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httpnxtt · 4 years

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Wallpaper - Reid x Reader

A/N: Hello Lovelies! I attempted some pure fluff this time to show my love to my bby, @spencer-reid-in-a-pool ! I wanted to shower her with love and this was the only way I could think how, so I hope you enjoy! Shoutout to @imagining-in-the-margins for the adorable prompt! You’re amazing and ily!

Also shout out to my amazing beta buddies, @sunlight-moonrise , @clean-bands-dirty-stories , and @definitelynotkatesblog !

Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: FLUFFY FLUFF

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 4.2k

Masterlist

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In the world of darkness that surrounds our lives, it’s important to find the light in the world. Luckily for me, our paperwork days meant being sat across from my best friend, Spencer Reid. The man whose smile lit the entire room, who could drop everything in an instant for someone he loves; who makes my days brighter at the simplest, “Hi.” The curly-haired genius spends his days surrounded by the worst humans in existence, using his brain to help the world before helping himself. With his IQ of 187, his mind works a million miles a minute, but sometimes he still needs help. That’s where my job comes in.

I joined the BAU a year ago, and was instantly drawn to the resident genius. He was timid when I first met him, as if scared the world would break him with everything it decided to throw at the sweet man. Slowly, I captured the heart of our resident genius, who was now my best friend. Over the course of the years, he became my favorite person. On cases, I would make sure he took time to drink water and rest when possible, bringing him snacks when his brain was wrapped in his geological profile. I made it my mission to teach the genius to love himself as much as he loves others.

Paperwork days were when I really got to see his bright smile and soft laughter. It became a running joke between us. Whenever Spencer would get up to grab us coffee from the kitchen, I would steal his phone to change the wallpaper to something silly. Every time he would check his phone for updates, he would see a new silly picture and grace me with a shining smile and chuckle. Even for these split moments in time, I knew I had distracted him from the morbid things littering our desks. His smile lit up the bullpen, leaving butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, my own smile gracing my lips. He would always shake his head before changing it back, already knowing he would find a new wallpaper later that day. Luckily for me, today was a long, dragging paperday which means I had plenty of time to meet my Spencer-Smile quota for the day.

First thing this morning, I got my hands on his cell. Pre-coffee brain, the only thing I could think of was the most ridiculous picture of our own Derek Morgan. The image was one Penelope graced me with, a photo he attached when shamelessly flirting with her during our downtime. As quickly as I could, I set the lockscreen and gently placed the device back on his desk, almost in the right spot although I’m sure Spencer would notice it had been moved. I sit back in my chair, slowly starting to spin as I see Spencer make his way back to our desks, two mugs in hand as his glasses begin to slide down the bridge of his nose. I shoot up to wrap my hands around the steaming mug, the warmth like a warm hug. I pull the mug up to my face, smelling the delicious scent of coffee created perfectly to my specifications. Sometimes boy genius’ memory has its perks. Settling back at my desk, I sort through the mound of files for the day in anticipation.

Looking up from my own cases, I look across to Spencer who has his face buried in a file, his finger trailing down the pages taking my mind into places it shouldn’t go. After an hour he still hasn’t seen his wallpaper, plastering a frown on my face. I pull out my own device, immediately texting a gif of Stitch saying hi to “Pretty Boy”, hearing his phone ding almost immediately. Looking across to Spencer, he almost spits out his coffee seeing the ever flirtatious Derek Morgan gracing his screen. The reaction sent me into a whirlwind of laughter, my head thrown back, almost cackling at the poor man.

As I calm down, wiping the tears from under my eyes, I see Spencer looking at me with his signature smile, making my heart flutter.

“That was a good one, Y/N. You really got me this time.” He chuckles, looking at this screen again before looking back at me. “Might have been your best one yet,” he says as he works to change it back. The poor technophobe had to learn because of me how to change his wallpaper since he realized I wouldn’t stop anytime soon. He’s still a tad slow but watching him try to work through it makes my heart happy as I return to my own files.

As I try to work through my own files, an IM from the tech queen herself pings my computer.

P.Garcia: “Changed Boy Wonder’s wallpaper again? When are you going to tell him?! Your puppy eyes give you away, darling. You can’t lie to me.”

Y/N: “Darling Penelope, I would never lie to you. Alas, you continue shipping something that will never sail..” I reply to her, hoping she gets the gist.

Although Spencer lives in my thoughts rent free, that’s where he’ll stay. As much as I wanted him in my arms instead, it simply wasn’t going to happen. I close my messages before trying to actually get some work done. I’d rather not stay late yet again due to my tendency to be a bit scatterbrained.

***

Coffee break number two rolls around and I already have the perfect picture planned. Reid scurries into the kitchen desperate for more coffee and I rush to his desk. Pulling out his phone, I send an image to it before saving it. It is one of my all time favorites. A movie night Spencer and I shared. I convinced him to let me pamper him under the reasoning of some well deserved self-care. Surprisingly, the man went along with my antics, although fighting me on this gem. The image is a sneaky one that Reid doesn’t even know exists. During our self-care night, I tried to take pictures of him looking as cute as ever, but he kept blocking me. Luckily, Spencer fell asleep before his mask came off leaving the perfect opportunity to snap the evidence. There is Spencer in all his glory, curled up on my couch in the light blue robe I saved for him that was covered in little clouds, a purple face-mask clinging to his cheeks, trying to avoid his eyebrows.To top it all off, he wore a bright pink headband to push his hair back decorated with bunny ears. The picture shows the soft side of our boy, a side I wished he would show more.

Throwing his phone back on his pile of files, I sit back at my desk, nonchalantly sipping my now cold coffee. Seeing Reid shuffle back to his desk, I wait for him to pick up his phone with my mug resting against my mouth. Spencer readjusts his frames as he settles in his chair, looking me in the eyes before looking at his phone. Instead of his normal chuckle, a pout graces his plush lips. Although his lips are normally a favorite of mine to stare at, the pout twists my gut.

“I thought you didn’t get any pictures of me that night,” he mumbles, giving me puppy eyes that could give mine a run for their money.

Despite my pride in the picture, his tone makes me feel just a little guilty. “I’m sorry, Spence, I thought you were so cute when you were napping. I didn’t want to make you upset.” I pout, the butterflies disintegrating as the moments pass. Rummaging through my drawer, I find my sack of trail mix and toss it to the dark-eyed man. “Here, take my trail mix, I know it’s your favorite,” I offer, a small smile painted on my face. Spencer’s eyes land on me, lips turning up once more into the smile that never fails to take my breath away.

“I appreciate it, but I can’t take it. I know it’s basically the only thing you eat on your lunch break.” His call out causes heat to rise into my face.

I stay insistent though. “I want you to have it. I don’t like making you sad.” I shoot back, giving him my infamous puppy eyes. Even Aaron Hotchner falls for them, there is no way the doctor could resist.

“Okay,” he starts, automatically having me rush across to his desk to give him the snack. “On one condition,” He finishes, making my face fall once more. Spencer never lets people just give him a present, he always does more for others. “Since you’re giving me your snack, you come with me to get a proper lunch since you need food and I could use the hour away from these files.” He smiles at me, already munching on the trail mix so I have no choice but to agree.

“Deal. BUT, I want pancakes if we’re going,” I reason with him, plopping back in my chair.

“IHOP it is.” He chuckles, the sound resonating in my brain as we both hurry through our respective files.

***

At coffee break number three, Reid stands from his desk, scrunching his nose to fix his glasses as he reaches across to snatch my mug from my desk. Hiding my face in the file until he walks away, I turn to see him shaking his head, knowing I’m about to change his wallpaper yet again.

Once I see him turn the corner, I stretch over to grab his phone he conveniently left square in the middle of his desk, giving the man yet another excuse to talk to her. Flipping through the camera roll, I hear a chuckle from the desk a few feet away. Looking over, I find the one and only, Derek Morgan shaking his head at me.

“What’s so funny, Thunder? Sad the attention isn’t on you anymore?” I tease him while trying to find the perfect picture.

“I just find the pining that goes on between two supposedly brilliant people entertaining.” He chuckles as my jaw drops, turning to him. “Come on, Princess. You don’t think we don’t all know you and Pretty Boy fancy each other, do you? It’s obvious to everyone except the boy himself.”

I shake my head. “He’d never see me that way, Morgan. This is just for shits and giggles.” I breathe out, settling on an image of our feet in front of the TV screen, mismatched socks adorning our feet while “Beauty and the Beast” plays in the background. He sports a neon pink sock along with a navy blue sock covered in planets, while my feet claimed one sock covered in different moon phases, the other covered in little alien creatures. Placing his phone on his desk, I settle back at my own, shooting Morgan a closing, “You’re just seeing things, Morgan.” before burying myself back in the file at hand.

Moments later, my mug is sat directly in front of me before Reid sits at his own desk. Automatically picking up his phone to check, my tummy flutters at the smile he releases while staring at the screen for a moment before looking at me. Making eye contact, I notice a slight pink tint to his cheeks, before he looks back at the image.

“This might be my favorite one yet,” he murmurs, adjusting his glasses without looking away from the screen. I feel my cheeks heat up, getting warmer by the second, but I cannot tear my eyes from the man who holds my heart without even knowing it.

***

“Hey Y/N. Ready for lunch?” Spencer asks, tearing my eyes from the IMs Garcia floods me with daily.

“Ready when you are!” I reply, jumping at the opportunity to get away from the files scattered on my desk. You’d think serial killers would take a day off sometimes. Shuffling to my feet, I grab my keys from my desk and grab Spencer’s hand, dragging him to the elevator with me.

“Seems like it’s more ready when Y/N is.” He chuckles, straightening his glasses once he comes to a stop in front of the silver doors. As we step in, Garcia frantically waves at us, before sprinting into the bullpen as the doors close.

“Well, you’re in luck, Pretty Boy. You get me as your personal chauffeur to lunch.” I beam at him as he goes bug-eyed.

“Lucky? In your death trap, Y/N?” He chuckles, putting a flabbergasted look on my face.

“Hey!” I yell at him, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “My car has lasted 15 long years I’ll have you know, and she runs as smooth as ever,” I shoot back, immediately leaving him behind when the doors open. “Maybe I’ll just go get pancakes without you then.” It’s playful when I lock all the car doors except for mine, and he knows it.

That doesn’t stop him from playing along. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry Y/N! Will you ever forgive my poor soul?” he jokes, holding both his hands over his heart as he begs for forgiveness. Unlocking the doors, I giggle at his antics before heading to the restaurant.

***

“Y’all ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” The server returns to the table with our coffees, along with an apple juice for my inner child.

“Yes ma’am. Can I get the plain pancakes with eggs, as well as a side of bacon and sausage?” Spencer asks while gathering both our menus for her. “Of course, sugar. What about you darlin’?” she turns to me as Spencer dumps almost the entire sugar container into his mug.

“I’ll just have the chocolate chip pancake, please!” I smile at her as I steal what’s left of the sugar from the man across from me.

“No problem, that’ll be right out for y’all.” She smiles at us before heading off to the kitchen.

“Did you know chocolate chips were invented by Ruth Wakefield because she decided to chop up a chocolate bar and add it to her cookie batter?” Spencer looks to me as he starts with factoids. “And white chocolate isn’t even truly chocolate! White chocolate is made with a blend of sugar, cocoa butter, milk products, vanilla, and a fatty substance called lecithin. Not that it’s a surprise, considering it doesn’t even taste like chocolate. Probably because it doesn't contain chocolate solids.” he rambles as I stare at him with stars in my eyes. “However, dark chocolate is loaded with organic compounds that are biologically active and function as antioxidants. These include polyphenols, flavanols and catechins, among others. Dark chocolate also has a list of different benefits proven from consumption.” He finishes, taking a sip of his coffee as I continue staring at the man.

“What ever would I do without you, Boy Wonder?” I say, seeing Spencer’s face heat up at my remark as he hides behind his mug.

“M-me?” He asks, as if he couldn’t believe it. He shakes his head in disbelief before I could respond, showering me with many more factoids while waiting for our food rather than accept my compliment.

“Alright, here’s your food darlin’. Let me know if there’s anything else I could do for y’all.” The server tells us, shooting us a smile before moving onto another table. Spencer takes his time cutting up his food, dousing his plate in more syrup than pancake. Meanwhile, I dig into my pancakes as if it’s the last thing I will ever eat.

Halfway through my own pancakes, I look up to see Spencer looking directly at me with a look I couldn’t quite distinguish.

“Why are you staring at me?” I ask him, almost seeming to pull him from a trance before responding.

“Oh. Uh, you have chocolate on your face.” He tells me, seeing my face flush at the information. I grab my napkin and quickly wipe my lips making sure not to miss a spot. Little did I know, there wasn’t a single speck on my face.

“Is it gone?” I ask him, hoping not to embarrass myself further.

“Oh, yeah it’s gone.” he smiles, returning his focus onto his own plate.

Going back to eating, I keep sneaking pieces of the bacon off Spencer’s plate, causing him to smile each time.

“Hey Spence. I have a question for you.” I tell him, shoving a piece of bacon in my mouth.

“And what would that be, Y/N?” He asks me, sipping his coffee.

“Why is it every time we come here you order sausage and bacon, if you never touch the bacon?” I ask him, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

“Would you like my honest answer?” He pushes back, as if I would want anything else from him. I nod with a mouth full of pancakes, earning a smile while he responds. “Because I know you’ll always steal the bacon from my plate but will never actually order it yourself.” He smiles at me, returning to his own food leaving me speechless and even more red.

Finishing up our plates, Spencer takes initiative to organize all of the empty dishes so our server has less work. Giggling at his antics, I pull out my phone to check the time, seeing we still have plenty of time before our break is over.

“Are we getting milkshakes?” he asks me, sipping the last of his coffee before adding the mug to his carefully organized dish-pile.

“Of course we’re getting milkshakes, what kind of question is that, Spencer?” I look at him, almost appalled he would assume we weren’t. “We each have a sweet tooth I’ve ever seen matched by anyone else, why would you ever assume I would say no to a milkshake?”

“I wasn’t sure if we had the time, I didn’t want to make us late.” He explains, shaking his head yet again at my child-like antics.

When the server returns, we both order the largest mint-chip shakes they had before returning to our usual banter in waiting. Not long after, the server returned with a single shake.

“I’m so sorry sugar, apparently we only had enough ingredients for one mint-chip. Can I get y’all something else?” The server asks us, feeling bad she couldn’t fulfill our order.

“You take the mint-chip, Spence. I’ll order something else.” I push the shake toward him as he blocks it from getting to him.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m not worried about it.” He replies, fighting me over a milkshake.

“Spence-” I begin to argue before he abruptly cuts me off.

“Would you like to share the shake with me, Y/N?” he asks me, looking me directly in the eye. I froze for a moment, taken aback at the offer from the germaphobe in front of me.

“If that’s okay with you, Spence. Then, sure!” I respond, checking if it was okay with him.

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t okay, Y/N.” He shoots back, chuckling at me before asking the server for two straws. The man in front of me steals more and more of my heart with every passing moment.

***

Going up the elevator to the BAU was a constant battle between us. Spencer secretly gave the server his card so I wouldn’t even have a chance to fight him on paying.

“You gave me your trail mix, Y/N! That’s the whole reason I asked you to get lunch in the first place! Why would I let you pay when I extended the invitation?” He shoots at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Shooting him a look of discontent, we both sit back at our desks, feeling 2 pairs of eyes staring at us from a few desks over.

“Don’t look now, but I think Tweedledee and Tweedledum are staring at us.” I lean over to whisper. Reid tries his best to look up at them, nonchalant as possible. Despite the boy being a genius, he is anything but sly, looking just in time to see Derek and Penelope snap their heads to whatever was on his desk. Giving them a smile, Reid picks up his own file to return to his own tasks for the day. However, the task only lasted so long before the genius needed yet another cup of coffee for the day. Heading off to the kitchen, I quickly grab the phone he left on his desk on his break, trying to plan the perfect image.

Before I could get far, I was abruptly stopped in my tracks. Staring at the homescreen on his phone, I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t noticed this before. Had this been in front of my face the entire time? Staring at the screen, I see myself and Spencer from our weekly movie nights. I had all of our silly photos, yet I had never seen this one. I see myself, puffed out cheeks with my eyes crossed, pulling at my ears to make myself look like a monkey, but my eyes can only look at Spencer. He hadn’t made his silly face. Instead, the man before me is staring directly at me, the sweetest smile across his lips. His little nose scrunch in full effect, his beautiful hazel eyes creased in the corner from his smile. That smile that could melt my heart in two seconds flat. Staring at the screen for what felt like centuries, I refocus on my surroundings when I hear his soft voice behind me.

“Wow, Y/N. Getting a little slow with the changes now, are we?” He laughs, before noticing the look on my face. Stopping dead in his tracks, he looks at me confused more than ever. Not being able to form words, I raise my hand to show him the wallpaper, the perfect image of us. His eyes go wide, his mug almost slipping through his fingers.

“Y/N, I-” He starts.

“Spence… Where did this picture come from?” I ask him, looking back at the screen before me. “I’ve never seen this one before,” I whisper, before Spencer puts his hands over mine, the mug now living on his desk.

“I, uh. I took this one before making a face, I just couldn’t resist.” He whispers, pulling my chin up gently between his two fingers, looking me dead in the eye. “Y/N…” He starts, glancing down before gazing back at me with the same look I saw at the restaurant. “I couldn’t resist because I wanted to keep a physical copy of one of the happiest moments of my life. And I care about you... More than care about you! You make my days so much brighter when you’re around. You’re the only person to ever know me, the real me. And I..” he trails off, working his confidence up to finish his thought. “I love you, Y/N. And that picture was saved, locked away on my phone so I could be reminded how much you mean to me, and how much you care on some of my darkest days. I love you, Y/N. It’s the only thing I have locked away because it’s the moment I knew I was in love with you.” He finishes, breathing out as he waits for me to react. Stunned into silence, I stand there looking at the man, seeing his face turn to panic. “It’s okay if you do-” He starts, stunned when he is cut off by his plush lips being covered by my own. He slides his hand onto my cheek, holding my face as he returns the affection.

Pulling away, I look him dead in the eye, I pull out of his embrace to my own desk, grabbing my phone. Returning to his side, I unlock my phone to show him my own hidden homescreen, a grin spreading on my cheeks from the flood of emotion. From our self-care night, it is quite possibly my favorite image of the man. He was in his robe, bunny headband and mask, but he was trying to block the images from being taken. His hand was raised in an attempt, but I could hear the laughter radiate from the image, the smile making my heart swoon at every glance. Looking between me and the image, Spencer’s jaw drops at my own revelation, before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. Burying my face in his neck, I murmur my own “I love you.” Before a whistle from the peanut gallery beside us breaks it up.

Shooting a look to Penelope, I see she has the biggest smile plastered on her own face, her rosy cheeks probably stinging from the sheer joy painted on. Morgan sitting beside her lounges back in his own chair, shooting a wink our way.

Returning to our respective seats, I can’t help but steal glances at the man beside me. When he catches me, I can’t help but giggle.

“Hey Spence. How long was I oblivious to your homescreen?” I ask him, curious as to how much of a dumbass I truly was. Seeing his cheeks flush pink, he turns to me with guilt in his eyes,

“Y/N.. as much as I would love to take the credit, I don’t know where the wallpaper came from. I can barely change it back after you mess with it.” He confesses, a shy smile on his face. Laughing at his technophobe ways, it finally registers that he didn’t actually set the wallpaper.

“Wait, then who changed it?” I ask him, before hearing stilettos and boots scurrying down the hall, laughter trailing behind them. Looking back at my boy, those eyes stole all my words away, and that smile… the smile I had seen so many times before but never knew the intention, the smile I fell in love with, I knew he would forever be my always.

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Taglist: @spencer-reid-in-a-pool @redbullchick @samanddeanstolethetardis221b @reidetic @gretaamyk @sunlight-moonrise @prettyricky187 @rileysann @itslatinamagia @timey-wimey-lovi @pinkdiamond1016

#httpnxtt #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fluff #fluff

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

Text

Finding You -- Part IV

Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: Soft!Dave. Mentions of past abuse. Author's Note: A bit shamelessly self indulgent throwing my soccer obsession into the fold here. Also soft Dave. SOFT DAVID YORK. He literally lives in my fucking head rent free.

MASTERLIST | PART I | PART II | PART III | Pink Magnolias

He lets himself in near ten.

His movements were caught by the security cameras outside, a video alert popping across both of their phones. He turned his off, not worried about himself. But she?

She was lost in deep green velvet of her wingback chair, nose stuck firmly in a book. Her preference in the quiet. She didn’t even bother to look at her phone, there’s only one other person has the key to the house

His footsteps are soft as he brings himself to stand above her but she won’t look up at him, she only has one paragraph left and he can wait for her attention.

Leaning down, he presses his lips to her forehead and straightens again as a shiver runs down her spine, “did you eat?”

She hums in affirmation, “did you?”

One sentence to go but she looks up into his eyes, no longer being able to keep concentration under the intensity of his gaze. So soft and dark, made darker under the shadows cast by the small glow of her lamp.

Eyes that say I love you. She hopes her shout it back.

“I had dinner with the girls, took them out for pizza and then put them to bed.”

“You're early though.”

“Yeah, baby,” he pushes a tendril of hair away, “traffic wasn’t so bad and they both had a soccer game today so they fell asleep fairly early.”

She lights up, “they play soccer?”

“Yeah,” he pulls his phone out and opens the pictures to show her, “Molly just runs around and does whatever but Alice actually takes it serious, says she wants to be like,” he laughs, “Emily Sonnett? I don’t know who that is but I’ll tell you this, she’s mean on that field. Even calls it a pitch.”

“As she should,” she look at him like he’s crazy, “that's the proper terminology for the sport.”

He chuckles low in his throat and presses a kiss to her lips, “next you’re going to tell me you call it football.”

“I do.”

“Mmhmm,” he stands again and turns, his hand trailing out of reach of hers as he moves to the kitchen behind her, “don't let that Spanish passport go to your head, baby. We’re still in America, it’s soccer.”

“My uncle died,” she says quietly over her shoulder, book falling to lay in her lap.

He says nothing, letting the words die in the space between them as he prepares the coffee maker for the next morning.

“David?”

He grunts an acknowledgement.

“Where were you again this weekend?”

It’s the stuttering response, “the girls had a cheerleading competition,” that alerts her to the truth.

“David,” her voice is harsh, “where were you really?”

The fridge opens, the sound of clinking on the shelves as he cards through the contents for a beer and she’s impatient.

“David Thomas York,” she throws the book towards the table to her front, “I will leave if you lie to me again.”

“You can’t leave, baby, this is your house.”

A laugh meets him then and he knows that she’s serious, “you gave me a European passport, I can go wherever I please.”

He’s kneeling in front of her now, one hand wrapped around her ankle while one holds the bottle just as gingerly, his eyes are soft but not sad as he looks up at her, “it was a fire or, at least, that’s how I made it look.”

She lays her hand on his where it rests on her leg, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t need your praise, I just needed your peace of mind.”

Lips press to her soft hand now and he’s amazed, for some reason, when she doesn’t flinch back so he continues, “he'll never hurt anybody, especially you, again.”

“David,” she grips his jaw in her small hand, “don't you ever lie to me again.”

A slow nod is all that meets her gaze and a held breath releases, “when I fucked you in the gardens, my chest seized up. I wanted to hurt anybody who’d ever hurt you.”

“You’re getting soft on me, old man.”

Another nod, because it’s true.

“Would you like to meet the girls?”

The air shifts, her face lights up again, “would you like me to meet the girls?”

She lifts the beer from his hands and takes a drink as his eyes go a bit dopey, “I would, Carol and I have been discussing it and she would like that as well, if you would.”

The silence between them stretches on for just a little too long and he panics, “if you don’t want to, I understan—“

She holds a hand to his lips to silence him and takes another drink of the beer, “I would love to and we should take them to a Washington Spirit game.”

“Who the fuck are the Washington Spirit, baby?”

Her eyebrows raises in a question, the way his does at her, and he knows he’s stepped in something when she simply responds, “Emily Sonnett plays for the Washington Spirit, they’re the local women’s soccer team.”

He takes the bottle from her once more, bringing the now cold hand to his lips and places a kiss to the palm before laying it flat against his cheek, “Alice is going to love you so much.” —————

“Ahhhh, she’s so powerful!” Alice is screeching through the team store, picking up everything that glows under the bright fluorescent lights.

There’s a small tug on her right hand and she looks down, believing it’s Dave’s hand she’d find but it’s not. Tiny, cold fingers tuck into her hand in the space he no longer occupies, having gone running after Alice.

Molly holds a teddybear up, one wearing a small jersey, and asks, “can I have this? Do you think daddy would buy it for me?”

“I do,” she nods, “but if he doesn’t, then I will.”

She smiles wide and runs off to meet up with her sister, shouting, “look what I’m getting!”

“Is that so,” comes David’s voice, “and who said daddy was gonna buy that for you?”

The matter-of-fact way in which she answers the question is lost to her ears as another voice finds hers.

“They love you,” it’s Carol, another guest of today’s outing, “all of them, especially David.”

She turns to the other woman and Carol laughs at the surprise on Lucy's face. She likes her, she doe, gotten along this whole time but she wonders if she’s telling the truth.

“Trust me,” she says, almost as if she can read Lucy's mind, “I know all three of them, especially the way that one’s—“ she points at Dave, “—head works. Or, rather, how it doesn’t. That’s why we never worked. He’s a good man, Lucy, but he hasn’t been like this in a really long time.”

“But,” he continues,” looping arms as they walk forward, “if he never says it, don’t take it personally. He’s never been that type of man, you just—“

“Know,” Lucy agrees, “it’s in his eyes.”

Alice is running back, showing off the Sonnett jersey she’s picked out with a smile on her face, “look!”

“We need to get out of here,” Dave follows behind with Molly in his arms now, “before she bankrupts me.”

And there’s something primal that warms low in her belly, tugs at her being as she watches him with his children. —————

“Hey,” he’s sliding into bed next to her, Carol having taken the girls home and Dave having taken Lucy, “thank you for being so good with my girls.”

That low lying warmth fills her again as she looks into his eyes, this soft and hard man who shows her every part of him.

“Alice scares the shit out of me.”

He laughs, nodding into the kiss he’s pressing into her lips, “me too. Remember how I said if you decided to leave, nobody would come after you?”

“Yeah.”

He laughs again, “break her old man’s heart and I cannot guarantee that Alice York won’t hunt you down.”

“Is this you trying to grab a commitment out of me?”

“Grab one?” His brows knit in confusion, “I said I would marry you and bought a house with you and introduce you to my family, I think I already got one.”

She hums against his lips, pulling him down for another kiss, “guess I’m the one going soft on you, old man.”

“I love it,” he trails kisses down her jaw, “I wish I didn’t have to work, you either.”

“So we have a job soon then?”

“Yeah,” he says between the kisses to her neck, “are you ready for that?”

She doesn’t let the panic rise in her, doesn’t want him to know that she doesn’t think she is but he knows. Reads it in the way her heart beats against his lips now and he stops, bringing himself back up eye level to her.

“You don’t have to, you know, you can sit these jobs out. You know that right?”

She bites her lip, praying the tears that sting her eyes will dry up without having to be pushed aside, and nods her head.

“Just think about it,” he kisses her again, “I love you.”

TAG LIST: @a-bang-for-your-bucky @anu-simps @apascalrascal @bdavishiddlesbatch @casualpalacebagelrascal @darnitdraco @dobbyjen @empress-palpat1ne @evelynseventyr @gracie7209 @green-socks @greeneyedblondie44 @hnt-escape @icanbeyourjedi @justanotherblonde23 @klaine-92 @knivesareout @lachicapequena @leonieb @lexi-b-writes @mouthymandalorianalso @notcookiebelle @omlwhatamidoinghere @pascalslittlebrat @phoenixpascal @phrog-seeds @pilothusband @princess76179 @purplepascal042 @rosiefridayrogersunday @sarahjkl82-blog @sleep-tight1 @soyelfuegoquearde @starlightmornings @talesfromtheguild @the-feckless-wonder @wheresarizona @wille-zarr

#dave york #dave york fanfiction #equalizer 2 #equalizer 2 fanfiction #original female character #ofc #original character #oc #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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archipelagolago · 3 years

Text

There’s a World Between Earth and Sky

Tonight, the breeze is a light shudder over Steve’s bare arms.

He’s sitting on the floor in front of his sliding back door.

The door is open to about the width of his shoulders; wide enough to breathe the outside air, narrow enough to be closed quickly.

The sunset is gorgeous. Truly dreamlike in its beauty. Soft pinks and vibrant oranges fading to quiet purples and deep blues in one direction, to bright, blinding, yellow in the other.

It’s not red tonight. Steve couldn’t be here, looking, if it was red tonight. Couldn’t see it without facing flashes of bloody nails, dark-veined blue eyes, doomsday skies.

So, it’s not red tonight.

But the shadows are there. On the edge of the tree line. Cast over chlorinated water by a diving board.

Even so, Steve can be here. Because the gap left by the open door is narrow enough to be slammed shut in less than a second. And Steve’s bat is resting against the wall, easy to reach. And, most importantly, Billy is in the house.

Billy’s sleeping on the living room couch. Protected by two fluffy blankets. Living. Breathing. In this dimension.

He sleeps a lot, these days. Is usually curled up on that couch when Steve gets home from work. Billy hasn’t been medically cleared to start working again yet. So, he mostly sleeps during the day, isn’t quite able to shut his eyes to the night.

Steve wishes it wasn’t like that. Hopes the night feels less like dying, for Billy, soon. Although, admittedly, Steve takes comfort in knowing someone’s keeping watch on him as he sleeps.

The sunset is getting less yellow now, more pink and purple. Soon it will all fade to vast, dominating, blues.

A dog barks off in the distance. Steve watches a squirrel twitch its tail, run away up a tree.

Steve likes these sounds, dogs barking, squirrels scurrying. They’re safe, but, nothing compared to his current favorite sound, the rustle of blankets and squeak of the couch as Billy shifts into consciousness.

Steve’s lips rise in a soft smile, soft like the pink of the sunset. He hears Billy grunt before the couch squeaks again and his feet can be heard finding the floorboards. The wood groans as Billy shifts his full weight onto it, standing. The scuffing of socks brushing over the floor makes way over to Steve.

The footsteps stop in the doorway.

“Good morning, baby,” Steve calls, keeping his eyes on the sunset.

Billy yawns, shuffles over to sit next to Steve. He shakes out his arms before shifting onto his side and laying his head onto Steve’s crossed legs.

He’s brought one of the blankets with him, has it draped over his shoulders and covering him down to his feet.

Steve sets his right hand over Billy’s heart, feels his own fill with a molten kind of love when Billy’s hand moves up to cover Steve’s.

Steve’s left hand travels to Billy’s hair, stroking the tangled curls in his lap.

This means safety. Means comfort unmatched. Is the first time, all day, Steve can honestly say the sense of impending doom is silenced.

“Sunset’s good today?” Billy asks in a whisper.

Steve senses the soft pink between his ribs grow crawling up to his armpits. He feels some of the tension in his shoulders melt as the color starts to glow.

“The sunset’s amazing today,” Steve responds, with a pleased sigh.

Billy gifts a kiss to Steve’s ankle.

“Tell me 'bout work,” he instructs.

In the back of Steve’s throat, something joins the sunset pink.

“Was pretty average. Nothing special. Except, actually, El and Will came in today. Robin convinced them to rent, uh, the… 'Rocket Horror Movie’? I think?”

The texture of Billy’s hair is a quiet purple beneath Steve’s fingers.

Billy rolls onto his back, frowns up at Steve, “Huh?”

“Uh, or maybe it was, 'The Rocking Horror Show’? Something like that. Don’t think it’s a new release,” Steve tries to explain.

Billy’s eyes light up, a grin spreads over his face, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show?”

Steve’s left pointer finger tap-tap-taps against a floorboard, “Yeah! That’s the one,” he exclaims, relieved to have it remembered.

Billy’s eyebrows raise, grin deepens, “Really? No way?”

“Rob said it wouldn’t be too scary for the kids,” Steve says, starting, now, to doubt her claim.

Billy frees up a laugh at that. His amusement has him vibrating against Steve’s thighs; Steve thinks, this must be what it’s like to feel at home.

“So you’ve never seen Rocky Horror?” Billy asks after settling down.

“No,” Steve answers, “s'it bad?”

Billy huffs out a quiet chuckle, shakes his head. He’s looking at Steve so tenderly, like Steve is the force that keeps his heart beating.

“What’s so funny about it then?” Steve demands, tone shifting to a whine.

Billy’s lips twitch in the way they do when he’s trying to hide a smile.

“We’ll rent it once your kids return it. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Steve groans, “Biilllyy, you know I hate waiting!”

“Yup,” Billy says, popping the 'p’ and rolling his eyes.

He reaches up and brings Steve’s head down, traps him in a vibrant orange kiss.

Steve might cry, he would if he still remembered how to. He’s safe. This is home. This is home.

Billy pulls back. His eyes are watering. He’s happy. Steve can tell by the way he scrunches his nose, squeezes Steve’s hand.

“Whenever I sit here with you, looking out at the sunset, I think, it’s the day kissing the night awake,” Billy says.

Steve smiles down at Billy in gentle purple. He moves the hand that isn’t clutching Billy’s own, back to his lover’s hair. Let’s his fingers glide over it.

“Reminds me of you,” Billy clarifies, closing his eyes.

Steve hums in question.

Billy continues, “You do the same. Kiss me awake at night,” he rubs his head up and down over Steve’s thigh, wraps an arm around his waist, “You’re my sunset.”

And Steve’s glowing now. Taken over by all the colors of the sunset.

Steve’s not good at crying. Hasn’t felt tears on his face in… he doesn’t know how long. Billy, though, is good at crying. He tears up practically any time he’s struck by emotion.

Sometimes, like now, Steve wishes he knew how to release the suffocating hold he’s had choking his emotions since he first realized his parents didn’t love him back. He wishes he could let go of control, drop the façade, even for just a few seconds.

Because he’s safe, here, with Billy, in this dimension. He knows nothing bad would come of displaying his emotions. He’s safe. He’s loved. He’s home.

But, years of suppressing his emotions. Burying his feelings. Hiding behind a mask. They don’t just disappear. He can’t just reset.

So it’s still hard for him. To express his own emotions outside of responding to those of others. Because, he can be angry in response to someone else’s rage, can be sad in response to someone else’s despair, can be affectionate in response to someone else’s care. But, he can’t quite seem to feel like a human on his own. Can’t seem to say anything serious with his eyes open, or kiss Billy first, couldn’t respond to Nancy’s grief while simultaneously burying his own terror, guilt, confusion.

It’s okay, though. Because Billy knows. Billy knows how to love him and how to listen to him and how to see him. Because he’s made a point of learning to understand Steve. Because he cares. Because he loves Steve back.

So, when all Steve can do is close his eyes and whisper, “I love you,” Billy knows he means it. Even though, right now, Steve can just tell and not entirely show.

So, when Billy twists, kisses Steve’s stomach, presses his face up against him, Steve knows he means, 'I love you too.“ Even though, right now, he can’t entirely tell, just show.

And when Steve keeps stroking Billy’s hair, not only in response to Billy setting his head on Steve’s lap, it’s progress.

The sun is fully set by now. Soft pinks and quiet purples overtaken by vast blues. And it’s okay. It’s still beautiful. The stars are glowing brighter now. If you look closely, maybe squint, you’ll see the clouds building abstract patterns in the shifting blue.

Steve looks down at Billy, now. Squeezes his hand and says, "I should get started on dinner.”

Before Billy can groan he adds, “And. I uh, I know that you’re nauseous, and it hurts. But. Can you try today? At least have some smoothie, for me?”

Billy sighs, narrows his eyes at Steve, “That’s not fair, you know. Making it 'for you’. Can’t do that when you know I’d do anything for ya.”

Steve isn’t sure how to reply to that. It’s true. But. Things are complicated for both of them right now. Nothing feels, just, simple.

“Seriously, sunset,” Billy emphasizes.

Steve takes a deep breath, “Ok. You’re right. It’s unfair to guilt you like that. I just don’t know what to do sometimes. I just want to keep you safe. For always.”

Billy groans, shakes his head, but smiles too, “Can’t always be here ta keep me safe from everything, Stevie. Sometimes, some things, are just always going to be bad. But. I’ll try to try your smoothie. S'long as it’s blueberry.”

Billy’s right. Again. Sometimes bad things stay bad. But, they live among good things, too. And sometimes, good things are just good– no catch. Reality is complex. Multifaceted. Too jumbled up to be just good/bad. Too chaotic to read within the lines. Meaning, the universe holds its breath. Meaning, the universe exhales in time.

And, so. When Steve helps Billy up from the floor, closes the door. When Billy walks behind Steve with his arms wrapped around his lover’s waist, whispering, “we’ll take it slow, sunset.” When the two walk into the kitchen swaying, dancing (slow). The sky meets the Earth, and the view is neither one, nor the other. The Earth meets the sky, and the view is, maybe, both. 🌇

#reposting this without the preamble #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #isa did a thing #the- groans shakes his head but smiles too- line #is transplanted from the line in Cloud Atlas #in Frobisher's letter to Sixamith where he says-#i know you groan and shake your head #but you smile too #and that is why i love you #bc Cloud Atlas lines will always control my thoughts #🌇#*Sixsmith^

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lizzy-williams · 4 years

Text

𝐦𝐫. 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

((Howdy there, this is my first time writing on here, so I hope you enjoy!))

Masterlist

Summary: You accept a job as an assistant to the now world-famous Colson Baker, who shattered the charts with his album Tickets To My Downfall, and an Oscar winner for his success in the award-winning film titled Midnight in the Switchgrass, which also starred his ex, Megan Fox. But once you are accepted for the job, you seem to get closer than anticipated with Mr. Baker.

𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑫 graduated with a bachelor’s degree in business administration, you had never expected to be getting a job like this. Sure, you had heard about your employer. He had won an Oscar for christ’s sake. Not to mention a Grammy-winning album. You had to say that personally, you were a fan, which was one of the main reasons you interviewed for the job. But never in a million years did you think you would land it.

When you were employed, you were expected to start right after you had applied, which you obliged, even though his house was a thirty-minute drive away.

So now, there you were, sitting in your car, taking deep breaths. You had arrived several minutes early. You had pulled into the driveway, breathing in and out as you prepared yourself. You were excited but scared out of your mind.

“Come on, AJ, you got this, just go in there and try to not be a nuisance,” you spoke to yourself. With a deep breath, you exited the vehicle brushing yourself up, walking up the long, intimidating stairs.

You raised your hand up, taking hold of the lion-shaped knocker and knocked three times, the echos being heard even from the outside. The door was large and almost looming over you with its height. You took the waiting time to look around at the garden out front, trimmed to perfection and colorful pink roses littering the gravel. It was nothing less than stunning.

“Who’s there?” a voice asked, making you jump, your eyes shifting around.

You then realized the voice was a Ring doorbell system, and you mentally slapped yourself for not just using that. You leaned down slightly, trying to meet the camera’s eye, giving a warm smile.

“Um, I’m Adeline Williams, I’m the new assistant for Mr. Baker, I was instructed to start today,”

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.”

The voice was deeper then what you would think Mr. Baker would sound like, having seen plenty of interviews. Suddenly the door swung open, revealing a tall African-American male. He had to be at least six feet tall.

“What’s up, I’m Slim,” He held his hand out for a handshake, which you quickly took.

“Yeah, I’m Adeline, but you can just call me AJ,” you responded, “Where is Mr. Baker?”

“Yeah, he’s still asleep. His manager made you a binder for your duties and other stuff. It’s good to meet you though, just feel free to come in and grab your stuff in the kitchen.” He stated, stepping aside and motioning for you to enter.

You walked in, taking in the entryway. The walls were littered with gold record plaques for collabs he had done with other artists. Paintings of him were scattered around, some furniture almost automatically spotted that looked more expensive than your entire apartment. The ceiling was high-up, light fixtures illuminating the space, giving off a warm feel to the area.

You slipped off your flats, Slim already slipping away into the maze of the house, leaving you to find the kitchen by yourself. Your sock-clad feet patted across the hard floor, your eyes wandering around, trying to find the kitchen in the stupidly large house.

You walked down a hallway, reaching another large room, but now the walls were covered in posters and guitars, a drum set in the corner, recording systems, speakers, and even a Monster Energy Drink sponsored mini fridge which was fully stocked, drawings and art above it, the window next to it letting a fair amount of light in, the curtains drawn. You walked over to the drum set, running your hand on one of the symbols, which had sadly had a light coat of dust on it. Come to think of it, so did most of the other instruments.

“You could play them if you want,” another voice said behind you, making you jump and whip around, your eyes instantly meeting the eyes of your employer.

He was tall, six foot four according to Google, his exposed chest littered with so many tattoos, you couldn’t possibly count them all. His bleach-blond hair was long and shaggy on top of his head, meaning he had probably just woken up, grey sweatpants covering his bottom half, the hem of his boxers peeking over the waistband of the grey material, making you blush and meet his eyes again.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry, I don’t play,” you then mentally slapped yourself once again, “Sorry, what am I saying. I’m Adeline - Um, Williams, I’m here as your new assistant.”

He looked you up and down, taking in you attire, a slight sneer appearing on his face, only for a second. You guessed by his reaction that you were over-dressed.

“You look like a kindergarten teacher.” he laughed.

“Uhm, noted, do you... want me to take off my sweater or something?” you asked.

He scoffed, biting his lip and turning away, holding back from saying something that you were guessing would piss you off.

You sighed, slipping off your sweater and messing with your hands, “Would you mind showing me to your kitchen? Your friend, Slim told me that your manager had had something in there for me,”

“Yeah, follow me,” he muttered, turning on his heel and walking away, your own small feet scuttering across the floor, following him.

And of course, the kitchen was as stunning at the rest of the house, the size, making it look like a gourmet kitchen. And there on one of the granite countertops was a .5 inch pale white binder. Colson walked over to his coffee machine, starting it up and watching you walk over, opening it up.

It listed normal duties like setting up venues for tours, making appointments with the production company, merchandise shipment, and payment, normal duties for Colson himself, (Making iced coffee, booking flights, rides for Casie, his daughter, for school, etc.), and traveling with him to the recording studio for sessions, along with renting time for the studio itself.

“So, what do ya think. The list gonna scare you off?” he asked, a sly smile on his face.

“Well, seems easy enough. It just seems like a lot of booking things.” you smiled, “But it shouldn’t be a problem at all, Mr. Baker.”

He grimaced, “Yikes, just call me Colson. You make me sound like an old man. And if I’m going to be seeing you every day, we kinda need to be on a first-name basis.” he said, opening one of the hundreds of cabinets on the wall, pulling out a mug, “What’s your name again?”

“Adeline. But you can just call me AJ.” you looked back down at the papers, turning to a page to all the numbers needed for your position.

“What’s the J?”

“Huh?” you asked, not looking away from the page.

“Well, in AJ I already know what the A is, so what’s the J?” He smirked, pouring the coffee grounds into the coffee maker, pressing start.

“Oh, um, Jane.” you shrugged off.

“Adeline Jane Williams,” he repeated to himself out loud.

Your heart unintentionally fluttered. Never in a million years did you think that Colson Baker, Machine Gun Kelly, would ever say your full name.

The day went by smoothly, your brain soon catching onto the rhythm of things, you and Colson making small talk as you typed away, sending emails to the publishing companies, his agent, manager, and PR team. Colson would occasionally text you to make him a drink, which you did, always getting right back to work afterward. People came in and out, paying you no mind. The only one you honestly recognized was Rook, his drummer, who only came in to grab a beer from the fridge. Soon enough, the time reached 5 o’clock.

“So, what do you wanna eat?” he suddenly asked, walking into the kitchen area, leaning over the counter you were working at.

The sound of the TV played as you heard the laughter of a group of people in the other room.

“Oh, I honestly have no preference,” you answered honestly, looking up from your Chromebook.

“You sure? Me and the guys were gonna Postmate some stuff, but they can’t decide either.”

“Ummm, I heard there’s a really good restaurant downtown called Beau Jo's. Hear they have a mean menu of Cajun food.” you perked up,

“Alright, Beau Jo’s it is.” He responded, picking up his phone and walking away.

Even though you two had small talk, you still felt like he was so cold to you. Like he didn’t like you, or he didn’t trust you. But you really needed this job. After you finished with your work, you walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

There, you were greeted with glancing eyes of 20 or more people, who were scattered throughout the space.

A man walked up to you, looking eccentric as ever. You only knew him because you knew he dated Bella Thorne, but you would never tell him that.

“Heyyyy, you must be the new assistant. Welcome to the best years of your life!” he greeted, slinging an arm around your shoulders, a cola in his other hand. The smell of expensive cologne.

“Modern Sunshine, I presume?” I asked in a snobby British accent, making him laugh.

“Yo Kells! I like this chick!” he called out to Colson, who was across the room talking to some blond broad in short shorts and a crop top.

“Why don’t you come meet the rest of the guys.”

Well, you knew it was coming. It was the end of the night and everyone had gone home, and it was your job to order Ubers for everyone who wasn’t fit to drive. (Which was close to half the people there).

You gathered up your things, sighing as you grabbed your kindergarten teacher sweater, packing it in your bag along with your computer and everything else. Finally, you tucked the binder into the back pocket.

“You heading out?” Colson asked from behind you, his hand on your shoulder.

Your arms formed goosebumps as you looked back smiling, “Yeah, I think it’s that time.”

“Cool. Well, have a good night.” he said while you slipped on your flats, “Oh, and one more thing before you go.”

You turned your head to look into his eyes.

“Tomorrow wear something more... spicy,”

#machine gun kelly #mgk #mgk smut #mgk imagine #tickets to my downfall #hotel diablo #megan fox #rookxx #slimxx #colson #colson baker #mgk x reader #colson baker x reader #love #romance #imagine #fanfiction #alpha omega #lace up

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sharkinlovewithadolphin · 3 years

Text

Tag game

Tagged by @died-by-the-scimitar thank you!! :D 1. what is the color of your hairbrush? shaft is made of bamboo wood, the brushes themselves are black

2. name a food you never eat: uhhhh idk, I’m quite picky, especially with the texture of food, so if the texture is gross and it’s too big to not chew in, i will usually try to avoid eating it.

3. what were you doing 45 mins ago? watching an old try guys video

4. what’s your favorite candy bar? I don’t really have any

5. have you ever been to a professional sports game? Yes, a football game when I was 9, and I hated every second of it lol. I really want to go watch a handball game, though.

6. what is the last thing you said out loud? “Nå” (means like.. “well then” ish)

7. what is your favorite ice cream? chocolate, vanilla, caramel

8. what was the last thing you had to drink? water

9. do you like your wallet? no

10. what is the last thing you ate? An ice cream

11. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? no

12. what’s the last sporting event you watched? I mean my mom watches the eurogames in football right now, so every now and then I watch like 1 or 2 minutes when I pass the living room, but the last game i sat down and actually watched was men’s handball earlier this year.

13. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? just... salty? lol

14. who is the last person you sent a text message to? a friend a few hours ago, telling her i would start charging her after she wrote that she lived rent free in my head

15. ever been camping? nope. I think I want to try it though

16. do you take vitamins? no, but I should (especially d-vitamins, considering how low my numbers have been since.. always), I got them lying around and everything but I sort of just don’t take them

17. do you regularly attend a place of worship? no

18. do you have a tan? nope

19. do you prefer Chinese or pizza? it really depends on my mood honestly, either is usually neat

20. do you drink your soda through a straw? no, i don’t drink soda and i don’t use straws

21. what color socks do you usually wear? black or white, but i also have some pastel colored and fruit motive ones

22. do you ever drive above the speed limit? not intentionally lol, but i do catch myself accidently driving a little too fast (usually never more than 5-15 km/h above, and i always slow down once i notice).

23. what terrifies you? life. failure. the future. death of my dog. being stuck unable to reach goals

24. look to your left, what do you see? The side of my closet that’s covered in fandom and art postcards from redbubble

25. what chore do you hate most? dishes, changing the sheets, cleaning the bathroom, taking out the trash

26. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? g’day mate + harurinralia

27. what’s your favorite soda? i don’t drink sodas anymore, but if i should it’s usually a wannabe cola or something citrus fruity ish

28. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? I don’t go to fast food places, but if i did i would go in

29. what’s your favorite number? 4

30. who’s the last person you talked to? my mom

31. favorite cut of beef? i don’t eat beef often, and i’m not sure what this even means lol

32. last song you listened to? Lewis Capaldi - Don’t Get Me Wrong

33. last book you read? Reading tipping the velvet right now, last book I finished was Romeo and Juliet I think

34. favorite day of the week? Also saturday

35. can you say the alphabet backwards? no

36. how do you like your coffee? I don’t like coffee, the smell on its own is.. nope

37. favorite pair of shoes? Don’t have a favorite. I used to love my black converses, but my feet are more happy with my current sketchers.

38. time you normally get up? usually never before 7 (after school turned virtual for most of my last semester and i also stopped having morning shifts at work), and lately not before 9

39. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? i love both, but i think i prefer sunsets, just ‘cause they’re easier to catch and (as you said, Fra) more colorful in terms of purple and pink etc.

40. how many blankets on your bed? one and my duvet, but I have 2 blankets across my bedframe since its made of metal and my bed is up against the always-cold wall towards our apartment stairs.

41. describe your kitchen very typical early 2000s danish style, hasn’t been updated in 20 years (except for my mom painting the walls a pastel pink), but not like in an outdated-ugly way i think

42. describe your kitchen at the moment. some papers on the table, bread (packaged), and my mom’s figures and stones collecting dust

43. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? I don’t drink alcohol either eeeeyh

44. do you play cards? no, but I used to love it when I was a kid, mainly go fish

45. what color is your car? I don’t have one, but my mom’s is silver

46. can you change a tire? I’ve never tried it, but I think I got the idea and might be able to should I ever need to. My mom’s husband usually changes them on her car.

47. your favorite state? I’m not american, never set foot near america, BUT i think i like alaska, west virginia, and such, just for the environment (as seen through pictures)

48. favorite job you’ve had? I quite liked cleaning at private homes (of people I knew), which I’ve done a few times before. I work at a store right now (and have been for 3 years), though that is far from something I want to continue, to put it lightly. I got a job as a mentor (helping kids with homework and such), but I’ve yet to get any mentees, so I still can’t quite say much about it :/ Tagging: @hamykia @dandelionmeadow @nenufair @pilarsalazr @spacewitchqueen @happensweet @scimitar-and-longsword @ladyzeia @nicolosfaith

#about me #long post #tag game

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benoitblanc · 3 years

Text

tagged by @jamesbvck and @timothyolyphant (ily guys!!!) to answer some questions!!!

name: arwen

gender: she/her

star sign: pisces

height: 5′3″ >:(

time: 7:06 PM

birthday: march 12th (mark your calendars y’all!!!)

favorite bands: okay i really don’t listen to a lot of bands, so i’ll just list my favorite musicals: hadestown, wicked, hamilton, in the heights, pippin, bandstand, little shop of horrors, and newsies!

favorite solo artists: caro emerald!!!

song stuck in my head: “no body no crime” by taylor swift has been living in my brain rent free since evermore came out. i don’t even like things with country vibes but this is a banger

last film: a christmas carol (1999)

last show: oh gosh i haven’t watched an ep of tv in a while. i think the last thing i watched was 2.04 of the mandalorian but it might have been 1.02 of his dark materials

when did i creat this blog: august 2018

what i post: multifandom madness. in all seriousness, colorful multifandom content with an emphasis on superheroes and sci-fi. the hyperfixation du jour- well, de l’année, really- has been agent carter

last thing i googled: polyphenol chemical formula

other blogs: @martinelli for b&w content, @sousadaniels for pale content, and @hardisons for dark content (mostly lit)

do i get asks: sometimes! this reminds me i need to reply to chels

why i chose my url:

following: 279

followers: 1,043

average hours of sleep: 7-8

lucky number: 12

instruments: voice and piano

what am i wearing: pink and white flannel, jeans, santa hat, reindeer socks

dream job: professional stage manager or forensic scientist

dream trip: okay, this is a slightly complicated answer, because usually it’s rome, but ever since the pandemic began i’ve been dying to go back to london. i live 3000 miles away and i still think of it as my city. i miss it so much

favorite food: steamed pork and vegetable dumplings

nationality: british-american (yes, really- i’m a citizen of both, not just one with heritage from the other)

favorite song: “that man” by caro emerald or literally anything from hadestown

last book read: just finished these violent delights by chloe gong which was EXCELLENT. where is book two

top 3 fictional universes i’d like to live in: the whoniverse, the mcu, and lyra belacqua’s oxford

tagging @martacabreras @skywalkerahsoka @starryreys @baggvins @binickmiller @nancyvhlr @sergeantbuckybarnes and anyone else who wants to do it :)

#tag game #about me

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slaminthebackofmy · 3 years

Text

i’m gonna put my playlist on shuffle and write what the songs remind me of while i listen to them, no one asked and no one cares but i’ve had so much caffeine and sugar today that there is no way in fresh hell i am going to bed anytime soon,

this is unnecessarily long, i’m just terrified of losing memories and i need these written down

deadroses - blackbear - september 2019 when i was getting ready for school. i used a rose cleansing water and the smell of it reminds me of this song, it was super warm and i had just come back from vacation in bulgaria with my family. used to watch the sunset with this song pretending i’m the main character. one time we went to a supermarket on the outskirts of town with this blasting in the car

anxiety - blackbear - almost the same as the previous one, october 2019 when i got led lights under my bed and i was just calming down from 4 months of paranoia and sleepless nights

one for the road - arctic monkeys - weird mood in december when all i would listen to was arctic monkeys and the nbhd, spent most nights on the dining room table blasting these just quiet enough to not wake my parents upstairs, my neighbours probably wished murder was legal

miroh - skz - miroh came out about a month after i found skz so i was still new to their music and the day it came out i was kinda sick and staying home from school so i got to enjoy the full thing in peace, i spent the next few days watching finding skz and then i blasted this throughout april which was a weird and rough month oh and also i started that other writing blog

often - the weeknd - i used to blast this in the 8th grade while i played that one paper airplane flash game before i discovered the magic of headphones fkgslkjgn

sweater weather - so many memories attached to this pretty bitch, finding it first through a sam and colby vine, walking home in the 6th grade from the dentist at night, standing on my balcony and watching super strong winds bring in very dark storm clouds almost completely covering the light from the sky above, except for one small window of light, last december

fantasy - dye - i found this i think last summer but it reminds me of my childhood and watching samurai jack for some reason

rumors - neffex - i accidentally clicked on a lyric video for this while i was staring at the moon one evening and the sky in the background picture of the video was exactly the same as the sky i was looking at and it just reminded me of a mid 2000′s teenagers room in my town, like older boys i used to have baby crushes on as a kid would have a room like that, gray walls, wooden desk with a computer and a bed with gray sheets with a window right above it and moonlight shining in, a red electrig guitar mounted on the wall and a skateboard leaned against the wall

arabella - arctic monkeys - i listened to an hour loop of this for a week straight non stop in december, i specifically remember dec 21st and wrote a lot on here

do i wanna know - arctic monkeys - there’s a few with this one, firsty it’s finding this song in the 9th grade when i was going to a youth club and i started listening to it because a girl from france that was there that i had a crush on liked it, secondly, finding bts in 2018 and listening to this while staring at the stars in a black tshirt, flannel and jeans with converse(yes i was that kid) and feeling the very moist air hit the back of my neck after we just got back from someone’s house that was selling clothes from home.

i miss the old u - blackbear - a lot of these are on my balcony because i love the sky lol but this one is too and just standing on my balcony in autumn 2019 after i got back from school just to watch the sky melt into a coral pink and orange

how you like that - blackpink - summer 2020, all i did was learn to play the ukulele and struggle with an issue i don’t wanna mention, the entire summer, with this playing in the background, i got my new laptop so i blasted this on there instead of my phone like most of the others on this list, also worked out to this song a lot

fly away - thefatrat - playing transformice in 2017 for HOURS and talking to dodgy people on there

dirty laundry - blackbear - you guessed it, getting ready for school in 2019, same as most other blackbear songs

god’s menu - skz - this came out the day after i got my laptop and the day that i got my ukulele, i remember watching the online concert while i waited for my mum to come home and bring me the uke, i watched it in my room in the dark and i literally had way more fun that i probably should have but they were so hyped up it was lovely

chateau - blackbear - autumn 2019 on my balcony watching the sunset

wonderland - caravan palace - similar to how you like that, listened to this all of summer 2020 while i was struggling with that issue, i used to pace around the second floor of my apartment with this song on and strut to the beat

feel special - twice - just when school started in 2019, i watched every studio ghibli movie that summer so i associate this song with those, i used to get ready for school with this blasting, and i remember dreaming about sana sitting in the rain a few times

pumped up kicks - going home from bulgaria in 2017 and getting stuck with no gas or cash in a little border town, we got there super late and most money exchanges were already closed so we had to get money from someone’s basement:) also summer 2020 when i learned to play this on the uke and it’s super easy and still my favourite one to play

why’d you only call me when you’re high - march 2018, i was making sugar cookies with leftover frozen dough from the last time i had made them, and while they were in the oven i went out on the balcony just to stare at the stars on the west

wow - danceracha - january, gameshow, that’s all i’m gonna say, i’ve been skipping through the songs once i wrote what i had to say but i’m gonna have to let this absolute bop play through, it’s the gay in me, why is this song so good what the FUCK

faggot - msi - reminds me of my childhood for some reason i think it was played a lot in some places, reminds me specifically of when i would walk home with my mum and see people sitting in an internet cafe we passed everynight that had neon signs inside

chronosaurus - april 2019, lee know saying tick tock tick tock getting closer was stuck in my head, almost got youtube premium just to be able to download that music video, may 2019, went on a school trip and listened to this on the days leading up to it, currently waiting for lee knows tick tock tick tock getting closer to play omfg why does he say it so well sjflkfj

505 - arctic monkeys - autumn - winter 2020, just sat in my dining room playing this and staring off into space

victory song - skz - LISTEN TO THIS 승전가, jisung and chan lifting their shirts lived rent free in my mind for a few months after this came out

cherry - itzy - summer 2020, issues and dancing a lot

get cool - skz - just got into them, feb 2019, used to listen to this when i was trying to learn their names🥺

hayloft - mother mother - oooohh a recent one, late january 2021, fell in love with a tiktok girl and decided to get my life together, played geoguessr with this on loop

love scenario - ikon - may 2018 when i was just really starting to get into kpop, this was one of the first non bts songs that i loved, i used to listen to it while reading wattpad lol

snap out of it - jan 2021, gameshow, reminds me of felix for some reason

hot girl bummer - late summer 2019, crying at night because of anxiety and pretending i was okie dokey during the day

daddy issues - the nbhd - may 7th 2018, super stormy outside, it was my younger cousins birthday, i spent the day in this one oversized shirt with donald duck printed all over it pretending i was talking to my crush at the time and staring at the rain clouds

be with you - cadmium - summer 2020, pacing around my apartment and those issues and finding this song through a video about those issues, i can’t find the channel anymore:(

reckless healy - january 2020, i was doing eyeliner all the time and just vibing, i had my doggie and all i did was scroll through tiktok and listen to music

ghost - confetti - november 2020, pretending i was the main character while singing this through my entire apartment

knee socks - arctic monkeys - same exact thing as arabella

goodnight i’ve been writing for so long and i’m finally tired

#for me #u can see my sparkle dying out as i continued the songs lol

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

Text

Dusted Mid-Year Exchange, Part 3: Writers’ Lists

Joe McPhee

We wrap up our mid-year feature with writers’ favorites from the first half of the year. If you missed them, check out Parts One and Two from earlier this week.

Tobias Carroll

SAULT — UNTITLED (Black Is) (Forever Living Originals)

Irreversible Entanglements — Who Sent You? (International Anthem)

Cold Beat — Mother (DFA Records)

African Head Charge — Drumming is a Language 1990 - 2011 (On-U Sound)

En Attendant Ana — Juliet (Trouble in Mind)

Positive No — Kyanite (self-released)

Helen Money — Atomic (Thrill Jockey)

Matt LaJoie — Everlasting Spring (Flower Room)

Xetas — The Cypher (12XU)

Alison Cotton — Zener_08 (Sensory Leakage)

Coriky — Coriky (Dischord)

Błoto — Erozje (Astigmatic Records)

Gerycz / Powers / Rolin — Beacon (Garden Portal)

75 Dollar Bill Little Big Band — Live at Tubby’s (self-released)

Slum of Legs — Slum of Legs (Splurge Recordings)

The Soft Pink Truth — Am I Free to Go? (self-released)

Tim Clarke

Activity — Unmask Whoever (Western Vinyl)

Alabaster DePlume — To Cy and Lee: Instrumentals Vol. 1 (International Anthem)

Drab City — Good Songs For Bad People (Bella Union)

Fake Laugh — Dining Alone (State 51 Conspiracy)

King Krule — Man Alive! (XL)

Owen Pallett — Island (Domino)

Andrew Forell

Irreversible Entanglements — Who Sent You? (International Anthem)

Wire — Mind Hive (Pinkflag)

Peel Machine Dream — Agitprop Alterna (Tough Love/Slumberland)

Rowland S Howard — Teenage Snuff Film (Fat Possum)

The Wants — Container (Council Records)

Shabaka And The Ancestors — We Are Sent Here By History (Impulse!)

Davey Harms — World War (Hausu Mountain)

Bohren & Der Club Of Gore — Patchouli Blue (Ipecac)

Ray Garraty

Rio Da Yung Og — City on My Back (#Boyz Entertainment)

Cash Kidd — No Socks (4746 Global)

The Jacka — Murder Weapon (The Artist Records)

Z-Ro — Quarantine: Social Distancing (1 Deep Entertainment)

Ka — Descendants of Cain (self-released)

Bandgang Lonnie Bands — The Scamily (TF Entertainment)

Jennifer Kelly

Six Organs of Admittance—Companion Rises (Drag City)

Gil Scott Heron and Makaya McCraven—We’re New Again (XL Recordings)

Obnox—Savage Raygun (Ever/Never)

Cable Ties—Far Enough (Merge)

Lewsberg—In this House (12XU)

James Elkington—Ever Roving Eye (Paradise of Bachelors)

Jehnny Beth —To Love Is To Live (Arts & Crafts)

Destroyer—Have We Met (Merge)

Decoy w/ Joe McPhee — AC/DC (otoROKU)

Chouk Bwa & The Ångströmers— Vodou Alé (Bongo Joe)

FACS—Void Moments (Trouble in Mind)

Elkhorn—The Storm Sessions (Beyond Beyond Is Beyond)

Arthur Krumins

Gil Scott-Heron, Makaya McCraven — We’re New Again (XL)

The Giving Shapes — Earth Leaps Up (Elsewhere)

Wut — Now (Self-released)

Ranil — Ranil y su Conjunto Tropical (Analog Africa)

Ash Brooks — Temple of Roses (Flower Room)

Chip Langer — Songs for Melissa (Xylem)

Keenan Ahrends Trio — Live at House on the Hills Session (Self-released)

Jeff Parker — Suite for Max Brown (International Anthem)

Julius Eastman — Feminine (Frozen Reeds)

White Poppy — Paradise Gardens (Not Not Fun)

Pharoah Sanders — Live in Paris 1975 (Transversales Disques)

Waterless Hills — The Great Mountain (Cardinal Fuzz)

Jim White and Marisa Anderson — The Quickening (Thrill Jockey)

Aoife Nessa Frances — Land of No Junction (Ba Da Bing)

Andrea Cortez — The Secret Song of Plants (Aural Canyon)

Patrick Masterson

Yves Tumor — Heaven to a Tortured Mind (Warp)

Squirrel Flower — I Was Born Swimming (Polyvinyl)

Black Taffy — Opal Wand (Leaving)

Mint Mile — Ambertron (Comedy Minus One)

Moodymann — Taken Away (KDJ)

Sarah Mary Chadwick — Please Daddy (Sinderlyn)

Andrea — Ritorno (Illian Tape)

Cable Ties — Far Enough (Merge)

Torres — Silver Tongue (Merge)

Russell Ellington Langston Butler — Emotional Bangers Only EP (self— released)

Tan Cologne — Cave Vaults on the Moon in New Mexico (Labrador)

Future — High Off Life (Epic)

Ian Mathers

Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II (Karlrecords)

Anastasia Minster — Father (self released)

Helen Money — Atomic (Thrill Jockey)

Holy Fuck — Deleter (Last Gang)

Hum — Inlet (Polyvinyl)

Solar Woodroach — 7 Perversions on Pachabel's Canon (Nilamox)

Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone (Pure Noise)

Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO (self released)

Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead (self released)

Yves Tumor — Heaven to a Tortured Mind (Warp)

Special mention to the incredible Charles Curtis Performances & Recordings 1998-2018 box we talked about here.

Bill Meyer

(The last entry is not a record, but a festival of recordings)

Owl — Mille Feuille (SOFA)

Paul Lytton / Nate Wooley — Known / Unknown (Fundacja Sluchaj)

Six Organs of Admittance — Companion Rises (Drag City)

Elkhorn — The Storm Sessions (Beyond Beyond is Beyond)

*Waterless Hills — The Great Mountain (Cardinal Fuzz / Feeding Tube)

Powers / Rolin Duo — s/t (Feeding Tube)

Tashi Dorji / Tyler Damon — To Catch A Bird (Trost)

James Elkington — Ever Roving Eye (Paradise of Bachelors)

Chicago Underground Quartet — Good Days (Astral Spirits)

Steve Beresford and John Butcher — Old Paradise Airs (Iluso)

Irreversible Entanglements (International Anthem)

Sandy Ewen — You Win (Gilgongo)

Various artists — AMPLIFY 2020:quarantine

Jonathan Shaw

Raspberry Bulbs — Before the Age of Mirrors (Relapse)

Mamaleek — Come and See (The Flenser)

Thou — Blessings of the Highest Order (Robotic Empire)

Sun City Girls — Live at Sky Church (2182 Recording Company)

Gil Scott Heron and Makaya McCraven — We’re New Again (XL Recordings)

Neutrals — Rent/Your House (Domestic Departure)

Derek Taylor

Twenty from 2020: Jazz and Improv (order entirely arbitrary)

Decoy w/ Joe McPhee — AC/DC (otoROKU)

Stephen Riley — Friday the 13th (Steeplechase)

Damon Smith — Whatever is Not Stone is Light (Balance Point Acoustics)

James Brandon Lewis & Chad Taylor — Live at Willisau (Intakt)

Jeremy Pelt — The Art of Intimacy, Vol. 1 (HighNote)

Peter Brötzmann/ Maâlem Moukhtar Gania/ Hamid Drake — The Catch of a Ghost (I Dischi Di Angelica)

Patty Waters — An Evening in Houston (Clean Feed)

Whit Dickey — Expanding Light (AUM Fidelity)

Brandon Seabrook — Exultations (Astral Spirits)

John Scofield — Swallow Tales (ECM)

Paul Desmond — The Complete 1975 Toronto Recordings (Mosaic)

Cecil Taylor & Tony Oxley — Birdland, Neuberg 2011 (Fundacja Sluchaj)

Kidd Jordan /Joel Futterman /Alvin Fielder — Spirits (Silkheart)

Sam Rivers — Ricochet (No Business)

Frank Lowe & Rashied Ali — Duo Exchange: Complete Sessions (Survival)

Dudu Pukwana — and the Spears (Matsuli Music)

Sun Ra — Heliocentric Worlds, Vols. 1 & 2 (Ezz-thetics)

Shirley Scott — One for Me (Arc/Strata-East)

Buddy Collette — The Complete 1961 Milano Sessions (Fresh Sound)

Lennie Tristano — The Duo Sessions (Dot Time)

#dusted magazine #midyear #lists #tobias carroll #tim clarke #andrew forell #jennifer kelly #patrick masterson #ian mathers #arthur krumins #bill meyer #jonathan shaw #derek taylor

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camillemontespan · 5 years

Text

stars [AU. drake walker x MC]

Skinny Cappuccino with an Extra Shot (part one)

Williamsburg (part two)

Here we go, the third and final installment of this AU trilogy!

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @moonlightgem7 @sirbeepsalot @drakesensworld @katedrakeohd @notoriouscs @ritachacha @iplaydrake @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @be-still-my-aching-heart @dcbbw

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

Relax. This is just a date. You’ve been on dates before. Granted, never to your date’s work, but hey, first time for everything. She is cool. She’s actually nice, she’s not stuck up, she is gorgeous, why the fuck is she interested in you? Right, breathe. Stop panicking.

Drake was standing the bottom of her apartment’s stoop, trying to work up the courage to press the buzzer. He wasn’t usually this bad with girls; but something about Camille made him feel nervous, excited, silly. It was a weirdly nice feeling.

Steeling himself, he made his way up the stairs and pressed the buzzer for Apartment 10. The piece of paper beside the number had her last name written in twirly, loopy handwriting.

The door buzzed him open and he entered the main foyer.

He found Apartment 10 and saw that she was standing at the door waiting for him. She was dressed but her hair was wrapped up in a towel. 'I promise I'll be ten minutes,' she told him. She beckoned him inside and led him through to the living room. Drake looked around. Dove grey walls, intricate cornices in the ceiling, wooden floors. It was a classy place. The TV was on, showing a football game - Raiders vs Patriots, Drake could see - and an unopened bottle of beer was placed on the coffee table beside the remote. Camille nodded at the beer and TV. 'Make yourself at home, I'm just going to dry my hair.' Giving him a smile, she padded out of the room and down the hallway.

Drake sat down on the sofa and opened the beer. This was new. Most of the time, his dates would have him standing in the hallway awkwardly. Not Camille. No. She put on the football and had a beer ready.

He looked around the room and began to see little bits of her. The bookcase filled with Austen novels and fashion biographies. The artwork on the walls which looked expensive. The framed photographs on the sideboard which showed her out with friends, on holiday, cuddling an old lady who resembled Camille.

Drake's phone buzzed with a text. Opening it, he saw it was from Leo.

Good luck tonight champ!

Drake grinned despite himself and took a picture of the TV screen and bottle of beer, captioning it : 'She's getting ready, look what she set me up with.' He sent it onto Leo, who texted back instantly.

Dude, marry her or I will.

Drake smirked and put his phone away. He watched the game for a few minutes, looking up when Camille came through.

She was wearing a red silk dress and gold strappy heels. Her hair was tousled around her shoulders and her makeup was smokey. Drake stared at her. 'You look stunning,' he said. Camille blushed and looked at him from under her eyelashes. 'You look pretty handsome yourself.'

Drake shrugged. He had picked out a black suit and tie for the occasion- he never felt comfortable dressed up but as this was a law firms annual party, he figured he had to make an effort. Plus it was Camille.

'Right let's go then!' she said, picking up her clutch bag. Drake followed her and she opened the door, letting him out first. She turned the key in the lock and when she looked up at him to say something, Drake's hand reached up behind her head and he gently pulled her into him. His lips brushed hers softly. He swore Camille sank into the kiss.

When they parted, she was blushing. 'What was that for?'

'I know I'll be wanting to kiss you all night and won't be brave enough to try anything. I was feeling brave then so..'

Camille laughed. 'You don't have to summon courage to kiss me, Drake.'

'Believe me, I do.'

Camille smiled and leaned up to kiss him herself. 'You can kiss me anytime you like, Walker.'

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

They hailed a taxi to The Empire. They chatted easily on the way and Drake began to feel himself properly relax now.

The Empire was lit up from the outside. Pink and purple floodlights hit the facade. The words Beaumont Bash 2019 were lit uo against the stone and Drake could hear pulsing music coming from inside. Bouncers were at the door and Camille showed them her staff pass, before telling them that Drake was on the guest list. The bouncers let them inside and Drake whistled when he saw the scenes in front of him.

There were waitresses holding out trays of champagne glasses - their skin was spray painted in pink glitter body spray, as if they were aliens. As Drake and Camille went further into the hotel, they saw lights that looked like glowing planets hanging from the ceiling and the walls were lit up by a galaxy floodlight, making it look like they were in another world.

'Why is a law firm pretending to be in space?' Drake asked her. Camille grinned. 'This is our theme of the year. Beaumont LLP: The Firm of the Future.' We want to dominate the sector and be the law firm that everyone in the world wants to work with.'

'That's a big ambition.'

'You haven't met my boss,' Camille said, 'and speaking of, there he is!'

Drake looked over to see a tall, thin man wearing a purple silk suit. He was talking to some guests and was toasting his glass of champagne against theirs. Drake thought he looked familiar.

Beside him was a younger man, lanky, wearing a blue suit that sparkled. He turned and waved at Camille, rushing over.

'Little Blossom! You're here!' he cried, pulling her into a hug. He saw Drake and offered him a giant smile. 'You must be Drake! Hi, I'm Maxwell!' he thrust out his hand eagerly and Drake shook it.

'Nice to meet you, Maxwell. This is a great party.'

'I know right! I planned it myself! Do you get the theme?!'

'Firm of the Future, I see it,' Drake replied.

Maxwell finger gunned him and winked. 'You betcha. Now, Camille, how about we get a bottle of champagne? It is a free bar after all.'

'I don't think bottles are included in that, Max,' Camille said, raising an eyebrow. Maxwell rolled his eyes. 'For the common people maybe. But for me...,' He gave them both a wink and Drake chuckled. Maxwell led them toward the bar but was stopped by the man in the purple silk suit.

'Maxwell,' he said. He saw Camille and kissed her on both cheeks. 'Darling you look fantastic.. And who is this fine piece you've brought with you? A mid year bonus?'

Drake reddened as the man's eyes roamed Drake. Camille cleared her throat. 'This is Drake, my date. Drake, this is Bertrand Beaumont, the managing partner of Beaumont LLP.'

Drake shook Bertrand's hand. 'Have I seen you on the cover of Time Magazine?' he asked.

Bertrand winked at him. 'Yes, my darling, you have indeed. Pray tell, what do you do? Model? Act? I can see you modelling for an outdoor magazine myself, you are very... rugged.'

'Bertrand, are you hitting on my date right in front of me?' Camille asked, her hand on her hip.

Bernard waved his hand. 'Darling, I flirt with everyone's dates!'

Drake shuffled on his feet and felt Camille take his hand, squeezing it gently. 'Well this one is off limits to you!' she replied. Bertrand pretended to be offended but then kissed her cheek. He looked at Drake. 'She's my best Paralegal,' he told Drake seriously. 'She's a diamond. Now, away and help yourselves to the free bar!'

Camille lead Drake away with Maxwell following. 'So, at work, Bertrand is completely different,' Camille whispered.

'In what way?'

'Everything. His clothes, his mannerisms, his attitude. But when we have a Bash, it's like he's been replaced with this glamorous, fun, kinda pervy guy. It's so weird.'

'Maybe he has a twin?'

'Maybe. All I know is he has a collection of kimonos that are worth more than my rent.'

'How do you know that?' Drake whispered. Camille shot him a mischievous smile. 'They held a bash at their townhouse once. Hana and I went sneaking around, came across his dressing room. Oh my god it was a room of wonders!'

Maxwell asked for a bottle of champagne and three glasses. He handed one to Drake. 'So Camille tells me you make her her morning coffee and you also work in a bar. I tried working in a bar once, I was shit at it. I accidentally charged someone for a bottle of wine when they had actually asked for a glass. Oh dear.' He gave Drake a bashful grin and shrugged.

Drake smiled. 'It's alright, pays the bills you know? What do you at Beaumont LLP?'

'He's the social media superstar!' Camille answered for him. Maxwell bowed. 'I am indeed... A superstar.'

Camille chuckled. 'Seriously, he has that engraved in the sign on his office door.'

'Perks of the job, Little Blossom!' Maxwell turned to Drake. 'Basically, I manage our Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. I live feed our seminars, try and make law actually look interesting instead of full of stuffy old men. It was difficult at first but I discovered that if a post a video of a cute dog every so often, people will follow regardless. People love corgis right now I think.. Guys help me find videos of a corgi.'

Maxwell whipped out his phone and the three of them crowded round it, trying to find YouTube videos of corgis. 'This one's wearing socks!' Camille squealed.

'Yeah but this one is wearing a sombrero!' Drake protested. 'It's called Pablo!'

‘Hey guys, what are you up to?’

They looked up and Drake recognised Camille’s friend who ordered matcha tea at the coffee shop. ‘Hana!’ Camille greeted her, giving her a hug.

‘Ah Mr Barista Guy!’ Hana said, turning to Drake. Drake smiled and offered his hand to shake hers. ‘Drake Walker, nice to meet you, Hana.’

‘You too! Are you enjoying the party?’

‘Yeah, it’s really cool! Different.. I’ve never been to a shindig like this.’

‘Ha, get used to it if you’re going to be dating Camille,’ a familiar redhead said, sidling up to the group. Camille blushed. ‘Hey Olivia. Drake, this is our friend, Olivia.’

Olivia looked at Drake, her nose wrinkled. ‘Barista by day, bartender by night? Charming.’

Drake frowned. He was about to reply when he felt Camille take his hand. ‘Liv, don’t be a bitch,’ she told her. Olivia smirked. Camille turned to Drake.

‘Olivia has a bite but she’s a softie when you get to know her, promise.’

Drake nodded but he felt flat. Looking around the room at the lawyers dressed in their suits and the tinkle of laughter and the sound of champagne flutes being toasted, he felt like a fish out of water. What was he even doing here? He didn’t belong here. He was a barista and a bartender. He was on minimum wage. He had never even had a lawyer before.

‘Excuse me,’ he said quickly and he turned to leave the room. He felt Camille try to pull him back and say, ‘Drake, please..’ but he shrugged her off. He needed air. Walking with purpose, he strode to the foyer and out of the entrance door.

The warm New York air hit him and he inhaled, filling his lungs with the city. Looking around, he spotted a taxi and hailed it. He knew it was rude to leave Camille. But he didn’t want to feel inferior; as his mom had told him time and time again, nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.

He reached the taxi and pulled open the door.

‘Drake!’

He turned to see Camille running after him. She reached him, panting. ‘Drake, please. Don’t go.’

‘I don’t belong in there, Camille,’ he told her. ‘I’m not a lawyer. I’m not successful, I’m not rich, I’m not anything, okay? Why have you not brought a lawyer as your plus one? You’re wasted being my date. I’m just the guy who makes your morning coffee and works in a dive bar at night.’

He turned to get into the taxi but she pulled him around. He sighed, looking at anywhere but her. Camille reached out and pulled his chin towards her so he was staring into her brown eyes.

‘You’re my date because I like you,’ she told him. ‘I think you’re really interesting and fun and clever and sweet and bonus, insanely goodlooking.’ Drake cast his eyes down, embarrassed, and Camille clicked her fingers. ‘Look at me, Walker.’

He looked at her.

‘You are the best guy in that room,’ she said. ‘I know that we’ve only just met but I know that you are worth way more than all of them combined. I’ve got such a good feeling about you, you know?’

Drake blushed. ‘Montespan..’

‘I’m not asking you to come back in there but I do want to continue our date,’ she told him. ‘So, Drake Walker, what do you say?’

Drake looked at her earnest face. ‘I say the night’s still young.’

‘Correct answer. So, your place or mine?’

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

They went back to Camille’s. As soon as they were in the door, she kicked off her heels. ‘I’m going to get changed,’ she told him. ‘There’s beer in the fridge, knock yourself out.’

Drake went through to the kitchen to grab a beer. The fridge was littered with post its - doctors appointment reminders, shopping list, to do lists. A polaroid was stuck up with a magnet of Camille and Hana at a party raising their wine glasses in the air. Drake smiled; he felt like being in her apartment was like being allowed inside Camille’s head. All of these little touches about her laid bare to him.

He placed a beer on the coffee table for Camille and settled down on the sofa. He turned on the TV and saw that The Sixth Sense was on.

‘Ahhh I see dead people!’ Camille cried, entering the room. She had changed into denim shorts and a New York Giants jersey which was oversized on her, slipping off her shoulder. Drake felt his jeans tighten and hoped he could get rid of the situation before she sat down beside him.

She brought over a pizza delivery leaflet and sat down next to him, oblivious to the tent situation.

‘So, large pizza with like, all the meat?’ she suggested. Drake chuckled. ‘Sounds good to me.’

Camille phoned the pizza place and then settled down to watch the film. Drake was painfully aware of how close she was to him. He could smell the coconut scent of her hair. He swallowed and kept his eyes fixed on the TV, not absorbing anything that Haley Joel Osment was saying to Bruce Willis.

Camille stretched her long legs out, crossing her feet on the coffee table. Drake looked at her legs out the corner of his eye but then scolded himself. Stop being a perv.

Drake spent the next thirty minutes in silent torture. He really wanted to hold her close, make a move. But he didn’t want to come across like he was taking advantage.

The door buzzed and Camille jumped up. She came back with the pizza box and she placed it on the table. They both dug in. Drake turned to say something to Camille about how the twist in the film was so obvious, but chuckled when he saw she had pizza sauce on her cheek.

‘What? What’s so funny?’ she asked, blushing.

‘You got sauce on your face,’ he told her, smiling. She reached to get at it but missed. Drake shook his head and leaned forward to wipe it off. ‘There, all clean now,’ he said quietly.

Camille’s eyes met his. There was a loaded silence. He cleared his throat and looked away.

‘Drake.’

‘Yeah?’

‘You know you can kiss me whenever you want. I told you that earlier.’

Their eyes were steady on each other. Camille raised an eyebrow, daring him. Fuck it.

Drake bolted forward, his hands reaching out to behind her head and their mouths crashed together. Camille let out a gasp of surprise and Drake felt her smile against his lips. His arms went underneath her legs and he picked her up, throwing her back against the sofa. Camille laughed and Drake grinned, pinning her arms above her head, his body lying along hers.

‘Tell me if this is too much,’ he whispered.

She smirked. ‘I’m a big girl, Drake.’

Drake kissed her jawline, travelling down to her throat. His hands roamed up under her jersey, feeling her bare skin. Camille reached out to pull her sweater off and Drake watched as she cast it aside. Drake undid her bra in one swift motion, throwing it to the floor, and he closed his eyes when he felt her hands unbutton his shirt and skim across his chest.

Her legs wrapped around his waist. Drake was still on top of her and he breathed in her scent. They kissed deeper, more desperately now. They reached for each other, Camille unbuckling his belt, her hand reaching down to wrap around him.

Suddenly, in their hastiness, they rolled off the sofa.

‘Ah!’

Camille was lying on top of Drake. They were lying on the floor and they were staring at each other, holding back laughter.

‘Did I mention that I’m really smooth?’ Drake asked. Camille burst out laughing. ‘I think you can make up for it, Walker.’

Drake’s hand reached down to cup her ass and Camille ground her hips into his. Their lips caught and Drake’s fingers tangled in her hair. She let out a groan and tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth. Drake unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them down. She cast them aside, her underwear following.

Drake took a moment to take her in. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered.

Camille blushed. ‘No I’m not..’

‘You really are.’

Sitting up, Drake pulled her further into him and her hand guided him to her entrance. He looked into her eyes, saw the desire, and gently he pulled her onto his length. Camille let out a sharp gasp. ‘Fuck, Drake, you’re really big..’

Drake kissed her neck, enjoying the feel of her around him. Their hips began to rock together, steady and fluid. ‘Oh god..’ she breathed.

Drake kissed her mouth fervently. His hands roamed her body, feeling her skin. Camille rode him harder, crying out louder as the movements became more rapid.

Their eyes met. ‘Make up for not being smooth, Drake,’ she said, her breath hitching. Drake’s eyes bore into hers.

‘Challenge accepted.’

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

They spent the rest of the night curled up under a blanket, naked, watching the rest of The Sixth Sense. The pizza box sat in between them; Camille was lying against Drake and he had his arms wrapped around her body. This was nice. This was cosy.

‘I really want to adopt Haley Joel Osment...’ Camille said. ‘He’s just too precious for this world.’

‘But, Camille..’ Drake said, staring at her in mock horror, ‘he sees dead people!’

Camille giggled and snuggled into him. ‘I would protect him at all costs.’

‘I’m sure you would.’

‘Let me guess..’ she said slowly. ‘You would adopt Bruce Willis, wouldn’t you?’

‘Die Hard Bruce Willis, yeah, why not. He can kill all of my enemies.’

Camille laughed and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. Drake looked at the clock; it was 1am. ‘So... I should probably head home,’ he said.

‘Aww but.. we’re having so much fun.’

‘I know. But it’s getting late and you should go to sleep-’

‘Drake, I’m not tired.’

‘No but you will be soon. I should head.’

He stood up. Why was he suddenly being weird?

Camille frowned. ‘You know, you could stay over.’

‘I don’t want to look like..’

‘Like you’re taking advantage? Drake, you’re like, the most polite guy I know. Trust me, you’re not taking advantage of me.’

He scuffed his foot against the floor. ‘I’m a gentleman.’

‘We’ve already had sex.’

‘A reformed gentleman, then.’

Camille sighed. ‘I told you, I’m a big girl. I’m not expecting a marriage proposal. Maybe just a really nice cappuccino in the morning, okay?’

Drake chuckled.

‘Drake, stay,’ she said, her face serious. ‘It’s 1am. You can sleep on the sofa if you must but got to say, my bed’s comfier and I’ve just got a new mattress which is like sleeping on a cloud.’

Drake stared at her. She wasn’t going to give up. ‘Ahh fine, you got me. I’ll stay.’

She grinned at him. ‘Awesome!’

They turned off the TV and lights. Camille guided him to her bedroom. Drake stared at her naked body as she walked down the hall, her hips circling a figure of eight.

She got under the duvet. Drake followed.

‘Holy shit, this mattress is incredible.’

‘I know right!’ she squealed.

Drake settled into it and stretched. Camille looked at him mischievously.

‘Want to test it?’

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

As Camille slept, Drake was awake. He lay there looking out of the window, listening to the patter of rain. The moonlight shone in, highlighting Camille’s sleeping figure. She glowed. Drake could hear the sounds of New York, still awake, as always, and he had never felt more content.

Camille let out a sigh and rolled over into his chest. Drake wrapped his arm around her and listened to her lightly breathing. He wasn’t going to mess this up. This girl, Camille, was perfect. Drake felt like he had to count his lucky stars. He gazed out the window and although he couldn’t see the stars thanks to the city lights, he still thanked the universe, which had seemed to have gifted him this person. Drake closed his eyes and for the first time in a while, he slept peacefully.

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #trr fanfic

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cubanmalefootlover · 4 years

Text

The House of the Witch

A lad stopped in front of the iron railing. He’s your regular high school teen in search of excitement. Beyond the fence, the impressive building of “Madison House” surrounded by the vast land. He got off his bike while looking around warily.

“PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT. NO TRESPASSING”. It could be read in the tattered sing. A black hood covered his head and a dark ski mask hid from his nose down, so his hazel eyes is the only you can see of his face. He pulled back the hood and wiped his sweaty forehead with his hand, now it could be seen his brown hair with golden highlights nicely styled in a man bun. He took a deep breath while replaced the hood on his head. Then he pushed the rusty fence and biked forward with determination…

Three days earlier

Four teens were walking by the town.

-I assure none of the Bakers lives there any longer–stated Samantha.

-My dad says the family’s living out of town now, but they still own the land –said Lynda.

-Why don’t they sell it? –asked Fabian.

-Perhaps they’re thinking in fix it and rent it –deduced Lynda.

-Bullshit! –said Fabian-. They didn’t even take care of the house.

-No one’s gonna buy it ‘cause of the “witch” –Samantha whispered.

The four kids kept silence for few seconds.

-Last week the janitor’s son tried to cut the grass and he couldn’t… - said Samantha. She and Fabian chuckled mischievously.

-Please guys… -said Peter-. Officer Paterson arrested him for violation.

-It hasn’t sense –protested Samantha-. The grass is actually very grown and he’s not a stranger. They don’t want nobody get inside the house.

-Some people say it’s haunted –said Lynda.

- You won’t believe in that, will you? –taunted Samantha-. Hey guys, it’s just a myth!

Lynda and Peter exchanged doubtful looks. Fabian sniggered.

-Mister Baker’s grandmother was the daughter of a witch –said Samantha.

-No! –interrupted Lynda-. She was blamed of witchcraft, but she was innocent.

-How you know it, dear? –asked Samantha-. You were there?

-Many women accused of witchcraft were innocent –said Lynda-. At least, it’s what my mom says; she and Mrs. Baker were friends. And she also said that Mr. Baker’s aunt brought the ashes of the witch, six months before they moved.

-Don’t you think it’s… weird? –asked Peter trying to conceal his unease.

-Hey, guys, is Halloween! -said Samantha-. “Madison House” is creepy. I think it’s a good challenge. Thirty bucks for the “Keep out” sing.

-That’s too easy –replied Fabian.

-This isn’t easy –retorted Peter-. We better look for another challenge. We don’t want Officer Paterson arresting us for trespassing.

-Yeah, Fabian’s right… -accepted Samantha-. What if… taking a higher risk?

-For example? -asked Fabian with interest.

-The numbers on the door –suggested Samantha.

-I bring you the number and you spend the Halloween night with me in “Madison House”… alone -added Fabian.

-Mmm… deal! –accepted Samantha with a naughty sparkle in her eyes.

The Halloween Night

It’s still afternoon, so the people is preparing all stuff for the night. A thin, agile figure crossed the streets in a bike. The face was hidden behind a ski mask and a hood. It’s dressed with navy t-shirt, black jacket, dark pants and red Vans. It stopped in front of the railing entrance of “Madison House” properties. The surroundings were lonely, as expected. The hood is pulled back and the ski mask removed from the face: it’s Fabian. His hazel eyes stared at the old building with awe…

He opened the railing door, got on his bike again and quickly rushed by the path toward the uninhabited house. He felt a strange sensation in the air, but he blamed the anxiety. He left his bike on the overgrown grass and then his slender figure reached the doorway. Old remains, broken windows, dead leaves and others things scattered all around.

The main door was shut. Fabian took a screwdriver out of the rear pocket of his pants and began to pull the number out with the tip of the tool. The number was pushed out of its stud and fell down the floor. He heard a voice and turned around: a bus and two cars went by the street, nothing else. Fabian bent over to pick up the number and, surprisingly, the solid door opened. It came into view a huge hall covered with dust.

The boy glanced inside the hall with a mix of curiosity and dread. He walked two, three steps inside.

-Hello?!... –he asked. His voice echoed through the hall unearthly.

No answer. Just a mild sound of sleeves and the whispering breeze. The daylight gave way to the darkness beyond the hall. That fainted voiced made him stare back again. Now he could swear he vaguely heard his name. Proud of himself, Fabian walked back while kept the number in his pocket, but before reaching his bike he was seized from behind and shoved inside the house abruptly. He gripped the doorframe as tight as he could, but he was pulled with incredible force. He looked back and there was no one, just a black cloud that took form in a terrible face…

-AAAHHHHHH…AAAAHHHHHH…AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH…!!!!!!!

Fabian was thrust toward the hall and the main door got again closed, his hopeless screams were fading within the walls…

Sybil the witch

The intruder was dragged by the dusty floor of “Madison House”. It suddenly stopped. He stood up in a hurry and ran toward the door when his eyes collided with the most hair-raising sight he’d seen in his short life. A humanoid figure was floating above the floor; it seemed to be a woman with long hair and a white gown. Two blazing embers in the center of her face petrified him. The figure charged toward the boy and enfolded him. He emitted a cry before shut his eyes and passed out…

The black cloud gently lifted the out cold lad and placed him in a bed. It took a female form and caressed Fabian’s boyish face. She took his black jacket off, then his shirt. Fabian had a lean pale torso and his nipples showed sweet rosy areolas. A few hairs covered his chest and ran down the flat belly to the navel. She unlaced his Vans and gently removed them off his feet. A distinctive smell wafted from his Vans that made her drag her attention to the lad’s feet. His white socks were damp with sweat and somewhat dirty on the bottom. She rolled the pants out his legs. His boxers and socks were off too, leaving him in his birthday suit.

She got fascinated at the view of her prey, so tender, so innocent, which made him even more adorable. Fresh meat to devour. However she weren’t going to wolf him down nor drink his blood; she wanted something else from him. She brought his forearms above the head. Then stretched the legs and separated the ankles from each other, so that he adopted the form of an X on the bed. She stroked lovingly his head trying not to ruin the cute bun on his hair.

For some odd reason, the witch got devotedly mesmerized with the feet of her victim. Fabian’s were lean just like his frame, about size 10, they had a wonderful narrow shape, milky arches with crisscrossed patterns tending to wrinkle when the feet scrunch; the toes were lanky and knuckly with very tender gaps between them. The toe tips, ball of the feet and heels were silky smooth and deliciously pink. The toenails were clean and trimmed. Unlike most of bikers and skaters’ feet, Fabian’s were unusually soft; his soles were unblemished and free of calluses, obviously because of comfy sneakers and lots of boy foot sweat acting as natural lotion. Such feet couldn’t have been born except to be tickled.

The witch gently slid one finger by Fabian’s sole from toes to heel. This foot immediately twitched and, interestingly, the other foot also shook in a sort of sympathetic reaction. He burped a childish giggle in his unconsciousness. It was really funny to see the way Fabian wiggled his long toes.

She now scratched the other sole, his giggles got clear but he stayed out-of-the-world with a big smile in his cute-boy face. His lanky toes looked like crazy worms as the witch dragged her nails in between them and the length of his super tender soles. She pricked his rosy heels with her sharp nails and reflexively the toes fanned out very wide so that she could see how long this boy’s toes really were. She rested her nose over them and inhaled deeply: a pungent smell of restless, sweaty feet filled her nostrils. Then she licked those toes and soles lavishly to taste their flavor.

By ancient experience the witch knew that there is a secret link between the feet and the genitals in the man body, so when his soles and toes are meticulously tickled, the nervous overload may tend to be unleashed through powerful orgasms. And since such natural reaction was having effect on the healthy young Fabian, the witch knew what’s going to happen to him as soon as she noticed his cock getting stiffen till resemble a raging missile ready to shoot.

She kept gliding his nails along his soles and in between his toes: now his testicles began to jump inside the scrotum. The witch stayed tickling Fabian’s feet and he stayed giggling silly like a baby. His breathing got a characteristic pace; his lips trembled and his face was contorted. His nipples got hard and his mouth opened in a strange grimace. Within few minutes, the slit of his swollen penis opened wide and started releasing semen, creamy and abundant that went by his chest like a river and poured down by a side to the sheet. None of his previous wet dreams had been so thrilling and breathtaking…

The witch licked avidly the semen splattered all over the lad’s chest.

A high-spirited music came from a pocket of his discarded pants. Guiding by the loud sound the monster caught Fabian’s phone in her creepy hands. It was Samantha, wanting to know if the mission was accomplished. There were some messages about their private meeting tonight. The monster showed her teeth in a horrific smile and left the phone on the clothes.

Still deep in his unconsciousness, Fabian didn’t feel how the sheets took the shape of hands and grasped his wrists and ankles.

Sometime later the lad gave sings of waking up. He found himself in an unfamiliar bedroom.

-Where am I…?

The sun beams going inside through broken windows, lighting up a room long time unused made him realized that he was still in “Madison House”. He tried to stand, but he couldn’t move his arms.

-What the hell…? Why I can’t move…??

Fabian tossed his head and looked around. He tried to get free, but to no avail; his wrists and ankles were held in place by robust knots formed by the sheets, so he noticed that he was stark naked.

-HOLY SHIT…! -he gasped, reluctant to believe. Who had stripped him off? He fought to pull out of those knots, again without success. He recognized that those weren’t knots, but looked like… hands! Some more hands rose from the sheets and grabbed around his elbows, knees and waist. His heart was racing at top speed now.

-I see you’re awake my little sweetie –said a female voice.

The hairs on his neck stood on end as a chill went through his spine.

-Wh-who a-are you? –his terrified wide eyes were searching everywhere.

-I’m Sybil, the witch... and this is my home… -the voice said.

A dark fog emerged from the shadows, taking a woman form. The figure floated on top of the bed and brought her face close to the lad’s. Fabian was going to die; he closed his eyes and just stayed there, froze.

She smiled and started running her fingers all over his torso.

-No-ha…no…nohahaha…hahaha…ohho…noohonono… itti… it titickles-sss… ohh-hohohononoo… I WANNA GO HOME! HELP ME!!! AAAWWHHHH!!!

He unleashed a sudden piercing scream when his armpits were attacked. Anguished laughter echoed through the bedroom as her hands rubbed and danced over the soft skin of his armpits. No matter how strong he pulled on his arms and legs, the sheets held them tight.

-HAHAHAHAA!! PLEASE LET ME GO!!… LET ME GO!!… LET ME GOO!!!!

His screams turned overwhelming panic when he saw another two identical women joining to the torment and offered their wicked fingers to “caress” his defenseless body. Now his torso, sides and belly were purposely tickled. He answered with a burst of hearty boyish laughter gusted out of his wide open mouth. The ladies smiled as if they were listening music.

Fabian had been ticklish his whole childhood; his mom and others close relatives played tickling with him when he was younger, he’d always could endure it quite well and even loved being tickled. Nonetheless, what he was feeling under the witches’ clutches right now was BEYOND all he’d felt before. It’s as if the witches were touching directly his nerve-endings with some kind of electric source and it was getting worse with each touch.

-SHIHIHAHAHAHAHA!!!! IIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI!!! OUGHHUHUHUHUHU!!! AAWWWWWHHAHAHAHAHA!!!! EEWWWWHHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE!!!! PLEEZHEHEZEEZEHEEEHEE LET ME GOHOHOHOHOOOO!!!

Every part of his willowy flesh released a different tone of laughter when it’s stroked. At the time there was four women working on him; two at his armpits, neck and face; the others two were tickling his sides, chest and stomach, so devotedly, so tenaciously that they all seemed to perform a concert, playing their instruments with perfect skill and he was the singer, doing the only thing he could do: laugh, laugh and laugh as strong as he could to at least alleviate a bit the increasing torment he was undergoing.

The unlucky teen didn’t know why all that cruelty was thrown upon him. He only knew that all this torment was consuming his strength and he was about to lose his mind. But, poor thing, those monsters didn’t know pity and they weren’t going to free him soon. And since no one knew he was there, no help was on the way for him.

Then all of a sudden, ten hands, fifty evil fingers assaulted the young flesh in unison. A lady was now gliding her lips over his face and neck while another slid her tongue over his chest and stomach and a third one relished herself licking his left armpit. The others two ladies added her tongues to the right armpit. The feelings got now a never-reached level of excruciating intensity. Those tongues had something unnatural that engulfed his nerves in a hell of sensations, totally incomprehensible for the human flesh. Sort of nerve-eating waves swept his nervous system, bringing him to the edge of collapse.

Fabian was in absolute hysterics. One thing is that he felt agonizingly ticklish, but now, in this place, incapable of escape and stark naked, every single touch of those vicious creatures sent him into paroxysms of helpless laughter and involuntary spasms which menaced to dislodge his thin body and drive him to insanity or worst: his death.

Without notice Fabian felt the ominous torture was subsiding. When it finally stopped, he thanked God amid panting and coughing. He was too terrified and confused that he couldn’t form a coherent thought in his mind. However he felt as if he’s going to sleep for a whole month, but “the calm” lasted only a moment.

With his face and eyes bathed in sweat and tears he made out that the witches had retreated to his lower legs. He gasped and heaved, fearing the next target. He was painfully right: two witches crouched at the end of the bed and started to lick the soles of his feet like cats lapping a bowl of milk. Fabian felt as if waves of electric current were running through his young body: he began to convulse and howl in complete madness.

-NOAAAHAHAHAHAHATHATTICKLESTOOMUCH!!!! NOOHONOT ON MY FEET!!! NAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NO STOP! NOT MY FEET!!!! NEHEHEHEHE!!!! HIHIHIHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NONONOHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! I CANT STAND IT HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! PLEASENOHEHAHAHAHAHAA!!!!

The witch had an accurate knowledge about the male body, so she focused her malice right here. Fabian writhed and squirmed hopelessly, the tongues kept licking at the exposed bottoms of his feet, between his wiggling toes, up the arches, making him laugh helplessly and beg for stopping! No stop. No lessen. No mercy. All he could do was receive, endure and laugh his head off as if it was the end of the world. His wide open mouth dribbling, his lungs burning for air, his riotous guffaws echoing within the enormous house just like a banshee in hell.

-The pink of your soles… oh the pink of your soles…

The witches made a leg-lock around his calves and held his toes back to make the soles stretched and taut. Then they devoted to scratch their fingernails the length of that super tender skin. Those evil nails travelled along his helpless soles with greed, not making any harm, just sliding gently over the delicate skin. Fabian bucked and pulled with all his youth might. Her fingers scratched the lad’s naked soles harder and faster as if her earthly presence totally depended on it.

-BHWAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!! AWWWHUHA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHH!!!!! PLHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! ICAHAHAHAANHNTT AWUAAAAHAHHHPLEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!!!

The witches in his chest used her tongue to tickle his nipples with abandon. And with abandon the laughter poured out of him in response. Another lady came to deal with his groin and thighs. She slid her feathery fingers randomly around his penis and testicles. Thanks to the tight sheets he had little room to thrash around, so his exposed hips and sides received the whole treatment for long long time. Another lady twirled a finger into his navel. He tilted his head back and laughed without control. Meanwhile, she used her other hand to scribble down his belly: his flat stomach started bouncing like a jelly in an earthquake.

Meanwhile his teen cock was again ready to shoot his load.

The witch got oh so wicked! His whole body was shaking and his feet twitched wildly due to the way those fingernails and tongues treated his soles and toes. It was enough to drive him beyond madness. He was swimming in sweat, convulsing and braying with laughter. Every now and then his armpits were also tormented as well as his sides, ribs and belly.

On and on the foot-tickling continued, Fabian could only thrash his head about as he was tickle tortured with the cruelty that only displays the creatures from hell. On the screen of his phone was shown the picture of a naughty Samantha smiling to the camera. If she just could hear his desperate gales of laughter…

-NEAAAAEEEHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!!!! NOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOOOHAAHAHA!!!! STAP PLEEEHEHEHEHEZZZZE I CAHAHAHAANHNN’T TAKE IT!!!! AHHHNOOOAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEEEEESE!!! STOHOHOP! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAAA!!!!!

The witch relished nibbling and munching his super ticklish soles.

-AAAWWWWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAA!!!!!

Minutes later, he came again. The foot-tickling never stopped.

-NOOOOOOOHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!!

Sometime later, he came again, but the tickling torture went on…

-PLEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEZHEZHEZHEZHEZHEZHEZHEZZZ!!!!!!

Outside the magnificent old building, the silence reigned peacefully, like in some bucolic portrait of a charming town. A sign half hidden amid the overgrown grass on the railings says:

“WARNING - NO ENTRY - TRESPASSERS WILL BE TICKLED TO DEATH”

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ladylynse · 5 years

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole: Wirt had heard a lot of stories about college, but somehow, he still wasn’t prepared for one of his roommate’s crazy friends to smuggle a hatchet into their dorm room. Future fic/college AU. Crossover with Over the Garden Wall, Danny Phantom, Gravity Falls, and Trollhunters.

Part II! (Part I; also on FF/AO3)

Wirt spent almost every free moment he had in the library.

In hindsight, it was rather inevitable that he’d run into Wendy’s roommate.

She found him first, sliding into a seat across from him and quietly clearing her throat. When he looked up, she pointed at the text he was reading. “That one’s hardly a reliable source,” she said.

He forced a laugh. “It’s paranormal science. Nothing’s going to be a reliable source.”

Her features lost their hint of a smile, falling into a tight frown. “That one’s pseudoscience, not science. If you’ve seen something—”

“I never said I saw anything!”

She raised her eyebrows, purposefully darting her eyes around. He didn’t need to turn his head to know people were staring. This was the fifth floor. It had the most uncomfortable chairs. People didn’t tend to stick around and chat here; the lower floors were more popular for group projects that slid into conversational procrastination. Usually, ringing (or buzzing or dinging) phones or sneezes were the only things heard above murmured conversation, the hum of laptops, and rustling paper.

He sunk into his seat and lowered his voice. “Look, this is just for an assignment. It’s not whatever you’re thinking.”

“You can talk to me, you know. I won’t think you’re crazy.”

Didn’t mean he didn’t think she was crazy.

“Hey.” She waited until he met her eyes before continuing, “I’ve seen things that most people wouldn’t believe are real. And, no, it wasn’t just a one-off thing or something I ate. So if you need someone to talk to who won’t judge you, I’m all ears.”

“Thanks, but there’s nothing to talk about.” Wirt gathered up his books, ignored the hurt look on Jazz’s face, and hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was running away.

XXXXXXXX

When Toby tossed a new pair of socks onto his bed when Wirt was trying to finish his paper on Machiavelli, Wirt just looked over at Toby. He didn’t even need to move the socks from the book they’d landed on; Toby knew the question for what it was. “I think I lost a pair last time I did the laundry,” he said. “Figured I should repay you.”

They weren’t pink and fuzzy, so it wasn’t payback for something he couldn’t remember doing. It was true that Wirt hadn’t been able to find a few of his socks, but he’d assumed they’d just gotten shoved under something and would turn up eventually.

Sure, they hadn’t magically reappeared after yesterday when it had been his turn to do their laundry (they’d started taking turns because neither of them particularly liked scrounging for quarters or hauling everything to the machines), but he’d just kinda thought that he’d…missed them. He was missing a few singles, not a pair, so it had seemed more likely.

“Nana wouldn’t let me live it down otherwise,” Toby added.

“Uh, right.” Wirt could believe that. Toby’s Nana seemed big on doing the right thing, even if he wasn’t wholly convinced she always knew what the right thing was. At least, he was thankful for the cookies she’d sent them. The clean underwear ‘in case they got hit by a bus or into worse trouble’ had been a little more…questionable. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and Wendy says to stop avoiding her and ignoring her texts. She needs to talk to you.”

“I’m not avoiding her!”

Toby snorted. “I might’ve believed that if you’d come back with ‘about what?’, but whatever. She mentioned something about her roommate. Maybe that’s why.”

“Her roommate is nuts,” Wirt muttered, not caring about being charitable right now. It was…rough. Every assignment in class seemed to be due at all once, and he had trouble focusing on any of them with this…this…whatever it was hanging over his head.

He had seen something.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t something related to the Unknown, but that was only because he hadn’t recognized it. And because he was also pretty sure it was something Toby was involved in, and Toby….

Toby was weird, and the Unknown had been weird, but this felt…different.

Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions, though. There had to be a perfectly rational explanation for what he’d seen. Maybe it had been a dream, and the paper had just been Toby’s study notes. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen asleep reading them. Or maybe it did have something to do with the Unknown after all. Somehow. He’d had nothing to do with it for years. Maybe he’d managed to forget what it felt like. He still had the journal with him where he’d written the entire experience down and had actually reread it in preparation for that creative writing assignment, but he’d never found the right words to recreate the feeling the Unknown had given him. Not really.

But…but if it did have something to do with the Unknown, why nothing until now?

Maybe Toby wasn’t even the target. Maybe things were just…reaching out. For him.

Or maybe Toby had ended up in the Unknown once, too, and managed to escape?

No, he couldn’t have. He would have said something. Probably. Because he had to know it was far too unlikely that Wirt could just pull all that out of his hat if he’d been through a very similar experience.

But if it wasn’t the Unknown, what else was there?

…Maybe he really had seen an animal? Just a trained one? There could have been someone outside the window to remove the screen and send in…whatever it had been. A racoon with weird colouration? Or something else that could climb like that? And be trained to carry messages?

Maybe it was a robot. Just…a quiet robot. With random sounds programmed into it so no one got close enough to figure out what it was when it was sent out.

Or maybe Toby had another friend who was so good at that kind of thing that they were working on artificial intelligence and this entire thing was just a series of test runs.

Given the friends of Toby’s that Wirt had met, he was not about to rule out that possibility. Heck, for all he knew, it could be Jazz. She apparently had weapons stashed all over the place. Maybe she had advanced tech, too. That Wendy had found, since Jazz apparently couldn’t hide stuff from her. Wendy could have commandeered something and was using it to send messages to Toby in the middle of the night. Just because she could. He wouldn’t put that past her, either.

Toby snorted. “I don’t think Wendy would argue with you there. She still can’t believe Jazz practically lives in the library. But seriously. Talk to her. Or just go over there. She got out of class at four. She should be back by now. You don’t even have to text or call first.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to finish this.” Wirt made a vague gesture towards the laptop and the mess of books that had overtaken his bed.

“You’ve been working on it since before I got back from my lab. Take a break.”

“I don’t have time for a break!”

“You’ll be more productive if you take one. Isn’t that what they say?”

Wirt rolled his eyes. “A five minute break and a fifteen minute walk to Wendy’s are very different things. Especially when you factor in a conversation and the walk back.”

“You still need a break. And the walk will do you good.”

Wirt argued.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised he lost.

XXXXXXX

“About time,” Wendy said, stepping back to let him in. She and Jazz were renting a tiny, two-bedroom apartment just off campus. It was cheap and showed its age, all chipped paint, worn carpet, creaking floors, and a musty smell that wasn’t quite overwhelmed by the fumes from the fast-food joint next door. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if they wanted to be close enough to walk to campus, they’d have had limited options. Given the convenience, Wirt didn’t want to know how much the two of them had to cough up for rent each month.

“Um….”

“It wouldn’t kill you to reply to your text messages, you know.”

“I was…busy.”

“And avoiding me.”

“And me,” Jazz piped up as she walked out to join them in the tiny entryway. “What do you want to drink, Wirt?”

“Uh….”

“I’ll get you some water.” She disappeared back the way she’d come, presumably to the kitchen. Wirt slid off his shoes and shrugged off his coat, which Wendy hung in the closet.

Two steps took him to the entryway of the kitchen, and if he didn’t turn, he’d head straight for the living room. He hesitated until Wendy pushed him gently from behind, prodding him forward. “Comfy chairs,” she said.

The chairs would feel more comfortable if he wasn’t walking into an interrogation. Jazz fished out a coaster from beneath a psychology text book and set a glass of water down on it beside him, and she sat in the chair on the other side of the end table. Wendy snagged a rolling chair from a desk, wheeling it over to join them. Neither of the girls spoke.

“Um. I wasn’t, uh, avoiding you guys.”

Jazz’s eyebrows shot up. “Weren’t you? Really, Wirt, you can tell me. I grew up in Amity Park. I have seen unbelievable.”

That might be so, but he’d never heard of Amity Park.

Wendy stretched, cracking her knuckles. “Gravity Falls isn’t without its stories, either.”

He stared at them. “Wait. This isn’t still about that story I wrote about the Unknown, is it?”

“I don’t know, is it?” Jazz asked, turning the question back on him. “I rather thought it was about whatever you were researching in the library. Clearly, though, if the Unknown is involved—”

Why had he ever opened his mouth? He knew what her major was. “It’s not.” That was unconvincing even to his own ears.

“But you brought it up.”

“She mentioned stories!” He pointed at Wendy, desperate for an out. She was just smirking and enjoying the show.

“But you immediately thought of the Unknown.”

Wirt was pretty sure Jazz had handed him the shovel and he was halfway into digging his own grave. “Because someone would never let that drop. A couple someones, actually.”

“So Wendy and Toby have mentioned it recently?”

“Well, yeah.” Wirt stopped.

Thought about it for a moment.

They hadn’t.

Not for a couple of weeks, at the very least. He wasn’t even sure he’d heard them harp on about it since he’d seen the whatever-it-was. He hadn’t been spending a lot of time with either of them, too focused on figuring out what the heck he’d seen and not failing his classes in the meantime.

And from the look on Jazz’s face, she knew that perfectly well.

“Okay, so maybe not,” amended Wirt, even though he knew he was well past six feet under, “but it’s definitely been too often for something that should have been forgotten. Seriously. It was just a creative writing assignment. No one’s made a big deal about any of the others.”

“Maybe the others had a different sort of truth to them than this one did.”

Wirt frowned. “Wait, you haven’t read it, have you?” She shouldn’t have. He’d never shown her. But he didn’t trust Wendy.

“I know enough about it,” Jazz said, which wasn’t really an answer because she could know enough about it if Wendy had told her or if Wendy—or, heck, maybe even Toby—had broken into his laptop and emailed her the file or copied it to a flash drive or something.

“It’s. Just. A. Story.” He was tired of repeating himself.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Jazz said, leaning back in her chair. Wirt blinked. “How about I tell you a story, though?”

“Wait, what?”

“Can I tell you a story?”

He didn’t have time for this. That essay wasn’t going to finish itself. But…. “Like, a story story or—?”

Jazz smiled. “A ghost story.”

He couldn’t tell if she was kidding. A quick glance at Wendy confirmed she hadn’t expected this, either. Still, she looked…interested, leaning forward and finally focusing on Jazz instead of him.

“Amity Park has its share of ghost stories,” Jazz added when he didn’t stop her.

He still couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Was she just making stuff up to try to get him to talk? He hadn’t framed the Unknown as a ghost story for his assignment, but in hindsight it could’ve been read like that. And she had caught him looking up different types of ghosts….

“They say the veil is thin there,” Jazz said, a quirk about her lips hinting at some inside joke. Wendy didn’t seem to get it, either. Frankly, Wirt was surprised she didn’t know the whole story already. He’d kinda figured she’d have gotten it out of Jazz by now—especially if she’d found Jazz’s hidden weapons in less than a week.

…Was this why Jazz had weapons in the first place?

“Natural portals are abundant. Not between this world and the next, but between our world and the Ghost Zone, the realm where ghosts dwell—the ones not trapped on our plane of existence, anyway. One day, a pair of well-meaning scientists decided to set up shop and tear through the veil to create a doorway so that they could better study the world of ghosts. It wasn’t until after they’d succeeded that they realized the dangers of the other side.”

A ghost zone? Why not just call it the afterlife? Wirt opened his mouth, but Jazz held up a hand to silence him. “The people of the town adapted and even grew to accept the daily disruptions of ghost attacks.”

Daily? She was definitely making this up. He just had no idea why.

“But then one day, the Fright Knight arrived, heralding the return of his king and issuing a royal decree. Some of the people tried to fight back, and the entire town was punished for their efforts, completely subsumed by the Ghost Zone. The scientists were able to erect a protective barrier with the help of others, but they could not reverse the town’s transportation. They had been taken to another realm, and the town could not be restored by ordinary human means. Not alone.”

“Wait. You’re telling me an entire town got sucked into a different world?” Even for a story, it was a stretch. She had to know how that sounded. One or two people, even a larger group, sure. Fine. But an entire town? “I thought you were a psych major, not creative writing.” Although maybe this was why she wasn’t in creative writing. She had the basics down, but she went a little too far, even for the whole suspension of belief thing. The best ghost stories were the ones that could feasibly happen, that couldn’t quite be explained away by logic or circumstance.

Now, what had happened to him and Greg? Okay, so maybe it didn’t sound feasible to someone who thought it was just a story, but it had only been them, not everyone else who’d been in the graveyard. And the struggle of two people surviving a place like the Unknown made for a better story than an entire group who brought various eclectic skills to the table. Stories were better when there was a sense of risk, not a certainty of eventual triumph.

Sure, the fact the town couldn’t be restored ‘by ordinary human means alone’ or whatever was probably meant to build suspense, but she wasn’t—

“Trust me, she’s a psych major,” Wendy said. “Now stop interrupting. Was there some kind of prophecy? There must have been if you couldn’t just fight your way out, right?”

Why…why was Wendy talking like this was something that had really happened to Jazz? Like it was a normal thing? Like she’d gone through something similar where there had been a prophecy, and it had been important, since without it, she—and whoever else—couldn’t fight her way out? Jazz had straight up said it was a ghost story.

Her names could use work—Ghost Zone? Fright Knight?—but then again, they might not be her names. If she wasn’t making this up, if she had heard the story as a kid or at summer camp or something, then it would be easier to keep the names the same rather than change them and forget what she’d called things mid-story.

He wasn’t convinced she wasn’t trying to make some point with this, though. When Wendy had read his story, she’d wondered if he’d been talking about death. About the afterlife. He couldn’t blame her, given that he’d still called it the Unknown, but—

“To start everything,” Jazz allowed. “Prophesized power begins this story, really. Greed for it awakened the king from his slumber in the first place.”

Okay, so probably not making it up on the spot unless she was really good at that kind of thing. He didn’t know her well enough to tell. He couldn’t think on his feet half as well as Greg, but it was a good skill to have, and if she was planning on being a psychologist, it would make sense that she could adapt to whatever was thrown at her better than other people.

“But the prophecy didn’t end it? Didn’t hint at a way to defeat the king?”

“Only what must be done was known, not how it would be accomplished.”

“Well, teamwork, obviously,” Wirt said. That’s how these things went. Especially when there was a townful of people to help.

“More calling truces, uniting foes against a common enemy, and fighting for survival and a way of life as much as for friends and family, but yes. Teamwork. Pariah Dark could never have been defeated by any one person alone, nor even by a small group.”

Maybe this was some old camp story and she’d just changed it to a town from a bunch of campers to make that fact less obvious. It had a moral to it and everything. Work together, help each other out. Maybe even unite against an opposing cabin despite initial opposition within. Jazz might’ve spent a summer as a counsellor somewhere. It would’ve given her an opportunity to work with kids from various backgrounds, which would stand up as good experience when she got to job hunting.

And it would explain why she seemed to know this story so well.

“But sometimes it’s a small group or one person who makes all the difference in the world,” Wendy said softly. “When it comes down to the wire and greater risks need to be taken. Sometimes, only one person can choose to make that sacrifice, even when others want to help.”

Jazz raised her eyebrows, and Wendy’s defensive barrier immediately fell back into place as she sat up. “What? Wirt’s the only one allowed to predict how this went down?”

Seriously, why was she saying that like it had happened?

“Of course not,” Jazz said. “I just…hadn’t realized.”

Hadn’t realized what?

“Anyway, keep going.”

No. Wait. Hadn’t realized what? What was he missing?

“It’s like you said. They came together, friend and foe alike, and helped turn the tide. There was even one who sacrificed more than the rest, and, really, it is that smaller group you mentioned that ensured he didn’t lose everything in the process.” Jazz shrugged. “But it’s just a story.”

“But….” No. She wanted him to ask. She must. That’s why she’d cut things off so abruptly. If he asked, he’d be playing right into whatever trap she’d set. Because there had to be something. He’d walked into enough of them already to know that.

Maybe Wendy didn’t believe this as much as she seemed to and was just playing off Jazz. To get to him. And get him to…something. He wasn’t even sure. What did they want, for him to admit that the Unknown wasn’t just a story? Why? So they could laugh at him for believing such a thing? That didn’t make sense. They weren’t cruel.

So what were they really after?

Wirt suddenly realized Jazz and Wendy were staring at him, waiting for him to continue. He swallowed. “Um, I mean, stories, ah, sometimes have a bit of truth in them, and….” And something. He didn’t know where he’d been going with that. Nowhere, probably.

Jazz smiled. “Exactly.”

Wait.

“What’s the truth in your story, Wirt?”

He’d walked right into that, hadn’t he?

Maybe he could still pull this off and convince them to drop it for good. “That I had fun imagining it?” he offered. He needed them to believe him when he said it was just a story.

“Ideas come from somewhere,” Wendy pointed out.

Of course she wouldn’t drop it. That would be too easy. “Yeah, a dream, but who knows before that. I just remembered some of what I’d been dreaming about and made up what I didn’t.”

For a split second, identical expressions of fear passed over the girls’ faces.

And then they both managed to school their expressions into a more normal response, mainly boredom (Wendy) and allowance (Jazz).

He had no idea what they’d been thinking.

He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know.

He had a feeling he’d find out eventually, though. One way or another. He just wished he knew now whether or not they were in this together. They probably were—Jazz was still more acquaintance than friend in his book, since he didn’t know her that well, despite whatever this was—but if they were, why hadn’t Jazz filled Wendy in on her plan? And if they weren’t, why would Jazz bother with any of this in the first place?

This didn’t make sense.

Wirt drained half his water, just so he didn’t have to fill the silence, but that only gave Jazz the opportunity to ask, “Do you dream like that often?”

“What?” It was a weird question. “You mean like where I remember it, right? Aren’t we supposed to dream every night even if we don’t remember them?”

Jazz just smiled.

“Well…no? I don’t usually remember my dreams. I guess I just woke up at the right time with this one.”

They looked relieved.

Why did they both look relieved?

“Do you ever have lucid dreams?” pressed Jazz. “Where you’re aware that you’re dreaming and can take control of it?”

He had no idea where this line of questioning was supposed to be going. “No. I mean, maybe once, just kinda steering away from a nightmare if that counts, but I don’t know for sure. Nothing that I really remember.”

“How often do you have nightmares?”

That one came from Wendy, and it was seemed to add credence to the idea that they were working together after all. “Not really often? I don’t remember the last one I had.” Because he was certain that he’d really seen something, that it hadn’t just been a nightmare. It couldn’t have been. Not when the note had been there the next morning. “C’mon, guys, what’s this about? You have to know how weird all this sounds.”

“This is your standard for weird, then,” Jazz said, as if that clarified something.

“Well, yeah? It would be anyone’s standard, wouldn’t it?”

Wendy glanced at Jazz. “Kinda makes him seem sweet and innocent for thinking that, doesn’t it?”

Okay, that confirmed it. They were in this together. And trolling him. They had to be.

Wirt got to his feet. “Look, this has been…fun, I guess, but I really need to finish my essay. Are you satisfied that I’m not avoiding you now?”

“Answer your text messages like the normal person you claim to be,” Wendy shot back, “and then I’ll believe that.”

Wirt rolled his eyes. “Fine, but don’t expect instant responses. Like I said, I’m busy.”

“Aren’t we all?” Jazz was smiling again as she rose to join him, but he couldn’t see falsehood hidden behind it. Maybe she was just a genuinely cheerful person. Or, more likely, she was deeply amused by his reaction to all of this. “Thanks, Wirt. You’ve been a great help.”

A great help for what?

“A good sport,” Wendy agreed. She didn’t move from her chair. “Don’t be a stranger, Wirt. You and Toby can come over for supper on the weekend if you want. I’m teaching Jazz to cook, but I promise she’s past the point of accidentally poisoning you.”

“I’m not that bad.”

Wendy snorted. “You ate raw pierogies and then asked me if they were supposed to be that hard.”

“That was one time.”

“Yeah? Well, just because you cut the mouldy part off the tomatoes—or anything else—it doesn’t mean the rest is fine.”

“Um. I think I’ll pass on your home cooking,” Wirt said, overriding Jazz’s mutters about not being used to food lasting long enough to spoil like that. “I’m on the meal plan anyway, just like everyone else in res.”

“Like that’s any better. I may not eat there, but I’ve heard stories.”

“It’s better than your food was at the beginning of the year,” Wendy pointed out. “And don’t even get me started on your scavenging skills. If you were left on your own in the woods, you’d eat something poisonous the minute you started looking for food.”

Jazz frowned but didn’t deny it, which probably meant her scavenging skills were on par with his. “Just face it, Wendy. We’re not all going to survive the apocalypse,” joked Wirt.

She glared at him. “At least Jazz can hit a target.”

“That took me a while,” allowed Jazz, “but ghost hunting pays off.”

No. She was kidding. He knew that. He’d started it. He’d opened the door with the apocalypse quip. Of course she’d walked through it. She was friends with Wendy. Roommates. Which had to rub off. That comment had nothing to do with her old campfire story.

…Right?

-|-

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#danny phantom #gravity falls #otgw #trollhunters #crossover #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #dp snippet #gf snippet #otgw snippet #trollhunters snippet #(shh I know that's not the plural of pierogi)#(but I say it with an s so that's how I spelled it)

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