#oh god thank you for this ask damn it was nice to rave a bit about them

[marimayscarlett]

i've read that you read fanfiction about a German rapper 👀 Would you mind sharing who said fave rapper is? Trying to get into German rap and hip-hop a bit more and I'm searching for some suggestions

OH BOY, MY DEAR ANON. You might just have opened such a huge can of worms, I am so sorry for my Rammstein mutuals, but...but I just need a moment to absolutely go nuts about this group and this guy, so here we go:

My favourite rap group since I was 14 years old (more than half of my life I just realised) is K.I.Z, a Berlin based group which have the absolute best, most eloquent and smart lyrics/rhymes/lines in the german rap scene in my opinion. A lot of their songs deal with political/violent/sexual/disturbing/critical social themes in an ironic, sometimes very dark and denunciatory manner, to provoke and rouse the public. And of course they have some typical rapper songs, but always with heavily sarcastic undertones.

They often have a rather shocking and daunting effect on conservatives and right winged people (a right wing politician here in Germany even complained about them in the Bundestag) which is just chef's kiss.

My favourite rapper is part of this group, Nico Seyfrid (the other two are Maxim Drüner and Tarek Ebene). His voice is like so incredibly smooth (like melted chocolate) and yet so powerful and he's just... I love this man and his talent now for 15 years. Absolute teen crush and still kind of is. He's pretty straight forward, funny, has a wonderful Berlin accent and also looks rather beautiful in woman's clothing (K.I.Z sometimes host concerts only for women and dress up as really beautiful ladies on stage, it's just iconic). And now please look at my beautiful cuties, making legendary tracks since the year 2000:

And my rap baby in particular:

Plus they ALSO sometimes kiss on stage:

Maybe they're not something for everyone's taste, but next to Rammstein (of course always my number 1), Led Zeppelin and MJ, these wonderful idiots are in my favourite top 4 music acts ❤

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Life of the Party

Steve meets the love of his life in a way only he could.

Steve-O X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, Angst)

1.2k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, heavy drug use, alcohol, crude language, bimbo y/n, makeouts, minimal plot, blood

An: This fic was inspired in large part by this song! Besides liking Nu-Metal, I have a passion for 90s rave tracks and accidentally stumbled upon this song one day. I had wanted to write a fic about Steve and a fun, party girl who could match his energy for a while, but this one took a bit of a dark turn while I was writing it! I’m on a Steve kick what can I say XD Nonetheless, thank you for requesting fics and please keep the requests coming! :)

“Yo, yo- dude.” Out of the blue, one of Steve’s buddies pulled him aside in the midst of some house party with a hand on his shoulder, “I got this chick you gotta meet.” Normally he would be pretty annoyed at this- there was a whole crowd of people around him waiting for him to down the thing of bong water he was holding, but he was feeling nice and had enough booze in his system to make him chill but not enough yet to make him an asshole. Fuck it, why not? So he followed him, squeezing past dense crowds while wondering why this dude seemed so damn excited to introduce him to this lady.

That’s when Steve saw you, leaning against a wall with a bottle of something dark in your hand. Looking you up and down, he felt compelled to make himself presentable by dusting off the little bits of burnt hair on his scalp from the backflip moneyball he did when he jumped off the roof earlier. Big hair, shiny red high heels, leopard print mini dress- this girl was classy, the splitting image of the kind of girls that usually go for him. Your gaze flitted over to him as he approached you and whatever conversation you were having was immediately halted. “Oh my god- are you Steve-O?” Chuckling, he nodded, your excitement doing wonders for his ego, “Yeah, baby! You a fan?” Splaying out your glittery manicure on his chest, your dark, mascaraed eyelashes flared out around your saucer-big eyes as you leaned in, “Of course! I love you!” Christ. Well it’s not like he could say no to that. Steve grinned, “You wanna go have some fun?”

“I would love to!” You giggled, lifting up the bottle in your hand, the amber liquid sloshing as you held it out to him, “Can I buy you a drink?” Raising his eyebrows, Steve took the bottle from you, bringing it to his lips and taking a huge swig before throwing his arm around you, sighing. He dragged you over to the couch, flashing that sweet, boyish smile of his as he plopped down andfished around in the pocket of his camo shorts, wordlessly pulling out a ziploc baggie full of blow. Fuck yeah. There was something in the way your face lit up when he took that shit out that made Steve think that maybe this chick could keep up with him. “Whats’ur name?” As you sat down, he started drawing up a line with a credit card, licking the plastic edge clean once he got it how he wanted, and you were nearly drooling. Sure, booze was all nice, but after you had tried just about everything under the sun, you always thought coke was a classic and a necessity at parties like this. You spoke over the loud party music, “Y/N.”

A few hours later and shit started getting really fun. Steve couldn’t keep his hands off of you and you didn’t care, finding it really sweet when he asked to hold your hair back when you did your next line. “Don’t worry ‘bout it- I gotcha, baby…” His fingers tangled in your hair as he wiped the remnants of his last one from the bottom of his nose. You leaned down, inhaling deeply and feeling that telltale burn deep in the back of your throat. Pulling yourself up, you sniffed a couple times, your eyes watering as you felt something warm on your upper lip. A grin spread across Steve’s face as he reached out, gently grasping your chin to tilt your face towards his, smearing the blood that began to trickle from your nose, “Atta girl.” He thought it was cute, how blown out your pupils looked as you stared back at him with glassy eyes.

The sting all melted away both by the aid of the bottle the two of you passed back and forth until it ended up sitting empty on the coffee table and the rough kiss Steve then pulled you into, his tongue sloppily intermingling with yours. His mouth tasted like Jack Danniel’s and Newports, but you didn’t care. Your hands ran up and down his torso, hurriedly trying to find somewhere to stay. Steve smirked against your lips, pulling you closer as his hands slid down to your lower back. Your heartbeat picked up as he started to place open mouth kisses down your neck, not a single person at the party batted an eye at the obscene display the two of you were putting on. “Fuck…” He murmured against your chest, looking up at you with half lidded eyes, “Can I do one, like- off your boobs?” Giggling, you wrapped your arms around the back of Steve’s head. This guy was just too sweet.

He must’ve really hit the jackpot for this one. Never before in all of his years of being a guy on tv who liked to party sometimes had he met a girl so giddy for him to do blow off her tits. You laid back on the shitty couch someone probably found on a curb and Steve tugged down the top of your dress a little to get better access to your cleavage. It was weirdly sexy, watching how focused he looked as he lined it all up with that credit card from before, not even bothering with the rolled up dollar the two of you had been using. Sternum to collarbone, Steve did the massive line in one go before quickly capturing your lips in another fervent kiss, snaking a hand up the back of your neck to tangle into your hair and pull you closer. As he pulled away after what felt like forever, your breath came out in little pants against his skin.

Pulling Steve up to his feet, you wobbled a little, leaning against him to stabilize yourself as you murmured into his ear, “Y’wanna fuck?” His eyes went wide as he chuckled a little at the gall of this woman. Of course he did. Without hesitation, you two ducked down some hallway, running off to a secluded bedroom that belonged to whoever to continue what you were doing in private. The sounds of the party still filtered in after you closed the door, somewhat muted through the thin walls as you tumbled on the bed. Steve didn’t even bother to turn the lights on before he was on top of you, slotting himself between your legs as his hand found its way to the black lace hem of your skirt. You were clawing at his shirt and you had gotten it about halfway off by the time your dress was hiked up around your waist, the air swimming with hormones and human heat.

Suddenly, Steve felt you freeze before going limp underneath him. Confused at your reaction in contrast to your previous eagerness, he stopped for a second, trying to listen for any repose or signs of life. You were breathing, but pretty softly- did she…? Oh shit. This girl just fell asleep after doing three lines. Steve would be impressed if you hadn’t passed out right before you were going to fuck him. Groaning, he rolled over to lay next to you, wiping away the red lipstick that was smeared across his face and thinking about how he bet this kind of shit doesn’t happen to Chris as he slowly drifted off to sleep himself.

[y3ager]

THE DATING EXPERIENCE.

eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: high school (seniors), modern au. fluff, brief mentions of colorism, “preferences”, underage drinking and implied marijuana use. lowercase intended.

“THE BASKETBALL GAME the other night was so good, wasn’t it?” just the mention of the high energy that night has historia beaming, azure eyes gleaming in the white light of her expansive bedroom. she lounges in her hanging chair with textbooks and binders splayed out all around herself, you perch yourself on her bed, socked feet tucked underneath yourself as you flick through your own history textbook, just a couple pages left in your triweekly outline. “i thought the bleachers were gonna collapse with all our shouting and stomping!”

“yeah, it was crazy.” your eyes squint against the blue-white light radiating off the screen as your fingers blur across the keyboard of your laptop, determined to check this assignment off your to-do list.

“mhmm...” a sneaky grin crosses historia’s face immediately as she leans forward, the chair rocking a bit on its thick chain. “tell me your favorite part. and it has to be something other than what eren did.”

heat instantly crosses your face and your fingers slip up from their effortless dance, your body all out of focus at the mention of him. “oh, my god, historia!” you whine out, heat now passing down to your neck and the tips of your ears. “you make it sound like i’m obsessed with the damn boy.....”

“you might as well be! it’s all you talk about! eren this, eren that, eren, eren, eren. i’m surprised his ears haven’t caught on fire with how much you rave about him. but it’s so cute, young love!” a frown then mars her face, and she points an almond shaped nail at you in an honestly pretty funny attempt at being threatening. “i’m not gonna tell you again to ask him out. just say you wanna go to pizza rev or something. or do i have to ask him for you?”

“anything but that. what is this, elementary school? i should bust out the fortune teller while i’m at it.” the embarrassment from just a few moments ago begins to fade away as you pick back up where you left off on your assignment, the just editing 2 minutes ago in the upper left corner rapidly changing to saving.... as you resume your typing. “it’s just some dumb little crush, i’ll get over it.”

“a crush you’ve had since junior year, chemistry 1st hour.” those few words instantly bring you back to that day. you hadn’t been in the best of moods that morning; you’d fought with your hair longer than you would have liked to, your mom decided to pick a small fight with you, and last night’s sleep had been anything but restful, thanks to your hurried cramming. traffic had been backed up for miles on the highway, and you had to sprint across campus to avoid another tardy. when you sat down breathlessly at the table, seconds before the tardy bell, eren had looked up from his bell work, smiled a little bit, murmured “hey, you look nice today”, and the rest had been history.

your mildly annoyed glance complete with lips drawn into a flat line and bored eyes does nothing to deter historia’s mood, your RBF has long lost its effect for her. ignoring your dramatic eye roll, she continues. “i just don’t get it, ____. you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re super funny, i just don’t get why you’re so scared. i hope you don’t think you’d be weird for asking him out. i bet he’s into straightforward girls like that.”

yeah, you really don’t get it. you want to say, but you bite your tongue. in all honesty, you don’t expect historia, blonde haired, petite, blue eyed, epitome of the fucking beauty standard: historia, to get it. your experience in crushes, let alone dating, is something entirely unique.

does he even like black girls? it’s something you automatically consider every time you call yourself having a little crush on someone, and it’s something you’ve consider since the ripe age of 12, back in 5th grade. you’ve heard the jokes, the jabs at the lunch table. ‘she’d be prettier as a lightskin’, ‘she’s cute for a darkskin, though!’ ‘i don’t know, man, i just don’t really like black girls like that.’ it hurts more when it comes from people who look just like you.

you remember unconsciously going through your new crushes’ dating history, going as far back as you possibly could. it was easy in middle school, with how tight knit the class was, and in high school you knew your way around enough social circles to get a good idea of any interest’s “preference”.

bless historia’s heart, she’s always understanding, open, willing to lend an ear, but this is just one of the many things about you that she cannot possibly begin to understand. the traits she lists off don’t matter, and you’d rather finish the school year off with an unrequited crush you’re sure to get over eventually than grin through any “you’re not my.... type” ass rejection.

the blondie in question has been rambling on for a while now before you wave your hand, trying to chase the topic and the growing frustration away. you don’t want to get upset right now, and it’s not her fault. “do you have anything planned for your date with ymir? i can bake you guys one of those lunchbox cakes if you want.” you don’t want this to turn into some woe-is-me pity party. you don’t want historia’s sympathy, her “oh i’m sure he’s not like that!”, or her pat on the back. it’s reality, and you’ve come to terms with it. it’s another facet of being you.

you don’t miss the way historia’s face falls slightly at your blunt attempt at changing the conversation, but you push that away with everything else. she confirms that she does have a couple things in mind, a picnic being one of them, but the energy in the room has shifted. a cloud has begun to block the sunlight shining through the crystal clear bay windows.

——————

by the time you and historia arrived at house party, the celebrations were spilling out onto an expertly manicured lawn. the bass of the music thrummed deep in your chest as you two walked inside. red solo cups in hand, you flitted from clusters of friends, grinning as you greeted them with a hug or a wave. it felt good to forget about any upcoming essays or quizzes and be surrounded by people having a good time.

eventually you feel the need to take a break from the music, dancing, and shouting, slipping away to the vacant patio at the back of the house. the back awning has a bunch of those edison lights dangling from its ceiling and the sun has begun to set, painting the sky in a myriad of oranges, reds, and purples.

with a sigh, you sit down in one of the plastic lawn chairs posed on the concrete, half empty cup dangling from your fingertips as you pull out your phone. your aimless scrolling through instagram, plenty of clips of the party unfolding inside have already made their way onto several people’s stories, is interrupted by someone forcing open the sliding door.

“ah, hey.” with a charmingly crooked smile, eren greets you with a raise of his aluminum can. “you taking a break too? i can totally go somewhere else..” tendrils of dark brown hair frame his tanned face, and he’s the epitome of comfort in a plain black tee and jeans, dressed up with a simple silver chain.

“oh, no, no!” you wince internally at how loud and abrupt your response. “no,” you repeat, smiling sheepishly. “help yourself, not like i own it.” your hands begin to tremble a little bit, and the airish back porch feels like it’s heating up. eren sits down with an appreciative sigh.

“____? i haven’t really seen you since junior year.” he leans forward a bit on his spread out legs, forearms resting on his knees. the sun catches in his green eyes, and that paired with the fact that he still knows your name makes you want to swoon. “how you been?”

“yup, that’s me.” a small laugh passes by your glossed lips. “i’ve been okay, nothing to rave about.” you set your cup down next to your foot and rub the now empty hand against your thigh. “what about you?”

small talk quickly morphs into an actual conversation. for you two to run in different circles, chit chat comes easy, and soon you’re both facing each other, intently focusing on what the other is saying. a small smile is etched on your face as you listen to eren spin a tale complete with dramatic hand movements, drink forgotten and placed next to yours for safekeeping. “and that’s when jean said-“

“yoooo, yeager-meister! you gotta come back out here, man.” the sliding door peels open again and reveals a slightly flushed face sporting a low buzz cut. you recognize the intruder as connie, the class clown from your fifth hour english IV class. as childish as his antics with sasha can be, they do make you bite your lower lip in attempt to keep a straight face. “reiner’s about to down an entire...”upon seeing you, his eyes widen and he raises his hands up in mock surrender. “oh. ohh, a thousand apologies.” he’s grinning wide enough to put the cheshire cat to shame, walking backwards from the patio. “i’ll leave you two alone.” the glass door closes with a bang, and just like that, he’s gone, the lingering scent of weed the only implication he was ever there.

“so what was that about?” you can’t conceal the laugh you let out, but it’s cut off when you notice eren’s face. he’s uncharacteristically bashful, red starting to dust along his cheeks. he rubs at the back of his neck, and looks everywhere but at your eyes. “you okay, eren?” you inquire worriedly, leaning forward.

“ah, uh… um..” he gulps, and you can’t help but notice the way his adam’s apple jumps up and down from the option, but now is not the time for that. “connie, he’s just a- oh, fuck it.” he cracks a small smile in your direction, green irises boring straight into yours. “i.. i once told him about this crush i have on you.”

it’s like the world goes silent. blood rushes to your ears and face and just like that, the heat from when eren first came to the back patio has returned and in tenfold. what did he just say? this has to be some joke, or some elaborate dream because eren yeager, trost high’s heartthrob and basketball star just said he has a crush on you. “...huh?” the syllable comes out small and quiet. even though you heard him perfectly, you need to hear it again just to make sure.

“i’ve had it since junior year if we’re being honest, but i was pretty sure you didn’t even like me like that. i mean, we only had chem together, and we only talked about the work and stuff. you were in all these clubs and you’d ace every single test…” he laughs a little bit, and while he thinks it’s a corny little chuckle, you think it’s positively charming. “i figured you were into nerdy guys.”

it’s enough to make you want to burst into laughter. as you stressed over something as major as your skin tone being the deciding factor of any reciprocation, eren assumed that the only thing stopping him from bagging you was the fact that he didn’t walk around with his nose buried in a book. it just showed how different your two worlds could be.. “n-no, god, no.” you giggled a bit, quickly covering your hand in an attempt to stifle yourself. you’re not laughing at him, but at this situation. “i thought— ha-ha, i thought…” your laugh fades away, and you figure you shouldn’t voice your real assumption of him. “i thought blondes were your type.”

eren kind of shrugs a bit, a healthy bit of red still dusting the majority of his face. “i don’t really care about stuff like that, i don’t think i have a ‘type’... but i do hate that this all came out like this, it’s kinda corny, huh?”

you mimic his shrug, one of your palms momentarily facing the sky. “i don’t see anything wrong with corny.” as calm as you sound, your heart’s going a mile a minute, and you feel a little breathless.

“so i can assume you wouldn’t see anything wrong with me asking you to go see a movie next weekend?” his smile is crooked, his boyish charm on a thousand as he leans forward in the molded plastic chair. “and out to eat afterwards?”

you mirror his actions, a couple braids falling in front of your face and glossy lips glinting in the slowly lowering sun. you don’t miss how his eyes momentarily flit to your twinkling mouth. “no, i wouldn’t see a thing wrong with that.”

a/n: u made it to the bottom, thank u!!!!! this is officially the longest thing ive ever written while being here and i both love and hate it sometimes lmaooo idk why. my main inspiration for this was this video i found on ig that talked about dating as a black girl and it made me think.... i hope you all like this!!! i hadn’t seen anything explore this topic yet so i thought i’d write something down and it somehow became 2000 words long! thank u again for reading.

[after-witch]

Yandere Ransom Imagine

“That's some heavy-duty conjecture.”

Word Count: 2700ish

notes: unhealthy relationships, emotional and physical abuse, financial abuse, yandere

Imagine being a struggling adult working a full time job plus freelancing gigs just to get by in your one-bedroom apartment where the ceiling always leaks when it rains and you have to perform a complicated maneuver to make sure the door doesn’t jam up on you and you’re constantly worried about your landlord raising the rent.

Maybe a well-meaning friend gets you a gift card to an upscale bookstore because they know you haven’t had a new book on your shelves in years, or maybe you find $20 on the street like a veritable Charlie Bucket but instead of buying a Wonka Bar you head into a this fantastic artisan coffee shop on the rich side of town, a place that everyone always raves about on Instagram, just so you can try an expensive latte with hand-ground beans and flavors you’ve never heard of before--because don’t you deserve a treat, for once?

Whatever it is, wherever it is, Hugh Ransom Drysdale is waiting inside and sees you there.

And oh my God is it obvious that you’re out of place right off the bat. I mean, what the hell is someone like you doing in this part of town?

With your worn out clothes that are worn from necessity and not from being fashionably thrifted and your ratty purse stuffed with papers and candy wrappers that spill out when you dig in for your card or cash and your winter boots that you’ve probably worn 5 years in a row, ripped in the hell and patched with black tape that you hope people don’t notice.

It becomes even more obvious that you’re out of your element when something goes wrong. The gift card isn’t activated. The $20? A fake, probably a movie prop that blew in the wind. Whatever goes wrong, it means that you’re suddenly at the register, impatient people with real money tapping their expensive shoes behind you, unable to pay. You’re left standing there like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do or say.

Normally he might just roll his eyes and remind himself that people like you ought to stick to your own shops, your own place. But something about the way your eyes go all downcast and you seem to shrink down in embarrassment makes him take pity on you. Like a stray cat in the alley hoping someone will toss it some scraps.

So he strides up and flicks out a card and hands it to the cashier, dropping a friendly greeting to them because he spends like crazy and they probably know him by name at this place, and he’s the one who hands you your coffee or your bag and your hands touch ever so briefly during the exchange.

He leads you away from the register--don’t want to piss off the spoiled debutantes and assistants on lunchtime coffee runs--and you stammer out a thank-you-thank-you and you promise you’ll pay him back as soon as you can and Jesus Christ, isn’t that just adorable? Someone like you, some lost kicked puppy who can’t even afford new boots, promising to pay him back?

He doesn’t care if you pay him back, but he finds that he would like something out of this exchange, so he says that instead of paying him back you can do him the honor of going to lunch with him. His treat. 

He insists. And you can’t really say no, can you? You are hungry and he did just pay for your things and it’s the least you can do to oblige his request.

He’s not stupid. He doesn’t take you to some razzle dazzle fancy restaurant where you’ll feel embarrassed and out of place. Instead he takes you to a quiet diner, classy not greasy, where you can have an easy conversation and tell him all about yourself.

It’s funny. Normally he brings up his family name, his grandfather’s books, to women he picks up, to get them impressed and hooked and pliable. Something about you, though. Something about you is making him want to turn this into more than a lunch date and pressure for a quickie in the car to repay him. 

So he holds back to see what he can do with you on his own. No quickie in the car, but instead before he drops you off--at a bus station, you insisted--he brushes his hand over yours. Can he get your number? He swears he can feel the heat coming off your cheeks as you fumble for your phone and let him put his number in your contacts.

He waits a day, then asks you out again. Dinner, this time. He asks you if you know any good places and you recommend a dive bar that you can go to after work (because 1) schedule and 2) cheap) and shit, he’s all for it. There will be time in the future to impress you with restaurants that have dress codes instead of sticky floors. You sit close on the stools and you buy him a drink (real cute, real real cute) and just for you he keeps the baggie in his pocket there all night instead of heading to the bathroom to liven things up.

Your relationship develops with an almost shocking speed. He knows just how to reel you in. I mean--look at you. Working your ass off at some dead end job, living in an apartment so shitty it takes you almost a month before you reluctantly agree to let him see it.

He can understand, though. Because you’re not that stupid and you know he’s wealthy, even before he casually brings up his family in a “it’s no big deal but I don’t want to keep things from you because we’re getting serious” sort of way. 

You pretend to be casual about it all, but he can tell you’re suddenly wondering: why the hell would someone from this wealthy family want anything to do with me?

It’s a question Ransom asks himself a lot. He asks himself this when he’s snorting coke off another woman’s stomach (hey, you’re dating, but he’s got needs and they aren’t met with hand-holding) or when he’s eating another greasy burger at a shitty bar because you refuse to let him buy you a nice dress to wear so he can take you out somewhere fancy.

You’re not the type of person he normally goes for, not at all. He has strings of girlfriends and flings, but they all tend to fit that same cookie cutter mold: wealthy do-nothings with their parent’s credit card who want someone else to spoil them for a while, without caring who it is or what they’re like. They’re easy pickings that Ransom can burn through and then toss aside when he’s bored of them. Some of them cry but a few days later he’ll see them on someone else’s arm, it’s the circle of life.

With you, though, there’s more. You don’t expect him to pay for dates or anything at all (even when he wants to spoil you a bit) and you have actual conversations and you seem to actually give a shit about what he says and does. You argue with him, too, when he wants you to do something (just let him take you shopping, for Christ’s sake!) or he asks you to move in (again) and you say no (again). I mean, you really fight with him, spitting words and all.

And unlike his previous girlfriends, you don’t come crawling back a few hours later because you want to buy a new purse with his shiny credit card. Instead, you make him apologize first. Fuck, that’s hot. It’s also something he tucks away in the back of his mind to work on later--but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that he sometimes has the overwhelming urge to push you against the wall and fuck you for the first time right after a good argument. 

But he knows that would destroy your image of him entirely, so he holds back. He’s good at crafting a version of himself that appeals to others when he has to, and you’re maybe the first person that’s been worth all the effort he’s put into you so far.

But you need a push, a push that makes it so you can’t go running back to your shithole apartment when you fight or when you question whether or no you two have a future. You do, you’re just too naive--too inexperienced with money, to say it charitably--to realize it.

So he tips off the fire marshal about your apartment building’s shoddy fire escapes and well, damn, in the process of the investigation all the little corners that your landlord has cut come crashing down. At least they were discovered before it was the building that came crashing down.

But the evacuation of the building leaves you--and countless others--high and dry. You don’t have any family in the area, and your only half ass-decent friend in the city lives in the same building but her parent’s aren’t going to let a stranger move in.

When you finally realize you have no options and call him, voice tentative and embarrassed, he knows just what to say to get you to pack your meager belongings and wait for him to pick you up. He’s no-nonsense about it. 

He knows how to avoid deflating your pride, how to keep you from deciding you’d rather stay in a shelter than take his charity. You’ll pay him back, he says, you’ll figure out a rental plan or whatever. He even teases--he’s not the best landlord, but he won’t take 2 weeks to change the toilet if you submit a maintenance request. It makes you crack a smile and bam, just like that, he knows he’s gotten in.

That night, after takeout and wine and a Netflix movie neither of you paid attention to, you fuck for the first time on his expensive sheets on his expensive bed and afterwards, when you’re both sweating and cuddling and reveling in the afterglow, he makes a note to buy you some new lingerie. 

It’s all very homey, for a while. He could do without you leaving for work and working your ass off, with your freelance shit, sometimes staying on the computer until two, three in the morning. But it’s nice to have you close all the time, available to him whenever (almost whenever) he wants. He brings home takeout and you snuggle on the couch and he finally even convinces you to go out with him to a nice restaurant wearing something he’s bought and hot damn, do you look good, head-to-toe in the clothing he’s chosen for you. Especially, later that night, in private, in the lingerie. 

Does he love you? The word hasn’t left his lips yet, hasn’t crossed yours either, but he can feel it underneath the surface. No. It’s more than love. He wants you. He wants to have you. And not just for the afternoon or the summer, but forever. 

He spins daydreams about how he’ll clean you up nice and introduce you to the family. Probably to Harlan, first, because everyone knows that’s whose opinion really matters. Harlan will like you--he would probably like you without any primping or fixing, actually, which is more than he could say for his parents or anyone else in the family. Then once you’re in, you’re in--you’ll come to family dinners and vacation retreats where people always end up in ridiculous arguments, and you two can exchange snarky comments about the family on the ride home.

And yeah, sure. You fight sometimes.

He throws out your old clothes and buys you a wardrobe befitting someone he wants to integrate into his family. You fight about that.

He makes comments about you how you should quit your job or at least try to get a degree--he’ll pay, as long as you agree to go to a university within driving distance--to work somewhere more respectable than a chain restaurant. You fight about that.

He gets pissed when you want to meet some “friends” at a bar without him, because why would you need to go anywhere without your loving boyfriend in tow, unless you were trying to flirt with someone else? You definitely fight about that.

And, okay. Maybe he’s hypocritical.

Maybe he goes out late at night when you’re stuck doing your “freelancing work” and he’s in a rotten mood about it, and he ends up on the floor of a swanky club with drugs in his system and lipstick on his neck. He doesn’t come home until the next morning and you’re pissed and red-eyed and arguing with him, accusing him even, but you have no shitty apartment to stomp back to anymore so you’re stuck. 

Until you’re not stuck. Until he casually snoops through your phone and sees that you’re looking up cheap-ass apartments and hey, you’ve already booked a few interviews already. The thought of you slipping through his fingers makes him more sober than he’s been in a while. He’s got to do something. Not to himself, of course. But to you. To keep you with him.

It’s easy enough to get you fired. He’s a ‘Thrombey’ after all, and some nice crisp bills anonymously sent to the right hands is all it takes for you to come home one night, cheap mascara (he notes: buy you some better quality makeup soon) running down your cheeks. Your freelancing isn’t nearly enough to get you into an apartment.

He assumes that you’ll give up on the idea after losing your job, but you’re nothing if not stubborn (one of the reasons why he likes you) so you start the job hunt the next morning, fresh mascara in place. 

Damn, do you keep him busy. Anonymous calls. Cash in nice white envelopes. Rejection after rejection. You get so sad, so depressed. You don’t even want to go out to restaurants, so he orders in and you snuggle in his lap while he feeds you bites of orange chicken and rubs your back. It almost brings you two closer again, starts to mend the rifts that began when you refused to get over his occasional late night out.

But then you break the uneasy mending by snooping and woah, you don’t like what you find on his phone. 

You fight. 

Damn, do you fight. This time there’s no pretense of potential forgiveness as you begin wildly throwing your clothes into your ratty duffel bag from the back of the closet, telling him to fuck off fuck off fuck off, telling him he’s crazy, telling him that what he’s doing is fucking illegal and--

It’s the shock that hurts you the most.

The shock you feel when he grips your wrist hard and pushes back on your shoulder when you try to yank away, pushing you against the wall with a hard thud. It’s like having a rug pulled out from underneath your feet when you feel a slight ache in your back, on your shoulders, when you tell him to Let go, goddamn it and he only pushes back harder to keep you in place. It’s Ransom. It’s Ransom who’s doing this.

His voice feels unrecognizably cold when he leans in and hisses in your ear.

“You think you can just leave me? After all I’ve done for you? Let me tell you something--you won’t get another job within one hundred miles of here, within one thousand miles of here, unless I say you can. So just put your clothes back in the closet, chill the fuck out, and stop being such an ungrateful bitch.”

It’s the shock that makes you numbly hang your clothes back up in the closet, fold them again with shaking hands, and sit on the bed until the dam breaks and you cry.

And oh fuck, he’s sorry. Really. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and then he’s the one who’s crying and confessing that he didn’t want you leave him because yeah, he knows he’s a fuck up, he knows he’s got a drug problem, but he loves you. 

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud. He loves you. “I love you,” he says, again and again, half-laughing.  And he tells you you’re the only person he’s ever dated that made him want to be a better person but he doesn’t know how.

You don’t know what to say because maybe you do love him--but he hurt you and got you fired, but the tears on his face seem so genuine and he tells you he’ll never, ever hurt you like that again and fuck, he says, if you want to go get a job he’ll drive you to the interview right now just-let-him-blow-his-nose-first-please.

You make him sit down and then you’re the one apologizing and the rest of the afternoon is a shaky truce between you two as you drink hot chocolate and order in takeout and watch a movie together.

It’s not until you’re both under the sheets, satisfied and then showered, that you think about what he did to you in a clearer light. The thoughts weigh heavy on your mind, pulling and tugging. You think you might love him. He hurt you. He took care of you when no one else would. He cheated on you. 

I love you, he tells you, when your mind is starting to tug itself into sleep.

He hit you. He said he was sorry.

He hit you.

[sunpopp]

Warm to The Touch | {CCH}

→ Summary; it's not often that Chanhee gets sick, but when he does, he's a very big crybaby about it. That, or he really is in as much pain as he says he is—regardless that leaves you to take care of him, and funnily enough, it has its perks.

• WC/genre: 2K of smut + fluff

• Includes/cw: Chanhee being sick and reader taking care of him, no kissies on lips 😔, sub!Chanhee, gn!reader, fingering (m receiving), dick neglection (?), handjobs, brief praise, aftercare

Riding the bus wasn't your favorite thing to do, but it was soothing if you were in the right mood.

Sadly, you weren't. Mostly due to the fact that Chanhee was quite literally blowing up your phone with texts asking how much longer it'd take you to be off the train and on your way with his precious medicine, making you sigh and roll your eyes before shooting him a reply that you'd be there soon, but knowing nothing would calm him down until you were in front of him to prove it.

You can't help but smile.

Chanhee didn't complain much about anything, besides maybe you not helping him with washing the dishes or set the table while he made dinner, but everything else was, at most, a dirty look that softened relatively quickly. Sickness, though, was a whole other ballgame.

He would rant and rave about the tiniest of phantom pains, practically on the male equivalent of his period with the way his mood would get snappy and sour at the slightest inconveniences.

But maybe he really did just have a shit pain tolerance like he'd often hint at. Though it didn't stop you from still being baffled when he'd get a bad cramp in the middle of the night and whine about it until he'd fall asleep again.

Coming back to reality as you glance up to the bus's nearing destination, you stretch lazily and begin to stand, muscles aching from walking all day and back cracking loud enough for you to wonder if other people heard it. The bus slows to a stop before finally lurching against the sidewalk, and you take your leave through the opening doors with an appreciative thanks to the driver.

Almost immediately after you hop down from the steps, a layering of chilly wind washes harshly against your front and the familiar smell of petrichor into your nose, relentless rain droplets against your coat as you begin in a jog in the direction of your apartment. Chanhee must be freezing right now, you think, concern growing even heavier at the visible breaths of air you let out. If he's already got the sniffles, a sore throat, and headaches, he's probably getting worse considering you'd forgotten to turn the heater on before you left.

Stupid mistake.

It takes maybe a couple more minutes, less than it'd take if you were walking like normal, before you're finally at your door, punching in the code for the lock before shouldering it open and kicking off your shoes on the shoe rack. It's cold inside, you can tell by the way your cheeks still feel numb.

"Chanhee! I got your medicine!" Your words echo throughout the hall, spreading out when you keep calling his name as you move farther in; past the open kitchen and to the bedroom door opposite the bathroom.

When you come into the room, Chanhee is still in the bed where he was when you left, but this time, he's sat up, looking at you with hooded eyes and a thin sheen of sweat covering his face. He frowns, "It's about time. While I was here suffering, you were out with your friends. Unbelievable..," he pouts and shakes his head.

With a chuckle and now eased posture, you sit in front of him and set the bag of medicine beside you to check his temperature. He's extremely hot.

"Yeah, well, staying around you while you're sick is enough to drive me crazy so you can't really pin the blame on me for needing to leave. Plus, it's not like you tried to stop me, did you?" You smile at him, standing back up to go run him a lukewarm bath.

"I was asleep!"

"Your problem, not mine!"

___

"Alright, up you go."

"Ah, but my whole body hurts..."

"Too bad, you're sweating a bunch and you haven't done anything to clean yourself yet."

Another tug of Chanhee's hands, and he's stumbling into your arms with a raspy groan at the jerky movement. You pat his back, pecking his damp forehead, then drag him to the bathroom.

"Can you undress yourself or do you need my help with everything?" You half-joke.

"Don't be rude, it's actually hard for me to do a lot of things," Chanhee utters bitterly, but he does manage to pull his shirt over his head, albeit with your help, as well as his pants and boxers before stepping into the water.

"Or maybe you're just fragile as hell and the smallest things have you bedridden for a week."

"Oh my god I'm gonna-"

"Hush, princess, you won't do anything," you find yourself laughing as you lower yourself to your knees beside the tub, folding your arms on the side before resting your cheek atop them, "Just relax, okay? I know you're too tired to argue right now, so let yourself calm down for a couple."

He thankfully doesn't protest, and takes your advice for once; letting himself fall against the back of the bathtub and close his eyes, the sigh through his nose an indication that he's allowing himself to enjoy the water. He looks so peaceful like this. Doll-like eyelashes fluttering against smooth, heated cheeks, and head slowly lolling to face you.

You feel yourself reach out. You know it's happening, but you don't stop it when you run a hand through Chanhee's bangs, then swipe a thumb past his eyelid to trail to his nose, then lips.

He opens his eyes, but doesn't say anything, even if he probably finds it strange. He lets you touch him.

"You're very pretty," you mumble whilst pouring water onto his head using the wash bucket on the back surface of the bathtub. Drops trickle down into mini patterns on his face, and he drags a hand over it to clear them away.

"Even while sick?" He raises his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised at your answer.

You comb the water into his hair to wet it as you nod, "Even while sick."

Chanhee smiles, "So, how was your day out?"

"It was nice. Found a perfect place where I'd love to take you, actually."

"Oh? Where?"

"The bone zone-"

"Oh my god, you're so annoying!"

You erupt into a fit of laughter as Chanhee swats a hand at you, getting some of your shirt and arm wet where you shield yourself from his little attack. You pinch his cheek, flashing a toothy grin, "Oh, come on! That was a good one and you know it. Smooth as ever if I do say so myself."

"Yeah, and you're the only one saying so," He pouts, pulling away from your pinchy fingers and trying his best to hide the steadily growing smirk that threatens to break his face into a smile. Stubborn as always, you see.

"You can leave now," Chanhee gives you a pointed look.

"Alright, alright. I'll be in the bedroom awaiting any further commands, your highness," You shake your head, and make a grand display of leaving the room and him to his own privacy.

Chanhee doesn't take long in the bath anyway, so you knew you wouldn't have to wait long as you fall back against the bed, shifting around until you've made yourself comfortable against the strewn navy covers. You spare a glance out the window pressed against your side; still raining, and still bathed in a silver glow from the blanketing clouds. It'd make you kind of sad, if not melancholic, but you were in a good mood from coming home, so at the most, you were calm.

Calm, even when Chanhee emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam a half hour later, only wearing a pink striped button up pajama shirt and matching bottoms, hands raised above his head whilst he dries his hair with a small towel. He comes to a stop in front of you.

"There he is," you exclaim, looking up from your phone and patting the spot next to you with a mischievous glint in your eye, "C'mere."

"I wonder why I'm hesitating," he says, and you can practically feel the the sarcasm in his words.

"Because hot people make you nervous? Duh."

"Are you insinuating that you're hot?"

That's your queue.

Leaning forward, you grab Chanhee's wrist and tug him into your chest, causing him to stumble slightly, but you catch him and pull him flush against you. A flurry of kisses to his face, excluding his lips, ensue.

Chanhee squirms around in your arms and acts like he doesn't like the affection at first, but a few more seconds of the same treatment prove true to his soft side when he goes limp and begins to giggle at the ticklish feel of your butterfly pecks.

Oh, that giggle. How you loved to hear it; sweet and beautiful like the chime of the prettiest bell in your ears.

You pull him on top of you as you relax against the crevice where the mattress meets the wall, and rest your cheek on the top of his head, humming, "You saying that I'm not hot?"

"Yes."

"Damn."

"Kidding."

"No you weren't."

"Yes I was."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"You- Hush!" Chanhee covers your mouth finally and you chuckle against his palm at his feeble attempt to silence you.

You press a kiss to it instead of bickering further, causing him to soften. Just then, you realize something as you touch down his wrist.

"Woah, has your fever not died down at all? You're even starting to sweat a little bit again, too..."

Your suspicions prove true when a closer inspection at the ruddy skin flushed from his cheeks down to his chest and heavier-than-normal breathing indicates that he's still hot, or at least overheated.

"Here," you murmur, already shifting him on his back so you can easily unclasp the buttons of his shirt, "Are you in any pain or is it still just the sore throat?"

"The headache I had earlier is starting to come back. It's getting worse, but that's about it so don't worry, I'll be fine," Chanhee tries his hand at reassurance, you can tell, but it doesn't do anything to stop you from crawling over him to scurry into the kitchen.

"I'm getting you some water, hang on!" You call out from down the hall, making quick work of filling up a decently sized glass before you return to him with some painkillers as well. He barely manages to sit up when you reach him; his face scrunching at the obvious pain that's beginning to hit him tenfold as he gratefully takes the pills and throws his head back when he tosses them in his mouth, chasing them with the cold glass of water you provided.

"Ah, it's actually really starting to hurt...," Chanhee whimpers and at the sound, you slide back into the bed to pepper his face with pecks once again. He's grateful for the comfort, if the way he gently drapes his arm over your shoulder says anything.

"Oh, my poor baby," you coo lowly, feeling the goosebumps on his back that prickle at your tone, "Is there anything I can do to make it better? Did you already take your medicine?"

"Yeah.. still hurts.."

"I can tell," you snort and trail a finger down Chanhee's sternum, looping it back up to flick at one of his nipples. He jolts, and you can't help but give a cheeky smirk, "Even your nipples have taken on somewhat of a hue. I wonder what other places are doing the same thing...," your words would hold suggestion to even the most clueless of people, spoken through lips now slicked with saliva as you roll your tongue across the tinted flesh and lower your head for a taste of his exposed breast.

"Ah!" Chanhee gasps loudly and his fingers find purchase on the back of your head, his body trembling when he arches his chest up into your face, searching for more when his mouth fails to ask you such a favor.

Teasing his nipple with a gentle nip before pulling away to kiss it instead, you caress his narrow waist, "You said it hurts, no?"

"It does...," Chanhee pants and nods as fast as his throbbing head will allow him.

"Where does it hurt most, baby? Tell me," You wet your fingers with a quick swipe of your tongue then reach under his lower half to slide your hand into his shorts, Chanhee helping you by taking one leg out, and glide down the seam of his ass to tease his rim, "Here?"

"Y-yes..!" you chuckle when he huffs and flings both arms around your head, pulling you close into him and meeting your forehead as he grinds down against your digits.

"Awe, look at you..."

And look at him indeed; Chanhee is already a mess before you. Staring at you with those big watery doe eyes of his, and silently pleading for you to continue doing things to his body that has him feeling like bursting.

You give him exactly what he wants.

Pushing your finger into him, slowly due to how tight the fit is, you press sloppy kisses to the underside of his jaw. The reaction Chanhee gives is a familiar one, with sensual lips dropped open to let out a high-pitched moan and legs trembling as he holds them open for you, fighting to not shut his eyes upon feeling you enter him.

"Good," you drawl, tilting your wrist at an angle once your index and pinkie meet the backs of Chanhee's thighs and gently curling your fingers upwards, "Just like that, baby. Is this okay? Are you okay?" Your eyes search his face for discomfort, and though you don't find any, you still your movements.

He nods and nuzzles against the top of your head with his cheek, "Mm-hm. Keep going, please."

You start back up at his polite request, as much as you love hearing him ask for more of something, and begin to drag the pads of your fingers back and fourth alongside his walls until you feel the telltale firmness of his prostate, then start on massaging it.

"Ah!" He emits a short, melodical whine at the burst of sensation now seething within him. It drives him one step from crazy as he scrunches his face and unconsciously slaps at your shoulder in a sort of mid-euphoria result.

You huff out a half-laugh, sitting back on your knees so you can get a better view of what you're doing, "Good?"

Chanhee tries to use his words, but by the way you pin him down to the bed with a palm flat against his collarbone before speeding up your hand, he can only manage a broken sob. It's followed by another of the same needy type, but this time, it's louder and causes your stomach to all but flip at the sound. Chanhee throws his head back, thrashing this way and that to somewhat get away from the overwhelming feeling, but also pushing down against it at the same time; all the while your hand keeps him in place.

"I'll take that as a yes," you jest, mostly to yourself because Chanhee sure isn't listening, then bend down slightly to finally turn your focus to his weeping cock. It's full-blooded from being hard for so long, angry red at the tip and jumping every once in a while, especially when you open your mouth to lick a strip from the base to the head.

"P-please I can't! You're gonna make me cum!" Chanhee rushes to sit up, but you push him back down as soon as he tries. He looks absolutely horrified at being so close already.

"And what's the problem with that?"

"I-I just- I don't want to disappoint you."

"Oh, baby," You take your hand from his chest in favor of jerking him off, which he all but chokes at, "It doesn't disappoint me at all. I find it very hot, actually."

"Plea-ease..! Oh!" Chanhee wails one final time before he lets go all over your hand.

It covers your knuckles, dripping white down the side of your thumb as you keep stroking him to help him ride it out. The orgasm must've hit him hard, you think when you look up to see Chanhee shuddering in time with the aftershocks that zap his body every few seconds, eyes closed and skin dewy with a sheen of perspiration.

"Hey, come back to me. You alright? Does your head still hurt?"

He takes a moment to open his eyes, but when they roll open and find your face, he does something that catches you off-guard. He latches himself onto your front, straddling your lap, and rests his head over your shoulder with a sigh.

"Chanhee, hang on a bit, my hand's still dirty and I need to clean you up-"

"In a second. I'm tired."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Mm, I don't feel like talking right now."

"... You are such a handful."

@vanillaknj @stealerhwa1

[fundamentally-lazy]

Compliment

I had an idea for a smut fic that was so filled with Dom!Dewey goodness and praise and edging - that i had no choice but to write it my own damn self. Dewey x fem!reader

@go-commander-kim, @heresathreebee and @hoodoo12 the smut muses themselves - I hope I made you proud.

You did not want to be there, but you stayed, playing the supportive wall flower girlfriend. His colleagues were nice enough, and you were warm and cordial you just did not initiate conversation. There was a few small talks with some parents “my son just raves about him”, “my daughter won’t stop ranting about how there aren’t enough girl groups in the punk genre because Finn showed her,” (You recommended The Slits to show her daughter). Your brain was being loud, you were worried you would say something dumb and embarrass him so you kept it to the state of the weather and how are you for the most part.

“Are you okay baby?” Dewey whispered to you as he kissed your head. You smiled and nodded trying to assure him. You were having a bad anxiety day, just a little more keyed up than usual. So you put on a brave face for him, because you knew he would do the same for you. “You sure? We don’t have to be here,”

“I’m sure, it's okay,” you pressed. “Look, there’s Freddie’s father you said you wanted to talk to him about a donation for a soundboard - go,” with a flash of “We will talk about this later” he turned around and greeted Mr. Jones. That should get him off your back while you calm yourself down. There was wine but you did not touch it, so cold water for you it was. After an hour or so, despite the compliments on your outfit and the comments about Dewey just “lit up” whenever he talked about you, you sat down and let the scene play out. You grinned and said thank you but your brain would not let you enjoy it, it just kept yelling back at what an embarrassment you were and how they were only nice to you on his behalf.

“Baby,” he said putting his arm protectively around your waist. “We’d better get going, it’s kind of late,”

“Only if you want to,”

“We’re going,” he said with finality. Out of habit, you swallowed back a yes sir, and got your coat.

On the drive home, he kept his hand on your thigh.

“It’s okay baby,” he soothed. “You did great tonight, and you look killer, really,”

“Thanks, hon,”

“Seriously, are you okay? You seemed pretty keyed up,” he asked.

“Honestly, yeah I’m just- I didn’t get a lot of sleep and I don’t know, my brain is - loud.” You fumbled for an explanation.

“I see,” he said as he pulled into the driveway. He sent you ahead, as you unlocked the door he pushed back your hair and placed gentle kisses on the back of your neck. When he felt you relax, he carried on getting in that little spot behind your ear. Making you melt a little as you both fumbled into the house. You turned around as you kissed him, taking off your sweater and dropping your purse.

“You are gorgeous,” he muttered between kisses, you pulled away and focused on undressing him. “Hey,” he stopped. He held your face forcing you to meet his gaze; “Look at me,” you did. “How’d I get so lucky?” You sighed and smiled as if to say “you’re too much”. “Go, in there put on that outfit I love, and wait for me in bed.” Oh, you gathered. It’s that kind of night, got it. “Go on baby, do it for me?” You turn around and do as you’re told.

He came back in a few minutes later, taking in the sight of you, and smiling at the sight. You propped yourself up on your knees, showing him the whole outfit. He walked up to you, charged more like, and kissed you deeply. Dewey laid you down getting on top of you. You reached for his t-shirt trying to pull it off, but he shrugged you off as he kissed his way down your torso, stripping the lace panties off you. You ran your fingers through his hair as h cradled your thigh kissing all the way down to your folds.

He began to work on you the way you liked as you gave a sigh, his tongue going in a zigzag motion as he circled your clit. You let out a whimper, as he went lower letting his nose get your clit as he dove his tongue inside you. Letting you squeeze and flutter around him. But he knows you though, he knows when you are close.

“Oh God, oh…” you gasped your voice hitching. “Oh fuck baby,” gripping and pulling his hair. As if it were an afterthought, he began peppering kisses up your other thigh, you let out a whimper of disappointment. “Please? Please, sir can I-?”

“No sweetheart, not yet, you can’t cum until you answer a question for me,” he muttered in your ear, gripping your face right under your chin. He let go of you to undress. Still straddling you, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, leaning over you again, pinning your hands over your head, grinding against your hips as he bit and kissed your neck. “Who’s my good girl?” He growled in your ear, instead of answering you slithered your way to get on top, pulling his pants off. You kissed his neck, as he flipped you over replacing his hand on your throat. Shaking his head at you in a warning, you opened your mouth in an offer. “No baby, answer me,” his fingers found your clit. You spread your legs wider letting your moans and sighs let loose as you rut against him.

“Please!” You whined, stamping your foot on the mattress. “Just let me cum,”

“You like my fingers?” You nodded eagerly. “You want your toy instead?” Your fingernails dug into his shoulders as you adamantly shook your head no.

“Want you,” you breathed grabbing his hips. “I want you,”

“Maybe I’ll give you a little incentive,” he said as he pushed into you, aggravatingly slow. You squeezed and clenched around him and you could tell that he was having a hard time making his point. “Now,” one singular thrust. “Who’s my good girl?” He carried on, very slowly. “You can come as soon as I hear it, I’ll fuck you just like you like,” you fought back, pushing against him, trying to get some relief. “Do you want to come baby?” There was a warning to his voice.

“Yes,” you whimpered so frustratedly, it wasn't like you to act like a brat.

“Then don’t fight me,” he said with finality. “Do as I say, or I get up, and you can’t use your toys, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you grumbled. He lifted your legs higher on his hips as he pounded you a little faster the angle letting him go deeper.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Who’s my good girl?”

“Muh-me,” you breathed, in reward he escalated his rhythm, gripping your ass as he pounded you. "I am, I am, oh god," Your noises increased and all there was left was breath, and pleasure, and please Dew don’t stop. He turned you over for doggy style, gripping your hair as he grunted “who’s my good girl?” You dutifully answered. “Me,” the second time he made you say it, was hard. But not as hard as the first time, you were notoriously not good with compliments. Admitting you were anything but just okay was not easy for you. Dewey slapped your ass once, as he carried on his rhythm, his hips slapping against you as he hand readjusted into your hair.

Who’s my good girl?

Me.

He twisted his hips in a way that hit your favorite spot just right. When you came you saw stars. He was not far behind you as he spilled into the condom dropping net to you, you were shaking and trying to catch your breath. He held you, kissed your head, as you tried to come down.

“I know you did not want to be there today,” he mentioned as he smoothed the hair off of your face. “But I want you to know I appreciate it, I really do, but baby you do not need to put on a brave face for me honey, nothing is worth you being in that state. But you did so well, and everyone loved you,” you smiled at him nestling in his arms as he held you tighter, pulling the cool bedsheets over you both.

“All for you,” you whispered.

“You’re my good girl,” he says into your hair as you fall asleep.

[troubatrain]

four times matthew was a fuckboy + one time he wasn’t

a/n: a repost from my old blog!

I.

You didn’t hate Matthew Tkachuk. Hate is a strong word and you were too polite to hate anyone. But you definitely weren’t keen on the new company your friend had been keeping since she started seeing Matthew’s teammate, Noah. You were just different. You liked safety and rules, and Matthew put most of his energy into breaking every rule possible. He was a rat, and he didn’t give a damn who knew. You were a romantic, and you’d watch Matthew take a different girl home frequently, and you could only imagine what he was like on the road. He was a straight up fuckboy, and you’d just prefer to be as far away from him as possible. Besides the strong differences between each other, you really didn’t hate him - until, maybe, right now.

“I would never date Y/N,” Matthew scoffs at your best friend, Hannah, “She’s got a stick up her ass, all the time.” “I don’t have a stick up my ass Matthew,” You bark back, “You’re just a shitty person, and I don’t want to date you either.”

“Why? Am I not your type?” Matthew snarks back, “I’m everyone’s type.”

“No Matthew, egotistical professional athletes who don’t know anything besides hit and skate aren’t my type,” You say, “Hold an intellectual conversation with anyone and I’ll be impressed.”

“You know what, forget I mentioned it,” Hannah tries to interfere, but the way Matthew’s blue eyes were narrowed at you, his nostrils flaring out just a little bit meant it was too late and you were well on your way to spending the rest of the night arguing with Matthew.

“I don’t need to hold bullshit intellectual conversations to get laid Y/N,” Matthew grumbles, “I’m sure that’s only what terrible guys you probably date do.”

“I don’t date terrible guys,” You defend, but deep down, he was actually right about that. You were nearing the end of six months of being single since your last relationship ended and dating wasn’t going - well.

“Oh, I forgot, you probably only date boring guys,” Matthew huffs, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find someone who isn’t boring.”

Matthew stomps away, looking back to give you one more smirk that made your skin crawl. You couldn’t stand his smug smile, or the fact that he constantly gave you grief for being a good person. Or the time he accused  you of thinking you were better than everyone because you were smarter than them. 

“I can’t believe there was a point in my life where I thought you guys could be friends,” Noah says, shaking his head at the verbal battle you and Matthew just had, “I thought I could set you guys up - to date.”

“Why do you all think that?” You ask, looking at your friend and her boyfriend with actual concern.

“I don’t know, you’re sweet and nice and he’s not,” Noah shrugs, “It’s kind of cute.”

“Yeah, like imagine if you were the one to tame him,” Hannah says, wrapping her arm around her boyfriend's bicep while he pressed a kiss to her head - a reminder that you didn’t have that. Your eyes move to Matthew at the bar, while a girl was under his arm in less than five minutes.

“I don’t think anyone’s taming that monster,” You say, pointing to the man in question.

II.

When the weekend finally came around, you found yourself in the same situation you were in the week before. Matthew gave you daggers across the table while Noah and Hannah tried to convince the two of you to put your differences aside and be friends. Except, you didn’t want to be friends with Matthew, because you knew exactly how he treated his “friends”. In the past week alone, you’d watched him while he escaped a morning after with someone who happened to live in your building. You had the worst morning of your life when you stepped on the elevator only to meet with the face of the devil himself. You halted, stepping into the elevator and shaking your head at Matthew - asking him if he was leaving or your worst nightmare of him moving into your building was happening. He told you he was escaping from a booty call, his words not yours, and then joked about moving in just to bother you. You started bickering in the elevator, and then it made you late for work. That snowballed into missing an important meeting and you were cursing Matthew internally for the rest of the day.

“I just don’t understand why you both keep pushing this,” you shout, gesturing between Matthew and yourself, “We are not friends.”

“Yeah, she’s right,” Matthew agrees, for the first time since you’d been introduced to each other.

“Why is that the only thing you’ve ever agreed on?” Hannah asks, looking sincerely concerned at the two of you.

“Because his opinions on everything else are terrible,” You say, walking over to the bar to go get yourself a drink. You can feel a large presence behind you and you turn around to be met with Matthew’s smug smile again, “You can’t just leave me alone.”

“I’m getting another drink, not everything is about you,” Matthew remarks, flagging down the bartender far easier than you could have. He orders you both a drink, and you decide to just take it - too tired to argue. While you were waiting you scanned the bar, only to spot your ex boyfriend across the bar.

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing Matthew’s attention.

“God what did I do now?” Matthew groans, and then he follows your eyes, “Do you know that guy?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s my ex,” You say, dropping your drink, “Can you tell Hannah I left.”

“Wait no-,” Matthew says, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer to him, “I’m going to leave after this, I’ll take an Uber with you.”

“Are you going to drop me off then go hook up with whoever lives in my building?” You ask, crossing your arms and looking at him.

“I’m going to get you home safely and whether or not I leave the building is none of your business,” Matthew argues back, his eyes flickering up to look behind you and a protective arm snakes around your waist.

“Is that Y/N?” You hear your ex’s familiar voice, and suddenly Matthew’s arm made more sense.

“Oh, Alex, hi,” You say, trying to ignore the burning sensation you felt under Matthew’s touch, but your anxiety about seeing your ex disappeared almost immediately, like with Matthew there nothing could hurt you.

“How are you?” Alex asks, “Is this your boyfriend? I didn’t think you’d move on after me.”

“Yeah,” Matthew cuts you off before you could deny it, “We were just heading out, you know we’ve got plans for the night.”

Matthew gave Alex a wink and a look that said not to fuck with him and grabbed your hand, pulling you out the bar. A part of you was pissed, like he’d just told your ex boyfriend that not only were you dating you were leaving your night out early to fuck. But a part you didn’t care about it, Alex was the worst, and even in that second he reminded you why you broke up in the first place, because he never stopped talking down to you.

“I can’t believe you dated someone who talks to you like that,” Matthew says, pulling out his phone to call an Uber, “Your taste in men is terrible.”

“Well he thinks I’m dating you, so my taste is terrible,” You say, sliding into the car once Matthew opens the door for you.

Matthew slides into the other side of the car, getting your Uber driving and asking him how his night is before turning to you, “Do you really think I’m that awful?”

Okay, yes, it was sweet that he protected you. Yes, it felt nice to have his arm around your waist. Yes, it was great to have your ex think you’re currently seeing a member of the Flames. Yes, it was nice that he’s taking you home. And yes, the way he spoke to the Uber driver when you got in was actually more polite than you assumed he was to strangers. But, none of that meant he was a decent human being - at least not to you.

“I mean you’ve never given me a reason to think otherwise,” You say, shrugging.

“I’ll give you a reason,” You heard him mutter, but his face said he didn’t want to talk about it, so you let it go until you rode up the elevator to your floor in silence.

“Hey Matthew,” You say, voice small, “Thanks for getting me home, and for before, I owe you one.”

“I don’t think you want to be indebted to me,” Matthew says, his signature smirk gracing his face.

“One favor, nothing sexual,” You wave your finger at him while the elevator closes, sending him to whoever he was meeting on a floor above you.

III. 

You were swearing off men. That was it. You were sitting in a restaurant in the city, in a dress that made you look straight up hot, across from someone who made Matthew look like a saint. Paul was a friend of one of your coworkers, who raved about her friend who was intelligent and kind. Intelligent, yes definitely. But kind? At the moment that seemed far fetched. He’d spent the entire dinner talking about himself, and when you finally got to talk about yourself, he was just condescending and rude. You’d suffered through dinner, declining his invitation home. You heard his hollers about much of a tease and how uptight you were. You walked home, on a mission to get home and pretend this date never happened. Then you’d pass a bar you’d been to with Hannah a few times and decide to stop in - in need of a well deserved drink.

“There’s no way you should be here alone, dressed like that,” You can hear a familiar voice behind you and you turn around to meet Matthew’s face who was currently checking out your ass while you leaned against the bar. 

“You’re not in charge of me,” You bark back, sipping on the drink you’d gotten, “What are you doing here?”

“I was supposed to meet Noah out for a drink, but he canceled on me when I walked in,” Matthew says, “Why are you here?”

“I was on a date,” You frown.

You really, really, really, didn’t want to admit to Matthew that you’d had a bad date. You were pretty sure he got laid more than anyone you knew and there was no way he wasn’t going to make fun of you for having a terrible date.

“Was it that bad?” Matthew asks, “Or are your standards just way too high?”

“There’s nothing wrong with having standards for yourself, you should try it sometime,” You defend, “But, he spent the entire date talking about himself.”

You bite your lip, looking at Matthew in front of you. Sometimes, when the light caught him just right and he wasn’t being a total douche you could be reminded why he was such a fuckboy in the first place, he was cute as hell. You hated how attracted you were to him sometimes, especially after the way he had protected you from Alex the other night. He didn’t know why you didn’t want to see him, but he was there regardless.

“You should stay,” You declare, biting your lip and looking at Matthew.

You swore there was a twinkle in his eye, he grabbed himself a drink and hopped onto a barstool while you sat next to him. It started with small talk, you confessing that you were sure Hannah made Noah stay in because she told you he wasn’t spending enough time with her. To which Matthew said that was the exact reason he didn’t do relationships. Then you moved to bickering about how you loved the idea of love and the fact that Matthew turned himself off to it actually made you sad.

“You just need to see it from my perspective,” Matthew tries to explain, “No one sees past all of this NHL bullshit anyways, so, I’m just taking advantage of it. Admit it, you thought I was a dick when before you met me?”

“You are a dick,” You joke, “But yes, I may have passed judgement, that doesn’t mean everyone else thinks that.”

“Trust me, they do,” Matthew takes a sip of his beer, “Girls, fans, even my family sometimes, they just can’t see past the whole rat thing.”

You bite your tongue from telling him that if he stopped playing like a rat, people probably wouldn’t say that. Mainly because he was playing in the NHL and I’m sure your opinion on his play didn’t matter much. But also because whatever he was telling you sounded like something he didn’t talk about very much, it intrigued you. You don’t talk much about it further, a couple of people who were fans coming over and insisting you took shots with them. A few rounds of drinks later, you were drunk and Matthew’s hand had found a permanent place on your lower back.

“Ready to go?” Matthew asks, a chill running up your spine when he whispered in your ear.

Maybe you were lonely. Maybe you’d had too much to drink. Maybe you’d found the one part vulnerable part of Matthew and it made you soft. But something possessed to look him in the eyes and demand he took you home. And after asking you four times if you were sure, you were on your way to Matthew’s apartment with him, his lips on yours.

IV.

You slipped out of Matthew’s apartment after that night long before he woke up. Your walk of shame took you back to your apartment and that was that. You’d only seen Matthew once since, and while you were sitting next to Hannah in the stands at the Saddledome, he’d sent you over a wink and you thanked your lucky stars that Hannah wasn’t paying attention. You knew Matthew wasn’t going to let your moment of weakness be forgotten, you just hoped he didn’t embarrass you. You shook your head at the thought, which had been taking up your brain for most of the week. Your thoughts were broken by a heavy knock on the door, and you opened to reveal the person who’d been taking up most of your thoughts.

“What are you doing here?”  You ask, but you knew the answer was whichever one of his girlfriends, and you meant it to be plural, lived in your building.

“I was on my way to see someone but I thought I’d stop by,” Matthew smirks at you, “I have a favor to cash in.”

“I told you nothing sexual,” You counter back, despite the fact that you’d been under just a few nights ago.

“As much as I want to relive the events of the other night,” Matthew says, looking your body up and down, “I need an actual favor.”

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I need you to be my date to this event the Flames are doing,” Matthew sighs, as if he really didn’t want to ask.

“I’m sure there’s a line of girls who want to do that,” You say, wondering why Matthew needs you to go.

“I need to bring someone I can trust not to embarass me,” Matthew grumbles, “You’re smart, and you can hold a conversation with a bunch of our front office guys.”

“You want me to go and make you good?” You ask, trying to get exactly what he was asking you to do.

“Yes,” Matthew says, “I need you to make me look good. Can you do it?”

You should have said no. You should have said no. But, you said yes. You knew it was a bad idea, but the bright smile that graced Matthew’s face when you said yes almost made you forget that he was headed up to a booty call when he left your apartment. Something you realized he could only get away with.

--

Matthew wasn’t a bad date. He’d gotten to your apartment on time. Fed you with way too many compliments while his hand was rested on your thigh on the ride to the hotel ballroom the gala was at. Now, his hand had found its place on your back, while you wooed his coach into thinking Matthew was a decent human being. Really you should have paid overtime for how good you were doing. You’d met the entire Flames front office, charming each of them into thinking their player wasn’t sleeping around when he most definitely was.

You finally pull away from the conversation, latching on Hannah once she was finally in reach.

“You’re working like doubletime,” Hannah jokes, “How’d he convince you to do this?”

“He didn’t tell you what happened?” You ask, assuming his big mouth spilled the beans to Noah, at the very least.

“He never said anything,” Noah shrugs.

“I ran into my ex, and he pretended to be my boyfriend so he’d go away,” You admit, “Then he took me home and I told him I owe him one.”

“See? I knew he wasn’t all bad,” Hannah muses. You thought about what Matthew had said that night you slept together, about how people had presumptions about him he could never change so it didn’t matter. You’d actually thought about it frequently since, and it really made your heart ache for him. It bothered him, it had to.

“He’s not all bad,” You admit, outloud, really just so you could convince Hannah not to pass judgement on him without telling her what he’d told you.

“Hey, we can head out if you want?” Matthew asks, coming behind you. You nod, excited to be going home at a decent hour after a long week of work.

You were silent for the entire car ride home, your eyes constantly on Matthew for the entire ride.

“Would you stop staring at me?” Matthew asks, his eyes not leaving the road, but somehow his hand found your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

“Do you think you’re a bad person?” You ask, it was something you couldn’t stop thinking about. You didn’t understand Matthew, you didn’t think anyone actually did, but you wanted to figure him out so badly.

“Is this about what I said the other night? It wasn’t that deep Y/N,” Matthew sighs, “I’m not that deep.”

“Do you think that or have you been told that?” You ask, and you knew you were getting somewhere because you could feel his hand tense up.

“Are you always this annoying?” Matthew deflects.

“No,” You sigh, “It’s just, Hannah said something about you not being all bad and it bothered me.”

“A little criticism isn’t going to hurt me,” Matthew says, throwing his car into park so he could walk you to your door, “I’m not really a good guy either.”

You pout, leaning against the elevator. You were close to getting him to just open to you. His walls were tall and they were definitely thick but you might have been slowly chipping away at him.

“Thank you for doing this tonight, it meant a lot to me,” Matthew says, his hand rubbing the back of his neck while you stood in your doorway. A part you wanted to pull him inside by his collar and have your way with him, but you knew once was one thing but twice was going to be another. You bite your lip, debating it for a second, “Thinking about inviting me inside.”

“How did you-?” You start to ask before Matthew immediately cuts you off.

“You’re practically eye-fucking me,” Matthew jokes, “You won’t invite me inside though, because you know if you sleep with me twice you won’t be able to stop.”

You jaw drops, because he was right, “That’s hardly true.”

“I can read you Y/N, you’re like an open book,” Matthew smirks, “For the record, I don’t know if I’d be able to shake you either if we did this again.”

With that sentiment Matthew was headed down the hallway, turning just one more time before he hit the elevator button.

“Matthew?” You call out, “Are you going up or down?”

The question was burning. You just wanted to know why he was frequenting your building. Whoever was up there and why she could get Matthew to keep coming back. You were a little jealous, that he’d rejected you to go see her.

“That’s none of your business,” Matthew muses, giving you a wink and stepping into the elevator.

You were annoyed, and you thought about walking back outside to see if Matthew’s car was still there. That would make you a crazy person so you laid in bed while it ate you alive. That was, until you’d received a text from Matthew of his bedroom, and a sly comment about how you might have recognized his place. While it was smug and irritating, it did make you happy that he was home and he was alone.

plus one

You felt like an idiot. You stood at the bar next to Hannah, listening to her rant and rave about something Noah did while you watched Matthew flirt with some girl by the bar. You didn’t know why you thought maybe he could turn over a new leaf. That maybe you were getting somewhere with him. But, everything went out the window the second your eyes were on him. You decided he was dead to you, he had to be. You excuse yourself from Hannah, giving Matthew one more look before stomping out of the bar. You could hear his shouts behind you while you walked down the street, your apartment too far to walk but if you stopped you’d be forced to speak to him.

“Y/N! Where are you even going?” Matthew finally catches up to you, and you curse your shorter legs for stopping you from outrunning him.

“Away from you,” You say, “You can go back to your little friend, that’s your life Matthew, I get that now.”

“Come back to my place, I need to talk to you,” Matthew pleads, and you knew you were only a block away from his place. You sigh, nodding and following him down the street.

Matthew’s apartment felt different than it did the night you’d slept together. You were tossing off your clothes in a drunken haze and you never realized how empty his place felt. It was cold, and in some serious need a curtain and throw pillow. It was a metaphor for the current state of it’s resident. 

“Okay talk,” You cross your arms, “Explain to me how you do this to every girl, make them think there’s a part of you that’s decent to only be an asshole to them in the end.”

“I’ve never told anyone what I told you,” Matthew confesses, “I thought, maybe, you’d be into me. Then I realized if you were, I was only going to hurt you. You don’t deserve that, so if I push you away, you’ll be happy.”

“Clearly, I’m not happy,” You say, pointing to the frown that was very present on your face, “Listen, I like you, I don’t know why or how you crawled into my life but I want to be with you - the real you. I want that vulnerable man that told me he thought everyone judged him. I want you to prove to me you are that man.”

“I can do that,” Matthew nods, his hands resting on your cheeks. He captures your lips in his for the most tender kiss you’d been given. It was full of love, and full of feeling.

“I want you to prove it,” You say when you finally pull away, your forehead resting on his.

[seasonsofeverlark]

Pumpkin Pie and Cheese Buns

Author: @evestedic​

Prompt: Hard working coming home for thanksgiving. Stops at the store on the way to pick up the dessert she didn’t bother to make no one will notice anyway and runs into their ex lover. Tries to leave fast but has to take the walk of shame back to grab the cranberries too. Arrives home not just with the cranberries and pie…  [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T

____________

“God damn it!” Katniss was not happy. 

It was Thanksgiving, which meant she was being forced to spend time with people she didn’t even know.

Why?

Because they’re family, Katniss.

She could hear her Aunt Martha’s voice. 

Why should she care that her cousin was getting married?

Or that her nephew had gotten into college? 

Or that her godfather was slipping her a 20 buck bill while winking an eye at her? 

She wasn’t a total bitch, so she bore with it, but this was people she saw one fucking time per year! 

If it wasn’t for Thanksgiving, she was sure she wouldn’t see them again as they never even called. Nor did she.

But, be that as it may, Prim loved big gatherings and the attention; she was, after all, quite cheerful. Her father also bore with it, although better than her. 

However, who knew? This year her mother was coming with her new boyfriend. 

Ugh, puke… 

And that was why she was there, November the 26th, coming back from work and on her way to Aunt’s Martha’s house. 

Katniss was not happy. 

She had already left the store not five minutes ago, but something kept nagging at the back of her head while she accommodated the bags in the back of her car. 

Of course, being who she was, she had forgotten dessert. The pumpkin pie with maple whipped cream. Sighing and fuming, she went back to the absolute chaos of the aisles. If she arrived at her aunt’s without dessert…well, she would rather face a biblical plague. 

After perusing the dessert stand and seeing everything was completely wiped out‒not even crumbs were left‒she gave up and thought about getting some canned peaches and cherries.  That’s when she heard it…   

“Is that you, Katniss?” 

That voice. 

She had loved it at one point. Now, it was just nails on a chalkboard. 

Turning around, she set her eyes on a huge blonde guy; he had a perfect gym advertisement body, a smirk on his face, and his arm around a blonde girl with the same perfect gym advertisement body. 

“Cato.” 

“Buying for Thanksgiving?”

“No, just came because I was craving some peaches.” 

“Oh.”

Seriously? It was the most direct sarcastic answer ever, and he had actually believed her? 

Katniss rolled her eyes and was about to turn around when the Barbie clone spoke. 

“Is this the one, babe?”

“Yes, baby, that’s her.”

“Oh, I thought she’d be…I don’t know, prettier?”

“She never wanted to put in the effort, baby.”

“She is standing right here. And if working out turns you dumb, I’m glad I didn’t do it.” 

Katniss had gone out with Cato for two years when they were nineteen. Back then, he had been a kind guy, funny and perhaps a bit silly, but very nice, normal. He had asked her out after a college party, and she accepted; the rest was history. 

However, after one year of being together, he began frequenting the campus gym and suddenly started to change. All he could talk about were diets, exercise, and protein. Katniss was all in for a healthier life; hell, she knew if she kept on eating Greasy Sae’s food every other night, she was going to clog her arteries by the time she was 35, but Cato was relentless. He got rid of all of her comfort food and she had been forbidden to eat chicken and meat ever again. Only turkey and fish were allowed, vegetables, no dairy or eggs, no sugar! She was going crazy; Katniss had reached the obscene point of hiding in the bathroom to eat a Snickers bar, only to quickly brush her teeth and rinse with Listerine at least thrice so that her boyfriend wouldn’t taste any trace of chocolate when he kissed her. It was that night when she knew she couldn’t do it anymore. She no longer recognized the guy she had agreed to date or herself, for that matter. So, Katniss decided to end it right then and there. She skipped her next class and went to their dorm only to find him banging the very same Barbie girl who was in front of her in the canned aisle right now. 

Quickest breakup ever. 

He had said it was her fault for not ‘putting in the effort,’ and she hated him for it. 

“Jealousy doesn’t fit you, Katniss. Well,” Cato gave her a once-over, “I doubt anything does. Have you gained weight?” 

“If I have, that wouldn’t be any of your fucking business. What are you doing here? Came to buy something for dinner? I think there’s a celery and mineral water pack on sale.” 

“Still salty because I chose someone better?” Cato shamelessly licked the girl’s ear, making her giggle in an obnoxious way that made Katniss want to gag. 

She didn’t have to stand here and watch this; she-

Was that a hand on her waist?

“Hey, sorry I took so long. I literally had to wrestle this from an old lady.” 

That voice. 

Peeta Mellark was holding onto her waist and smiling that charming smile that could probably tame a wild animal, while proudly presenting a ham to her.

“Um…” Eloquent as always. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were with friends.” 

“Yeah, no…Not my friends.” 

“Aren’t you the baker guy? You’re slumming it with the bakery employee?” Cato laughed while Barbie‒Katniss really couldn’t care less about her actual name‒looked at Peeta appreciatively. 

“I haven’t introduced myself,” Peeta said, extending his right hand but not letting Katniss’ waist go. Cato immediately took it, flexing his bicep as he did so, but his expression faltered when he shook Peeta’s hand. “Peeta Mellark, owner of ‘The Cake Lair’. Have you guys ever been?” 

Katniss was confused. 

It wasn’t as if she and Peeta were actually friends. They had talked, yes. She simply loved the pastries he sold, and because of how she had raved about his cheese buns, well…the double entendre put her in an uncomfortable position, but he had only laughed and thanked her for the compliment, as he had, in fact, baked those himself. 

Peeta always made sure to set aside at least two cheese buns for her prior to the end of the day. 

And okay, yeah, they had exchanged numbers and texted from time to time, but nothing deep. It was always things about the weather, the cheese buns, or how Prim was. Did that qualify as being friends? 

Katniss was awful at being a good friend, hence why she only had two: Gale and Madge. Her sister and father didn’t count; they were family. 

Shaking her head, she returned to the present to find that arm still around her and Cato’s face getting red. 

“Just let go, dude.  You’re about to pop a vein.” Peeta chuckled. 

Katniss directed her gaze at their hands; she could see they were both squeezing the hell out of each other. Cato probably thought he could scare Peeta off with his muscles, but he clearly hadn’t seen Peeta shirtless on a hot day, hauling 100-pound flour sacks onto his back as if they were light cargo. Peeta was strong, like ‘I could iron clothes on your stomach’ fit; he just didn’t flaunt it, and Katniss appreciated that.

Cato huffed and let go, and Peeta smiled once more and winked at Barbie, who was giggling like an idiot. 

“So, we should be going soon if we want to make it, Katniss. You know how Aunt Martha gets if we don’t get the groceries in time for her.” 

So yeah, she had told him about her hellish weekend to come last week, but Katniss didn’t think he would remember. 

With his hand still on her waist and her still not shrugging it off, they made to pass Cato and his doll, but, of course, the bodybuilder felt the need to use the sole neuron in his brain. 

“You know you’re just a replacement, right? I mean, she went and looked for the next guy that kinda looked like me because she clearly can’t forget me.” 

Tuck your thumb over your middle finger to make a proper fist. If you wrap your fingers around your thumb, you’re likely going to break it. 

Her father’s words and the boxing lessons came back in a flash, and before Peeta could hold her back, Katniss pivoted on her left foot, momentum aiding her, and connected her first with Cato’s jaw. She wasn’t an expert boxer or anything of the sort; she just liked the exercise, and she was strong. But Katniss must have been lucky enough to hit the sweet spot because Cato dropped to the aisle floor, unconscious. 

“Babe!” Barbie girl screeched, and suddenly, two more gorilla-looking guys were coming to her aid. 

Friends of his, no doubt. 

“Tell your boy toy, next time he wants to bully me to think twice, lest he finds himself beaten up again by a woman,” Katniss spat at the blonde girl. 

“You did this?” A broad and tall black guy asked. He was actually pretty scary, but Katniss held her ground and managed to nod. To her surprise, he chuckled and sort of bowed to her. “He’s an ass. I bet he had it coming. We’ll take care of him.” 

“Thresh! He’s your friend…” Barbie girl actually had tears in her eyes. 

“He’s not. We’re just in the same weightlifting class. And don’t cry; he’ll come to soon. Finnick, help me bring this idiot back.” 

“You must have a mean right hook, hon,” the guy with reddish hair and perfect teeth told Katniss. 

“I do.” She jutted out her chin proudly; her dad had taught her well. 

“Nice to know you have it all sorted out. Katniss, should we go?” Peeta was pulling her a bit, and she let him, both soon finding themselves out in the parking lot, having decided to leave behind the cans and the ham. 

Once they were in front of her car, Katniss did something she rarely did. 

“I’m sorry I cost you your ham.” 

Peeta seemed surprised, but he simply smiled. “That’s okay. There are a lot of hams left, actually; I just needed an excuse to walk up to you.” 

“Why did you do that?” 

“That guy was an ass, and I know you could’ve handled it on your own, but…,” he leaned in a bit and whispered, “doesn’t it feel good to let him know you’re with someone much better now?” 

Katniss couldn’t help it, she laughed. “You’re full of yourself, Mellark!” 

“Hey! I’m a catch, I tell you. Owner of his own bakery, hard-working; I know how to cook and bake, and I’m easy on the eyes, too.” 

“Not to mention, tons and tons of humility.” 

“That, too.” He smiled, and Katniss rolled her eyes, but she really didn’t feel angry with him. She hadn’t needed his help, but he had offered it freely without expecting anything in return. “So, I guess this is where we part ways.” 

“What are your plans for tonight, Peeta?” Katniss suddenly asked, and he was surprised as well. 

“Uhhhh, not much. Bake something? Eat it while watching TV, nothing exciting.” 

“You can come to my Aunt Martha’s, if you want. Prim would love to see you, and this way I can repay your ‘act of kindness’.” 

“Really? You sure it wouldn’t bother you?” 

“If it did, I wouldn’t have asked.” 

“Sure, I’d love to.” 

“Okay, but before that, there’s something I need you to do for me.” 

“What is it?” 

“Can you drive? My right hand is killing me.” 

                                                °•. ✿ .•°

“Why couldn’t you just buy it?” Katniss whined.

“Because I actually enjoy baking. You should know this already.” Peeta chuckled as he handled the mixer. After a few more turns, it seemed everything was ready. “I just need to flour the containers now.” Peeta patted his hands on his apron and went back to the pantry. 

Katniss took her chance. 

She slowly inched her hand forward, her eyes not leaving Peeta’s back, just in case. 

Two more inches and-

“I swear, Katniss, if you’re reaching for that dough I won’t make any cheese buns for a week.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she exclaimed, shocked. That wasn’t fair! Peeta hadn’t even turned around, but he knew what she had been about to do. 

“Try me, love.” He then approached the table again, watching a grumbling Katniss cross her arms. “You know you can’t have raw dough while pregnant.”

“That’s a stupid rule. I bet it’s invented. How did women manage centuries ago, then?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. They sometimes died intoxicated, so no biggie.” Peeta was serious now. 

“I wouldn’t die over a bit of dough…” She said it under her breath, but he heard.

Peeta sighed, and Katniss felt a pang of regret. Damn him. “Katniss, do we really have to discuss this again? It’s Thanksgiving, and I’d bet my bank account Aunt Martha would come down here and force you to go to the party if you weren’t so-” 

“Go on, finish what you were going to say.” Katniss knew she was so big she might be in need of her own postal code. 

“-tired. You’re carrying twins, and that’s not an easy feat. The only thing she asked for was the pumpkin pie with maple whipped cream.”

“Every fucking year.” 

“She indulges during the holiday.”

“Why not just get one from the bakery?”

“She wants it fresh.” 

“Why doesn’t she come down here and get it herself?”

“You really want your Aunt Martha here? Right now? Today?”

“…No.” Why did Peeta have to be so logical? 

“I know you’re crabby and your feet are probably swelling. Let me put this in the oven, and then I’ll massage them with some of that lavender cream your mother gave you.” 

“And a bath.”

“A massage and a bath, you got it.” 

Peeta, of course, fulfilled his promise and left Katniss so relaxed she fell asleep and didn’t even notice her husband had gone and come back from the Everdeen’s annual Thanksgiving gathering. 

By the time she opened her eyes, he was sitting next to her, reading a book. 

“Hey…did you all get a proper rest?” Peeta put a hand on her belly, smiling. 

“I think so, yeah; they just started moving.” 

“I can feel. Here, let me help you up.” Peeta’s strength was no joke. He could single-handedly lift her up, yes, even when she felt like a whale, and prop her on the bed so she could sit comfortably. “That okay?” 

“Yes, perfect.” 

“Happy anniversary, love.” He presented her with a huge cheese bun, making her laugh.

“Peeta, just because we fucked for the first time four years ago today, doesn’t mean it’s an anniversary.”

“For me it is! Come on, I bet you didn’t think we’d end up doing it in the bathroom that night.” 

“I seriously didn’t.”

“But here we are, and that’s all that matters.” 

Her husband really was the cheesiest person alive, but she secretly adored that part of him. 

“Shut up and let me enjoy my cheese bun.”

“Your wish is my command.” 

[lost-in-sokovia]

Hot Boy Summer

hiiiii! i’m so freaking excited to write this! this is for a challenge started by a few of my friends @captain-a-rogerss @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho and @donutloverxo !! you should really check it out under #CaptainsWeeklyChallenge ! anyway, i hope you enjoy! (ps: not putting anyone’s requests on hold, i just wanted to make sure i got this done. all requests are still in the making!🤍)

Warnings: swearing, fluff, suggestive content but nothing bad or mature

Prompt: “You’re such a brat.”

One of your favorite pastimes with Meg was annoying her older cousin, Ransom.

Was it because you had a crush on him? Don’t judge, that’s rude. You and Meg were close and she regularly brought you home with her for family holidays. It always exhausted you to be around that chaotic family, and even though Ransom was a total babe and in reality annoyed the hell out of you, you never admitted it. Joni, Meg’s mother, always had the persona and mannerisms that conveyed was high. Always her long and dragged out “hello, (Y/N)” with the hug and asking about your chakras and horoscope or whatever. She got on your last nerve most of the time and Meg found that hilarious. You knew deep down Joni was a good person and wanted the best for her daughter, but my god could she run you up a wall.

Meg’s grandfather was a sweetheart, but the rest of that family was absolutely out of their goddamn minds. And though he was insane, Ransom was drop dead hot. You never quite minded his smartass remarks, his cold glares, or the fact he thought his family was an absolute joke. It all just kinda rolled out of your head when you’d see those captivating sky blue eyes and evil smirk.

Meg had first thought it was a joke when you confessed your crush on Ransom to her one long night at school. She’d laughed, but after looking at your nervous face she stared. “What the hell?” She had asked. Your face was a combination of paleness and being flushed. You shrugged shakily. “I don’t know... he’s hot, Meg!” She scoffed, flipping back her long brown hair. “He might be hot to you, but he’s a hot prick. Doesn’t being a prick kinda cancel out being hot?” She pointed out sternly. “You know I’ve got a thing for bad boys,” you mumbled sheepishly in defense. She laughed again. “(Y/N), this isn’t some movie where everyone wants to date the hot villain. Do not date the hot villain in this situation!” She yelled. You gave her a sad glare before standing up and falling face first onto your dorm bed.

Now you weren’t dating him yet, but you sure as hell were next to him any chance you got. At first he thought it was funny, one of Meg’s college friends having a cute crush on him. But as time progressed and you became more in his way and more obnoxious to him, it made his blood boil.

It was the end of exams and summer was finally here. You were staying with Meg all summer and thrilled you were going to have opportunities to see Ransom. As you got more and more anxious the days leading up, Meg had made you promise you weren’t going to get so attached to Ransom or even forget you were there with her, and you agreed. You’d packed all your clothes (making sure to pack that one bikini that always got attention) and belongings and were on a plane to Massachusetts in no time.

When you’d arrived at Harlan’s, you were greeted with a big hug from Joni. “(Y/N), how are you sweetie?” She asked with a light tap on the back. You forced a laugh and smiled awkwardly. “I’m great Joni, h-how are you? How’s Flam?” you asked in an effort to move the topic off you as your patience lowered every time she opened her mouth. She smiled with accomplishment as she opened her mouth. “Oh you know, it reached two million followers yesterday on Insta, no biggie.” She was obviously fishing for compliments.

“Well congrats, that’s amazing,” you nodded with gritted teeth. She waved a hand and rolled her eyes slightly. “Did you get that moisturizer I sent you?” She asked. You looked over at Meg with eyes wide with annoyance and she quickly came up to help. “Yeah mom she really enjoyed it... We’re going to go get settled,” Meg explained quickly as you gave a small wave before following her.

You exhaled heavily as Meg led you up to her room. She scoffed in amusement. “Ready for a whole summer of Joni Thrombey?” She asked. You laughed under your breath and shook your head with wide eyes. “Mm, maybe Joni could just hook me up with her nephew instead...” you replied suggestively. Meg rolled her eyes and sighed. “(Y/N), he thinks you’re one of the most annoying people to have ever walked the planet, mostly because you’re friends with me. But still I don’t see your chances getting higher with that asshole,” she said. You frowned, unzipping one of your suitcases.

“Okay but I brought that one really sexy bikini I have and I’m not going to get a wedgie for nothing so he better at least say I’m not the most annoying or I look hot or something,” you huffed. Meg laughed, picking up the swimsuit and tossing it at your face.

~•~•~•~•~

Though the first day was uneventful, full of unpacking, saying your hellos and greeting everyone, calling to update your parents, eating, and sleeping, the next day was when the real fun began.

Harlan had decided it would be “nice” to get the family together since all the kids were now off school. You had raved to Meg how excited you were to see Ransom and try to prove you were a grown college woman and totally girlfriend (or wife, but baby steps right?) material. She groaned when she heard the news and hit her head against a wall.

“What? It’ll be so fun!” You tried to reason as Meg glared in the mirror while applying her makeup. She put product in her wavy brown hair and sighed. “Yeah it’ll be fun for you. You happen to forget that Ransom is just one member of this family, this very chaotic and hell raising family,” she bit. You scoffed and slipped a crop top on. “You’re just jealous because I might get a boyfriend.” You stuck your tongue out.

Meg was just about to argue back when you heard the front door downstairs being opened with muffled greetings. You sprinted over to your closed door and concentrated hard for any sign of the name “Ransom.” You pressed your ear hard against the door and your eyes lit up as you finally heard the name you’d been waiting for. Your heart rate picked up and you looked back to Meg, who was applying mascara unenthusiastically.

“You’re going to annoy the shit out of him,” she warned quietly. You glared. “No I’m not... I swear I’m mature. Mature enough to be attractive though, not like some stuck up old librarian lady or something,” you explained nervously. Meg laughed. “This is coming from the girl who still sleeps with a nightlight,” she retorted. You flipped her off with a fake smile before slipping out the door.

You ran down the long flights of stairs (nearly knocking into poor Fran, who was just trying to escape Ransom) and breathed quickly. You nearly tripped down the last few steps and cursed under your breath before catching up with a particular tall, dark haired man. You slipped in front of him and smiled smugly at him.

“Hey Ransom,” you greeted as chill as possible. He was more beautiful than you remembered (even though you had just seen him at Christmas); his hair was cut a little shorter, he wasn’t hiding under cable knit sweaters or long overcoats, and his blue eyes caught the sunlight. When he saw you his mouth parted and he stared with furrowed eyebrows for a moment. His head then tilted back as he groaned loudly.

“Meg!” He yelled. “Come get your dumb friend out of my way!” You blinked a couple times before leaning against the knight’s armour in the hallway. “No look Ransom, I’m just here to chill with Meg all summer. It’s not a huge deal. It’s totally fine, you’ll have no trouble from me,” you offered. He raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Yeah that’s what you told me at Christmas, then you tried to kiss me under the mistletoe,” he retorted with a bitter laugh. You cringed; yeah, you had hit the holly jollies a little too much that night. You cleared your throat and began to trail Ransom as he began to walk away from you.

“Well lucky for you there’s no mistletoe in the summer,” you replied sarcastically. “Yeah, but there’s still you,” Ransom bit back in mock sarcasm. You halted to a stop and gaped at him as he continued to walk off. Damn, he really came for you.

As you stared, Harlan had appeared behind you and greeted you with a pat on the back. “So, have you said your hellos to Ransom?” He asked. You nodded, your eyes still focused down the hall. “Mhm,” you hummed back. He chuckled lightly before walking off slowly, and you scoffed as Ransom’s remark echoed in your head.

Not a big deal; a big girl like you could handle Ransom’s snarky remarks, right?

~•~•~•~

After plenty of lame and useless attempts at trying to get Ransom’s attention just through basic human interaction, you’d decided it was time to put that bikini to use.

Who knew there was easy access to a pool out where Harlan lived? You thanked your lucky stars that the white suit wouldn’t just be taking up space in your suitcase. Sure, most of the Thrombeys were now gathered and would probably be there as well, but you get what you get right? You slipped it on in the bathroom connected to Meg’s room and sighed, already pulling the bottoms out of all the uncomfortable places it didn’t belong. You looked at yourself in the mirror and raised your eyebrows. Wow, dressing for a man and not yourself; you never thought you would stoop so low for a crush.

You opened the door and met Meg with her emerald green bikini as she whistled and looked you up and down. “Damn sis! All this for my asshole older cousin?” She asked as you rolled your eyes. “I know, I was thinking the same thing,” you mumbled back. She grinned sarcastically as she grabbed the sunglasses from her dresser. “Yeah, it’s a good thing you’re not obsessed with him or anything, that would be weird,” she commented with heavy sarcasm. You laughed monotonely and threw a small bottle of sunscreen at her arm.

“Whatever, let’s get going. I wanna get out of this suit asap,” you mumbled before opening the door. Meg followed you out and snorted from behind. “(Y/N) it’s already riding up your ass,” She commented. Your face felt hot (from both embarrassment and how annoying Meg was being) and you spit out the first argument that came to mind: “Well maybe I want it there, Meg.”

You trotted through the full house and outside and plopped onto one of the long, clothed chairs perfect for tanning. Ransom was over in a shaded corner reading from a Playboy magazine (to which you thought why was he looking at pictures of women in bikinis when there was one right in front of him?) through dark sunglasses. His hair was combed back with no gel or product in it and he wore dark blue swimming trunks with no shirt. Jacob was in the shadows behind him with his eyes glued to his phone screen, the damn kid. You however couldn’t help but stare for a moment at Ransom’s abs as you blinked and took a deep breath. You laid your head back down and closed your eyes for a moment as you let the sun warm your entire body. “Damn Ransom,” you muttered bitterly.

“Alright this place better not turn into some splash pad for three year olds now that you’re here,” Ransom announced. You opened your eyes and looked back over, his eyes still glued to the magazine. You scoffed loudly in exaggeration as Meg shook her head in astonishment at you. “Please Ransom, we’re just out here to do the same exact thing as you; chill,” you called back. Joni who was drinking champagne in the hottub glanced over briefly. “Meg! (Y/N)! Looking totally adorable girls! Love the self love!” She complimented as hip as she could get.

“Yeah thanks mom,” Meg called back i enthusiastically. Ransom rolled his eyes and looked up to see what the fuss was about and was dumbstruck when he did.

God, did you have to look so hot in that swimsuit? Your skin glowed in the sun as your crossed one leg over the other. That swimsuit was very small... His eyes traveled from your legs to your bare stomach up to- no, no. He looked back down and exhaled loudly. No, think about how annoying you are. He wasn’t going to stare at you. No... He felt awkward. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Ransom never thought he’d feel something towards you. It was weird, he questioned his standards and tried to take his mind off you. This was really conflicting and he’d never thought so much into a hot girl- no he wasn’t going to call you hot.

While Ransom sat in the corner and tried to handle his frustration, you layed in the sun and pitied yourself. You basically tried everything. If Ransom wasn’t going to pay attention to you in this, there was no hope. You frowned and stretched your arms and legs before crossing them again.

You glanced over at Ransom, who’s eyes you’d found staring at you. (He couldn’t do it. He looked back at you, sprawled out on the chair. Screw his reputation, he wasn’t going to pass this up.) You blinked a few times before raising an eyebrow. “Like what you see, Ransom?” You asked suggestively. He scoffed in astonishment and shook his head. “You’re such a brat,” he mumbled. You smiled wickedly and sat up. Meg looked over and tried to grab your arm. “(Y/N), where are you going?” She asked. You looked back as you made your way to the pool. “Just going for a swim because I’m getting a little hot in the sun,” you explained casually.

Ransom shook his head and chuckled under his breath. “Really, (Y/N)? This is what we’re gonna play?” He asked somewhat aggressively. You looked over and shrugged innocently. “What are we playing, Ransom? Can’t a girl get in the pool if she needs to be cooled off?” You lowered your sunglasses for a moment and winked. He glared with a mouth opened in shock; since when did you start acting like this? Where was Meg’s college friend who had a cute little crush on him?

You were milking the hell out of this. You enjoyed feeling somewhat in control over Ransom. His frustration amused you, and you were pretty sure he’d pop at any second.

You stepped into the cool water and shivered slightly. You slowly continued to submerge your body and looked back over at your target. He held his head with his fingers against his temple, his mouth slightly parted. You grinned smugly before placing your glasses to the side and going completely under the crystal clear water.

Jacob looked up briefly from his phone and laughed viciously. “Seriously, Ransom?” Ransom turned around and held a finger close to his face. “One more comment out of you and that goddamn phone finds a new home at the bottom of that pool,” he snarled. Jacob rolled his eyes before looking back down while Ransom whipped back around.

You hair was now wet and water drops speckled your chest and arms. Ransom groaned and threw his magazine on the ground before standing up. You glanced over and did your best to hold back laughter from the scene Ransom was causing. He began to quickly walk towards you and you full on laughed.

“Ransom don’t get your britches in a bunch,” Meg commented from her chair. She’d given up; you were a lost cause. You were under the spell of her disgusting older cousin and all she could do was sit back and watch the curse take its course.

You waited for Ransom at the edge of the underground pool and put your arms on the warm concrete. He kneeled in front of you and you raised an eyebrow. The sun reflected off the water and Ransom tried his best to keep his eyes on you through his dark sunglasses. “You think this is funny?” He bit. You shrugged. “Little bit. I’m only having fun if you are though,” you replied smoothly. “Trying to make me look like a perv? You knew exactly what you were doing when you put that goddamn bikini on. A little small (Y/N), don’t you think?” He whispered harshly. You stared at his angry expression before glancing around at the oblivious grownups in the yard.

“Glad your family isn’t paying attention, huh?” You remarked. He growled lowly and you smiled. “Come on Ransom,” you urged plainly. “You know you want to.” Ransom raised an eyebrow. “Do what?” He hissed. You puckered your lips for a brief second and winked teasingly. He laughed bitterly.

“Jesus Christ,” he growled before putting his index finger under your chin and pulling you into a rough kiss. You shifted your weight onto your arms and pushed yourself up higher and further into the kiss.

Your stomach twisted and turned and you felt like screaming in victory.

He pulled away and glared in defeat as you smirked. “Now that wasn’t that hard, was it?” You cooed. He sighed. “You’re a real bitch, you know?” He asked. You hummed amusingly. “Yeah Meg would know a lot about that.”

haaaaaa i hope you enjoyed! i loved writing this and i hope you enjoyed! (and of course thanks to my girl @lookalivefrosty for getting me through a rough spot where i didn’t know wtf to do😂)

[xxrainstormxx]

Save it for the Doctor. Spencer Reid x Reader.

(A/N: this is based off a writing prompt. "You're... beautiful." "And you're concussed") Word count; 2,475 Part 2 (edit: my pleas for requests for stories are not reaching people so I will beg here. If you want a oneshot I’ll write it. Prompt or no prompt.)

I had heard a lot about the recent murders. I even had seen a few almost survivors on my mom's operation table, yet somehow I was wrapped up in the middle of it. Smack in the middle. No normal citizen even knew the FBI was investigating the murders and yet I was being interrogated. The man who sat in front of me was just mean, he wore a serious look and his eyes never moved from the narrow eyed glare he gave anyone who walked by and especially gave me. I was happy to cooperate, but the minute I was under fire I was fed up and wanted a lawyer. I was no killer, I had no upper body strength to move a dead body and believe me, I would know how much a dead body weighs thanks to my mom training me. I was a tired college student trying to get my damn degree so I could move on with my fucking life. And I was not in the mood to be interrogated when I could be working on my thesis. The mean man, Agent Hotchner I believe was just staring. I guess waiting for me to break or some shit like that? I don't know. I wasn't talking first. I didn't care anymore and this resulted in a match of silently staring waiting for the other one to speak. This went on for what felt like an hour but was probably closer to at least three minutes, I just sighed, "I cave." I sighed muttering curses as I shifted in my seat. "Go on, ask your questions I have a thesis to write and I would like to go home to continue it," I reluctantly urged on. He leaned forward in triumph I think as he demanded answers from me. "Where were you the night of Synthia Robbin's disappearance (Y/N)?" he began dwelling on the poor girls name. It made me frown, she was a 13 year old girl, a child, and she was gone. Kidnapped and found dead. It made me sick to think of what could happen to her. "So that's what this is about?" I hissed disgusted with the accusation "I was at the library with Emmalin." the mention of my sister's name made him further darken. "Your sister, correct?" he inquired. I rolled my eyes, "Yuduh" I sounded sitting back. "All your time is accounted for?" he continued leaving me puzzled for a moment. "There were maybe ten minutes in between where she left to find a book." I murmured unsure if the truth was the right thing to say as he stood and pulled out a file and threw it on the table making me flinch. "What about the night of Chris Bennidict?" he asked "A s-sports game" I stuttered "A baseball game I think. Rockies vs Rangers." I said shaking a little as he threw down that files some of the pictures falling out of the boy, shot twice. "Eunice Quiet, Quiara Basson, Basen Unice, Lynch Gryse, and Philip Jence!" he got  louder with every file he threw at me. "You were near by every single scene and you fit most of our profile" he concluded the pictures that fell out made me physically sick. Children, those poor babies. I sobbed and turned away gagging, he wasn't convinced it was real but I knew it was and up came the vomit that was caught in my throat.

I had no doubt I fit their profile but I worked part time at a daycare. Children were my life line, and it mad me sick to see them hurt. He answered a call and left the room leaving me there to cry over the pictures. A brunette woman walked in and sighed taking me out of the handcuffs attaching me to the bolted down table. "Come on sweetheart. We'll get someone to clean up that." she sighed very tired, I wanted to know why. They brought me out to the main area of the station and sat me down. They slowly cuffed me to the desk and I cried softly. I looked across the station to see Emmalin "Emmy!" I called but was ignored causing me to frown. So I shut up and listen to whatever raving was in my defense, "My baby sib? A murderer?" she asked "well... it isn't that hard to believe," she said making my jaw drop. "They've always been a little too obsessed with the idea of death." A lie, I had an emo phase and so did she, "Introverted" well partially true. "and well she creeps out her friends," she finished causing me to stand suddenly, "Liar!" I shouted "You fucking liar!" I cried ignoring the pain and stress on my wrist the hand cuff was causing. I was now a 45 degree angle due to the cuffs keeping me in place. She seemed genuinely shocked i was there. "Why are you trying to pin this on me. Your own sister!b You were with me everywhere we went and those bodies were found. Why aren't you being questioned too? Did you lie? Did you say I was the only one there?" I screamed as I was sat down. She hissed at me and most of the agents took notice. Agent Prentiss, the nice brunette sighed and walked to my now horrible sister and asked her to follow her into a different interrogation room. It felt like hours that I was sat there, and a curly haired man was sat in front of me just reading, or what I thought was faking, really bad faking. "Why are you even sitting here if you're just going to pretend to read?" I asked the "doctor". My mother was a doctor and I didn't believe this boy was any kind of doctor. I had gotten to know his name as Doctor Reid and I wasn't allowed to call him an agent so I had no other choice. He just looked at me thrown for a moment before shaking his head "I'm not pretending" He stated as he shifted "No one can read that fuckin fast ya damn liar" I muttered not necessarily hostile just a little vexed. "I can. Did you know that our unconscious minds can process sixteen bits of information per second? Our conscious minds, however, can process sixteen million?" I sat back unimpressed "You are... absolutely insane" I laughed "Insane, perhaps but I'm not being accused of murder." he stated, and my smile that i worked so hard to get disappeared "You think I did it too." I muttered, it was meant to come as a question but instead it came as a statement. He shook his head "Not fully, while you do supposedly fit the profile our profile, our unsub wouldn't inject themselves into the investigation. The one part that doesn't fit" he said sitting back and crossing his legs turning to the board filled with evidence, and all those pictures that made me sick sat right next to the happy photos of the children in their school uniforms smiling big. I tried to focus on those "Well maybe your profile is wrong, cause this is sick." I hissed "(Y/N), you're here most likely because you were in the wrong places at the wrong times. Kids being picked up and murdered minutes apart from each other, while you were out with your sister at those locations? It's not very probable."

I just sighed knowing he was probably right "There aren't many coincidences when it comes to murder" he stated "Out of uh... curiosity what is an unsub? No normal person knows that is." I muttered as I tried to avoid the board, the thought of being in those places, not helping those kids, not even having a clue what was happening made me sick. "Unknown Subject" Dr. Reid said mumbling "Why aren't you uh... looking at the board. I thought you'd be proud of your work." He said as if to egg me on. I rolled my eyes "Those pictures make me sick." I muttered "I work at a daycare, it's my job to protect kids not watch them get hurt. I don't wanna see dead fucking children!" I shouted realizing I probably sounded fucking crazy and definitely like a kill. I hung my head in shame. "I know... I know it isn't fair to blame myself for what happened to those kids, but being in the places of the crime, the same night it happened, it makes me feel like I could have and should have done something. Something other than just sit there and wonder." I whispered "Yeah I feel guilty now but, not of what you think" I whispered looking to the board once more focusing on the pictures of the children when they were alive. "Sweet innocent babies... Never done anything to anyone. Probably were crying for their mom." I whimpered at the thought "They didn't deserve any of what happened" I looked away once more thinking about the mothers. "Moms.... Their moms" he stood up as if he had a damn epiphany nearly knocking me backwards in the chair. "Morgan, it's not an attack on the children it's an attack on their mothers." He said starting to put of pictures of older women. "think about it. They all went to the same cafe every day. It wasn't the day care, so it can't be (Y/N). They wouldn't see much of the parents" he enthused writing things down that I could not decipher because his hand writing was absolute shit. "But wouldn't that just give them more reason? They think these women are bad mom's for working instead of taking care of the child, and wants to teach them a lesson?" making him shake his head "That's stupid, if they wanted to make them suffer they'd just kill the women themselves, it'd be much more efficient and wouldn't lead to them doing the one thing they would dread doing!" he said circling one name on the board. Emmalin. "That's also sexist. Women work, children can't go with. Why would I have a fucking problem with that" I shouted across the room. "Who fits the profile while also holding these sexist values." Reid stated more than asked pointing to Emma's name again. "Oh dear god." he sighed "But my sister isn't a murderer!" I cried. "She's connected to the murders... and she's made it clear she doesn't think women should work." Morgan stated and went to the interrogation room. "You are a life saver (Y/N)" Reid said kissing my cheek out of pure joy, and I slapped him as a natural instinct and turned red "Shit! I'm sorry! I'm not used to boys doing that if they aren't being creepy! But at the same time that was really fucking creepy" I yelped as he held his face and laughed "No it's fine. Got too excited to fix what felt like a huge mistake." he said, and when I say I turned red I mean red. This was the first time I'd seen him as a human. Not a super genius, not as an agent, not an asshole. Just a normal guy with pretty eyes, a good jaw line, soft hair, and the sweetest smile I had ever seen. The blush was apparently very clear on my (skin color) skin because he hummed and smiled "Did you know blushing is speculated to be caused by a sudden rush of adrenaline making our blood pump faster." I giggled a little "Is that why you're so flushed?" I asked as he blinked not understanding just how damn pink he was after that rant. "Guess so." he shrugged. the door opened and out came Emmalin and she grabbed a ceramic vase off a desk and slammed it down onto Reid's head and ran away quickly. He fell to the floor because it was a heavy fucking vase, and I freaked out as he hit his head on the desk on the way down.

"Shit!" I yelled as half of them chased my very obviously guilty sister and I sat in shock as two of his friends rushed over to help him. Morgan uncuffed me and I blinked "Spencer?" Agent Jareau asked worried and I sat down next to him sitting him up and grabbing a water bottle slashing it on his face "Do not fall asleep." I said firmly "You could very well have a concussion." I said as an ambulance arrived quickly, he was cearly not feeling good because of the way that he was acting. I was worried about how sick he looked. He threw up half way to the hospital so I was told. I went with because I didn't feel safe with my sister on the run and an Agent in the hospital. Well I guess he wasn't an agent he was a doctor. The doctor, not Spencer, came out and i stood with the other two very worried. "He'll be fine. He has a mild concussion." as i thought "but he's awake, and on some pain medication. I take it you all know the situation and his limitations in the field?" he asked and Morgon and Jareau nodded "You can go back to see him now" he said and stepped aside "come on" Jareau said quietly to me "oh. Agent, I don't think he'd want to see me." I said quietly. "I'm sure he would like to know you came. You won't make a very good profiler if you can't even tell that Reid enjoys your company. And call me JJ, it makes it easier," she said giggling and pulled me right back with her and Morgan. "Hey man" Morgan started "What happened?" he muttered groaning in pain. "You got hit with a vase, took a pretty sweet fall, and got a concussion" JJ hummed arms crossed as she leaned on the wall. "Shit." he muttered making me giggle. "Oh hey!" he said when he saw me. "I want water, and jello" he muttered making small lip smacking sounds. "Morgan and I will get it" JJ laughed leaving me in a very awkward situation. "So umm.." I began before being cut off. "You know.. You're beautiful" he said staring at me causing me to snort "And you're concussed." I laughed shaking my head "Well, a concussion based on the severity doesn't necessarily affect your judgement of a person especially if it's a first time thing. I thought you were beautiful long before I was concussed but you were a suspect. Suspects being beautiful, hard to comprehend sometimes." I laughed "You're a dumbass" I snorted "But I-" he blinked and i walked over pecking his lips. "How about a date sometime? I'll give you my number" I said quietly. "Yeah... okay..." he whispered. "A date."

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 5

Word Count: 2,287

POV: Sidney’s

Warnings: Language, Small spaces (if you have a fear of that)

Notes: Here we go part 5. I really like where this story is going, and I hope you guys do too. As always feedback in appreciated.

Not So Dangerous Masterlist

It was funny how lack of sleep could make a person more irritable with each passing moment. The plane ride to DC was miserable, the weather was so bad, that it was like riding on a roller coaster, so sleep was something that didn't happen. You'd even abandoned playing video games for when you hit a patch of turbulence; you'd end up hitting the wrong button. By the time you finally made it to the hotel and got your key from (Y/N), you were ready to rip someone's head off.

 "Sid," Phil yelled as you headed for the elevator.

 "What!" you snapped back at him.

 "Jesus, you don't have to take my head off." You took a deep breath, softening your mood before he continued. "I just wanted to see if you told (Y/N) that dinner was at seven?"

 "Shit," you'd completely forgot about dinner. All you wanted to do was head to your room and order dinner in, hopefully eliminating any run-ins with (Y/N). Obviously, that wasn't going to happen now.

 "I'll take that as a no."

 "Yeah, I sort of forgot about it." The doors to the elevator opened then and Phil got inside.

 "Well she's right there, I'll see you in the lobby at seven." The doors slid closed and so did any opportunity of not seeing the girl who seemed to be torturing your dreams.

 You turned around, and standing not twenty feet in front of you was (Y/N), with Beau beside her. It was as if your worst nightmares were coming true. "Miss the elevator, Sid?" Beau chuckled.

 "Something like that." God, if he wasn't injured, you consider wiping the smirk off his face. "I needed to talk to (Y/N)."

 "Oh, well in that case; I'll talk to you both later." He made a move towards the elevators but stopped short. "Thanks again for everything you did last night (Y/NickN)."

 "Part of the job there, Sunshine." Ugh, god now the two were calling each other by their nicknames. Beau ducked into an open elevator, and (Y/N) turn her attention towards you. "So, what do you need Sid? More pillows or do you need something for the game. I'd be more than happy to run and go get whatever you need."

 Why did she have to be so helpful? It made her so much harder to stay away from her when she was being so nice. "No, no. I don't need anything. I just wanted to remind you that dinners at seven tonight. We're all meeting in the lobby at six forty-five to walk down to the restaurant."

 "Yeah, Phil told me earlier." What the hell, why had he….You were gonna wring his neck. "But thanks for reminding me. I'll see you down here shortly." She stepped into a free elevator then. "Are you coming?" There was no reason you had to stay by the elevator bank, so you joined her in the small confines. "So, was your room ok in Ottawa, I wasn't sure if you…" The elevator stopped suddenly, jarring you both as everything went black for a moment until the emergency lighting came on. You reached out and steadied (Y/N) purely on instinct. "What the hell."

 "I think the elevator's stuck." You stated, arm still around her waist.

 "Well can you make it unstuck?" You looked over at (Y/N) and she looked white as a sheet. Her skin was pale and you noticed her breathing was shallow. Reaching out, you hit a couple buttons and nothing happened.

 "Yeah, I don't think we're going anywhere, at least for a minute or two."

 "Well, we should press the emergency call or something." She sounded on edge. It occurred to you then, that she was having a panic attack.

 "(Y/N), look at me. It's ok." Her eyes darted around the small space, and you could tell she was having a hard time breathing. "(Y/N) it's ok." You repeated to her hoping to reassure her. You grabbed her by the waist more forceful then and forced her to look at you. "Take a deep breath with me. In….ok and out….In….and out."

 She finally calmed a bit. "Thanks, I'm sorry; I just really hate small spaces." Your hands didn't move from her waist, for she felt good in your arms. "I blame my brothers they locked me in my mom's hope chest when I was little as a joke. It was on them when my mom found me sobbing and they got grounded for two weeks." She smiled then and you could feel her relax even more.

 "I'm surprised you handle the plane so well."

 "I don't. Beau's been really nice telling me jokes at least until I'm comfortable in the air." So that's why the two were always laughing. "Some of them are so horrible, but it's so nice of him to take my mind off of it." God, you'd been such an ass, thinking that Beau was making a move on her; well he still could be, but this sort of put a whole new spin on things.

 An operator came over the loudspeaker then, from when you'd hit the emergency call button. "This is hotel maintenance, we're aware of the problem and are working on it. It's our understanding that a transformer blew in the area and they are giving us a time frame of about an hour before the power is back on, and then we'll have your out of there right away. Are you ok in there at the moment?"

 You looked at (Y/N) who nodded her head, that she was ok. "Yes, we're fine." You answered for the both of you.

 "Ok then hang tight. If anything changes just hit the emergency button again."

 "Are you sure you're ok?" While she'd already said yes, you just wanted to double-check.

 "Yeah, I'm a little better now. Thanks." She moved out of your arms then, and you felt the loss more than just physically. "Guess we're going to be here a while." She plopped down on the floor and patted the spot next to her. "Might as well get comfortable." Thankfully, you'd both traveled in comfortable Pens clothing, instead of business suits, so it was easier to sit down on the floor beside her. "I'm now wishing I would've gone back for seconds at breakfast."

 "Well, you're in luck." You grabbed your suitcase and opened the front pocket. "I'm not sure if you've heard this or not, but there's this new member working on our team. She does the best care packages in our rooms, and I so happen to have a little something left from mine." You pulled out a candy bar you had left and were saving for later tonight. She smiled, a bright beaming one that was directed solely at you and no one else. "Care for half?"

 "Oh, you're a godsend." You broke the bar in half and handed part over to her.

 "So, I have to ask. How did you know my favorite candy bar, being that I never handed in the form and all? Though I promise I will get it to you as soon as we get back home."

 She swallowed then covered her mouth, in this cute little gesture. "Well I have to confess, I called your mom and asked." A cute pink blush stained her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to introduce myself and well she was so incredibly sweet. We just got to talking and well one thing led to another and she gave me some insight. I hope you're not mad."

 "Mad? No how could I be." You actually hadn't spoken to your mom in a couple days, but you were sure she was going to rave about (Y/N) the minute she picked up the phone. "She probably talked your ear off."

 "We had a really nice conversation. I can't wait to meet her."

 "Well, that will be probably soon. I'm sure they'll be in town for playoffs." Was it wrong to hope that the two would get along in person as well? You sure hoped not.

 "This is sort of changing the subject, but I want to well…I guess clear the air about last night." Why was she bringing him up, when you were fantasizing about her meeting your mother and not just as someone who worked for the team.

 Still, you found yourself saying, "You don't have to explain anything."

 "Well I know it looked bad, but Chris asked if I would help Beau into his room after all the pain meds that they gave him. I had planned on leaving right away, but then he started whining." She laughed obviously thinking back. "At any rate, I fell asleep in the chair. I didn't want to wake him up, so I just crept out the door and well I ran into you." She stopped you before you could say anything. "I should've said something last night. I don't know why I didn't, but I didn't want you to think that I didn't take this job seriously, or that something was going on with Beau and I when there isn't or wasn't. Ok, now I feel stupid."

 "(Y/N), I didn't think anything was going on." Even though you totally did, but it was nice to hear it from her own mouth. "I've heard Beau whine before." You chuckled then. "It's not pretty."

 "I know right. I was afraid he'd wake the whole floor up." God, the sound of her laugh did unholy things to you.

 Once her laughter died down, you decided to get something off your chest as well. "As long as we're confessing things, there's something I have to tell you." She cocked her head at you in question. "The first day in Ottawa, at the meeting, when you asked me if my room was ok." You rubbed the back of your neck as you were a bit embarrassed about this next part. "I hadn't actually noticed anything that you'd done." She didn't really react. "It wasn't anything about you. I just hadn't slept the night before, and the minute I got in the room; I crashed. After we talked, I went to the room and saw everything. It was really nice, what you did for all of us…well for me specifically."

 "I'm glad you liked it. I'll admit, I thought I totally fucked up, especially with the book."

 "God no. I love it; I'm halfway through it already." It really was a great read. She looked visibly relieved when you said that.

 "I hope you like the one left you here. Well, if we ever get out here."

 "Wait, did you do another one of those for this place?" That damn blush again, crept up to her cheeks, and you wondered if you kissed her, would she turn that shade as well.

 "That's kind of what I'm supposed to do right? Make your jobs a bit easier. Which is why I don't feel bad that I made you share that candy bar." You laughed from deep down, something that didn't happen too often. (Y/N) was like this rare gem, that you only came across once in a lifetime and you were realizing more and more you didn't want to let this particular rock go.

 "Well, I promise to share the other one, once this elevator starts moving again." You actually wanted to share more than that with her, which was a bit scary.

 "As long as we don't have to split it while trapped in this elevator it's a deal."

 "It hasn't been that bad, has it?" You asked her because honestly, you weren't sure if you ever wanted it to be unstuck.

 "Honestly, it's been kind of fun." She smiled at you again, it wasn't that bright one from before. It was more secretive and you could be wrong, but a bit seductive. You found yourself leaning in towards her, as your hand glided over to her leg. Her lids started to drift closed as your mouth came closer to hers. It was if the whole world felt right in this one moment, and then the elevator got power and started back up again. The two of you flying apart and scrambling up from the floor. Neither of you said a word, though you could swear there was a look of disappointment in her face; that you were sure yours reflected as well.

 It took about a minute before the doors opened, and there stood hotel maintenance to check on you both. "Are you guys ok?"

 "Yeah, perfectly fine." (Y/N) answered as she stepped out; you following behind her.

 "We're so sorry this happened. Is there anything we can do for either of you?"

 "I think we're good, eh?" And (Y/N) nodded her agreement.

 "Again, we apologize for the inconvenience."

 "No problem." You told them, as they headed down the stairs back to their job. You stood there for a minute while they left, wondering what to say next to (Y/N), but she beat you to it.

 "Thanks for keeping me calm in there. I should let you go rest and stuff…I'll see you in a little bit?"

 This wasn't exactly how you saw this ending, but you could definitely use some time to regroup. "Yeah, I'll see you in the lobby in a couple hours." She headed down the hall in the opposite direction of where your room was; you watched her go, thinking that maybe waiting until playoffs were over to win (Y/N) was no longer an option. Flower was right, there was too much of a chance for someone else to capture her attention. The only thing left to do was figure out how to make a move tonight.

[xandertheundead]

reddie kinky smut with dirty talk ??

Here you go my friend!

Bev sat back on Richie and Eddie’s nice leather couch as she cracked open one of their beers grinning at the way Ben looked nervous as Stan started snooping through their cabinets. “Ben, Baby. Calm down, Richie would have done the same if we asked him to watch our place.”

Eddie and Richie were celebrating their second wedding anniversary with a trip to Greece and they had asked Ben to cat and house sit for them while they were gone for a week and a half. Of course Eddie had asked Ben, Bev knew Eddie loved them all but he was also smart and knew who was the most responsible out of them all aside from Mike. Mike, unfortunately, had been busy with a farm thing so the next best choice had been Ben.

Luckily, Stan didn’t have a farm thing like his boyfriend and Bill needed a break from writing his newest manuscript while Audra was out of town.

“But they are trusting me, Bev.”

She heard Bill chuckle a little as he started looking through Eddie and Richie’s selection of DVD’s the redhead judging all of Richie’s bad taste in movies and Bev shook her head a little at her boyfriend. “We aren’t going to throw a rave in here, Ben. Come on, have more trust in us.”

“I trust you guys- I just-”

“Richie has prescription deodorant!” Stan announced as he came back into the living room, thanking Bev as she handed him a cold one. He cracked it open with a look of satisfaction and took a large gulp. “Now I need to find something on Eddie.”

“Why do you guys hate me?” Ben whined, but stopped his protests as he moved to sit net to Bev and she immediately moved to snuggle in close to him. “I give up you guys. If Eddie kills me he kills me.”

“I’d never let that midget touch you, bab-” Bev was cut off by a loud shriek from Bill and everyone whipped their head around when they heard the words that came out of his mouth.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! THEY MADE A SEX TAPE!”

After a moment they were all gathered around the coffee table as they stared down at the blank DVD case that simply read ‘Eating Ma Spaghetti ;)’ in Richie’s barely legible scrawl. Everyone in that room knew what that meant, they all knew one of the nicknames Richie called Eddie and they all silently wondered if Richie was weird enough to film himself actually eating spaghetti just to mess with them. Bev bit her bottom lip as Stan started tapping his fingernail against the table rapidly, Ben looked ready to pass out while Bill poked it with his finger.

“How much do we think this is a joke?” Bill asked quietly.

“With Richie, there’s no telling.” Stan replied seriously.

Bev took a deep breath and then decided with a nod to herself. “We have to watch it.”

“Bev!”

“Holy shit! Should we?”

“I agree.”

“Stan!”

“We have to!” Bev took the DVD and moved toward the TV, ignoring how the boys started arguing with Ben about how it was a must. They had to know if it was real or not and if it were real they had to see how bad they were in bed because…honestly? Richie was fucking six feet and three inches while Eddie stopped growing in highschool and the wonderful height of five feet and nine inches.

God, who topped?

Was it Richie? Or would they get to see what it looked like to watch a racoon mount a giraffe. 

She slid it into the PS4 and immediately made a grab for the controller before Stan could, running and landing with a loud thump sound on the couch as the DVD loaded. Ben sat next to her, wringing his hands, while Stan sat on her other side and Bill took the floor, all ready for what would either be a hilarious awful home sex tape or a giant ass joke. Bev clicked play when the option came up, and then started to fast forward when it seemed like it was just Richie messing with the camera, hearing Bill groan about this actually being a fake.

“Wait!” Ben cried. “I see Eddie!”

Bev tried to stop it as quick as she could, pressing the X button to play the video, and sure enough there was Eddie. There was Eddie, completely buck ass nake, climbing onto the bed on all fours to hover over an equally naked Richie, who reached up to wrap his arms around Eddie’s neck.

“Bev, you went too far.” Stan complained, completely unfazed by his friend’s nude ass on the screen. “The intro to porn is some of the best-worst parts.”

Bev was about to sarcastically apologize with a roll of her eyes when she heard Eddie start to talk. It was soft, so they all had to be quiet to hear, but it was a voice that Bev had never heard from the smaller man before. It was low, husky and actually really fucking hot.

They all watched as Eddie reached up to take one of the hands that were wrapped around his shoulders and guided it back towards his ass, making Richie use his own fingers to push into Eddie completely. The pleasure drunk smile on Eddie’s face was unlike anything they had ever seen on their friend and it made Bev’s cheeks burn when Richie started to move his hand and Eddie leaned down so his mouth was close to Richie’s ear.

“You feel how wet and open I am for you?” Bev about lost it and Bill let out a weird sound when Eddie started to move his hips, fucking himself back on Richie’s hand. “Are you going to be good tonight? Make sure you follow the rules?”

Richie let out a low groan and Bev could tell every guy in the room hated that, while Richie wasn’t giant, he wasn’t very small either and her eyes widened when Eddie pulled Richie’s fingers out of him before pinning his arms up above his head. Eddie leaned down to capture Richie’s lips in a kiss that was far too hot for the absolute losers they were, before pulling away to give a nip to Richie’s neck. 

“You know how this works.” Eddie called gently, moving to straddle Richie’s hips and grind his ass down against Richie’s cock, making the taller man groan. “Don’t touch me until I’ve finished. Don’t cum until I’m done using you to fuck myself into obvlion.”

“F-Fuck, Eds. I love it when you’re like this.” Richie gasped as Eddie ground down on him again. “God, fucking use me, baby. Use me all you want, I won’t touch you until you’re screaming my name. Let me fucking fill you to brim.”

Richie gave a small thrust and Eddie made a sound that made Stan let out a quiet fuck and Bev felt like the room was suddenly far too hot. They weren’t expecting this. They weren’t expecting Eddie to be a god damn Dom in bed and they certainly weren’t expecting Richie’s filthy motor mouth to actually be sexy. They all continued to watch wide eyed as Eddie reached back, lined himself up with Richie’s cock and then rocked his hips down like he’d been riding that cock all his life.

“Oh- Fuck.” Eddie gasped, before grinning and grinding his ass down against Richie’s hips a little roughly, something that had Richie squirming and panting. “I love riding your cock. Almost as much as I like bending you over the bed and fucking your brains out.”

“Jesus, Eddie.” Richie’s hands twitched, an aborted movement to grab onto those hips that kept moving on him. “Look at you. Your chest is just unfair. I wanna pinch those fucking nipples until they’re swollen and red. I wanna flip you over on your stomach and eat you out until your a fucking sobbing mess and are just dripping wet.”

“F-fuck, Rich!”

“Yeah, baby. Come on. Come on! Ride me! Ah! Fuck! Ah!”All of them jumped about three feet in the air where they heard a loud crash from the kitchen, Bev immediately pausing the video as Ben awkwardly ran to check on it. Stan, Bill and Bev all waited in embarrassed silence, cheeks red hot, for Ben to come back and when he did he had Cheeze Nip in his arms, Eddie and Richie’s large black cat.

“Ch-cheeze Nip knocked over a glass.”

Stan nodded. “Ah. Okay.”

Bill and Bev could only nod.

None of them ever spoke of the DVD ever again.

Send me some prompts!

taglist: @tinyarmedtrex @oldguybones @constantreaderfool @queen-sock @stylesmelon @appojoos @realstephenking @trashmouthnick @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @s-s-georgie @reddieforlove @moonlightrichie @eduardoandale @girasol-eddie @thorn-harvester-ven @pink-psychic @nancynwheeler @recycle-byn @marsisaplanetyall @lifesucksheres20bucks @edstozler @uppperteeeth

[thotsforvillainrights]

~Pivitol~

Summary: Today is a very special day unlike the others because today Kai has taken some initiative to introduce you to his father figure, Pops! Along the way, you end up learning even more about Kai’s past as well. 

Chapter: 9

Warnings: None

“Somebody is looking more eager these days, eh?” Yuko teased you and brought you back to reality before you drifted too far away from it. “Huh, wha?! Haha, nah! I’m just waiting on the time to finally pass so I can clock out. Got some important stuff to do.” Yuko smirked as you fumbled with some paper on your desk. “More like some ONE important to do.” She playfully elbowed your side and you cringed. “Ugh, what do you want huh? You want me to admit you’re right or...?” Yuko laughed at your semi-annoyed expression as she continued to type away at her keyboard. “Y/N it’s okay. I know you’ve been meeting up with the guy like every week. Lately we can all tell how happy you are to clock out. Even the boss thinks it’s cute. He calls it ‘young love syndrome’!” You rolled your eyes and smiled softly to yourself. It’s true after all; lately you’ve been so eager to see Kai that you get happy every time the clock indicated the end of your shift. Wednesdays were no different either! This was especially true with the show you two have been following looping around to it’s season finale. Your mind began to drift off again as you wondered what you two could possibly do once the show ended for the season. Would Kai still have fun with you when there were no strings attached? You shook your head at the fleeting worry and smiled when the clock hit 5 p.m. “Yes! Catch you later!” You rushed past Yuko, clocked out, and headed to the nearest train station to try and beat Kai to your apartment. Meanwhile the young head of the Hassaikai was preparing to make today rather special on his account. In other words, today was like a right of passage for you into his life. Date after date and he wasn’t fully confident on calling you his girlfriend/boyfriend/partner, but now would be the final test to this. Yes today was the day he would finally introduce you to his father figure...

“Pops!” Kai called out to the man as he trailed the halls of the house (aka the upper base of the Hassaikai). “Hmm?” Pops peeked his head innocently from around the corner, holding back a smile. Kai sighed and approached him, watching as the old man fully rounded the corner to face him with a now large smile. “Listen, please don’t make a single act of trouble upon me today okay? This is very important to me and I don’t need you embarrassing me alright?” Pops rolled his eyes and continued to walk past Chisaki as he headed to the kitchen. “Oh please my boy, I’m not a child so you don’t need to speak to me like one. Besides, I’m eager to meet dear y/n, so you needn’t worry about me scaring her/him/them away okay?” Pops reassured Kai while he began to brew some fresh tea and bake something delicious to have when you arrive. Kai sighed in relief before heading out to his car and leaving to pick you up. When he finally arrived at your apartment, you had just finished putting comfy clothes on when you heard a familiar 3 knocks at your door indicating his presence. A flooding warmth and happiness burst in your chest as you took long strides to quickly get to the door and open it. He was smiling under that black medical mask. You could tell by now after being with him for a while. His eyes always seemed to sparkle when he smiled. “Good evening y/n, I trust work went well?” He asked you...he wanted to hug you so badly and you felt the same, but kept your distance to respect his germaphobia. “Oh yeah! It was boring but I’m glad to see you. Anyway, come in and I’ll get the episode started.” You were about turn around when suddenly Kai cleared his throat and chuckled a bit. “No Angel, I actually have somewhere to take you this evening if that’s alright. We can always catch the replay of the missed episode later on if you want. Come with me?” 

“Angel?”

...shit... “Oh, did I say that? I apologize, I just...I was t-th-thinking...I...”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “It’s okay Kai. You let me call you by your real name rather than your nickname so I think it’s only fair you call me by what you want to. Anyway, where are you taking me?” You asked sweetly, trying to ignore the butterflies welling up in your tummy. He cleared his throat and adjusted his mask to hide the light blush creeping up. “I have someone I want you to meet.” You nodded, grabbed your phone, and headed to his car. “Oohhh this is nice!” You raved once inside of the luxury vehicle. “Thank you. Take a little time to look around if you wish. It also has Bluetooth capabilities so you can use the radio.” He offered as he started to drive. You had no patience to fiddle with the screen so you opted out for the Aux cord method. You opened the glove-box in search of a cord and out fell a tiny foil package. You gasped when you flipped it over and read the words ‘Condom’ out-loud. Kai almost slammed on the breaks. “Kai? Is this what you had planned for me all along? I had no idea you were such a naughty man.” You teased him and watched in amusement as his face lit up cherry red. “No, I swear it! It’s just...Damn that old man! That must be why he was smiling before I left earlier. Damn it, he snuck another one into my car again, UGH POPS!!!” 

“Wait, Pops? Like the man you told me about 2 weeks ago when we were watching TV? You’re dad kinda? Kai is that who you wanted me to meet today? Oh no! I’m not ready! I wore these comfy clothes because I thought you were gonna finally introduce me to your friends that were with you the first day we met. I had no idea you were bringing me to meet your dad! Oh God, I’m a mess too!” You started to panic when suddenly Kai reached over and laid a gentle hand on your leg...he was touching you...”Y/N, it’s okay. I promise you need not worry about Pops opinion of you because he already loves you. I’m the one that should be worried. That old man is on a constant mission to kill me from embarrassment, so please don’t encourage him. Also, get rid of that wretched thing.” You laughed at his words and placed the condom in the mini trash bag that hung on the back of your seat. In no time at all you had arrived upon the base. All of your worries dashed away when you saw how happy the elder was to meet you. He pulled you tightly into a hug and spoke loudly in excitement. “There you are! The only person that could seem to steer my boy in the right direction! Welcome my dear, make yourself at home! I’ll return shortly with some snacks and drinks.” And then Pops shuffled quickly and happily into the kitchen, leaving you and Kai standing in the living room alone. You began to check out the photos scattered about the walls and Kai sighed. “and so it begins...” He spoke under his breath as you started to giggle at a photo of him as a child standing next to Pops. “Oh my God Kai, you look so grumpy compared to him. What was wrong? Did you miss nap time, cutie?” You teased him and he groaned. Suddenly you heard Pops voice from behind you. “Ah I see you’ve found one of his childhood pictures. I have so many more if you wish to see them!” You immediately turned around and smiled widely at the elder. 

“Yes...YES PLEASE.” Pops nodded and gently placed the tray down, leaving the cookies and tea between you and a blushing Kai. Then he rushed off to his room so he could dig out some of Kai’s ‘baby’ photos. “Damn it. This is what I was talking about.” Kai grumbled as he took a seat next to you on the couch and mentally prepared himself for the embarrassment to come. Pops returned with a dusty album and took a seat on the other side of you, leaving you in the middle of the couch. You and Pops proceeded to look at baby/child/teen Kai for at least an hour or so. “This one right here is one of the earliest pictures of Chisaki I have. It was donated to me by the orphanage that I adopted him from.” You nodded in awe at the chubby cheeked baby with the large golden eyes on the page. “Pops, had you always wanted a child? Is that why you adopted Kai?” Pops smiled and ruffled your hair (if not applicable towards reader, than he just rubbed your head instead). “No my dear. I had a daughter in my younger days before my wife and I divorced. Shortly after, my ex wife passed away from illness. My daughter cut ties with me, but I always wonder where she might be nowadays. I actually did not mean to adopt Chisaki on purpose. I came across the boy on a hot summer day when he was walking alongside the road, probably on his way back from a store or something. He was a little dirty, and seemed to be so troubled. I still remember the feeble voice he used when I asked him his name. He had no where to go, so I took the boy into my arms and under my wing. Of course I hadn’t known he’s cause so much trouble in his teen years.” Pops playfully glared at Kai, making the young head sigh in annoyance. “Was he a trouble maker?” You pressed on, smiling at the way Kai groaned on the other end of the couch.

“Was he a trouble maker? HA! More than I would’ve ever expected. The boy was constantly in fist fights back to back. Not to mention the way he always seemed to think dealing drugs behind my back would bring our organization from the shadows.” You peeked at Kai and noticed his uncomfortable shift. “Y/N my dear, had you not come along who knows what the boy might’ve ended up doing. I know he’s told you about his work here by now, yes?” Pops asked you and you nodded. About a week ago Kai came clean about his affiliations during a date between you two. You still remember how scared he looked and how worried he was that you might leave him behind. “I like him so much, so none of this stuff bothers me. I’m glad to have played a hand at the change in his personality. I really mean that.” You turned to smile sweetly at him and his eyes widened for a bit before getting brave and reaching out to touch your cheek...the second time today he touched you...”Oh well I think I’ll leave you two kids alone for now.” Pops winked and left in a heartbeat. “I love him Kai. He is now my designated father as well.” You joked and Kai laughed lightly. “Anyway, gonna show me your room kind sir?” 

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

TIp Jar: https://cash.app/$YuTakeyama

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Social Media AU - Social Killing (Part 24)

We’ll be taking a little closer look at the show itself next time...and we’ll see just how Richie’s performance is recieved by the fans 👀

I know the writing for the interview is small, so I’ve put the transcript below just in case anyone needs it!

Also, yes, I am in fact a giant moron who wrote that Social Killing was a weekend-show, and have only now realized that in the interview, it says “Wednesday night” because I wrote it like a month back and forgot I put that. Please pretend that the publication in charge of the interview got the wrong day, and that it is in fact Sunday nights!

----------

Our correspondent, Vincent Lewis, sat down with the main cast of the upcoming Hulu drama “Social Killing” this afternoon to learn more about the show, as well as what drew the cast to the project and what it was like to work together.

Vince: Hello, it’s wonderful to meet you all.

Riley Andersen: Aww, it’s nice to meet you too!

Vince: I can imagine it’s been a long day of press and interviews for you all.

Richie Tozier: Too long.

Jay B: It’s been insane to be honest. It’s unlike anything any of us have ever seen, I think.

Evan Harrison: Yeah, but it’s been fun too, in a weird way.

Vince: I’ll get right to it then. First of all, congratulations to all of you on the show, it’s been receiving rave reviews all around, and it looks like it’s set to be a hit.

Jay: Thanks.

Vince: So, can you tell us a little bit about the characters you four play? No spoilers necessary, just the basic so we know who’s who!

(All four look at each other and laugh)

Richie: I mean…

Evan: Ladies first!

Riley: (laughing) Geez, you guys are mean! Okay, so I play Hailey and she’s a cheerleader at Blackwood High, where the series is set, and she’s...complicated. She isn’t the stereotypical mean cheerleader you usually see in television shows, but she’s definitely not above doing what it takes for her to stay on top.

Vince: Interesting! Gentlemen…?

Evan: Okay, so I play Blake, who’s this kind of preppy, snobbish guy who went to boarding school but has transferred to Blackwood for unknown reasons. He knows pretty much all the town’s secrets since he comes from a rich family and so he kind of has his links everywhere in town.

Jay: I play Sean, who’s this beloved teacher at the school - all the students love him since he’s not stuffy or uptight. He’s kinda the cool English teacher who’s probably smoked a spliff with all his students at some point. But he has a double life that no one knows about, and he wants it to stay that way because he’s seeking justice for something that’s happened to him in the past few years.

Richie:...Oh shit, me. I play a guy called Ted, and he’s brand new to town because he’s looking for a new start after something super tragic happened in his past. So he takes the drama teacher position that just opened up, and he starts to realize that something is kind of off about the town - which, you know, is kinda understatement of the fucking century!

Vince: So everyone’s got a secret then…

Riley: Basically none of us can be trusted, that’s what you should know.

Vince: Now obviously, Jay, you’ve been working pretty consistently in the business since you were young - you would do Canadian kids DIY shows and Québécois dubbing, is that correct?

Jay: Yeah. God, how fucking lame is that?

Vince: No, no, I used to love watching those Canadian kids shows! But since becoming an adult, you’ve done all sorts - comedy, obviously, drama, horror, animation...so what led you to “Social Killing”?

Jay: Well, I mean, my agent sent me a script and I was like ‘holy shit this could be good’; then I saw that Richie fucking Tozier was getting involved and I was like ‘okay, drop everything, I have GOT to do this damn show now’.

Vince: Did you two know each other before doing the show?

Richie: I mean, kinda. He came backstage at some of my shows a few times, and I was like ‘this guy is fucking awesome’. He’s Canadian, so that’s why.

Jay: I’m a very proud Canadian, yeah. Sorry, America, but Canada is the greatest country in the world.

Riley: America sucks right now, so don’t apologize.

Jay: But yeah, I’ve always wanted the chance to work with Richie on something since he’s one of my favourite comedians, so this was a huge opportunity for me.

Richie: And then he actually met me properly and regretted that shit.

(All of them crack up laughing)

Vince: As I understand it, Riley, you’re not entirely new to the world of show business either, because before joining the show you were a dancer.

Richie: Wait, what??

Riley: Yeah, I was. I was a professional dancer.

Jay: Jesus Christ.

Richie: A fucking PROFESSIONAL dancer?!

Riley: Oh come on, you guys knew I was a dancer!

Richie: Not professionally! I thought you just did it for a hobby, not as an actual job!

Riley: Anyway...I danced back-up for a few people, did some background dance work on movies and shows, but this is my first time acting.

Evan: And she’s incredible at it. It’s amazing.

Vince: As I understand it, Evan, you’re also brand new?

Evan: Well, this is my first big role. I did some theatre for a few years, played some gigs at bars to get by, but this is what I really want to be doing. I was so excited when I got cast that I nearly started crying - it’s a dream come true.

Riley: Aww.

Vince: Finally, Richie… You’re a fantastic stand-up comedian, I love your work, but this is your first time acting in anything. What made you want to transition from stand up to television, especially now?

Richie: Woah, yeah, I mean...yeah. (laughs) Honestly, I wanted to do something new. A lot of stuff has changed in the last few years, mostly the content of my stand-up, and I want to distance myself from that old shit as much as possible. And, you know, I’m married now, we’re expecting our first kid soon, so it’s all super serious and shit.

Vince: Congratulations!

Richie: Yeah, thanks! So with the show, I wanted to just...show that I could do it, I guess. Show I was more than just some shitty comedian doing misogynistic jokes that weren’t true. The writers approached me originally since they wanted some humor in the show, but...I guess they liked the other stuff I did once I was on-set.

Riley: Just for the record, I like your new stuff better.

Jay: Oh yeah, for real.

Evan: I still remember seeing the comeback show, first time you did your own material, and I was so blown away. Not just the actual material, but the way you performed and talked about your friends on-stage...it was amazing.

Richie: Thanks, man.

Vince: So, what was it like for the four of you to work together? Were there any scenes where all four of you were present?

Jay: Oh, man…

Evan: (mock dying) Spoilers. Can’t. Give. Them. Away.

Richie: Yeah, you can't see it, but in the building across the road there’s a Hulu representative with a sniper ready to take us out if they think we’ll fuck up.

Vince: Alright, alright, I get it! But what was it like working together? Fun?

Riley: Oh yeah. Definitely. These three guys are super funny and great to work with, you know? Evan would sing songs on set between takes, and we’d all have little impromptu karaoke sessions. Jay is just...really sweet but funny, he keeps quiet sometimes but he genuinely is really fun to be around; he goes nuts about hockey. Richie kept us all laughing, of course, even when we had to shoot more challenging scenes - without giving too much about the show away, there were times where we would be filming, and we’d all be feeling down or tired, and it was really hard. But Richie would keep our spirits up by making jokes, and making sure we were all hanging in there.

Evan: Yeah, Richie’s the best.

Riley: He’s a talented actor too, which is nice to work with.

Jay: Aww jeez, Riley…

Richie: You’re making us sound awesome, and we look like assholes just sitting here nodding.

Evan: To be honest, I worked more with Riley than anyone else and she really undersells herself.

Richie: Yeah. She’s actually super funny - I mean, she’s great on the show but she pulls off comedy pretty well too. I think she’d do pretty well on a comedy show or something. You know, if the show doesn’t work out. (Winks)

Riley: Coming from Trashmouth Tozier, that’s like...the most wonderful thing someone has ever said to me. Oh my god.

Vince: Well, I was going to ask what it was like, being surrounded by all male leads - obviously there are females too, but you four are the focus, and you’re the only woman.

Riley: (laughing) Shh, I don’t think- I don’t think they’ve realized I’m not a guy yet! Don’t tell them!

Jay: Nah, she’s one of the guys clearly!

Richie: Wait, you’re a WOMAN? My life has been a lie, Riley Andersen!

Riley: The blonde ponytail and cheerleading skirt didn’t give it away then.

Richie: It’s 2018, anything can happen. I’d wear a cheerleading skirt. I’m sure my husband would be up for that.

Evan: I am very jealous that Riley got to wear the skirt and I didn’t. It would have made my ass look fantastic.

Jay: I’m not sure if my fiancée would be amused or terrified by me in a cheerleading outfit. I’m like 110lbs soaking wet, so fuck knows what I’d look like.

Riley: (throwing her arms around him) Jay, no, you’d look great! Be more confident in yourself!

Richie: (in a Canadian accent) It’s his Canadian modesty, eh?

Jay: (laughing) Fuck off.

Richie: (still-Canadian-accent) Still mad you left your tuque in the washroom, eh?

Evan: Oh god.

Vince: On that note...thank you so much for meeting with me. Good luck with the show!

“Social Killing” starts 9pm on Wednesday night on Hulu.

[wevegottogetaway]

Whirlwind Part II - Bora

DAY 2

Echoes are bouncing within the sturdy walls of the San Diego Marine Corps Air Station's main hangar. Blackshoes are in the middle of pre-flight logistics runs and equipment set-up before the launch of Top Gun program's first training mission. Aircrafts are being carefully escorted outside towards the runway, the sound of their roaring turbines whelming Harry's ears but he doesn't let that disturb his self-reflecting musings. His body is leant on the metallic hinges of the warehouse's entrance as his absentminded gaze doesn't shift from the take-off runway.

He is about an hour early but the upcoming events of the day have had him on edge since he reluctantly draped the cool bedsheets off his body that morning. How could he possibly get a wink of sleep knowing he was, at last, going back amongst the clouds for the first time since the accident? For the first time without his best friend. For the first time without is partner by his side (or rather behind him) watching out for hidden threats and targets in line. Jonathan had always had his back but from this day forward Harry would have to rely on Aella to keep them both safe.

He doesn't know what to make of that, what to make of her. There is no questioning her skills and capability, one could never join this program without those...but two highly proficient flyers don't necessarily equal one flawless unit. Especially since they know so little of each other. Be that as it may, the fellowship that binds two pilots flying the same aircraft is indispensable to their success and in those life-of-deaths seconds, when it feels like the sky is closing in on them and the next move can make or break them, it all comes down to one thing: the entrustment between him and her.

And he wants to. Wants to take his trust out from the jetted pocket of his uniform, lay it on the palm of her hand and enclose her fingers around it to keep secure. But it doesn't work like that, does it? Trust is not so much a choice as it is a spontaneous feeling immune to rational thinking. And for a reason he doesn't want to mull over too much, Harry can't help but feel wary of her in a way. He's seen her fire; the night before last when she made a fool out of their most redoubtable opponent. Recognized the same flame that used to inhabit his best friend's eyes and make him the warmest being Harry ever got to be around. It doesn't sway him as much as it scares him. Fierceness is a good trait in the Navy world, but too much of it can be deceitful. Harry experienced it first-hand.

He doesn't dwell on it too much for now though, and makes his way to the back of the warehouse where his "classmates" have started to huddle while waiting for the superiors. Most of the promotion is there, the usual inner-groups appearing clearly to Harry as his eyes takes in the scene: herdsman Rex and his sheeps on one side while the other crews enjoy one last round of banter before their sternness is summoned for the first mission of the program.

Harry takes note of Aella's absence just as someone calls out to him. "Styles!" It's his callsign tumbling out of Dean Marshall's mouth. Harry used to have another, but the only person who was allowed to make use of that one special letter, is no longer able to claim it.

Dean and his partner Emmet Iggersman - or as they are commonly addressed to on base, Dazzler and Tigger - complete the other half of Harry and Aella's team. The four of them fly in tandem to form a section and hopefully fulfill the missions' objectives before the others do. Harry has flown many a time with these two guys and he's glad he'll be able to count on them as well should his new pairing go south.

"Hey Daz, how's it goin' ?" his greeting is followed by a good-natured handshake.

"S' goin' awesome, thanks for asking! My boy just started walking like a penguin on steroids right before I left. I swear the little champ is takin' the helm to keep his mum on her toes while his father's gone!" The proud smirk teasing Dazzler's lips triggers a contagious chuckle from his peers as they all take in the sheer bliss coloring the new-dad's face.

"That's grand man! Send my prayers to Catherine, sounds like she might need it, yeah?"

"Will do Styles, but enough 'bout me, how are you holdin' up? I can't deal fo' you man, what with Fox gone and this new partner thing..." There's a painful tug at Harry's chest at the utterance of Jonathan's callsign, the nickname born from his tangerine-like hair though Harry always believed it was more reference to his best-friend incredibly cunning mind. He ignores it in favor of a more tempered and diplomatic answer than what his heart was crying out.

"It'll be an adjustment fo' sure, yeah. But overall I'm just glad to be back in the game"

"As we all are Styl-" Tigger has just placed a comforting hand on Harry's broad shoulder when he is interrupted by none other than Rex's disdainful voice.

"Hey girls! How's the BFFs reunion going?"

Dazzler doesn't hesitate before stepping forward and firing back "Just about a punch away from properly kickin'off. Why? are you offerin'?"

"Wooo I'm shaking" Rex replies with a fake tremor. Then he seems to spot something - or rather someone - coming up behind Harry and Tigger. It's Aella, head kept down as to not attract any attention. She's seen the despicable man interacting with her new crew so she tries to reach the makeshift classroom (mostly just chairs aligned in a couple of rows in the middle of a hangar) as inconspicuously as possible. The déjà-vu impression is not lost on her.

"There she is!" Aella tilts her head up, knowing she's busted. "Miss James Bond Girl in the flesh! C'mere sweetheart, come show these suckers who wears the pants in this team!" The disdain within her levels up a notch (as if possible) but Aella doesn't know what she hates the most about this nonsense. The fact he is ridiculing her once again or the fact he acts like none of the after James-Bond-Girl-debacle two nights ago ever happened. As if she didn't put him in his place like the badass she is.

Or maybe it's the affectionate pet-name coming out of his repugnant lips and directed to her... Anyway, she doesn't have the time to prepare a comeback before a second round is launched, this time at her new partner.

"Better watch it Styles! Next thing you know you'll be the one in the freakin' kitchen..."

"Cut it out, Rex-" Harry starts defending his team but a stern and humorless voice overpowers his.

"I don't reckon anyone asked for your moronic opinions. So please pack your ignorant bullshit away and leave us the fuck alone" She keeps her countenance as she tells him off but Rex is not budging an inch and neither is the insolent smirk hung on his face.

"Damn Harry, quite the mouthy one you have here. Sure you can handle her?"

"For Christ's sake, please shut the hell up and go back where you came from Rex or by God I swear I won't hesitate to have you weep on the floor for your momma like a baby, again."

"Again?" Dazzler perks up with a smiling frown just as Rex's smugness fades away to be replaced by unadulterated contempt.

"You're delusional if you think I can be scared of you Lonethorne" he spats out while backing away, head up mighty high. "Stupid cunts" he adds under his breath as he turns around to rejoin his buddies.

Aella knows she's worked herself up but she can't help but call out to him one more time. "Oh and Rex?... How's the hand doing?" He doesn't give her the curtesy of a respond but Aella is satisfied with the flare of his nose and the twitch in his eye.

Meanwhile the three men still at her sides are left speechless, Dazzler and Tigger still processing the heated exchange while Harry seems lost in his own thoughts.

She'd done it again. Let the fire out and turned Rex's crudeness into ashes before they could scar her skin. There was no attempt of taming the beast before she went in guns blazing. That didn't help assuage his worries one bit. She's too impulsive is playing in his head over and over like a broken record. Because while Harry agrees Rex is the worst kinds of knobheads, he's always believed responding to antagonization was pointless. Better to look the other way and let the jerk waste his energy on petty words that will never reach aim. And because all in all, there are dogfighters, but that endeavor is reserved in the air, not on land.

"My my, darling. You just pimped the shit out of the least pimpable man on base. I think I'm in awe." Dazzler says after regaining his senses.

"Please don't call me darling" Aella retorts softly as she knows he doesn't mean it in any condescending way.

"Sorry. Aella, is it?"

"Yeah, that's me. And you are...?"

"Dazzler, so very nice to meet you" he smiles widely accepting her handshake offer. "And just a heads-up dear Aella. After you tell me all about weeping Rex, you and I are gonna be besties, I can feel it" She chuckles lightly as his enthusiasm and decides she'll not only welcome his affection but also return it. Before she can reciprocate the sentiment however, the room falls suddenly quiet and a second later the reason, or rather 4 reasons, come into her view: Commander Berks, Lieutenant Rogers and two other officers that have yet to be introduced.

"Morning everyone, I can tell some of you over-indulged in Induction Rave. If you could put the same amount of devotion you put at getting faced into your training, I would be eternally grateful." Berks earns himself a full house of laughters, before compelling the room back to sobriety. "Time to be serious now. ACM training was not invented to entertain you and make you look pretty up there. As an era where the potential of confrontation is constantly rising, air combat excellence is now more than ever a vital technique to the protection of our country. And don't you forget that: you are above all defenders of the nation. Not heroes, not athletes. I say again: protectors. Best be at you sharpest then." The Commander pauses after his inspiring tirade.

"Now, let's talk about this first assignment. Just plain good old-fashioned dogfighting to give you guys a foretaste of what's coming. Today it's gonna be 4 units at a time against 4 of ours. Your goal is to target any one of the instructors' units while trying not to be shot yourself. I'll say it now, we won't go easy on you. This exercise is meant as an assessment of your current skills, so don't get too cocky up there, just do your ex-Commanders honor. First one to reach its target or last one to be shot wins the mission. Remember, there is no points for second place in this program." He pauses and starts grinning. "Show me what you got."

With that Aella tries a small glance in Harry's direction but his eyes are fixed towards the horizon with a permanent frown shrouding their luminescence. She sighs.

Fully equipped of her G-suit, helmet and headset, Aella is making the last adjustments on her seat at the back of the cockpit. She's not unfamiliar with the radar intercept officer position though she's usually the one at the commands. She's also used to flying alone.

The panel in front of her intimidatingly takes up all her front view with a couple of screens and numerous switches and tuners. Her perspective is limited to a peripheral vision on both sides of the cockpit but she wouldn't be relying on a full panorama to spot target and threats anyway. No her job is to accurately keep tract of all flying elements within the largest range and most anticipated time possible. There's no point in crying out for enemy presence when they're already at your six and firing away... Along with relaying their position to Harry, Aella can also suggest tactical maneuvers based on the predictions she draws from the opponents' moves.

Speaking of Harry, they haven't exchanged a word since their brief introduction two days ago. Now they're both tightly harnessed to their seat about to navigate a near-thirty-tons engine beyond the speed of sound. Aella's never been a religious one but as the technician gives her one last thumb up to signal their operational status, she's praying to all deities that the awkwardness between them on land is nothing but the result of a subliminal force destined to counterbalance their incredible chemistry in the air.

The canopy of the cockpit locks them into silence before Harry speaks up. "All good?" The mediocre quality of the microphone's transducer makes his voice even raspier than usual through the headset tucked over Aella's ears.

"Yeah all good. You?"

"Same."

She thinks their conversation is over but then she hears a hushed voice. "Let's kick the tires and light the fires." She figures it was more so for his own benefit though, so she doesn't comment.

All too soon they're propelled forward, backs pinned to their seats because of the tremendous speed pressure. It can be a small-scale body trauma for some but Aella has never felt more comfortable. A tingle of the fingertips later, they are welcomed in an infinite azure dotted by a few scarce clouds, the runway long gone behind them. Both pilots enjoy a couple peaceful seconds to take in their new panorama and then they snap: it begins.

"I've got a six strobe. I think he's locked on us." Aella starts reading out the incoming movements entering her radar scope.

With a switch on his radio transmitter, Harry reaches out to Dazzler and Tigger as they are flying in a parallel tandem alongside them. "Tigger, you spot it?"

"Positive. It's Rogers, looks like he's a single." Tigger who endorses the same role as Aella quickly reports, before she pitches back in for a few more precisions.

"Contact at 900 knots closure. He's gaining speed."

"Daz, it's split time." Harry announces.

"Copy that Styles."

After Dazzler's approval, the two aircrafts are both sharply veering outwards in a defensive split, leaving a Y-shaped trail of smoke after them. The move comes through as the chaser is contrived to choose one direction to follow, but to Harry's dismay they get the short end of the stick.

"Rogers coming left, eight o'clock high." Aella signals immediately.

The scenery below them is a mix of wild purples and pale magentas, with fields-worth of lavender adorning the dry soil so characteristic of Californian lands. Peace and nature prevail on these grounds slightly remote from the bustling life of the city but the same cannot be said ten-thousand feet above where Harry is caught in a tedious game of zig-zag trying to escape his pursuer.

"He's tailing us. Watch your six!" her pulse quickens every time Rogers' unit manages to lock its position right behind them. There is no more vulnerable position for a pilot than to have an enemy flying at their six. It usually means incoming fire. It's why Harry is relentlessly jerking the TomCat in a rapid and unpredictable manner, the constant change in direction making it near-impossible for Rogers to lock, aim and shoot them.

"No shit Sherlock, why d'you think I'm jinxing so much?" Harry is starting to see spots on his peripheral vision from the gravitational pull, and he can only hope his tailgater is experiencing the same. Beads of sweat dotting his hairline and starting to dribble along his temples but it doesn't put a damper on his concentration. He can't relent or he becomes an exposed target.

"Goddamn, he's not budgin.'" Harry tries with all his might to leave his frustration out of the cockpit but the situation is not looking up.

"You got new contact ahead, 2 o'clock." Aella perks up at the discovery.

"Imma bit preoccupied with Rogers up my ass, if you haven't noticed." She should have known pointing out a potential target while they were heavily pursued themselves was not what Harry wanted to hear, but she already had a plan all mapped out. That's what Aella is best at after-all: reading a situation and coming up with a strategy in .2 second flat, no reflexion needed, just the numbers, the physics and the sky on her side.

"I didn't mean it as a target. You can use them as a shield if you keep Rogers high enough right before making a dive under them." She explains her vision to him, desperately wishing she could be the one on the front executing it.

"He'll just go above and back to tailgating us."

"Not if you barrel-roll right after the contact, he'll just overshoot." His lack of response betrays his skepticism so she insists further, brushing off the way he's second-guessing her.

"At the least, it'll give you leeway and buy you some time." This time her argument weights enough to tip his scale in favor of her plan.

"'lright then." Harry reluctantly agrees, tilting his chin slightly to the side as if he couldn't believe himself he was going through with her move. "'s gonna be snug timing."

"Just trust my cue." Aella's words are left hanging between them like a desperate echo thrown in an empty ravine. Does he trust her? Does she? It's definitely not the moment to reflect on it, much less have a discussion about it, but neither of them are oblivious to the eerie silence filling up their space like a faux smile greeting a bad joke. Then the aircraft is once again yanked to a blunt left and Aella is snapped out of it.

"That's it. Target at 1 mile abeam 40° on your right." She's got the fellow fighter in her line of view, both on the radar and through the bulletproof glass of the cockpit's canopy. "Keep high, keep high...3, 2, 1, drop!" Harry immediately complies, the aircraft nearly skimming the underbelly of its twin above, before shooting right back upwards, nose pointing at the sun. The trajectory describes a half loop leaving them upside-down for a milli second before Harry rolls them back to normal, in the end effectively realizing a vertical U-turn. Rogers skillfully avoids a fetal collision with the third wheeler but doesn't anticipate Harry's sudden volte-face, in accordance with Aella's prognosis.

"Fuck, we're losin' airspeed." Because of such a twist of direction, they are indeed relegated to a lesser speed which Harry is not too enchanted about.

"He's losing some too." Aella reasons, before jumping to another matter. "2 incoming bogies ahead. I think it's Berks tailing Dazzler." She's barely finished her sentence that two familiar aircrafts flash passed them at such high speed, Harry has to crane his neck backwards to watch his friends in the same predicament he was mere seconds ago.

"I have to cover them." His instinct takes over.

"Fly your needles Harry, it's too late for them." Aella objects to it straight away. Her mind is unbiased, she knows going for them would be pointless.

"Like hell I'm gonna sit tight, they need cover." Harry's voice is categoric like he couldn't ever fathom a world where he would leave his friends stranded for the sake of a mission.

"They already lost, Berks' gonna turn for us now."

"You don't know that." He replies adamantly despite her warning.

"Except I do. Daz was loosing speed, it's over for them." Now she's the one trying to stifle her frustration with all her might. She just wishes he would listen, but instead they're doing yet another 180 to follow Dazzler's trail to the rescue. She has no choice but to adapt and keep calling the positions.

"Contact ahead, four hundred, coming down. He's gonna turn."

"Not if I nail 'im first." If she weren't so bitter about being ignored, she might find his determination admirable. Admittedly she can't deny Harry is an amazing pilot, as are proof his excellent accuracy in space and timing as well as the ease with which he performs each maneuver. But alas, the git won't take her words for it, no matter how knowledgable she is. Talk about eyes rolling...

Meanwhile, Harry is desperately trying to aim for the TomCat launched in his direction, but his opponent is using the same tricks he used against Rogers.

"Shit, 's not stable enough to fire." Aella can't believe he has to audacity to groan about it to her. DIdn't she warn him?

Any shot is missed as the two aircrafts cross trajectories, nearly grazing each other

"Don't lag, he's gonna come around high at your five." Instead of commenting on his failed attempt, she communicates her best educated guess.

"How'dya figure?"

"Cause he was lagging too." Her retorts are getting sharper and drier as her annoyance grows the more he questions her. Her eyes take a rest from the screens on her panel to lay on the Californian landscape flowing passed them. They've wandered quite the distance away from the base, the relatively greener scenery of the seafront giving way to a craggy turf redder and drier by the meter.

"Fuck." Harry suddenly swears, the quality of his voice could rival the roughness of the ground Aella was just observing, and she's effectively brought back into focus.

"Damn it, I told you!" She indulges with an expletive of her own once she spots the fast-approaching signal of Berks unit on her AMDR (Air and Missile Defense Radar).

"The fucker got in my blind spot, I'm doin' my best." Harry is quick to defend himself but the damage is done: they're being chased down once again.

Aella thinks she's starting to reach her disgruntlement threshold. The fact Harry isn't much receptive to her ideas doesn't alleviate her growing frustration at her lack of control over the damn carrier. "Well step up before we get wiped." She spits.

"I swear to God Aella, now's really not the time"

"If you just listened to me for- Watch out! At your six, closing fast!" She desperately wants to tell him off. Wishes she could go on a rant about how much of a dismissing jerk is being, but her duties reins her in when a loud signal starts beeping frantically on her board. Berks is locked at their six, a press of a finger away from shooting them.

"I hear that" Harry grunts as he gives a sharp jerk at the control stick in order to dodge Berks' line of fire. He keeps jinxing the aircraft in all axis but Berks follows suit and matches all his moves.

"He's too fast, I can't get out of his fire range." Harry's heartbeat skyrockets as the situation becomes more dire by the second. He doesn't know how long he can maintain the zig-zagging going, for the sake of both his energy and the carrier's. Abrupt moves are what's currently keeping them safe but these are sadly the greediest in kerosene.

Then all hell breaks loose when Aella is hit by one of her craziest ideas.

"Try a complete thrust reversal of the turbofan engines."

"' the fuck?! Are you nuts?! It'll send us spiraling." Harry's livid. He knew it. He fucking knew she was impulsive and reckless on the edges. She held to much fire in her hands for him to put his trust in them like he wanted to.

"Precisely." His harsh reaction doesn't deter her confidence. "If you're out of control, he can't anticipate your moves, can he?"

"Are you even listening to yourself? That's a stupid idea if I ever heard one."

"It's not. You just have to switch back off the burners for a sec and you'll get the control back."

"And what if I don't?" She knows her calculations are foolproof but Harry won't have any of it. He can't think past the boldness and near-arrogance of it all.

"You will, just trust me." Once again, the words leave a bitter taste in her mouth, even more so because she knows he won't likely follow through with it.

"That's suicide mission Aella. I'm not doing it, that's final." The last two words are categorical, a way for him to officially close the conversation.

"Damn it!"

The theory of it was beautiful really, but Harry thinks in practical and surefire moves he knows won't send him six feet under before his time. Aella, on the other hand, has always relied on her infallible knowledge of astrophysics to enhance her flying experience. She's followed the same motto ever since she stumbled across a quote that inspired her beyond grasp. It goes something like "aviation records don't fall until someone is willing to mortgage the present for the future." And while she would never even entertain the idea of a reckless and immature move, her self-taught philosophy gave her access to a whole world of potential tricks most pilot couldn't even conceptualize.

Aella is in the middle of an attempt at regulating her breathing when she starts noticing the spinning arrow on her altimeter. Her head swiftly tilts to the side to get a brief snapshot of the crimson soil of San Diego's wasteland. They must be pretty far in the land if the upcoming sierra of rocky mounts is anything to go by. That's not what is retaining Aella's attention. No, she's more puzzled by the lack of space between her and the ground, the carrier grazing over pebbly elevations and lorn cactuses.

"Flathatting? That's your idea? Christ Harry, the trees won't save your ass." She figures if he doesn't bother being civil then she should drop her filter too.

"Leave it Aella. Just do your job."

"I'm trying!" She fires back.

"Just trust me on this."

Blank.

"Fuck you Harry, that's a two-way street." She's actually fuming. He had the balls to call her out on trust when he hasn't been returning the same courtesy. If she had the time to worry further about it now, Aella would be questioning if coming to Top Gun and partnering with Harry was really a life-changing opportunity. So far, she's had very few upgrades from the grim world she's been privy too.

"There's a split trail 3 miles ahead on the left." She was under the impression they'd stop talking in tacit consent but the rasp of Harry's voice through her headphones is no mirage. "I can lose him there. Can you read the positions please?"

She's tempted to give him the silent treatment but the fervid pilot in her wouldn't let her jeopardize a mission on such petty grounds. At least he was polite about his request this time. "He's closing on 300, nose up. Going by 800 knots."

"Roger that" Probably the closest thing to a thank you she'll get from him.

They're currently speeding through a gorge, tall cliffs of maroon stone fencing them on either side. Aella starts to question Harry's move as it restrains their room for maneuver but then he makes an extremely obtuse left turn and she gets it. The intimidating mount on their left actually split into two narrow canyons. At the speed they were going, one is most likely to take the second channel whose angle isn't as sharp as the one Harry chose. Only someone with previous knowledge of the surroundings would know how to successfully make that turn. It's then Aella realizes Harry has more insight on the environs than he lets on. His trick proves to be conclusive as Berks falls into the trap and enters the other passage.

"He's out."Aella simply confirms, before Harry veers upwards and back towards the base.

"Hunky-Dory." He utters in the same whispered manner he used before their take-off. "Now let's bug the fuck outta here."

The moment she has her two feet on the tarmac, Aella is scurrying over to a furious-looking Harry. Nostrils flaring, daggers in the eyes, they're both squaring their shoulders once nose to nose, or rather nose to collarbone. She doesn't give him the time to even part his lips before she's jabbing her pointer finger at his taunt chest.

"You prick! I got better things to do than to fill some empty space at the back of your stupid plane. If you don't want my insight you can shove it where the sun doesn't shine."

"Insight? You call that insight?!" He starts laughing jeeringly. "'s fuckin' madness is what it was. I can't believe I passed the mission with someone like you!" Harry doesn't even care to temper his disdain anymore. He's seen enough to make up his mind about her. He doesn't like her. Doesn't want to find out about the person inside because he doesn't like the pilot that she is. It reminds him to much of futile losses and irreparable hurt.

"Someone like me?" Aella's face turns sour and if it didn't make her look so sentimental, her eyes would be hosting a few pearls. She really thought he wasn't like those sexist jerks back home. Maybe not the warmest but at least respectful of her talent enough to appreciate her place in the Navy. Now she hates herself for entertaining the fantasy of ever having an ally flying by her side. "You're an asshole Harry, and certainly no better than Rex." Then before he can reply she storms off, too angered not to lose her wits.

And really, her last words don't sit well with Harry, because he knows she's not referring to the jerk's flying skills.

[forged-through-trials]

While I felt on-board with whatever Llevana had planned for Ulrich, Ruin insisted that we consider other options. And besides that, I do have other work to look into here in Cheydinhal. Something tells me that were I to follow Llevana’s plans, I’d have to ditch Cheydinhal for a while. Ulrich might have it coming, but I had a bigger picture to look at. So, we tracked Garrus down at the Castle, and hit him up. Word of what had happened preceded us, as Garrus was already briefed. Garrus: “We must put an end to this travesty of justice!” Trials: “How did you already hear about Aldos?” Garrus: “Crooked guardsmen like to boast when they know there’ll be no consequences for their actions.” Trials: I grit my teeth. “Bastards!” Garrus: “Aldos will be mourned. I won’t sit by and watch the innocent being driven to the brink like that! Something must be done, but without bloodshed.” Trials: “You may want to have a word with Llevana, then, because ‘bloodshed’ seems to be exactly what she’s after.” Garrus: “Llevana has always been quick-tempered. You must reconsider her plan. It can only lead to prison for her... and for you. I swear that Ulrich will pay for this. We must handle this carefully and prove to the Count that he needs to be arrested.” Trials: “If you’ve got another plan, I’m all ears. Because I thought we were all out of options.” Garrus: “Ulrich’s been watching me, but that’s good. I can keep him distracted, while you sneak into his quarter and find whatever evidence you can that incriminates him.” Trials: I raised my brows in surprise. “Wow, really? I’m game, but I’d never expect that suggestion from you. It’s not very ‘by the book’.” Garrus: “Exactly. I wouldn’t suggest it if I weren’t desperate, but the fact that it’s less than above board means Ulrich won’t be expecting it. “But, of course, if you’re caught, there won’t be anything I can do to help you.” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Just gonna ask me to do this, then hang me out to dry, huh? Well, I’ll just have to not get caught!”

On the way out, Ruin and I met the Court Mage; “Ulene Hlervu,” which is just about the hardest name to pronounce I’ve yet encountered. Yes, harder to pronounce than “Falanu Hlaalu.” While I struggled with her name, she introduced herself. Ulene: “Perhaps you’ve been warned off me as a scandalous, blasphemous scoffer and cynic?” Trials: “Oh, so you’re that Oh-Lean-To Hurl-View.” Ulene: “...close enough.“ Trials: “So you’re an Edgy Naytheist?” Ulene: “Oh yes. I despise the gods and those who bow before them.” Trials: “Really? Even Lorkhan?” Ulene: “Yes.” Trials: “Shor?” Ulene: “...yeeeees?” Trials: “Shezarr?” Ulene: “Yes!” Trials: “Sep?” Ulene: She stomped her foot. “Those’re all the same god!” Trials: “You sure know a lot about the gods, nerd!” Ulene: She grumbled. “Look, all I’m trying to say, is, the Nine Divines are a joke. Do they even exist? I’ve never seen any evidence. “Now, the Daedra Lords, worship them and you get effects... bad ones, of course, but clear and measurable effects.” Trials: “Preachin’ to the choir there, sister. I have no idea why anyone would worship those selfish jerks!” Ulene: “And they call me a cynic? You sound like you’ve been burned before, but you should know that not all the Daedra are like that. “The Azura coven in the Jeralls north of Cheydinhal... nice folks. Nothing like the blood-drinking Daedra worshipers everyone raves about.” Trials: “Huh... and you really think it’s worth the time to go meet them?” Ulene: “Little girl, when a Malthiest thinks you’re the jaded one, it’s a good sign that you need to get out there and lighten up a bit. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Huh, dunno if this is a good idea or not, but my curiosity is piqued. I may go out and look for this coven, and see what they have to say about their Daedra Lord.

The prospect of breaking into a Guard-Captain’s quarters, which were in the guards’ barracks, was not one I was looking forward to. Llevana’s scheme, whatever it was, was looking more and more attractive by the minute. But Garrus seemed sure it would get her into trouble, and the poor woman has been through enough as it was. If I can get back at Ulrich without getting her in hot water, then it’s worth a try as my first resort. When I arrived, it was thankfully between shifts. The guards in the barracks were asleep, and nobody was coming in. It was the perfect time to strike, so I quickly picked the lock, and slipped into Ulrich’s quarters. The place was cozy, with an extravagant bed and some posh furniture. A little cramped for my tastes, I wouldn’t want to hang out here all day, but it was a nice, classy bedroom. A quick search, and upon the dresser, I found a note. It looked like it had been freshly written, so I cracked it open, and gave it a read. The gist; it was a letter by Ulrich, to his cousins, explaining how he had been skimming the fines he’d enforced and funneling the money home and into extravagant projects, like a summer keep. Well, I’d say a signed confession of his misdeeds counts as ‘evidence’. From here, it was just a matter of slipping back out and delivering this to Garrus. Llevana’s probably not going to be too happy that I didn’t go with her plan, but I’d rather have her mad at me than to have her in the dungeon.

On the way out, I heard some noise, and ducked back behind the door, peering out. I’d finished just in time for a shift-change, as new guards were coming in to have their rest, while the one’s already here got dressed and headed out once more. I hid out while the guards swapped off, and waited it out until I was sure the new contingent of guards were asleep, before finally slipping out into the barracks. Once out of Ulrich’s quarters, I thought of just sneaking out of the door, but thought I’d heard something while I was hiding. I think the guards were ribbing each other because one of them was had a ‘cushy job’ as the Vault Guard. As I recalled this, Septim Signs ka-ching’d in my eyes, and I slunk slowly up the stairs to the guards’ beds. This was probably a very, very bad idea, but greed does strange things to a lizard, turning a coward into a reckless fortune-seeker, and once I was up by the guards’ beds, I slipped over toward the one I recognized as the vault guard, and carefully, slowly, slipped my hand into his pocket. It took a bit of rooting around, but I felt three keys in his pocket. A bit more rooting, and I noticed that one felt different from the others. With a deft hand, I plucked the key from his pocket, without rousing his suspicions. He didn’t even so much as twitch in his sleep! Damn, I’m good. I slipped the key into my pocket, as I wasn’t going to pursue the treasure of the vault just yet. I had this case to finish, and I wanted to check out Cheydinhal for a little while longer before having to run from town and lie low for a while.

I picked up Ruin after that, and we returned to the castle, finding Garrus in the main hall. Garrus: “You’re back. Good. Did you find the evidence?” Trials: “Believe it or not, I pulled it off. I snuck into a Guard-Captain’s quarters right under the nose of all of the guards sleeping in the barracks, and found a letter he’d written where he confesses to the crimes.” I passed the letter to Garrus. Garrus: “Excellent!” He paused to read the letter, before continuing. “This letter will spell his undoing when I present it to Count Indarys. Splendid work, splendid work indeed!” Ruin: “Will this evidence really hold up? It was not exactly procured in the ‘by the book’ manner.” Garrus: “While I’m loath to bend the rules, it’s the only way to stop Ulrich from breaking them. That said, I suppose the Count doesn’t need to know who my source is. “Now, I must hasten to the Count and deliver this immediately. Please, meet me back at the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn in about two hours.” Well, our part of the job is done. Nothing else for it but to let Garrus do his part, and hope that the shady Count will do his job.

Like Garrus’ asked, we hoofed it over to the Bridge Inn, and sat around for a while, ordered some drinks, and just stewed until two hours had passed, and Garrus finally arrived with news. Garrus: “After speaking to the Count, and in light of the evidence you recovered, Ulrich has been removed from his post and arrested. In addition; many guards are coming forward with more evidence of his greed, so it’s safe to say he’ll be spending quite a bit of time in the city dungeons.” Trials: “Wow, didn’t take much for his accomplices to throw him under the carriage. Guess that means Ulrich’s the only one taking the fall for his crimes?” Garrus: “Officially, yes. But I’ve also been promoted to the post of Captain, and in my new capacity, I plan on making life hard for every guard who was complicit in Ulrich’s schemes.” Trials: “Cool. Don’t forget who helped you get there. You owe me one.” Garrus: “We do. You helped to bring Ulrich’s hold on Cheydinhal to an end, and without unnecessary bloodshed. As a token of our gratitude, as you did this at the risk of false imprisonment or perhaps your life, we reward you this bounty of gold.” Garrus passed me a large sack of coins, to which I was flustered, eyes wide. Trials: “Wow! I... I'm speechless. A little recognition for my hard work. Stunning!” Garrus: “On behalf of the people of Cheydinhal, I thank you!” Trials: “So is Ulrich already getting acquainted with his new home? I’d love to go and rub it in his face.” Garrus: “Indeed he is. And after what his greed did to Aldos, he deserves to eat some crow. Be my guest!”

One trip back to the castle later, and I took a quick dive into the dungeon. After speaking to the jailor on duty, Ruin and I were down there, and staring down Ulrich from across prison bars. Trials: “How’s the dungeon treatin’ you, Leland?” Ulrich: “Unless you relish the thought of decorating the end of my blade with your blood, I would get out of my sight!” Trials: “...what ‘blade’? You got a stick up your butt?” Ulrich: “Who are you? Why is there some lizard-wench harassing me? I don’t even belong here!” Trials: “Oh, me? I’m the reason you’re stuck here. By the way, tell your cousins I said ‘hi’.” Ulrich: “...you?? You!?” He grabbed at the bars of his cell, rattling them. “You witch! Rabble-rouser! Scavenger! I had a good racket going here and you ruined it! When I get out of here, you’ll pay!” Trials: “If I had a Septim for every time a Guard-Captain I’ve put in prison threatened to break out and take revenge... I’d have two Septims.” Ulrich: “...that’s not that much, really.” Trials: “It’s more than you’ve got, now, ya broke fop.” Ulrich: He rattled his bars further, growling. “I swear, I’ll see you slapped in irons! You’ll rue the day you crossed Ulrich Leland!” Trials: I yawned. “Dude, I’m a courier. I hear threats like that every Tirdas. “But, hey, gotta run. Enjoy the dungeons, loser!” Another case in the bag! It’s a shame I couldn’t do much more for Aldos Othran than avenge him. Also sucks that the guard who actually did it gets off scott-free. I’ll just have to trust that Garrus will keep his word and lean on all of the crooked guards who had a hand in Ulrich’s schemes. For now; I’ll poke around Cheydinhal a bit more to see if there’s anymore work.