surveying the rest of the hotel room, Jack was at a loss. There were no more places for things to be hiding. No room safe and no bathroom cabinet. A quick glance behind the two ugly ass paintings on the wall yielded more nothing.

Returning to the bed, Jack knew there was only one more place to check; under the bed itself. He had yet to find Whiskey’s suitcase, and there was nowhere else in the room it could possibly be.

Jack was just about to couch down, his hard cock throbbing, demanding his attention, when Whiskey let out a small sigh. Jack froze. After a few seconds, there was another sigh, then a groan before, to Jack’s dismay, Whiskey cracked one eye open.

“Mornin’ handsome.” The older man croaked out, smiling. “Ya goin’ somewhere?”

“Was just on my way back to wake you.” Jack lied, crawling onto the bed and pulling back the sheet to reveal Whiskey’s nude body. “Looks like we both woke up with more fun in mind.”

Reaching over to playfully stroke Jack’s cock, Whiskey caressed the shaft before giving Jack a cheeky wink. “Oh, I have all kinds of fun in mind for ya, son. But let's start with somethin’ simple like ya ridin’ this. Ya know how to ride, don’t ya?”

“What kind of good Texas boy would I be if I didn’t?” Jack chuckled, grabbing the lube from the nightstand and moving to straddle Whiskey. 

A couple of drops on Whiskey’s dick was all it took before Jack positioned himself, holding the older man’s thick cock at his entrance. Whiskey’s eyes met his, and Jack slowly sank down onto the cock, holding back moans as Whiskey filled him.

“Ya feel so fuckin’ good. That perfect pussy feels so fuckin’ good squeezin’ my cock.” Whiskey praised as Jack began to move. 

Jack started slowly, gently bouncing on Whiskey’s cock, his own bobbing softly between them. Whiskey’s hands held Jack’s hips, his fingers caressing his skin while Whiskey’s eyes drifted down to watch his cock disappear into Jack’s warm body. 

As his own heady arousal grew, Jack began to pick up the pace, rolling his hips as he worked his thigh muscles riding Whiskey. The feeling of Whiskey’s thick cock filling him, stretching him, made Jack feel drunk all over again. As the sounds of morning drifted through the closed window, cars in the street, and people chatting, the room around them filled with the obscene sounds of flesh smacking and loud unabashed moans.

Once more, Jack quicked his pace, desperately bouncing, letting Whiskey’s length hit that sweet spot with each plunge back down onto his cock. Whiskey growled, digging his fingers into Jack’s hips and pulling them down harder onto him.

“Gonna fill ya up.” He grunted, reaching up to his own nipple to tweak it as his eyes shifted to Jack’s weeping red cock. “Gonna take all my cum, boy.”

“Fuckin’ breed me.” Jack found himself pleading as he reached forward to take hold of Whiskey’s nipples, pulling them taut as the older man bucked up into him. 

Both men were now chasing their climax, the rhythm of their thrust becoming more frantic and erratic. The coiling heat in Jack’s stomach grew with every push of Whiskey’s cock against his prostate. Finally, with a cry and one last thrust, Whiskey came, his back arching and his fingers gripping Jack, pulling him down into his cock. Jack could feel the other man’s cum flooding him, painting his insides, and he clenched down, determined to milk every drop Whiskey had to give.

“My turn.” Jack panted out, grinning, but in a flash, Whiskey held him still with one hand, his firm grip on Jack’s hips pinning him on his length. With the other hand, Whiskey reached down and gripped the base of Jack’s pulsing cock, stemming his orgasm at the source.

“Fuck!” Jack trembled as his body desperately sought its release. “Why?”

“I wanna see what ya can really take.” Whiskey’s voice rumbled in a low growl. “Whaddya say, Jack? Ready for that fist?”

“What? Fuck.” Jack could feel the tightly coiled spring inside him slacken, his climax lost. “Fuck it, ok. Let’s try.”

Whiskey flashed a grin at Jack and climbed out of the bed, heading straight for the bathroom. As Jack positioned himself on the bed on all fours, we could hear the tap running with Whiskey, no doubt washing his hands in preparation. A few minutes later, he returned with a fresh bath towel which he placed between Jack's spread thighs.

"We don't really have the right lube to do this too deep." Jack heard Whiskey muse behind him. "But I just wanna see if I can get all four fingers an' my thumb in. Not really fistin' per se, just stretch ya a little."

"Uh, ok." Jack tried to relax, leaning his head down on the bed. "Will it, you know, hurt?"

"Shouldn't do." Whiskey slid three fingers into Jack's already gaping hole. "If it does ya need to tell me. Means 'm doin' somethin' wrong. Try to stay as still as possible for me."

"Ok." Jack let out a long breath as Whiskey applied liberal amounts of lube before easing in the fourth finger. Jack bit back a moan bordering on a wail as his hole stretched around Whiskey's fingers.

"Good boy." Whiskey purred, giving Jack's needy cock a few pumps to keep him hard. "Ya lookin' so good stretched out like this. We could make this a regular thing between us. Put in the time needed to properly fist ya."

Jack couldn't answer. His cheeks were burning red, and sweat was already beginning to drip from his forehead as he felt himself pushing back against Whiskey's hand. Rocking his hips, Jack pushed Whiskey’s fingers deep, making the older man chuckle.

“Ya like it then?”

“Fuck yeah.” Jack gasped out. Just the thought of doing this again was almost enough to make him cum. The image of Whiskey fucking him until his ass was sloppy with cum, then fisting him elbow-deep was all it took for Jack to let out another low groan, pushing his ass back toward Whiskey.

“All right, son.” Whiskey coached. “Time for the thumb. Just gonna tuck it in to stretch that pretty pussy then I’ll jack ya off.”

Jack heard the familiar sound of lube squelching out the tube as the fingers inside him were rotated to coat his hole in the sticky liquid. He could only imagine what he looked like right now, doggy style on a bed, his ass stretched and stuffed with fingers and cum. 

As he felt the thumb get tucked inside, Jack let out a whine as Whiskey’s fingers, in a pincer position, eased into him up to the broadest part of the older man’s hand. Jack felt helpless, but in a good way, he couldn't explain, as his body shuddered and spasmed. 

Jack's head buzzed with static as Whiskey took hold of his cock and began stroking him, almost milking him. The rhymic pumps of his cock adding to the waves coming from his ass as Whiskey's fingers massaged him closer to his release. Pleasure rippled through Jack as the two forms of stimulus began to collide.

Then like a dam bursting, Jack's vision went white as powerful shockwaves punched through his body. Everything part of him was dancing in ecstasy as his climax flowed over him. Time seemed to slow as Whiskey continued to pump the remainder of his seed onto the towel beneath him before releasing his tender cock and gently removing his fingers.

"Easy, Jack." Whiskey helped him roll onto his back, Jack's limbs trembling as he collapsed onto his back.

Picking up the towel, Whiskey cleaned his hand and delicately wiped Jack’s exposed, open hole. Heading to the bathroom again, Jack could hear Whiskey again cleaning up as his vision slowly started to return to him, and the aftershocks lessened. After a few minutes, Whiskey returned, sitting on the bed next to Jack, carefully wiping him down with a washcloth. 

“I gotta say, Jack, this ain’t how I saw ya assessment goin’” Whiskey let out a deep chuckle. “But I’m impressed. Ya took everythin’ I threw at ya. An’ ya were committed to ya mission.”

“My mission?” Jack blinked up at him, still struggling to catch his breath. 

“Ya came up here to seduce me so ya could figure out who I was.” Whiskey eyed Jack with a knowing look. “Ya bided ya time until I was sleepin’, then searched my room. Good job.”

“I-”

“Relax, son.” Whiskey gently stroked one of Jack’s still-shaking legs. “Like I said, I’m impressed. But now it’s time to get down to business. Tell me, Jack, whaddya know about Statesman?”

[xarrixii]

Chapter_03 : "Acquisition" ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CW: drinking previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

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“So, yeah. That’s pretty much it.” Alph had been reluctant to wake up and start today. When they’d woken up, they still hadn’t found the words to properly explain what had really happened.

“If this is your version of a joke, it’s not very funny.” Urban stared at them for a few irritatingly long moments. “You said you weren’t going to continue doing this much longer. Your apprenticeship ends in like, a few months.”

“I know.”

“There’s really no other way to get the money?”

Alph picked up a whiteboard marker, spinning it around in their hand. “Either way this could’ve gone, we were fucked. Those assholes who tried stealing my truck or my mother. There wasn’t much of an in-between. Just, believe me when I say I think this is the better end of the deal.”

“How is this the better end? Shit, Raiden, I probably could’ve covered up a murder if you really needed me to. It’s not like we haven’t before.”

“How was I supposed to explain the truck to my dad? He knows when I’m lying straight to his face.”

“How do you exactly expect to tell him that you’re now roped in—in whatever your mother’s going to make us do? I mean, Jesus, the only hint you’ve ever been given is that she’s walking on an illegal tightrope much higher above the ground on six-inch platforms.”

With a sigh, Alph leans back on the couch. “Arguing over my mother has always been a waste of energy. We’ve got time to kill until she gets here, so…”

“You want to play Flash Fire?”

“I want to play Flash Fire,” Alph gives off their cheekiest grin.

“I’m going to beat you one day. I know I will.” Alph nudged Urban, eliciting a quiet laugh.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“He’s right,” Alph’s mother says, opening the garage door. “And I made a promise for you two to be the reason someone rises the ranks today. So get in the car.”

Alph and Urban went silent, Urban standing up with unusual elegance before relaxing again. He waited for Alph to get up and go with, making sure to turn the light off behind them both.

“It’s Amaterasu.” She holds out her hand for Urban, who responds by keeping his own close to his chest.

“Pleasure.”

The insincerity was surprisingly plain, Alph’s mother—better as Amaterasu—getting into the passenger seat. And it was way too quiet. Alph stopped before they’d fully gotten into the car. “You said you would explain it more here, at the garage. Where are we going?”

“A bar,” their mother replied in an instant. “More private than your junkyard.”

“Something tells me you’ve never been to a bar you couldn’t buy out.”

“You do seem to hope you can place more dissonance with me than you already do, don’t you? It’s not a real bar…” She hesitated, thinking. “...Raiden.”

“We get to keep at least something, then.”

“Get in the car.”

Alph didn’t move.

“Rai, just, come on. Let’s go. Get it over with as soon as we can.”

They grumbled, finally stepping into the car and closing the door. Damn thing sped straight into gear before they managed to get buckled in. Smoothly rolled into a parking space later, though.

“I thought you two were at least semi-competent, managing to conceal yourselves for this long with so many public records. Seems all you really do in your free time is prance around playing video games you stole names from. In hindsight, I should have expected as much.”

“Yeah, thanks. You too.”

“Therapy expenses are included in being part of Cinder, if it convinces you any further.”

“Cinder?” Urban cut in. “That’s what you’re calling it?”

“That’s what it’s always been called.” She beckoned them over through the empty bar to a booth, a few sheets of paper sprawled out.

“Hate to burst your bubble, Mum,”

“They aren’t legal documents. They detail your living quarters, missions, and supervisor. Who I’ll let take the reins now.” She strolled over to the bar, leaving them and Urban with whatever blonde prick had been driving the car.

“Listen, usually Cinder gives off their whole spiel, y’know, welcome to our not-so-legal crazy murder psycho condemning organization, it’s a real big opportunity, but I don’t think you two really need to hear that. I know you’re picturing this whole year-long contract thing, but it’s really just dependent on how much you fuck up within that year. More you fuck up, longer you stay, yadda yadda. You’ve been expected to fuck up a decent bit like most starter operatives. I hope I didn’t shatter your ego because my telepathy doesn’t put that back together. Capiche?”

“A name would be nice,” Urban picked up a few of the papers strewn along the table.

“Liam. Bauer. Don’t try to look it up anywhere, you won’t find it. And congratulations, you get to skip the entire Cinder training program and hop straight into your first objective, which is what this lovely briefcase is for over here.” Liam slammed the briefcase not so lightly onto the table and clicked it open. “Did you two understand anything I just said in the past minute or so, or do I have to say it again in a slightly more monotonous voice?”

Alph’s grip on their arm was tighter than they’d like it to be.

“Fantastic. Your first objective is to not kill yourselves integrating into Cinder for the first time after your training program, which you, again, did not do, but alas. Any questions?”

“Yeah, are you gonna continue?” Urban shook a hand through his hair. “We’ll just cut in on your monologue when we want to speak. Kinda how conversation works nowadays regardless who you’re talking to. Especially in the whole rich ass society department.”

“You’re smarter than you look, kid. I’ll give you that.”

“Right.”

Liam cleared his throat. “Well, first things first, credit cards. Designed for when you’re on the job. There were a few incidents years back where agents had to buy things while they were out and about. Like, for example, a hydrokinetic buying a water bottle makes sense. Warning, they do look at your history. They once got mad at me because I bought a few bagels. Please don’t go off the rails, they have two hundred each before they cap out.

“Second, fake ID cards. It would really suck if you got arrested because you got pulled over and couldn’t prove your identity to an officer. Don’t use them until it’s been confirmed we’ve gotten you into the system⸺”

“Woah, what?” Alph put their hand down on the ID cards, standing up. “How the hell are you supposed to do that?”

“Pardon my security efforts not to explain that to you. Your little seeking justice for everyone who’s never wronged you thing is spilling out of your mind like you just slashed through the Jager Dam. The more you use these, probably the better. Makes it less likely anyone looks into you.

“Third and finally, your Cinder sleeves! The design represents you being under good old Amaterasu’s branch of the organization. Don’t lose these, it gives you access into Cinder complexes.”

Alph watched Urban grab his from the table, examining it. 

“At least it’s not spandex,” he said wearily. Urban had definitely been more tired than usual today. He always studied little things the more tired he was. “Would hate walking around looking like some generic supervillain whose only real goal is to take power.”

“One,” Liam kicked their feet up onto the table, leaning back as much he could. “Not Cinder’s goal. Two, there is a separate uniform, but we’re not going to mug you while you’re sleeping for your pant size.”

“How noble of you,” Alph replied, smile finally forming on their face again. “So what is Cinder’s goal, exactly?”

“To keep generic supervillains in check, in the simplest version. It’s just easier when you don’t have to follow the law to do that, so we paint ourselves as criminals. Don’t worry, you probably won’t deal with many cops. People we fight aren’t exactly their best friends either.”

“So you’re the neutral pilot force controlling the galaxy.”

“No.”

Alph leaned forward, taking their sleeve and whisking it up their arm, flexing their fingers. Then they looked over at Urban, who had also pulled theirs on after taking off their glove that had been there. Calmly, “Ours are red and black, assuming that means we’re pyrokinetic. Yours has green and purple. What kind of shit color scheme is that?”

Liam glared over at Urban. “If I had an answer to give you, kid, I’d give you it.”

“So there’s two colors for telepathy?”

“No⸺ Green is telepathy, purple is telekinesis.”

Urban scrutinized Liam’s face for a moment before grabbing the other stuff Liam had thrown onto the table and putting it away.

“Given the telepathy, please don't go writing fanfiction in your head near me. Especially since neither of you have learned how to set up blockades past religiously thinking about marbles.”

Amaterasu strolled back over, setting a few bottles of alcohol and empty glasses on the table. “I hope he’s finished his monologue so I can detail you on making yourselves look mildly competent in front of your soon-to-be colleagues.”

“If you think we’re that useless, why’d you employ us in the first place?” Urban moved the empty glass in front of him to the side.

“I think you misunderstood my intentions. I think that you are useless, darling. Raiden has the kind of potential I’m looking for, you’re more or less here so you have less excuses to run down to your local police department.”

“Mum,” Alph’s patience was running thin.

“He’s legally a D-class. Pardon me that he can’t do anything without a flame to manipulate.”

Alph generated a small amount of fire to blossom in their hand, putting one foot onto the table before Urban put a hand on their shoulder. “It’s not worth it, Rai. She’s right.”

“Yes, now get your feet off the table. Both of you.” She flicks Liam’s arm, who shrugs, chuckling. “Recently, Storm—well, I suppose. Storm has been a long dormant enemy of Cinder, and they’ve recently been jumpstarted by some of our old personnel. We’re trying to deal with it as fast as we can. Without the resources we have, they rely on other factors, like businesses in plain sight. They can’t put all of their money into one checking account or a few measly dropoff points, not if they’re smart.

“That’s how we found the bank they’re running. Little kickstart just off main. Bunch of falsified accounts, spread out money, and they can get it all insured. You two are going to help take it down. Every part of it.”

“Wait, Hayton Deposits?” Alph snatches the file from their mother’s hand as she’s setting it down. “Seriously? But⸺”

“I know it’s a major upgrade from terrorizing loan sharks, but you’re also not alone anymore and you’re not going to fit in very well if you’re sitting recon all the time. Make it out of this alive, and you’ll integrate into Cinder. Nobody would ask any questions from there. I’d like to make it clear this opportunity is a privilege to quickly get you in.”

“So fighting your jumpstart enemies and the cops is considered a privilege?”

“Told you they wouldn’t take kind to that, Matty,” Liam is quieted with a glare.

She clears her throat, pouring a glass of champagne for herself. “It’s this or a prison cell, Raiden.”

Alph glances over at Urban, who began picking at the edge of his sweatshirt. Then they bit their lip and suppressed their anger into a clenched fist. They couldn’t keep putting Urban into rehab, and they couldn’t get on too bad of terms with their mother.

“I take it you understand that premise?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Meet Liam at the armored truck parked in the vertical lot on 34th after your apprenticeship this Tuesday. Text him when he needs to be there.” She gestures at Urban. “If it helps, I’m the only one who wanted you on the mission. I’ll be your enemy number one.”

next chapter

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▲ missing a content warning? let me know

i'm writing story content for... tumblr. what am i worrying about as i write it out on google docs first? page count. (help)

[regenderate-fic]

When I Run Away (You're Who I Run To): Epilogue

main post read on ao3

Word Count (Chapter): 1,190

NOTES: sorry to make you all wait so long for this… but behold! epilogue!

this is by far the longest fic i've ever finished, so thank you to everyone who's read this far <3 it's been really fun to see people's responses every week, and i hope you like this as an attempt to tie it all up.

i have a bunch of other ideas in the works, too, although some of them are pretty far off from this! but keep an eye out if you want to see the roseyazclara disaster throuple fic OR the tenrose figure skating au <3

UPDATE: I (30F) might be in love with my roommate (29F). What am I supposed to do? - u/throwRAjustgoodfriends

Okay, I’m mostly here because everyone else involved thought it would be funny to see the responses. If you don’t remember my last post, basically I thought I was straight but had just realized I had a thing for my best friend (“Lily”).

First of all, there’s not much point in the pseudonym, considering the “friend” whose place we were staying at (hi, Penny) found the post and figured out who I was talking about right away. So I’ll just call her Rose, considering that’s her name.

Second of all, thanks to whoever crossposted to Instagram, because Rose doesn’t use Reddit. But she saw it on Instagram, and long story short, everyone was right. She was totally into me, had been for years, and I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. (Rose and Penny both want to “enter into the record” that *they* can believe it.) Not much about our relationship has changed, to be honest, but it feels really great to finally understand how I feel. And the extra cuddling isn’t half bad, either.

That’s not where it ends, either. Somehow I’ve gone from someone who couldn’t admit I was into women to someone who has two girlfriends? We’d been spending a lot of time with Penny (she owns the shop across the street, and she was going through a rough time), and I suppose you might say one thing led to another.

All of this is to say that everything in my life has gotten much better in the last six months. I didn’t really realize this was possible when I posted. Thank you to everyone who commented on the first post, but especially Penny, of course. And if you’re ever in London, check out Bad Wolf Body Shop (and TARDIS Bakery)! 

Yaz leaned back, lifting her hands from the keyboard. “Good?” she asked.

Rose and Penny leaned in on either side of her, scanning the words on the screen. Rose nodded, but Penny gave her a sidelong look. “Where’s the bit about how incredibly sexy your newest girlfriend is?”

Yaz rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m posting.” 

“No, wait!” 

But it was too late: Yaz had hit the post button. She wrapped an arm around Penny’s shoulders until Penny fell across her lap, displacing the laptop—fortunately, Rose had the presence of mind to move it to the coffee table before leaning her head on Yaz’s shoulder with a contented sigh. Yaz smiled. 

“Time for bed?” she asked. 

They were still all piling into Rose’s bed most nights, even though the necessity was no longer there—Ace had gone and filled one of the rooms in Bill’s flat after one of Bill’s roommates broke their lease. She still came over most afternoons, of course, but she slept somewhere else, and theoretically Yaz could’ve slept in her bed again. In practice, though, she’d gotten used to sharing a too-small bed with Rose and Penny, and then Rose had caved and found them a bigger bed. So tonight, they sprawled out, one of Yaz’s arms flung across Penny, brushing against Rose’s side, and one of Penny’s legs slung over Yaz’s hip. Yaz pulled the blanket up to her chin, reveling in the knowledge that not only was she sitting in such coziness, but she was used to it. She borderline took it for granted. 

She fell asleep quickly, and woke up slowly. She blinked open her eyes and turned her head to see the summer sun, shining through the curtains, turning Rose’s hair gold. Penny was gone already: she’d gone back to her full time hours a couple months ago, and on days she worked she was out of bed first. Sometimes Yaz would wake up to her alarm, and she’d give Penny a bleary kiss before rolling over and falling back asleep; today, though, she’d missed it. 

She checked the time on her phone. There were five minutes before her own alarm went off. That was the best sort of morning. It meant Yaz could roll over, cuddle up next to Rose, and shut her eyes again for just a little longer. 

Her alarm went off, and Yaz sat up. She poked at Rose and laughed when Rose batted her away.

“Get up so we can get coffee,” she said. 

Rose groaned, but she pushed herself up on her elbows. “Fine.”

Ace was behind the counter when they came in. Her jacket had a new patch, Yaz noticed, a cartoonish “BOOM!” design. 

“D’you like it?” Ace asked, looking down at the patch. “Bill gave it to me. Said she had an extra.” She turned her grin on Yaz and Rose. “Penny’s in the back.”

“I’m where?” Penny had appeared in the doorway, balancing a tray of muffins on the hand not holding her cane. When she saw Yaz and Rose, her confused expression turned to a wild grin. “Oh! You’re here! D’you want a muffin?”

“Pretty sure you’re supposed to sell those,” Yaz pointed out.

Penny rolled her eyes. “Fine. D’you want to buy a muffin?”

“Dunno,” Rose said. “What’s in ‘em?” 

“Chocolate, mostly,” Penny said. “Bit of cinnamon, for the kick. Ace mixed the batter.”

“Yeah, all right,” Rose decided. 

Penny grinned. She slid the tray into the display case before using tongs to pluck a muffin off it. Before she could drop it into a bag, she looked up at Yaz. “Yaz? One for you?”

“Okay.” 

Penny put two muffins into the bag and slid it across the counter, and then she came around the counter herself to plant a kiss on each of their cheeks. 

“Good service around here,” Yaz noted, barely suppressing her grin.

“Only the best,” Penny promised. “See you later?”

Yaz and Rose both nodded. And Penny made good on the promise: that afternoon, Yaz finished a tattoo and walked out into the waiting room with her client to see Penny sprawled across three seats, trying to convince Amy that brightly colored feathers were going to be the new fashion trend. 

“Maybe for you,” Yaz said, tapping at Penny’s legs until she swung them to the floor, leaving room for Yaz to sit down. “I think I’ll be keeping my wardrobe feather-free.”

Rose’s head popped into the room. “Oh, are we having a party?”

“You’ve got a client in fifteen minutes,” Amy told her.

“That’s loads of time,” Rose replied. She sat herself down on Yaz’s lap, just like she always had—only now she was in the habit of slinging her arm around Penny’s shoulders, too, which always made Yaz feel like she had fit herself snugly into a three-person puzzle. It was strange: Yaz’s life had only been like this for six months, but somehow it felt like the only way it had ever been, the only way it could be. Here, in her shop, with the people she loved. 

She let her head rest on Penny’s shoulder, let her arm tighten around Rose’s waist, and felt a smile sneak onto her face. If she was lucky, she thought, she would have this forever.

[insightanddelight]

Where Have I Been? And a New Introduction.

Hi there! It's been a while...curious to know what's happening in my life? Read on.

So, okay, wow, over ten years later and I finally feel comfortable enough to tell the world about me.

30 years young. A Libra. And a woman with epilepsy. Yep, that's pretty much what it's all about. 

...then again, maybe it's not. 

Insight + Delight is a little writing corner so that I can share my journey with the world, and give some insight into what it’s like to live with epilepsy. There are so many challenges and struggles that one will have to overcome in life. Then, there's the delight with the happiness that follows afterwards. 

It's definitely a lifelong voyage with some high and low tides, and maybe a storm here and there, but all in all, the vista is always wonderful.

And also, what is the purpose of why I'm starting this blog?

What's the blog about? Well, keep on a readin' to find out...or just maybe, what I'm about, too.

For those who don't know who I am, my name's Suzanne and I have epilepsy.

As for those who do know me...surprise, I’m back!

I’ve been off the grid for about six years now. It's funny how years fly by, right? If you’ve missed my beauty blog and YouTube channel, maybe even my wedding photography, I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not.

That’s what some people have said. Yeah, well, get over it. I don’t mean that rudely or obnoxiously, but it’s about basic understanding. People need to learn to hear the full story, not just the headline, because it doesn’t tell you everything. We can relate that to judging someone as well.

So, there’s that whole ‘I apologise,’ concept, but honestly, I shouldn’t have to. In the future, a whole post will be about mental health, but we’re going to put that on pause for now.

I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t miss what I’ve done, because I do. However, many things happened in my life and have changed it so much to a point that it’s hard to find the strength to move on—even when you’re forced to do that.

As of right now, my little wedding photography business is put on an indefinite hiatus until further notice; but even if it’s a chapter that’s completely over in my life, I’m perfectly okay with that.

What’s the reason, you may ask? Well, it’s because I’m at a point in my life where I’m content.

I’m truly happy.

And no, I didn’t italicize that because I’m trying to be sarcastic, it’s because I’ve never been so sure about something.

“Happiness is a direction, not a place.” — Sydney J. Harris

It’s hard to come to that realisation when you feel like everything is going wrong in your life, and you’re stuck, surrounded by hundreds of walls, or you’re just in the centre of a maze and can’t get out—that’s how I felt for years. 2017 and 2018 were incredibly hard for me.

Medications decided to play dirty with my brain, and it wasn’t nice—not one bit. It wasn’t just that, though, it was with my hands too.

You can easily say that photography and tremors don’t exactly go hand-in-hand, do they now?

Wow, the irony of that. I mean, it's great. Really.

Now, you see, that was sarcasm.

But, as I’ve mentioned, I’ve come to realise that it’s okay for things to suddenly come crashing into your life without any warning whatsoever, messing absolutely everything up. It’s exactly what happened to me, and on multiple occasions since my diagnosis; however, the past few months is when I realised that there were also so many things that helped make me feel better than just ‘okay.’

That’s where I’ll repeat my previous statement from up above—I’m happy.

But recently, I’ve been writing and wanting to become an author—precisely, a novelist. It turns out, this whole time I’ve spent feeling sorry for myself, I found out that I have a talent for writing. I’ve taken courses in creative writing and have a professional certificate for it.

Would you look at that? Even when I’m not able to leave the house at times, I still found ways to try and be successful.

Now, you also might be wondering what’s up with this name. Insight + Delight?

I mean, how many of you know what epilepsy’s actually about? My guess is that not many of you raised your hand. Well, with the future posts, that arm will raise an inch each time.

My goal and purpose in starting this blog is to try and be an inspiration to others, and hopefully, I’ll be able to succeed. I want to be the person who I was looking for when I didn’t have anyone and be a helping hand to support others who have epilepsy. Who knows, maybe even at the same time, I'll give some insight into what it’s like for those who don't.

Catch my drift?

There’s so much more about epilepsy that not many people know about it because they don't know someone who is epileptic. Or maybe, you recently found out someone is diagnosed with it. So, my plan is to give you some of the ins and outs, the highs and the lows, all based on my experience. Feel free to stick around if you’re up for that, and maybe one day, you can be that someone for someone else. The posts might not all be about the disorder, because it’s also not what life’s all about. You’ll see. I mean, it’s just filled with pure delight.

Ain’t that the truth?

As for my entire epilepsy story, from the very start, and what happened after first being diagnosed, I’ll leave that for a whole post on its own. You might need a nice cup of coffee or tea while you read that one. Maybe even some snacks.

And honestly, for the first time, I’m completely, utterly, and beyond thrilled to share it soon.

Suzanne’s Epilepsy Journey and More Coming to a blog post near you.

P.S. This has been reposted since October 2020, and information has been updated.

[beaversatemygrandma]

Randomly thinking about that time this fuckboi started working with me. Now, he didn’t originally come off as a fuckboi, he was rather sweet and just plain pretty. But then came the time when he was flirting/sleeping with three of us there. All at once.

One of them was an old friend of mine and while i was fwb with him (he was nice to have around, okay), she admits to me that she has a crush on him. And I’m like “oh.” bc i had a crush on her. Then there’s the third girl, she was close to this old friend and they started hanging out a lot. This third girl started dating the fuckboi. Now, here’s where the fuckboi really shows his fuckboi colors. My old friend started flirting back with him and tried to date him bc he never told any of us that him and the other girl started dating. Those two stayed talking for a while, we’d do group hangouts together just the four of us. Still. Unaware. That those two started dating. One night he invites me over, I stay the night, etc etc. (Long story, there’s more.)

The next day, my friend comes up at work like ‘Something’s off about those two’ and starts talking about how he still wouldn’t turn her down but seemed like he was avoiding the whole idea and spending a lot more time with the other girl.

A few days later, me and the fuckboi were working side by side and had a whole lot of time to chat. At the worst possible point during the lunch rush, he looks to me and says ‘by the way, me and that girl are dating now.’ (Keep in mind, this was apparently a couple months after they actually got together) So, of course I’m there like ‘what the actual fuck man. I literally slept with you last weekend.’

THEN, a week or so later, my friend comes over outside of work and tells me about how his gf told her that he cheated on her a month before. And me, putting the pieces together slowly but surely through the conversation, realizes, he cheated on her with me. And she didn’t even know about the most recent time that he had. It was definitely more than once bc that fucker was being all secretive. After that, the girl group split up for a while due to different jobs. The fuckboi moved in with his gf. Me and my old friend keep up a casual friendship with oddly homoerotic flirting that goes right over the head of our incel friend who acted as our ride 90% of the time so he casually joins in thinking its just a bit we’re doing even though both of us are subtly telling each other that we’re down to get together. Yadda yadda, six months pass Somehow. I Still Can’t Get a Girl. Which is funny bc she explicitly told me she was into girls too during that time. Fuckboi’s gf finally has had enough of his shit, allegedly he got another girl involved, and dumps him, leaving him without a home. He comes crawling back to me, but i no longer had my apartment and wouldn’t just let him crash with me. There was a whole thing and eventually he finally managed to get a new place to live after I pointed him to our incel buddy for a place to sleep, who, being the kind weirdo that he is, let him stay with him until he could finally move on.

After all that, the girls are reunited again. The three of us would spend whatever time we had outside of work at the beach. (I lived with my granddad at the time and he had a BEACH HOUSE so BEACH.)

The fuckboi brought three bi girls* (*I’m not a girl anymore tho) together and managed to get the weirdest homoerotic friendship between all of us over the unification from this guy, which none of us acted on bc apparently there wasn’t enough evidence for any of us to make a move on another.

Now, the girls started living together after the fuckboi vacancy, alongside another girl, my other old friend’s beard, and the incel buddy. It became this small lesbian coven with the token small man with weeb shit all over the house who’d give me tips on how to flirt with that one girl i had a crush on bc she had him wrapped around her fingers but zero interest in him, but he was like ‘yeah, i’ll get you the girl, dw’. So, i had all the inside tips on what she liked and what kind of gifts to randomly drop on her. It was a Solid Plan. To which, she slowly figured out and literally told me that she was telling him the most expensive things to buy her bc she really did have him wrapped around her fingers. And there i was just thinking she had an expensive taste. 

Then sadly, i ended up hitting the bricks and ditching town not but a few months later due to granddad-related situations. Shortly after that x-mas party we had where i was basically flirting with her the entire time as she kept making me her usual Dark and Stormy cocktails.

I really want to start talking to that girl again. She’s that type of friend you can just pick up without any of those years taking a toll. (Bc somehow an acquaintance i had in high school turned into a best friend that i was crushing on as an adult) I hear she’s still living with the weird lesbian coven and the incel is finally no longer an incel and has a gf and still THERE. (Plus, i think he finally started wearing deodorant. He smelled a lot better last time i saw him. His girl is doing him some good.) Anyway. I want in on that group again. It’s been too long. I need to talk to her at some point soon.

Anyway that was the unification via fuckboi. His ex-gf left the group and went off with a new fuckboi to Texas so who knows where she’s at. But the REST ARE STILL THERE.

I need to get back to my hometown already. I’m ready for a new bout of fuckery, this time excluding our favorite fuckboi. Well. Hopefully.