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kiss-me-cill-me · 4 months

Text

Follow Me Down

Pairing: Robert Fischer x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Dealing with Robert's advances feels like a full time job in itself. When he finally pushes you past your breaking point at a company party, you decide that it's time to teach him a lesson.

Warnings: Smut, hate sex, semi-public sex, mean reader, pushy/bratty Robert, kind of switch!Robert, S&M themes, oral (f receiving), face sitting, high heel kink, spit kink, choking, non-consensual creampie, name calling (including one use of "bitch"), workplace harassment, degradation, misogyny, mentions of drinking/alcohol, reader insults Robert by suggesting that he would spike her drink (but it does not actually happen)

A/N: Are New Year's Eve fics a thing? If not, they should be haha. I love New Year's Eve, so as a little early present, please enjoy this piece of absolute filth. Title was inspired by George Taylor's song Come Follow Me Down, which I listened to on repeat while writing the smut portion of this. Thank you for reading, and I'm wishing you all a great start to 2024!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Robert Fischer was the kind of man who had everything handed to him in life, and it showed. He was petulant, unserious, and thoughtless. Or at least, mostly thoughtless; he did possess the very annoying ability to badger the living hell out of someone in order to get what he wanted. And tonight, as was so unfortunately often the case, the focus of his one-track mind was you.

He was trailing after you now, either oblivious to or willfully ignorant of the look of annoyance plastered over your face as you tried to lose him. He barely had to hurry to keep up.

“Don’t be shy asking for my help with closing that big merger if you need it,” he told you.

You grimaced. You knew how to do your job.

“Robert, let’s not talk about work while we’re off the clock,” you said shortly, trying to make your voice as sweet as possible so that he wouldn’t have an excuse to comment on your tone.

You were at the company’s New Year’s Eve party. Ostensibly, this was the last of (too many) excuses littered throughout the year for the big wig executives to drink expensive booze and make fools of themselves on the company dime. And, annoyingly, it was also yet another opportunity for Fischer to try and sleep with you.

“Okay. Let me get you a drink then,” he offered.

You decided you were done being sweet. You stopped and turned on your heel to face him.

“I wouldn’t leave you alone with my drink for two seconds, much less accept one you’d gotten your grubby little mitts on,” you hissed.

Robert made no indication that he understood what you were insinuating. Instead, he rested a hand on your waist, tugging you just a bit closer to him.

“Then I’ll escort you to the bar,” he said. “And I’ll even keep my hands on you, so you’ll know that I haven’t touched your drink.”

He was disgusting.

“Why don’t you escort yourself?” you shot back, shaking out of his grip.

You were abstaining from drinks tonight, wanting to keep your wits about you just in case Robert tried to get too handsy. Or, handsier than he usually was. This was a fairly frequent occurrence, and although you were used to it, it still pissed you off. Robert was nothing you couldn’t handle, but the arrogant rich boy attitude got old quick. It annoyed you that you couldn’t say anything without risking the job you had worked so hard for. Unlike him, you hadn’t been born into a world that put you automatically on a pedestal. On the contrary, it often felt like people were trying to kick you off the ledge.

Robert was walking behind you again, thankfully keeping his hands to himself even as he hovered at your heels, and you walked deeper into the party. All around you, drunken coworkers reveled and laughed. There was only about one hour left in the year, and by god the company was going to spend it drinking enough champagne to kill an elephant.

“Come on,” Robert called behind you, still trailing. “Don’t you know how to take a joke?”

You ignored him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. As you wove your way through the crowd, one of the higher-ups signaled to you.

You jumped at the opportunity, hoping that Robert would at least have the common decency to leave you be while you were talking to a man who was essentially your boss. But of course, rules and manners didn’t apply to Robert Fischer like they would to anyone else. As you talked with the executive about mergers and acquisitions, Robert stood directly behind you. Practically breathing down your neck. You had to bite your tongue when he placed a hand on the small of your back again. What the hell did he think he was doing?

After a few minutes, the higher-up - slightly intoxicated - excused himself and wandered off, leaving you alone again with the man who was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.

“Robert-” you started to bark.

“God, you’re sexy when you talk business,” Robert interrupted.

You were facing him again, his arm still wrapped around you possessively. You caught a whiff of bourbon on his breath. He certainly wasn’t drunk, but the alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue. Usually he wasn’t this forward. You frowned.

“And you’re an unprofessional prick.”

Your outburst almost seemed to shock you more than it did Robert. His expression never faltered, except to allow a small smirk to spread across his lips.

“Sweetheart, don’t flatter me like that,” he teased. “A pretty girl like you could give a guy like me ideas.”

He raised his eyebrows at you as he said “ideas,” lowering his voice a bit. You got the message.

“I’m sorry if I was unclear,” you said, trying not to speak through clenched teeth. “But the only idea I want to give you is to leave me the hell alone.”

Robert put his hands up, pretending to look wounded. Or maybe he was going for shocked. As if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear already just how uninterested you were. He took a step back, to your relief.

“Okay, I can see you need some time to cool off,” he relented. Finally, you were getting somewhere. “But can you really blame me for getting mixed signals?”

You had no idea what Robert was talking about, until he started pointing above him. Your eyes trailed up, and you saw for the first time a little sprig of mistletoe, hanging in the hallway. A leftover from the company’s Christmas decorations. Of all the places you could have been standing… When you looked back at Robert, your mouth was a thin line.

“What are you, twelve?” you asked.

He just smiled.

“Christmas is over, Robert,” you said coldly.

As you started to walk away, he called after you.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying!”

Fischer was right about one thing - you did need some time to cool off. Being around him made your skin crawl. It made you feel like you needed a shower and a guzzle of holy water, just to exorcize any lingering traces of him from your system. A gin and tonic would probably have at least some of the same effects. And you were craving one, but you reminded yourself that you needed to stay sharp. Robert had left you alone for now, but it was only a matter of time before he would be back. You settled for just the tonic.

Rubbing your head as you walked through the party, horribly bitter drink in hand, you wondered why you had even bothered to come. So much of what you did was for the sake of appearances. Anything to claw your way ahead. Though of course, even you had limits. Sleeping with Fischer would, ironically, probably end in a boon to your career. But you definitely weren’t about to let yourself sink to that level.

You looked down at your gin-less tonic, twist of lime bobbing lazily in the bubbles. Why were you even drinking this? It certainly wasn’t for the taste. You dumped the rest of your drink in a potted plant, and set the empty glass down on a table.

This party was a total drag. But, you figured, at least you wouldn’t have to go far to find a little solitude. One of the benefits of working for an insanely wealthy company like Fischer Morrow was that even mid-level employees like you got extravagant offices. Your high heels clicked against the tile as you strode off, eager to leave the maddening din - and Robert Fischer - behind.

You reached your office door, and instantly knew that something was off. Behind the frosted windows, you could tell that the lights were on. The party was on the floor below yours; there should have been nobody up here, much less in your private office. Maybe it was just one of the cleaners, working late. Well, no problem. They would be easy enough to get rid of, and then you could regroup and prepare yourself for the remainder of a night full of fending off Robert’s advances. You pushed open the door.

Really, you should have seen this coming. Of course it wasn’t going to be this easy to get rid of him.

“Robert,” you sighed. You took in the sight of him, sitting in your swivel chair and looking very pleased with himself. “Do I really have to ask you to get out of my office?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he taunted, effortlessly throwing your own words back at you. He winked, and you narrowed your eyes.

You walked over to your desk, large and shiny with a stained walnut finish. It was an expensive piece of furniture, and one that Robert somehow managed to look right at home sitting behind. As if he owned the place. Which was closer to the truth than you particularly liked to think about.

“Why do you enjoy doing this?” you asked, not expecting a real answer.

“I just like getting a rise out of you,” Robert said.

It sounded strangely honest. You leaned over your desk, staring down at him. Trying to size him up.

“You’re very mean when you want to be,” Robert continued, almost observationally.

You weren’t sure where he was going with this. Sure, you could be mean. It was part of the reason why you’d achieved the position you were in now; you didn’t advance in business by being a pushover.

Robert, you noticed, was currently staring down the front of your dress. You scrambled to stand up, and crossed your arms over your chest. The little pervert wasn’t even trying to hide it. You circled the desk, coming to rest on the side where Robert still sat, watching you calmly. You silently willed him to get out of your chair; to leave your office and give you twenty seconds of peace. He didn’t, of course, and so you took a seat on the desk, crossing your legs and tapping one foot in the air.

“So, what? Do you get off on me being mean to you or something?” you pressed.

Robert shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. For some reason, that infuriated you even more. You hated his smug face; that little smirk he was wearing right now that meant he was getting what he wanted. You had the sudden urge to slap him. Maybe that would teach him a lesson.

“And what about you?” Robert asked. “What do you get out of this?”

“Me?!” You were incredulous. “Christ. What could I possibly be getting out of putting up with you constantly bothering me?”

Robert shrugged again, and your desire to slap him grew.

“Maybe you get off on it too,” he guessed. “Being mean, that is.”

“You think I get off on doing this?” you scoffed. “Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

“You’re the one who brought up getting off; not me.”

You were really going to lose it. You could barely see Fischer sitting in front of you now for all of the angry red that was swirling through your vision. He thought he could walk in here, sit at your desk, and then tell you you got off on being mean to him? He didn’t know how mean you could be.

“What’s your end goal with all this, Robert? You really think you’re gonna get to live out whatever twisted fantasy you’ve made me a part of in that sick little head of yours?”

“Maybe,” Robert said nonchalantly. You could feel him undressing you with his eyes.

“Yeah? What are you hoping to do to me?” you prodded. You didn’t care what you were saying anymore; you were way past the point of professionalism. “Probably tie me up and watch me try to fight you off, right?”

Robert looked up at you very calmly, holding your angry gaze as he answered you.

“I’d rather have you step on me with those heels,” he said.

You were taken aback.

“Excuse me?”

“I said: I want you to step on me with those slutty little stilettos you keep waving in my face,” he repeated.

You froze. One foot was braced against the drawers of your desk, and the other was poised in the air, hovering just in front of Robert’s knee as he sat in your chair.

“What’s the matter?” Robert asked. “I warned you you’d give a guy like me ideas, didn’t I?”

Part of you was in shock. This was not how you had expected this interaction to go. But another part of you - a corner of your mind that you didn’t even want to acknowledge - really was turned on by the idea of putting him in his place. You grinned.

“What makes you think I’d do that for you?” you hummed, mocking him.

Before he had a chance to respond, you lifted your foot and pressed the sharp point of your heel against the fleshy part of Robert’s shoulder. His expensive suit jacket started to crease. You pushed your heel in a little more, pushing him back just an inch.

Robert’s eyes started to wander, trying to sneak a look under your dress as you sat in front of him, your leg lifted up to press into his shoulder.

“You’re a pig,” you told him, shifting your foot so that it was in the middle of his chest.

The new angle made it a little harder for him to get a peek, with your legs more pressed together. Robert’s eyes drifted back to your face, a look of restrained amusement dancing across his own features. He was trying to play it cool, but you noticed the way his fingers dug into the chair’s leather armrests.

“Just another pretty boy in a suit,” you continued, inching the toe of your shoe up toward his collar.

The point of your heel was right over his sternum, and Robert started to smile. He really was enjoying this, and the realization both repulsed and aroused you.

“Think you can take whatever you want. You need to be put in your place.”

You pushed back with your foot, making Robert’s chair roll a few inches so that you had space to stand up between him and the desk. You planted one foot on the floor, and the other directly over his crotch, pressing in with the dull toe of your shoe. The point of your heel rested on the chair in front of him, between his slightly parted legs. You weren’t trying to impale the poor man, but the devious look that Robert fixed on you as you towered over him almost made it look like he would have preferred if you did.

“Told you y’get off on being mean,” he teased.

You grabbed hold of his tie and pulled his face closer to yours as you looked down at him.

“Robert, if you think this is what a woman looks like when she gets off, I have some very bad news for you. Why don’t you show me what that pretty mouth is good for?”

You pushed away from him, climbing back up on the desk and spreading your legs. The tight black dress you wore rode up your thighs, and Robert instantly dropped to his knees in front of you. He hooked a finger into the crotch of your panties, using it to drag them to the side until you were on display for him.

“You can deny all you want,” he mocked, “but you wouldn’t be this wet if you really didn’t enjoy it.”

“Jesus. Stop talking,” you ordered.

You shoved his face between your legs, and his tongue eagerly came out to lick at you. You were wet - there really wasn’t any denying it - but you didn’t need him pointing out that fact as if he weren’t the one desperately lapping at your cunt. Robert was the pathetic one here; you were really just going along with things to teach him a lesson. If he wanted you to walk all over him, you would make sure he regretted ever crossing paths with you. And if you happened to get off while doing it - well, you'd just chalk that down as some much-needed stress relief. Dealing with Robert was exhausting.

You hooked your legs over his arms, pinning him in place as he balanced himself against the desk. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good at this. Very good. His tongue was lavishing you; his blue eyes never breaking contact with yours as he ate you out. The way he was looking up at you felt dirty and yet dangerously addicting, all at the same time. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as your breath hissed through your teeth. Abruptly, you pulled him away.

“Get on the desk,” you commanded, a little out of breath.

Robert stood up, wiped his smug face, and started to climb up onto the desk.

“On your back.”

He laid down, swinging his feet up so that he was fully spread out across the hard surface. You reached up under your dress to remove your panties. Having him hold them to the side was only getting in the way.

You carefully got up on the desk with him, knees resting on either side of his face.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you scoffed, half for your own benefit.

“Think of it this way,” Robert smirked beneath you. “Isn’t it gonna make you happy to wipe this smile off my face?”

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

You sat down, putting almost your full weight on his face. Robert reached up to grab hold of your thighs, supporting you, and you were actually grateful for it even though it gave him an opportunity to grope at your ass. Your legs were getting weaker every second, and you could feel yourself tipping over the edge.

Part of the thrill was from being in such a compromising position. Before, if someone had walked in, there was a chance that Robert could stand up and you would be able to smooth down your dress in time to avoid getting caught. But now… well, riding a man’s face as he was splayed out on the desk beneath you was a little harder to recover from, logistically.

You ground your hips down, so tantalizingly close to coating his face in your release. Robert seemed to sense your urgency, and dug his fingers into your flesh, practically begging for it. His tongue dragged roughly across your clit, sucking with just the right pressure.

Your mouth hung open as you came, at first frozen in a silent scream and then moaning, sinfully, as an orgasm rolled over you. You seemed to shake from your shoulders down into your knees, and Robert’s tongue lapped up all of your arousal. He pressed his lips to your clit one final time as you slid off of him.

When your hips were straddling his, Robert sat up to hold you. His hands were hungry, grabbing at your waist as he tried to pull you closer and into a kiss.

“No kissing,” you choked out, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.

Robert didn't try to push past you, just paused and looked up at you with light, teasing eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart. It's New Year's Eve. You're not gonna give me a kiss at midnight?”

You swallowed, not trusting your shaky voice to respond without giving him more fuel to taunt you with. He didn't need it.

“Even after you already let me wrap my lips around your pretty cunt?”

Your hand on his chest pressed down, pushing him back onto the hard wood. Robert smiled again, proud of himself for getting to you. He really did know how to wind you up.

“You’re such a typical rich boy,” you spat. “So used to getting anything you ask for.”

“Usually I don’t even have to ask,” Robert corrected.

“Right. Other women just throw themselves at you?” You felt your hatred flare.

He gave you that knowing look again, but kept his smirking mouth shut. You noticed the way your arousal still glistened against his lips. The whole lower half of his face, actually, was drenched, and the sight of it sent a pang of renewed desire all through you.

Suddenly, Robert’s grip tightened at your waist. He bunched up the fabric of your dress, exposing you a little more, and forced you down onto his leg.

“Use me to get yourself off.”

Already impatient, his hands had started to pull at your hips, making you rock back and forth. The cloth of his suit pants brushed roughly against your exposed clit, still sensitive from his earlier treatment. But still, it felt good. Too good.

“Robert-”

You had opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“Mm, say my name, baby.”

He was so full of himself. Something snapped in you, and your hand flew up to his neck. As your grip tightened, Robert only threw his head back.

“Honestly, do you ever shut up?” you spat.

Despite yourself, your hips started to stutter against him, desperate to rub harder as the pressure started to build in you again. For whatever reason, you found yourself going along with Robert’s demands once more. Your hand on his neck squeezed.

“You really do get everything you want,” you hissed, teeth clenching against the ache that was rapidly growing between your legs.

“Not true,” Robert choked out beneath you. His voice was straining from your grip, but you could still hear the hint of satisfaction. “I haven’t gotten to stick it in you yet.”

Your walls clenched around nothing, and you hated how his words could affect you. You angrily took it out on him, pressing the hand on his neck down even harder. Robert hissed out through his teeth, then dissolved into a rough cry of pleasure.

“Fuck," you gasped.

Your grip loosened, suddenly, as a wave of ecstasy came crashing over you for the second time. It was unexpected and fast, taking you by such surprise that you fell forward on the desk a little, caging Robert’s face with your arms. Your stomach churned with embarrassment as the feeling faded, and you realized that just the sound of his voice had been enough to push you over the edge.

You looked down, and saw Robert’s eyes full of mirth. His face was flushed, blood rushing back now that your hand was off him. A few strands of hair stood out of place against his forehead. Honestly, he was a mess; clothes all wrinkled and normally-neat red tie knocked askew. You could feel yourself dripping. His very expensive suit pants were probably ruined. Although, that was really his problem.

“Tell me again how you don’t get off on being mean?” Robert rasped below you.

You were panting, and clearly in no position to answer him. But even if you had been able to speak, you certainly weren’t about to tell him that it had been his animalistic moan that really made you come. Robert started to sit up a little, keeping one arm around your waist.

“You hate me so much.” Robert’s voice was still slightly hoarse, but there was that tone of amusement, as usual.

“Poor little rich boy.”

It was all you could think to say, still trying to recover from two orgasms back to back. Robert gave you a look that was almost pitying.

“When are you gonna admit that you’re just jealous?” Robert purred.

You gave him a look of disgust, hoping your scowl would communicate everything that you couldn’t verbalize. Your head was still reeling, dizzy from the rush.

“You think you’re better than everyone else just because you have to scramble to get ahead? Please. You wish you had it as easy as me.” Robert’s hands came up to grasp at your wrists, holding you in place as he brought his lips close to yours. “But lucky for me, you’re not above sleeping your way to the top.”

Is that really what he thought this was? No. That wasn’t the reason for this. Inch by inch, Robert was bringing his lips closer to you. This bastard, thinking he understood you. Infuriated, you did the only thing you could think to do, and spit on him.

He stopped, but didn’t look particularly surprised. The trail of spit started to drip down his face, mixing on his cheek with the leftover sheen of your arousal. Calmly, Robert brought a hand up to his face and wiped off the efforts of your rebellion.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, sweetheart.”

In the next instant, Robert’s hands were at his belt, nimble fingers working the buckle. You noticed for the first time how painfully stretched his pants were. He had to be in agony. But, you thought bitterly, that was probably exactly how he wanted it.

“Here - why don’t you spit on my cock?” he goaded, pulling himself out of his briefs.

Your eyes blew wide at the sight of him. That certainly explained the amount of confidence he had. You struggled to shoot back a response.

“In your dreams,” you muttered.

“Don’t be like that,” Robert chided, pouting a little bit.

As much as he liked to act, you could tell that he wasn’t really hurt. Someone as arrogant as Robert Fischer could never be truly bothered by anything. This was merely an inconvenience. He pinched your cheeks between his rough fingers, forcing you to look down at his dick with your mouth open. A long, wet rope of saliva fell from your lips.

“There, was that so hard?”

Robert’s pinching hand left your face as he brought it down to rub at his length, hastily working your spit over himself.

“This is for your benefit anyway,” he winked. “Don’t want it to hurt you too much.”

You watched, almost mesmerized, as he pumped himself a few more times. Satisfied, he stood up, taking you with him. Standing in your heels, you were almost as tall as him, and he looked directly into your eyes.

“Now, do you want me to fuck you over the desk, or up against the wall?”

You almost couldn’t believe his audacity. You glared at him, a heavy, electrical silence hanging between you.

“Tick-tock, sweetheart.”

“Go to hell, Robert,” you answered.

“Well, then I guess we’re doing what I want.” He smiled. “How ironic.”

He lifted you up in one swift motion, and then your back was against the wall. The head of his cock was pressing into you, and the stretch was almost painful.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he hissed. “Just what I would expect from a stuck-up little bitch.”

His words stung, but not as much as the snap of his hips as he thrust into you, forcing a little whine out of your lips. You grit your teeth, trying to muffle your reaction.

“You squeeze me so good when you’re angry,” Robert laughed. “Fuck.”

His hands were digging into you, holding you up as he pulled out and then pressed greedily back in. Your head pushed back against the wall, overwhelmed by his size.

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much for you?” he teased.

“You- wish-”

Your words cut off as Robert fucked sharply into you again, then paused. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling his hips against you as you tried to hold yourself up. It only made him push deeper.

“Fuck, Robert-!”

You cried out, interrupting yourself again, and felt his lips brush against your neck.

“I didn’t even move that time, baby,” he smirked.

You couldn’t stand to see him so smug. Somewhere deep inside yourself, you found strength.

“W-what are you waiting for, then? Get to work, pretty boy.”

Robert grinned as he thrust into you, even more powerfully than before. You wanted to whimper, but bit your tongue. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You really are something else,” Robert chuckled.

His pace had started to speed up, and now he was pumping in and out of you relentlessly, each thrust pushing you back against the wall. Your body had finally adjusted to his girth, and you were almost starting to enjoy the stretch. Not to mention the way that his head hit a certain spot inside of you, nearly making you fall apart every time he brushed against it.

You were finding it harder and harder to suppress your moans, and every now and then one would slip out of your tightly-pressed lips. Robert seemed to speed up every time he heard you whimper.

“Fuck!” you swore, as he hit a particularly deep spot.

“You take my cock so well,” he grunted. Even trying to keep his cool, it was clear that he was only seconds away from release. “Now let’s see how you take my cum.”

“Not… not inside,” you panted.

“Don’t- fucking- tell me what to do.”

“Don't fucking come in me!”

Pressed against the wall, your options for retaliation were limited. Your legs could do nothing but wrap around him; his hands stopping you from putting your feet on the floor. Your own hands were occupied gripping at the lapels of his suit, hanging on for dear life as he split you open. Really, the only available part of you was your mouth.

Your lips bruised hard against his, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting hard enough that you hoped it hurt. Robert let out a muffled growl against you, and you sank your teeth in more.

Somewhere far away, a clock chimed and the party below you surged drunkenly. Robert thrust his hips into you one last time, and then you felt him painting your walls; cum leaking out of you as he held you, still suspended in the air. As the buzzing in your head started to fade, you realized he was smiling against your lips.

You jaw relaxed just enough for Robert to pull himself away. His lip was bruised; angry red from where your teeth had scraped him. He was even more disheveled than he had been, and, somehow, even more satisfied with himself.

“Ended up giving me that kiss anyway,” he rasped, voice still heavy from exertion and lust. “And right at midnight, too.”

You felt your hatred surge again, weakly. You were exhausted; barely able to keep yourself upright when Robert finally set you on your feet. He stepped away, leaving you to tug down your dress and try to make yourself presentable. A very difficult task, considering you still had fresh cum leaking out of you. Your eyes quickly scanned the floor for your panties. You would not stoop to searching on your hands and knees for them. Not until Robert left your office, at least.

Robert finished zipping his pants and replacing his belt, shiny silver buckle clicking under his fingers. He tugged at his suit, barely making a dent in the wrinkles, and smoothed a hand over his hair.

“Well, I would say ‘same time next week,’ but I think it would be easier to pencil you in at lunch,” Robert joked. “Maybe we can finally have that drink before I take you back to my office. You’ll have a really nice view of the city while I fuck you against the window.”

You really couldn’t believe the nerve. Although, by now, it should have been easy to expect no less from Robert. You walked right up to him and planted a finger in the center of his chest.

“If you think I’m ever having sex with you again, you’re twice as delusional as I thought you were,” you huffed.

Robert took one more long look at you, and shrugged.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

#robert fischer x reader #robert fischer #robert fischer smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #LemmyFics

417 notes · View notes

wannaeatramyeon · 11 months

Note

I love everything you write! Can I request some headcanons for Gun/Goo, crewheads, and the J-Highers? You can choose what you're comfortable writing about

Thanks anon! Just... hc? Ohh this is extremely wide-ranging, I'm panicking. Hope you don't mind if I go for a list with the tiniest sprinkling of hc.

Lookism Boys & Love Languages

Maxed out 2 per person. I feel like I need to explain myself for a few. Some are a vibe, some have an actual reason, some are just bullshit

Giving

Acts of service

Vin Jin: If he likes you, he will be running little errands and doing things for you. He'll grumble and beat himself up for being a simp as he does it, but he does do it.

Jibeom Kwak: Would do anything for his bros, and now that includes you too.

Gun Park: an absolute gentleman. Silently observing and anticipates your needs before you need to ask.

+ Daniel Park, Jay Hong, Zack Lee, Jake Kim, Samuel Seo, Jace Park, Warren Chae, Ryuhei Kuroda, Xiaolong

Physical Touch

Xiaolong: once he is used to you, then absolutely physical touch. This guy is so touch starved, when was the last time he even had an embrace where it wasn't riddled with guilt? Will never get over being able to just reach out and place his hand on your leg, or put his arm around his shoulders. Same reason why he likes to receive.

+ Vin Jin, Logan Lee, Ryuhei Kuroda.

Words of Affirmation

Warren Chae: He's so quiet usually, and never has been very vocal with Sally but she also didn't initially return his affections. Canonically, his sentences and speech got better with his confidence so once you're together? Warren really finds his voice and adores showering you in praises and telling you how much he loves you.

Jihan Kwak: Vibe that he is flirtatious as hell, muttering a lot of sweet nothings that will make you blush and your pulse race.

+ NOT Goo Kim: Honeyed words flow from his mouth to anyone and everyone. Don't bank on anything he says holding a grain of truth.

+ NOT Jake Kim: A bit like Goo Kim, a lot of shit runs from his mouth. Sorry Jake. Jokes, pick-up lines, flirtations, puns. You can't take him seriously half the time and he does it with pretty much everyone.

Quality Time

DG/James Lee: Time is extremely limited for this k-pop idol and one-time limb detacher. If he spends time with you, he must really like you.

Hudson Ahn: Very busy man training, keeping an eye on Ansan and his lackeys, eating snakes in the middle of nowhere with Taesoo. Doesn't give up his time and focus for just anyone.

+ Daniel Park, Zack Lee, Vasco Tabasco, Johan Seong, Gun Park, Goo Kim, Eli Jang, Eugene, Sinu Han, Jace Park

Gifts

Jay Hong: Hard one to place, act of service then split between Gifts and Quality Time but Jay likes traditional gift-giving. Also protects and looks after others with his money too. Will literally buy your way out of trouble. Our capitalist king.

Logan Lee: It's canon.

Johan Seong: To be honest, I imagine him a bit like an outdoor cat, going on adventures and bringing you back gifts that he thinks you'll like. A pair of shoes mysteriously in your size and a bit worn, or maybe just a random flower that was pretty. It was totally Eden and Miro that picked it, not him. Stop looking at him like that!

+Goo Kim, Samuel Seo

Receiving

Acts of service

Actions may speak louder than words, but more because these guys have god complexes and loves you doing things for them.

+ Vin Jin, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo

Physical Touch

Vasco Tabasco: once he's over how deviant touching one another is, he doesn't want you to keep your hands off him. He has a limit though, so please keep the touches quite innocent and pure. Hand holding? YES. Pinching his butt? OBSCENE! (but... maybe... that's ok too.)

DG/James Lee and Gun Park: Not ever on the receiving end of tender touches. Moreso that they're not going to let just anyone get their grubby mitts on them. Something as casual as you linking your arm through theirs? It's different. It's unusual. It's... Nice.

+ Johan Seong, Eugene, Jace Park, Warren Chae, Ryuhei Kuroda, Xiaolong, Hudson Ahn

Words of Affirmation

Daniel Park: Hangover from his childhood, where the only compliments are from his mom. Always nice for him to hear clearly and loudly your love for him. Actually praising his looks though, he can take it or leave it.

Jake Kim: As mentioned, he chats so much shit that he sometimes forgets that being on the receiving end of sincere, loving words can really be beautiful. Especially if they're from you. Genuine compliments and praise will make him blush.

Jibeom Kwak: Middle child syndrome for this and quality time love languages. Attention, please.

+ Zack Lee, Vasco Tabasco, Vin Jin, Jake Kim, Samuel Seo, Jace Park, Warren Chae

Quality Time

What's there to explain? They can't get enough of you. Even something as simple as sitting side by side, scrolling on your own phones. Just being in your presence is enough.

+ Daniel Park, Jay Hong, Zack Lee, Logan Lee, Johan Seong, Jake Kim, Gun Park, Eli Jang, Sinu Han, Ryuhei Kuroda, Jibeom Kwak

Gifts

Goo Kim: Here's a whole little drabble about this. He doesn't need expensive gifts, just tiny small things to show that he's on your mind. Yeah, almost as proof because he's an idiot like that.

Sinu Han: Can't you hear him giggling like a schoolgirl if you handed him a pretty leaf or something?

+ NOT Daniel Park: Jay gave him a wholeass designer wardrobe, and while he was grateful and was clueless about the cost, he didn't seem as fussed as someone who would truly appreciate it as a love language. Finds small things equally nice too.

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disasterbiwriter · 3 months

Note

You may have seen me obsess over this before, but... Luke tries to teach Jess how to play baseball, because "every boy likes baseball, right?" And it doesn't go very well. 😆

The Diner Dudes and the Bad Hop

Part I

Lorelai is bussing a table when Luke clatters down into the diner, and as she looks up and takes him in, it's clear she's trying not to laugh.

"What?" Luke demands. "What?!"

"Nothing, I just didn't know you realized you could wear those things with the brim to the front." She reaches up and gently flicks the brim of his ancient Mets cap.

"Knock it off." What does it say about him that even that miniscule degree of contact with her sends his stomach into somersaults?

"Sorry, sorry." She looks him over once more, from the hat down to the scuffed up Slugger hanging at his side. "So, you're really going to go through with it?"

"'Course," he says. "He's excited."

Her face is soft. "Of course he is. He loves to take the trash out if it means you're with him."

"It's going to be fun," Luke insists. "All boys love baseball."

"Right right." She snaps and points at him, cheeky. "Hey, do you think he'll put whatever he's reading down long enough to hit the ball, or are you thinking the reading material will be thick enough to be a stand-in for the bat?"

Luke rolls his eyes. "Are you in overtime yet?"

"Maybe."

"Go home."

Part II

"All right, bud, remember what I told you?"

Six-year-old Jess is vibrating with excitement. "Yep!" He ticks the items off on his grubby fingers. "Keep my eye on the ball. Don’t swing at anything below your shoulders or anything higher than your knees."

"Er, close. It's actually - "

"And quit when it starts to feel like all the baselines are running uphill."

Luke scratches his head. "Did... I don't remember telling you that last one."

Jess scrambles for the backpack he slung off along the first baseline and pulls out a pristine library book. "Babe Ruth’s Baseball Advice," he announces proudly. "Mrs. Gilley ordered a copy of it for the library when I told her you were gonna teach me baseball."

Mentally Luke runs through a catalogue of sayings attributed to the Big Bam and makes a mental note to remind Mrs. Gilley that Jess is still in elementary school. "All right, put the book down, let's get to it, kid!"

"I'm ready, Uncle Luke!" With comedic effort he hefts the bat over one shoulder and readies himself behind the plate.

"Uh, honey? Try taking the mitt off when you bat."

"You got it, Uncle Luke!"

Part III

"Jess, I think you'll probably have more luck if you open your eyes when you swing."

"Good idea, Uncle Luke!"

"Jess, honey, that's third base, not first."

"But we read left to right! Why do we run right to left?!"

"I, uh... I don't actually know the answer to that."

"That was better! Try running towards the ball instead of away from it next time!"

"What if it lands on my head and cracks it open like an egg?!"

"No, I'm definitely sure there are only three bases, kiddo."

"Chuck Presby says there are twelve, and if you miss any of them they make the umpire put you in JAIL!"

"But are you sure?"

"Look, sweetheart, I know I told you I don't actually know everything about baseball, so I guess it's possible... But I'm telling you, I don't think there has ever been a baseball player who was also a bank robber. And you've gotta stop listening to anything that Presby kid tells you, he's an id - he's just teasing you."

"Uncle Luke! We forgot the wickets!"

"No, Jess, there are no wickets in baseball, that's cricket."

"Uncle Luke! Uncle Luke! I hit it! I - oh no! Uncle Luke! Are you okay?!"

Part IV

Lorelai unearths a bag of peas from the diner's freezer and gently settles it against Luke's cheekbone. "Well, at least he hit it."

Luke glances over at the counter where Jess is wearing more ice cream than is getting into his mouth. He loves that little gremlin so much he might actually cry - or would, if any tears could escape his rapidly-swelling eye. "He certainly did. Baby's first bad hop."

"What on earth is a bad hop?"

"You know," Luke sighs, "ask me some other time. I think I'm done talking about baseball for the day."

"You got it. Need a beer, boss?"

"Make it two. Hey, didn't I tell you to go home?

"You want me to get you a beer or not?"

"Right, shutting up now."

Part V - Two Weeks Later

"And then," Jess says proudly, tapping the little square with his finger, "the guy hit a fly and got out at center field - so I put the 8 in his box Eight stands for center field, remember?"

Lorelai whistles over the scorebook, impressed. "That's so cool, kid. And you learned how to do all that today?"

"Yep." He spins a little on his stool, clutching the precious document carefully in both hands. "Uncle Luke says I picked it up faster than anyone he's ever seen."

"Well, that doesn't surprise me even a little bit."

"I think watching baseball is more fun than playing baseball." Jess beams at Luke as he comes out from the kitchen, Jess's dinner in hand. "Don't you think so, Uncle Luke?"

Luke sets Jess's plate in front of him and strokes his nephew's hair. "You know what? These days I think you're right."

#diner dudes #“I'm here Jess” AU #gilmore girls #jess mariano #luke danes #luke raising baby jess adorable family drama ensues #am writing #fanfiction #my writing #thank you for the prompt stella!#stella asks #Dedicated to my partner who fills out a scorebook at every baseball game he attends

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Note

AYE requests briefly open you say? Then here ya go: MC (female or gn) turns into a child for a day courtsey of Solomon (maybe around 5) with the Brothers. I think it'd be adorable, what with finger painting on spell books and things, but there ya go!

The MC is Now Five Years Old, Thanks Solomon...

Oh boy…. A little kid in Hell sounds like a train wreck admittedly, but at least they'll have some pretty strong guardians right? I heard It'll Be Okay by SMLE & Helen Tess and decided that was JUST the feel this sort of request needed.

Intro:

Solomon really doesn't mess up spells often. He's been doing this for a while (at least as far as my headcanon is concerned) so he's gotten pretty damn good at magic over the years. It takes a looot to make him mess up. Like say, a natural disaster, an unexpected surprise… or a whole-ass MC getting knocked into what sigil he's using at just the wrong time. Yeah. That'll do it.

How in the world is he going to explain this to the brothers…?

Lucifer

His anger toward Solomon is quite severe… tempered only slightly by how utterly adorable kid!MC is. (Well all know he's got that soft spot for cute things 🤭) It reminds him so much of his brothers at that age…

The man basically reverts back to being Dad!Lucifer sooo fast.

He's the one tying their shoes, checking on them throughout the day, making sure they're not running with scissors… that sort of thing.

Weirdly enough he's not that bothered by it… In fact, his brothers find it a little unnerving just how at peace he seems when he's keeping track of kid!MC doing this or that… It's like he's just put on an old pair of gloves and found out they still fit.

Speaking of his brothers, Lucifer can't turn off "Parent Mode" so it starts spilling over to them too...

When he started telling Levi "It's bedtime" and used a napkin to wipe Beel's face for him in public, they decided to hold an informal intervention. They're grown demons now, damnit!! 😖

Mammon

The first thing kid!MC did when they saw Mammon was fling themselves at him while screaming "MAMMIE!!!" at the top of their lungs… Regardless of his confusion, the man could probably die happy now.

He only gripes a little bit about being saddled with babysitting duty… Because everybody knows he's not the babysitter now. He's the playmate.

"Mammie, I wanna play House!!" "I ain't playing House with ya, kid. How 'bout Tag?" "No way, you're too fast!" "Hide'n Seek?" "Luci said we can't play that no more…" "Well don't hide in the oven again!" "You didn't find me!!" "That was the problem!!!"

Pretty much the Man-Child/Actual Child Duo. He's perfect for keeping up with them and they'll whine incessantly when they can't find him for too long...

Totally the brother to take them to the amusement park or really any of those super fun places kids love. He will be just as excited as they are to be there, too.

It's not uncommon to find Mammon passed out on a couch or something with an equally exhausted kid!MC sleeping on his back. The two can really wear each other out…

Leviathan

He's probably the least perturbed by this change. Sudden de-aging of characters is a pretty popular anime trope, after all...

He's not all that taken with kid!MC though to be honest… Largely because he's too worried about keeping his stuff out of their grubby mitts. 😖

"Levi, what's this?" "GAH! Don't touch that!! That's my limited edition Ultra☆Rainbow Witch figurine!!" "I wanna play with it, though!" "It's not a toy!!" "That's not fair! You have nothing but toys, Levi!! You need to share!!" "NO I DON'T!!!"

In those times where Lucifer forces him to share, Levi goes full neat-freak. He handles all the discs and games himself, everything gets practically sterilized, and kid!MC HAS to wash their hands before they touch ANYTHING (especially the game controllers). He ain't risking any random kid-gunk getting on his precious possessions… 😰

He does enjoy playing games with them well enough, at least. No one's going to pass up a game of Devil Kart after all!

Sometimes he'll let them win just to see how happy they get… Though, then they start getting a big head about it so he has to remind him who the actual gamer is with another string of losses... Sucks to suck, kid! 😌😏

Satan

… You know, five year-olds ask a lot of questions… A looot of questions…

"Satan, what's that?" "An umbrella. You use it so that rain doesn't get on you." "Where does rain come from?" "Evaporated water collects in the atmosphere and-" "Is rain like the sky peeing?" "...." "Satan? Does your face hurt?... Satan?"

Please Lord, they may not be on speaking terms, but someone has to have mercy on his patience...

In truth, Satan's kind of charmed by how curious kid!MC is, he just wished they'd listen more to his boring explanations…

"Satan? Why does everyone listen to Diavolo?" "Lord Diavolo is like a king to us demons." "Where's his crown?" "He doesn't wear a crown." "Oh… You don't wear a crown and people listen to you. Are you a king too?" "I mean, you're not wrong… 😏" "Satan, get back to work."

Eh, maybe having a little MC isn't all that bad. They don't lie, after all. 😌

Asmodeus

OMG he hasn't seen a child this cute since the twins were in diapers!!!!

If Mammon isn't around then Asmo takes over babysitting duties (like an actual babysitter) and he's more than happy to do it. It reminds of him of taking care of baby Belphie!

If kid!MC has any interest at all in makeup then he's happy to foster it. He won't give them the good stuff of course, but he'll show them how to do blush, eyes, lipstick, nail polish, whatever!

He also dabbles in a bit of facepaint so do they want to look like a kitty, panda, or dragon? He's got them covered.

Asmo just likes to let them be creative in all forms, really. He's going to be the one to break out the paint and markers and just the kid!MC go to town! (hopefully not on the walls…)

Takes pictures of whatever they draw, good or bad, and happily displays them to everyone. There's not a big enough fridge to hold all the art he's going to collect (and zealously protect).

Beelzebub

Playmate #2 right after Mammon, but he's the less excitable, more responsible one.

"Beel! Beel! Watch me jump off this slide!!" 😰 "Please don't… You could hurt yourself… You slide down slides. That's why they're called that." "*GASP*... That's right! You're a genius!!" *sits back down* "Not really, but thank you." 😊 *waits for them at the bottom*

If the MC is with Beel, they're doing one of two things. Either they're playing together or gorging themselves on junk food.

Beel actually likes "domestic" games like House and Tea Party because it's an excuse to raid the kitchen. He'll play "house-husband" all day as long as he gets to actually eat at every imaginary dinnertime.

He'll play active games too, of course. Especially action-oriented ones like "Cops and Robbers" or Superheros. No one's better at roughhousing than Beel! Though he'll go easy on them, cause they're small and all… 😅

Everyone can always tell when Beel's in charge of them because he carries them around on his shoulders. He's the tallest one of the family so it's like getting to be a giant!

Belphegor

Belphie was introduced to kid!MC when they started crying during one of his naps. They couldn't wake him and they thought he was dead… Followed directly by them declaring their tears were magic when they noticed his eyes opened.

He proceeded to close his eyes again and purposely play dead just to get them all worried again. It was the smile creeping up onto his face that eventually gave him away… 😏

He likes to play with kid!MC and Beel but he's not going to let it get in the way of his nap schedule or anything. When they play "Knights" he gets to take the role of the world's laziest dragon… Rawr.

Kid!MC will only settle down for naptime if Belphie joins too since he'll read them a book like he used to do with Lilith.

Satan's usually the go-to guy for storytime, but Belphie's a close second (largely because he just imitates what he remembers Lucifer doing for him, voices and all 🤭).

He deals with their myriad of questions by just making shit up and pretending he knows what he's talking about. It's around the time that he told them that little men live inside the freezer and shave ice cubes to keep things cold that Lucifer started getting on his case about it… Killjoy. 🙄

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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house-of-slayterr · 2 years

Text

@b3rt134444 because they’re one of my fave mutuals on here

Ducky’s POV:

Cw: sexual tension

I was out Camping with Eren, something we did often since I’d run away from home. It was nice to be out in nature, it helped me to study my bugs and plants up close. Eren loved to watch the ducks and fish down at the pond and I left them there’s for hours sometimes as I went to wonder the Forrest. I looked up at the sky to see it darkening.

“Hey Ren?” He looked up at me. “It’s getting dark. I’m gonna pick up more fire wood. Want me to see if I can find anything cool on my walk?”

He nodded at me. He was heavily distracted by the raccoon in his lap. I let out a heavy sigh.

“Just make sure that thing doesn’t bite you ok.”

“Oh come on, you love Mr. Grubby Mitts!”

I smirked, trying to hide it behind my hand, rolling my eyes.

“Not if Mr. Grubby Mitts sends you to the hospital, cause then I’m adding him to my collection” I warned.

He gasped and dramatically hugged the raccoon closer to himself. I made my way through the woods carefully, watching my step. I’d be a hypocrite if I let myself get hurt on this trip. But I was used to being in pain, seeing Eren that way just made me upset. I heard some rustling in the bushes behind me but I shrugged it off, assuming it was just some small Forrest animal. But as I walked further into the woods, the sound followed me and I began to get suspicious. Just wanting to get back to my best friend, I began to walk faster, grabbing as many branches as I could find and making my way back to camp. I heard a twig snap behind me and that’s when alarm bells went off in my head. Someone was surely following me.

I turned hoping to confront them or scare them off, but was thrown off by them being right behind me. I dropped the branches from how hard I hit them, nearly loosing my footing. Their hand firmly grasped around my waist steadying me. My face must have been beat red, and I’m glad that the dirt and grime probably helped to hide it. I took note of how there muscles felt against my back, trying to size them up. So far they hadn’t moved to hurt me but I couldn’t be so sure. Their appearance suggested they weren’t the type to be underestimated though, so my senses remained in high alert. Suddenly their grip tightened on me, and I scolded myself as a gasp left my mouth.

I had hardened as a person after several months of living with Eren, I’d even killed a few people myself. But this situation was triggering, this touch reminded me of my mother. I hated my fight or flight response. They smirked down at me. They were a few inches taller than me and I could tell it only filed their ego.

“What’s a little lamb like you doing all alone in the woods?”

I shuttered at the smoothness of their voice, it was much more charming than I had imagined in my head. I cursed myself as I couldn’t even stutter out a response. What the hell was this person doing to me? The last person to make me feel like this was Eren, nobody else was quiet so confusingly intimidating. If the cops were to question either of them, they wouldn’t even begin to be on the suspect list, yet here they were, causing chaos in the night.

“What, cat got your tongue?” He teased.

He raised his hand to hit me and I cringed back, just waiting for the impact. I did however grab the knife that was hidden in my hoodie pocket and use that moment to line my weapon up with their kidney. If they stuck me, I wasn’t going down without a fight. I took a deep breath but the sting never hit. I was utterly confused until I heard it.

“Bertie! Omg buddy, long time no see!”

I had never been more relived to hear Eren’s voice in my entire life. He knew this kid? I scoffed, of course he did. I could feel Bertie’s body tense against mine as I watched him roll his eyes.

“Kinda busy here, buddy” the venom that dripped off his voice at the end made me shudder once again.

“I see you’ve met Ducky, aren’t they cool? I found them all by myself and I get to keep them, nobody else!” Eren proclaimed.

I sometimes forgot how possessive he could be. He was talking about me almost as if I wasn’t a person. Though I suppose in the context of our original meeting I wasn’t. I was never meant to be his friend, simply just another nameless face on his body count. Would the town even have noticed I was missing, mourned me? Doubtful. My thoughts were brought back to reality when I heard Bertie clear their throat.

“You know them?” He asked incredulously.

It was at that moment he noticed my knife, and a thinly veil chuckle escaped from his lips. He dropped his hand finally letting me go and I stumbled a few steps back. Her circled me like a predator, eyes raking over my body.

“You should really teach your pet how to better protect themselves Eren, I thought I taught you better than that.” He tisked.

“Don’t be such a grumpy gills.”

Before either of us could respond, Eren tackled Bertie in a hug. I could tell by his body language, Bertie was uncomfortable. I lifted my shirt to check the spot on my back where his hands once were, wincing as I realised it would leave a mark in the morning. I boredly spun my knife in my hand as I watched the scene in front of me. The two of them were fighting for some sort of dominance, and Bertie kept hissing our thinly veiled threats. Until suddenly Eren turned his attention to me, springing up from his place atop Bertie and coming over to me. He gently removed my knife from my hand, placing it in his back pocket. His hands were at my elbows and his eyes commended my presence. He didn’t have to speak for me to know what he wanted. I avoided his gaze looking down at the discarded pile of kindling.

“I’m fine” I mumbled.

Even without looking at him I could tell his eye was twitching. It’s a thing that happened often when he was upset. I wasn’t even sure he was aware of this tic.

“He barely touched me… I was just-“ I let out a low growl.

“Nobodies made you feel that small since you birthgiver.” He finished for me.

I laughed at the name. Ever since Eren had killed her, he refuses to call her my mother. I took note that Bertie was now leaning against the tree, watching the two of us. I almost felt naked under his harsh gaze, like my who soul layed baren under his scrupulous eyes. Eren could sense my discomfort and pulled me into a hug.

“We may be friends Bertie, but if you touch them again I’ll kill you”

Bertie let out a full chuckle at this, amusement seeping out of him.

“I’d like to see you try, half pint. Besides, I know better than to go after someone else’s prey, was my mistake.”

Eren growled, rolling his eyes.

“They aren’t prey, they are my friend. I protect my friends.”

Before they could bicker any longer I broke them up.

“Hate to break up your dick measuring contest boys, but the suns no where in sight and I happen to know for a fact scarier things than the two fo you hide out in these trees.”

“Such a Scardey-Cat” Bertie teased.

“I may not be very assertive when it comes to defending myself against other humans. But I’m not about to become and all you can eat buffet for the supernatural creatures that lurk around here. Now if we can get back to the fire you so rudely interrupted me from making, I can cast a protection circle around out campsite.”

I had pushed past Eren, squaring up to Bertie, now more confident since I wasn’t taken off guard. He smirked at this.

“We’ll lead the way little witch, Eren and I have some catching up to do.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing the sticks from the Forrest floor and stomping off toward the campsite. I left the two boys in my wake, allowing them to catch up without me ease dropping. I didn’t trust Bertie quite yet, but if Eren did I suppose he couldn’t be all that bad. I had a bad feeling about this, but I suppose the three of us could have some fun. I’m sure the towns people weren’t quite ready for Eren and I to return from our camping trip with our new guest.

An: did I unintentionally headcannon Bertie as having Damon Salvatore’a personality? Yes. Did I also just mention that Ducky might not be fully human? 👀 Also yes. I hope to add more to this storyline soon. I love Eren and Bertie so much 🥰

#slasher boyfriend #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slasher oc #ducky #horror oc #favourite #my baby #writing promt

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kazans-trophy-husband · 2 years

Text

Groupie

Pairing: Ji-Woon Hak (Trickster)/self-insert

Word Count: 1915

Summary: A lucky party-goer catches the Trickster's eye.

Tags: alcohol references, anxious!self-insert, self-insert is trans (ftm)

Author's Note:

Aftershow parties are the best, especially if you have a VIP pass and get to meet your favorite artist. I had managed to pick up such a ticket to see the Trickster before scalpers could get their grubby mitts on it, and the fact that I had likely saved me a fortune. He’s a fairly popular kpop artist, after all, and for good reason. His music has fantastic melodies, raw emotion, his voice haunting in the best way.

Honestly, knowing his history, it’s good that he broke out as a solo artist, even if it meant the literal death of NO SPIN.

There were other fans that had managed to get VIP passes, of course, but I couldn’t help but focus on the others there at the aftershow party– the backstage crew, the lighting techs, and of course, the star of the show himself– the Trickster, Ji-Woon Hak.

Ye gods, he’s so much more stunning up close than he is on a screen or from a distance.

I waited. The fangirls can have their time with him all they want, get anything they want from him. It didn’t matter much at the time. I was just happy to have been able to get backstage with one of the genre’s biggest rising stars.

I didn’t quite know what I was drinking, but whatever it was, it tasted incredible and looked beautiful. The chattering of the fans and the crew seemed to quiet down as I was absorbed in my own thoughts, mostly about how I had gotten here and where I was going. I tried hard to keep them from getting too dark– I was here to have a good time, after all– but the thought of burnout or worse was enough to unsettle me.

I jolted when I felt a hand on my shoulder, turning to look at the person touching me–

Ji-Woon Hak.

The Trickster.

“You used to brooding all by yourself when you drink?” he asked, a smirk on his lips and a smile in his eyes.

Shit, I thought, nervous. Play it cool. I cleared my throat. “No,” I said, a lump in my throat. “I was just letting everyone else have some time with you before–”

“How kind of you.” He seemed to be looking me over, something off about his gaze. “You know… it’s not often that I see men come backstage after a show that aren’t a part of my crew.” He let out a single chuckle. “Even rarer to see a cute one like you.”

I was left gobsmacked, blood rushing to my cheeks. Bad enough that I couldn’t take a compliment as is, I was given one by a celebrity, one that I enjoyed, nonetheless. Ji-Woon laughed a little louder, the sound oddly melodious.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said with a disarming smile. “Tell you what– what’s your name?”

“Lucien,” I managed.

“Lucien,” he repeated. “A lovely name for, no doubt, a lovely person. So, Lucien… I’m willing to have… a guest… at the hotel. I was wondering if you’d be willing to join me after the party.”

“Oh, sure, I don’t– wait. What?” I looked at him, wide-eyed in disbelief.

“So that’s a yes.” With the way he smiled, he looked almost fox-like.

I understand why he calls himself Trickster now.

“I…” I sighed. “You know what? Sure. Yeah.”

“Excellent.” Ji-Woon reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out a notebook and pen before jotting down what was, no doubt, the address to the hotel and his suite number. “Meet me here in two hours. I may be running a little late, but you know how it is, hmm?”

“Y… yeah. Sure.” I wasn’t lying entirely; this wasn’t my first party, and I had overheard other artists invite groupies back to their trailers before, but I had never in my life been subjected to such a thing before.

“Catch you later, Luce.” Ji-Woon winked at me as he walked away, returning to the crowd that had been intoxicated by both alcohol and his presence.

-----

I looked up at the hotel’s address, then back to the slip of paper that Ji-Woon had handed me. It certainly looked as luxurious as I had imagined, but compared to the other hotels in the area it was certainly more remote. I didn’t question it, though– perhaps he preferred a little more privacy, or at least a nice view from the penthouse. The receptionist was kind enough to give me a key card for his room, which was– as expected– a penthouse suite. There were no guards, not at this time of night. I checked my phone for the time. A little bit past midnight.

I hope I’m not here too early.

I let out a little sigh as I scanned the card key, the lock clicking open. The door easily opened.

The room was well-kept and tidy, as if room service had been through recently. I could hear the AC running and the shower going, but other than that, it was rather quiet.

“Trickster?” I called out. No response. “Ji-Woon?”

“In a minute,” he called back from the bathroom.

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I was a tad early, yes, but not enough for it to be awkward. I took a seat on a chair, looking out over the city. It looked so small, like a painstakingly-built model for a train set.

A fall from the balcony, part of me thought, would certainly kill you.

I looked down at my phone in defiance of that line of thought, not long before the bathroom door opened. Even without his color contacts in, even in silken bedwear, Ji-Woon looked stunning. He fast found me, walking over to me with a cocky smile on his lips.

“I knew you’d come a little early,” he purred as he closed the distance. “A good fan always does.”

“I’d hardly consider myself a–” I was interrupted when I felt his hand delicately cup my chin.

“Maybe you don’t,” he murmured, before kissing me. “But I do.”

I couldn’t find it in myself to speak. I could hardly feel myself breathe. I found myself wanting another one of his kisses, and leaned forward.

He obliged.

Ji-Woon pressed me up against the glass door to the balcony, his hand– once on my chin– now sliding down my neck, down, further, tracing along my body’s features, the other hand finding its way under my shirt, tracing carefully over my top surgery scars.

“Ooh,” he muttered, “this just got very interesting.”

I whimpered under his gentle caresses, hesitating on doing the same. He led my hand to his chest, slowly sliding it down.

“It’s fine, Luce. This is why I wanted you here.” He lowered his head and kissed my neck, causing me to let out a moan.

“Fuck,” I groaned, impulsively placing a hand on the back of his head. I could feel him working his way down my neck, to the crook of my shoulder, before I felt him bite hard enough for me to see stars. I couldn’t help but let out another, much louder moan, my body pressed against his.

“Hmmm?” Ji-Woon lifted his head. I could almost feel that cocky smile on his face. “You seem awfully sensitive there,” he teased.

“D-damn it…” was all I could manage before I felt his hand work its way into my pants, teasing my slit.

“Wow,” he remarked, “you’re soaking wet just from one little love bite. That’s adorable, Lucien.”

I whined, and he seemed to understand my intentions as he returned his lips to my neck, kissing and gently nipping it as he worked his way to the other side. He bit hard on the other shoulder, drawing out another loud moan.

Ji-Woon guided my hand to his erect cock as he continued teasing me, leaning his head back up to kiss my lips roughly. He seemed needy, almost as needy as I was, and was showing it through his teasing.

I stripped as he felt me up and kissed me. Even with the AC on, it felt too hot to wear clothes.

“There you go,” he whispered, looking down at my body. “Beautiful. Perfect, even.” Before I could say anything more, he picked me up, carrying me princess-style to the bed, carefully laying me down over the side once we got there.

“You’re a lot stronger than you look,” I thought out loud.

“You can say I’ve had a lot of practice,” he said with a sly look, shrugging off his silk bathrobe. “Don’t think about it too much.”

I had other things on my mind, and I’m sure he did, too, as he removed what remained of his bedclothes and slipped on a condom. He was rock-hard, throbbing, and– I’m certain– eager. I wondered if I could even take the whole thing.

I wanted to find out.

“Please,” I whined, “I’ll do anything you ask, just please, please take me.”

“Wow,” he replied, pulling up my hips. “I didn’t even have to ask you to beg for it. Think you’re ready, Lucien?”

I nodded with an eager “yeah”.

“Good boy.” He tilted his cock down slightly before slowly sliding it inside. I let out a small groan as I felt it stretch me oh-so slightly, and he let out a pleased noise as he entered. “Damn, I didn’t think you’d be so tight. You a virgin or something?”

I nodded.

“Lucky me, then. Or maybe you’re the lucky one.” He pulled out a little before roughly thrusting back in, burying himself in to the hilt. “Bet you were saving yourself for me, eh?”

“Ji-Woon,” I half-moaned, half-whimpered as he kept thrusting. This feels incredible, I thought, my mind slowly blanking out.

The sound of me moaning his name must have gotten him more hot and bothered, as his thrusts got harder, faster. The sheer ferocity of his fucking me drew out more moans from me as I grabbed at the comforter. He slowed, finally, mercifully, only to shift my position so I was laid on my side, his hold on my leg what he’d use to keep me in place. He easily slid back in, his cock easily finding all the right spots to hit as he fucked me. I couldn’t help but cry out his name, again and again and again, further fuelling Ji-Woon to fuck me harder. I could feel something bubbling up as he kept going, something that made me louder and louder, something begging to be let out.

“Gonna cum soon, Luce?” Ji-Woon said, a hand reaching down and rubbing my clit.

“Y-yes,” I exclaimed, before burying my face into the comforter, crying out into it as he teased me one more time.

“Go on then,” he almost growled, feeling on edge, himself. “Cum for me. Scream for me.”

“Ji-Woon, fuck, aah!” The only thing keeping me from actually screaming as I climaxed was the fact that there were likely neighbors in the other suites. I felt myself tighten around Ji-Woon’s cock, my entrance convulsing.

Ji-Woon came shortly after, shuddering as he orgasmed. He pulled out, the end of the condom filled with his seed. He pants, giving himself a break before pulling off the spent condom and discarding it.

“Was that good for your first time?” he asked, walking back over to me.

I nodded.

“Good. I hope you’re ready for more.”

“L-let me at least have a break!” I pleaded, getting a low chuckle in response.

#lemon #ji-woon hak

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nitewrighter · 3 years

Note

Opinions on the new skins and stuff?

Okay so, before I get really into things, I feel I should say, I don’t think the problem is 100% giving characters who already have Winter Wonderland legendaries new skins. There are plenty of characters for whom it makes total sense to give more than one Winter Wonderland skin, even before other characters get Legendaries. Sometimes some concepts are just that much stronger for one character than for another. I think that’s more of a symptom than the problem itself, and the problem itself is Overwatch’s unwillingness to engage with its own storytelling/worldbuilding and its weird teetering on “is this holiday or not” themes for its skins.

The only skin in Winter Wonderland that really has anything to do with Overwatch’s plot is Hanzo’s “Casual” skin, and that one I think only made it in because it was heavily requested by fans. And like, the first year they had full-on Santa and elf skins, but later they would fall into this weird comfort zone of “winter sport” or “winter tactical” skin themes, which like... fits, but if you’re doing it in response to being criticized for lack of representation for other holidays, why not just nut up and give a handful of characters Hanukkah skins? They just seem to keep branching out to more “Christmas adjacent” concepts. I mean you have over 30 characters, is it that hard to make Dreidel bastion, or give Soldier 76′s Ugly Sweater skin a Hanukkah variant? But I’m getting off topic. Let’s talk about this year.

Torbjörn’s “Lumberjack” and Zenyatta’s “Toybot” skins are both part of the “is this holiday or not” issue I was talking about earlier. Not only do these characters not need new Legendaries when they both have really good Winter Wonderland Legendaries, but if you took the bow off of Zenyatta’s skin, pretty much both skins could be “Anniversary” event skins because their ties to winter seem... kind of vague and associative at best. That being said I absolutely love that Zen has a skin that gives him expressions! And honestly I would much rather see a Lumberjack skin on Brigitte if I was going to see a Lumberjack skin at all. Torb didn’t need a legendary, much less a legendary that feels this irrelevant.

Reinhardt’s “Conductor” has probably the strongest concept + execution combo of all the skins this year. Like, if you’re gonna go more “Christmas Adjacent” than full on Christmassy, this is the direction you want to go in--strong conceptual execution--even if The Polar Express isn’t your Christmas book/movie, you can still appreciate the cleverness and aesthetics.

Moira’s “Ice Empress” has a very strong concept but weak execution. If anyone fits the bill of Tilda Swinton-esque Ice Monarch, it’s Moira, but the skin simply doesn’t push the limits of her silhouette like we’ve seen in her other Legendaries like Banshee, Blackwatch, or Scientist. It feels like it could practically be an epic skin rather than a legendary because all they’ve really done is just slap some fur details and silvery decals here and there, and put an icy crown on her head. I really do appreciate her having a legendary skin that actually incorporates her weird eye mask, though.

Mei’s penguin skin is really cute. It plays it safe, but in doing that, it does well. Mei is one of those characters I think it’s totally fair to have more than one Winter Wonderland legendary. She is ice-themed after all.

Now for the epics:

Roadhog’s “Frosty” skin is one of the reasons why I’m saying Moira’s skin is weak in execution. Like, that skin kicks ass, and if that’s an epic, then honestly Moira’s ice empress skin falls closer to Epic than legendary. But also it’s his third Winter Wonderland skin, which is... come on.

Junkrat’s elf skin is feral and fitting, but it’s also his third Winter Wonderland skin as well. Like, Blizzard--you’re killing me here.

Ana’s gingerbread skin is cozy and cute but kind of a weak followup to her Snow Owl skin. But at least the apron’s cute and we got a salt bae spray out of it.

The emotes this year were excellent. If anyone deserves a mistletoe emote, it’s Baptiste. And I’m biased for Mercy of course but it’s nice to see her get a little whimsical.

My favorite new voiceline for this year is Sombra’s “Who wants to buy me a present?” It’s such a sugar baby line and it makes my Spiderbyte heart rub its grubby little mitts together.

#overwatch #winter wonderland 2020

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years

Text

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 5

This chapter is a bit longer than the others, but I didn't want to split it up! It was written in a hurry because I was excited to get it out to y'all, so let me know if I've made any typos or mistakes. As always I adore your comments so feel free to tell me what you think.

______________________________________________________________________

“You should come down to Gravity Falls!”

Ford didn’t quite think about the words before he blurted them. His close (and only) friend from college had mentioned in their weekly phone call that he and his family were thinking about taking a holiday from his would-be small computer business, and Ford had reacted without thought.

He laughed nervously, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Rebus padded through the kitchen with the click-click-click of claws that Ford had become accustomed to over the last month.

Ford cleared his throat. “If you want to, of course. I would love to show you some of the research on anomalies I’ve been doing, and I think Tate and Emma-May would like it here. I have plenty of space in my house.”

“Well sure Stanford, if you don’t mind.” Fiddleford said cheerfully. “I’ve been meanin’ to visit for a while now. Course, I don’t wanna get in the way o’ yer research if you’re busy.”

“Not at all.” From the other room Rebus let out a bark, and Fiddleford squeaked.

“What was that?”

“Oh, just my dog. There are probably some Manotaurs passing by.”

“Ya have a dog? When did that happen?”

“A month or so ago. His name is Rebus.”

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh. “Well, at least ya got yerself some company. That dog sounded mighty fearsome; ya sure he’s safe? I don’t wanna bring Tate around if e’s gonna bite.”

“Oh, Rebus is a sweetheart.” A savage growl issued from the other room. “He’s great with kids. When he accompanies me into town he will often play with the children in the playground.”

Rebus growled again, a growl Ford was reasonably certain was aimed at him for daring to imply that the wolf had a heart. Not that Ford had been lying – the kids in town loved Rebus and he delighted in running around with them while Ford ran errands. He was a veritable gentle giant.

“Tate would love him.” Ford continued, unconcerned with the wannabe threat display. The stubborn wolf reminded him of his brother sometimes, all bark and no bite.

…except when he did bite.

“If yer sure.” There was rustling on the other end of the line. “That sounds like a mighty fine idea, Stanford. I’ll have to check with Emma-May, of course, but I’d love ta see some of these anomalies you’ve told me about. Check that yer not crazy, at least!”

“I assure you, these things are one hundred percent real. You’ll be able to see for yourself.” Ford assured him.

“Does Friday afternoon work fer ya? We figured we’d go on the weekend so Tate doesn’t miss much school.”

“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll prepare the spare room.” Ford said excitedly. “It’s been quite some time since I had company.”

“Ah – Stanford?”

“Yes?”

“Exactly how long has it been since you talked to someone?”

“A few hours.”

“Other than yer dog I mean.”

“Oh, only a week or so.”

There was a pause. “Was that ‘someone’ me?”

“Er…”

“When was the last time you talked to a human being aside from myself?”

Ford laughed nervously. “Ah, it seems the connection is breaking up I’ll call back another time-”

“Stanford-”

“Say hello to Emma-May for me bye!”

He hung up.

Stan heard the car approach first, the approaching rumble of its engine dragging him from a light doze in that ever-illusive pool of light in the hallway. His ears picked up and he let out the beginnings of a warning growl at the intruders.

That was, until he remembered that they were supposed to have visitors. He yawned and stretched, slightly annoyed at having his nap interrupted but more curious to see who it was that Ford had been expecting. Being the local canine, people didn’t usually run names and stuff by him.

All Stan had been able to tell was that whoever was coming Ford was pretty excited to see them, judging by the way he had hustled and bustled to prepare the spare room. It had been pretty nice, these past few days, to just chill and watch Ford buzz around the place. In those years apart he’d missed Ford’s relentless energy; the way he bounced on his heels when excited, and the little flapping, and the excited gleam in his eyes, the way he could never quite hold still. It was pretty hilarious to watch the nerd get all wound up.

God, Stan hoped it wasn’t a family member. If Pa walked through that door…

Maybe it was that guy Ford was always calling, Fiddlesticks or something? Seemed likely. From what Stan could tell, his brother had a maximum of two friends. And one of them was a wolf.

He padded out to watch Ford open the door for… a small family? The man shook Ford’s hand while the woman chatted and held a small child on her hip.

“It’s great to see you again, Stanford. Thank you for letting us stay in your home.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, I have plenty of space.” Ford assured her.

“And Fiddleford said you had a – oh sweet Mother Mary-”

Stan was used to the usual ‘Oh my god is that a wolf?’ song and dance. He stepped forward and wagged his tail helpfully. Scaring kids and dames was only funny when you were trying to scare them. When you weren’t, it got old pretty quick.

The strange man leaned down and hesitantly offered one hand, and Stan allowed himself to be petted. Show of goodwill, and all that. The guy was short and twiggy and he smelled of engine grease and metal and root beer and straw. Stan decided that he liked the guy. The lady, too. Her suspicious gaze had mellowed out and now Stan could see the smile lines around her eyes. The kid, however, seemed… sticky.

Aaaand the kid had fussed to be placed down and was now trying to touch Stan’s tail. He whisked it out of reach but the sticky brat was laughing and already chasing after it.

Oh, hell no. Kid wanted to get its grubby mitts all over his coat? Think again. Stan darted out of its way and weaved past the adults to try and throw it off. Ford didn’t even try to help, the smug bastard.

Alright kid. You think you got stamina? Let’s see about that.

The kid.

Would not.

Stop.

Tate, as it turned out his name was, seemed to have boundless energy. The two kept up their game of cat-and-mouse all afternoon until Stan flopped on the porch, panting for breath. Tate squealed and rushed forward to bury his hands in Stan’s thick fur.

You win this round, pipsqueak.

A part of him wanted to place the kid on a high shelf where he couldn’t get in the way, and leave him there. Another part of him… wanted to lick his face and wag his tail. C’mon, mighty hunter and all that! Stan was supposed to have more dignity than like… a Labrador or whatever.

His traitor tail wagged anyway.

Ford and the dame, Emma-May or something, stepped outside to join them, Ford glancing over his shoulder and biting his lip as he went. Stan wondered idly where his nerd friend was.

“Oh, don’t worry, Fiddles hardly ever electrocutes himself!” Emma-May said cheerfully. “He’ll be done with his tinkering in no time.”

“…I was worried for my toaster.”

Emma-May flapped her hand. “Oh, it’ll be fine. I think he said something about making it like ours.”

“How has Fiddleford improved your toaster?”

“I dunno, but it has a lot of blinky lights and sometimes it smells like burning sugar!”

“…I feel like you’re trying to be reassuring?”

Stan should probably be on the lookout for smoke. He scented the air and got a whiff of something like burning plastic from inside…

…and curdled wrongness.

He wrinkled his nose. The air smelled weird and it was vaguely familiar, like he’d smelled it before, but never this strongly. There was something oily and metallic and… squirrelly?

Stan shook Tate’s clingy hands from his coat and stood to scan the house yard. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. But it just didn’t smell right.

The faintest scrape of claws on wood made him snap around. There – clinging to a house support and evidently trying to climb up to the roof was what might have once been a squirrel. Emphasis on once. Its front limbs were bulkier than the back ones with claws like tiny steak knives buried into the wood grain. Its fur hung off in patches and it was big – more raccoon-sized than squirrel-sized. The extra weight seemed to be giving it grief because it was struggling to make headway.

Fat bastard, Stan thought petulantly.

“Err – Stanford?” Emma-May piped up. “What on god’s good earth is that?”

Stan glanced across to follow her pointing finger. Apparently he wasn’t the only one to notice the thing.

Ford squinted and stepped closer to the rodent, which started hissing around overgrown teeth like a stepped-on snake with a lisp. “It… it appears to be another mutated creature. I’ve been finding them around the place since I got here. My hypothesis is that they’ve been somehow affected by the size-changing crystals in the forest.”

“The what-nows?”

Ford’s eyes brightened. “Oh, in the forest there are natural crystal formations that, when light is shined through them, have the ability to change an object or organism’s shape. The majority of the mutant sightings have been around that area. I’ve been meaning to investigate but a freak blizzard recently ruined my plans. Now, if I can just capture this specimen here…”

“Throw a blanket over it?” Emma-May suggested.

“Perhaps. I have a number of size-appropriate cages in my shed, would you mind keeping watch over the creature while I retrieve one?”

“Sure thing.”

Ford went to walk past but the movement seemed to startle the squirrel, which launched itself wildly into the air and latched onto Ford’s sleeve, scurrying up his arm. He yelped and flailed. Fortunately Emma-May smacked it and sent it flying. Unfortunately it skidded across the ground and took off towards where Tate was playing in the grass.

Fortunately, that was also where Stan was.

He lunged forward and snapped up the rodent in one bite before it could get close to the kid. Its tiny body gave out with a single, pathetic crunch. Weird-tasting blood exploded in his mouth.

Ford coughed. “Well.”

Stan spat out the creature, wrinkling his nose. The thing tasted – wrong. Like its blood was tainted with seawater and oil slick with an added hint of burning rubber. He spluttered and swiped at his tongue to try and get rid of the rancid flavour.

Ugh, were squirrels so corrupted by the weight of their sins that it seeped into their blood?

“Is it dead?” Ford asked curiously. Emma-May walked over to scoop up her child and prod the body with her shoe.

“Depends. Can these mutant things live with a snapped spine?”

“Dead, then. Still! It’s a specimen to study. I’ll get – oh, I suppose I won’t be needing that cage anymore.”

Nothing blew up that weekend. Stan took that as a win.

The McGuckets were… a different sort of folk than he was used to. They smiled so easily. Those two dopes of parents looked at their kid like he was the moon and the sun and everything in between, like they wouldn’t kick him out onto the streets no matter what dumb mistakes he made. Damn. Imagine that.

The Sunday night before they were set to leave Emma-May retired to bed early and Fiddleford and Ford settled onto the couch to talk, with cans of beer in hand and Tate playing happily with his Legos. Stan dropped onto the carpet to keep a watchful eye on the little brat. The fire crackled softly and cast a warm light across the room, its heat pressing against his fur.

A month or so ago he would never have let himself relax like this. He would be watching the window, ears pricked for any sign of…

Huh. He couldn’t remember the name of the man chasing him. When he thought hard there was a flash of scarred hands and packets of white powder and the taste of blood in his mouth. That’s right, the guy Stan had used to run drugs for a few years back, the guy who was now after him. Why couldn’t Stan remember his name?

Ford and Fiddleford’s murmuring rose slightly above the crackle of the fire and the clinking of Legos.

“-ya mean Shermie?”

“No, my… other brother. My twin, Stanley.” Ford said quietly.

It took Stan a moment to remember that that was his name. He rested his chin on his paws and tuned into the conversation.

“Ford, ya never told me ya had a twin.”

“No, I probably didn’t. You see, Stanley and I parted on… unpleasant terms. I haven’t seen him in almost a decade.”

“A decade?” Fiddleford squawked. “Why in the blazes not?”

“It’s complicated. Fiddleford, do you remember when I told you how I was rejected from West Coast Tech?”

“When you were drunk outta yer mind and I had to drag ya back to our dorm? Yes, I do recall.” Fiddleford said dryly.

“Yes, well. It was Stanley who sabotaged my project. He insisted it was an accident, but…” Ford sighed.

“Why do you bring him up?” Fiddleford tipped his head. Ford sighed and pulled off his glasses to polish them on his sleeve.

“I was hoping to get your advice, actually. Recently he’s been coming to mind more and more. I thought that, perhaps, he might have grown up over the last decade, and it might be worth getting in contact and seeing how he’s doing. Do… do you think people can change that much?”

Change. Had Stan changed much? Except for the whole werewolf thing…

It was like trying to think through sludge. Stan hardly remembered what it was like to be human. Or… human-shaped. Jeez, how long had he been Shifted for? Time was slipping away from him in this little bubble of happiness. Stan had never been in wolf form for this long before.

A chill shivered through him. The nerds’ talking continued but it was background noise to the humming of his thoughts. He stood and padded into the hallway, ignoring Tate’s whine. Stan shouldered through the (thankfully unlocked) front door and trotted outside.

He glanced around warily before slipping into the trees. Once a quick scan showed that he was alone, he Shifted.

Or… tried to.

The change that had once been liquid and effortless now felt like trying to shove a square peg through a circular hole. His skin prickled. Stan shook himself and tried again with a small growl.

The Shift swept across him with the popping of joints and the crackle of cartilage; creaky, like a neglected machine that had acquired rust from years of disuse. Stan gritted his newly-flat teeth and waited for the agonizingly slow Shift to pass.

He ended up crouched on the damp earth, breathing hard and squinting through suddenly blurry vision at the dark, hazy world around him. His skin felt itchy and it pinched in all the wrong places, like a suit that didn’t quite fit.

Well, shit. Note to self: don’t stay in wolf form for weeks at a time.

Stan flexed his hands, trying to reacquaint himself with having fingers and opposable thumbs. Being human. Or human-shaped, at least.

Because he was still a person. No matter what he looked like he wasn’t just some – some pet. He had a life to get back to.

Except… he didn’t. Not really.

Stan chewed over that piece of information for moment. Before he could really think about it a voice called his name. With a final stretch he slipped back into an awkward Shift, easier than before, and trotted after his brother’s voice.

#werewolf stan au #werewolf!stan #my writing #gravity falls #chapter 5

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writerman · 4 years

Note

I adore your writing!! I was wondering may I send in a prompt? A modern au where Bard is a barista and Thranduil goes to get coffee but Bard keeps mispelling Thranduil's name on purpose until Legolas has to tell his dad that "Hey, dad the barista is flirting with you nbd" and he and Bard's kids end up making bets on which of their dad's will cave and ask first over coffee and homework (Legolas has college papers and he helps Bard's kids who are in elementary, middle and high school respectively)

Hey, thank you so much! I am very sorry this has taken so long to respond to. Life and all that jaaazz. I really hope you enjoy this.

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“Soy latte extra hot for… Tendril?!”

TENDRIL?

What on EARTH?!

He could keep it together, he would absolutely not make a scene in the cafe. But really, this was the fourth time Thranduil had gone in to grab a coffee before work and had his name butchered by the barista.

Today had to be the worst, it wasn’t even a name!

What was more annoying than the name is that the barista was just smiling at him as though he knew exactly what he had done. Instead of addressing it Thranduil merely paid and stalked out each time always noting that he didn’t have to use that particular place.

It was just that… as much as it annoyed him to no end seeing his name misspelt every time, he really enjoyed the coffee, it was close to work and, as infuriating as the barista was, he was also extremely good looking.

Was that enough though?

Apparently, yes.

The whole name thing had been forgotten by the afternoon, and so when Legolas invited him out for lunch at the same place Thranduil accepted without a second thought.

It was not until he entered the cafe that he remembered his visit earlier that day.

Archer Coffee was a nice place, decorated to look more like an old tavern but with a modern twist with free WiFi and USB charging built into the tables. A family run business Thranduil had heard but it wasn’t something he was interested in looking into.

All in all his experience there had not been awful, even the name thing he could overlook most days just that morning had pushed him over the edge for a split second. When he told Legolas the teenager gave his father a blank stare before bursting into peals of laughter.

“What exactly is so funny about someone being incompetent in their job?” Thranduil groused, his eyes were on his son but he was not given an answer and so moved his gaze to the menu.

After what seemed like far too long, Legolas finally found his composure and clasped his hands together on the tabletop like a kindly old man might when about to reveal a pearl of wisdom to a youngling.

“Dad, please tell me you’re joking and you know full well why he spells your name wrong?” There was a hint of pleading and amusement in his son’s voice when he spoke and Thranduil got the feeling he had completely missed something in his interactions with the man who made his coffee.

He had, hadn’t he?

Oh no.

To save his pride, if that was even possible at this point, Thranduil drew himself up, his back ramrod straight. “It is obvious that the man does not like me. Though, I’ve not quite worked out why perhaps it is because I do not tip?” The response from his son was not comforting especially when he saw Legolas blanch thankfully recovering quickly but he did glance over to the serving counter before he spoke.

He was definitely searching out the tips jar.

“Uh… you should definitely tip. Why haven’t you been doing that and also the reason he is-” Whatever Legolas was going to reveal was cut off as a small girl barrelled into his side and hugged him all the while repeating his name over and over.

Two other children appeared, one of them peeled the young girl from Legolas’ side and the other greeted him more appropriately. But it didn’t seem to bother Legolas at all and he got to his feet almost immediately after the girl was removed.

“Sorry dad, my tutoring group is here. I forgot- ah, let me make it up to you later!” He grabbed his bag from down by his seat and waved off his dad before moving off to another table.

Thranduil had no time to question his son but he had to admit he was equal parts frustrated and proud. The young man had a good head on his shoulders, while he would like to think it was mostly his influence, Thranduil could not help but think the boy was more like his mother.

A pang of grief grabbed his heart for a moment but it was gone as soon as it had arrived. They had been without her for so long and yet it would oftentimes hurt more in sudden moments like this one.

His phone buzzed on the table and proved to be a decent distraction from his spiralling thoughts.

The barista obviously has a crush on you.

The message was short and very to the point but Thranduil could only stare at it in confusion because is that how people flirted these days? They purposely angered the one they like?

But of course, it was!

Oh, how had he been so blind, hadn’t Legolas’ mother wound him up to within an inch of his life? Hadn’t they spent most of their time throwing jibes at one another until their friends had practically forced them to ask one another out?

“One soy latte extra hot.” The cheerful voice had Thranduil jump and he scrambled to shove his phone into his pocket. “Ah, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” A chuckle followed and Thranduil’s coffee order was placed in front of him.

“Is that your son?” The one-sided conversation continued and when Thranduil looked up to the one that had spoken they were now looking over at Legolas sat with two other younger teenagers and a small girl.

“Ah, yes. It is.” It was all he could manage because this man stood beside him, this man that smelled like coffee and something fresh along with cloves was divine and maddeningly distracting. “I did not know he was tutoring on the side,” He offered more hoping he sounded cool and collected because his heart was beating so fast he was sure it might actually burst.

“He comes in a lot. My kids love the way he teaches, as you can see they are his biggest fans.” Thranduil, in his state of shock, turned almost mechanically to look at his son and the barista was right, the children did seem rapt as Legolas spoke quietly to them.

The younger child, she was interested but as she likely could not understand what Legolas was talking about spent more time colouring in her book than joining in on the conversation.

“They are your children?” Really he already knew they were given that the man had already insinuated as such but Thranduil was having a hard time working out how to make conversation now. One handsome face and his confidence was obliterated because his heart wanted to do all the talking but couldn’t quite connect with his mouth and brain to do so.

It was an overly romantic thought and Thranduil didn’t think he still had that kind of thing in him but apparently, it was just waiting for the right person and the right moment. Although, how could he be sure Legolas was correct and that the barista did actually like him?

“Yep, all three terrors belong to me. I’m Bard by the way.” An introduction finally and it was casual enough that Thranduil could offer a smile and say nothing more but instead his mouth threw that idea out of the window.

“Are you the owner?”

Bard beamed upon hearing the question and gives an enthusiastic nod.

“Sure am! This place belonged to my parents who bought it in the 70s, when I got my grubby mitts on it I gutted the place and gave it a more modern look. Best thing I ever did was take this place on.” No more was said and Thranduil could not continue the conversation as Bard was called away. Thranduil had to try very hard not to be disappointed and busied himself with drinking his coffee, he didn’t have much time left before he had to get back to work so the peace was quite nice.

Meanwhile, on the table containing the kids, Legolas watched the interaction closely and when Bard walked away he leaned back in his seat and smiled.

“So, how much do you wanna bet it takes both of them at least two weeks to ask each other out on a date?” Both Bain and Sigrid scoff at this and set their pens down. There was no way they were going to be able to study now.

‘With the time it took for your dad to work out he was being flirted with two weeks is too short a time frame.” Sigrid mocked and her brother nodded in agreement from beside her. “And he didn’t even work it out himself, you had to tell him!”

That was fair enough.

“Alright, so if they don’t ask each other out we have to do it for them?” Bain suggests and to that Sigrid and Legolas agreed.

Eventually, Tilda piped up.

“Will daddy marry your daddy?”

The three older kids exchange a look before they shrug at the little girl.

“I think they will.”

Legolas mentioned that they would just have to wait and see but secretly he had quite high hopes for the both of them. Even if they had needed help with being nudged in the right direction.

#Barduil #Coffee shop Au #Bard #Thranduil #The Hobbit #Writing prompts #strippergeneralgrievous

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years

Note

fahc Jack teaching Ryan how to gamble (or being undercover at the casino and Geoff's chosen outfit is ridic)

Oh my God, I love it?

Even better if Ryan is clearly Jack’s ~trophy husband for their cover, right?

Because look, no one knows the Vagabond’s face and it’s a nice one, and also these jackasses owe Jack one just this once. (And conveniently no one recognizes Jack, because he’s usually piloting a chopper/plane/wearing some ridiculous mask someone chose as the theme for the heist.

SO.

Jack is, just like you, Ryan, are the eye candy and I am this filthy rich businessman/whatever. Something lucrative or what have you and he swoops into town with Ryan on his arm.

Gavin and Matt have arranged things so the people at the casino thinks he’s a high roller, real VIP. (He is, but that’s not the point and also Geoff, maybe go pick out something for your cover, and for God’s sake pick something tasteful this time!!1!)

And then!

High roller!Jack and his boy toy - “I thought I was the eye candy?” - stroll into the casino and make for the high limit tables.

Ryan snags a flute of champagne on the way because he’s oh so pretty and kind of dumb and all the cards confuse him?

Then there’s Jack who’s an old pro at this, clearly an experienced gambler or what have you and he’s patiently teaching Ryan the finer points of poker.

Spends an hour explaining the different hands and whatnot at a table with other high rollers, one of which is their target, and it’s obvious all the info is going in one ear and right out the other.

Which works out to their advantage because Ryan loses every hand, and Jack breaks even. Lulls their target into a false sense of security and they take to shadowing Jack and Ryan because easy pickings? (Or maybe they’re a sleaze and Ryan’s their type, whatever.)

Jack takes Ryan over to a Blackjack table because maybe that’ll be easier for him to understand? (It is and isn’t, because Ryan does okay but he can never remember the value of the face cards and what is up with teh aces??? Pick a number value for God’s sake.)

From there they go to the roulette tables and oh, God, that’s kind of a nightmare because that’s when they run into some idiot who thinks he’s a cowboy? Keeps betting everything on black and insisting Ryan do the same, and then there’s the weirdo in the…the Ensemble.

Horrific fashion sense the likes of which neither Jack nor Ryan have ever seen. (It even throws the cowboy off for a moment.)

Everyone’s fascinated/mesmerized by the guy they don’t notice when the cowboy slips something to Ryan who slips it to Jack who accidentally bumps into their target.

“Oh, God, sorry, I didn’t meant to, are you alright?” and so on.

Meanwhile, their target has a tracker/listening device/whatever attached to their person that Gavin and Matt are totally hooked into because movie magic RE technological gadgets and the like?

And as Jack persists in teaching Ryan how roulette works their target goes off to change - Jack spilled his drink on them you see, created an unsightly stain on their expensive clothing they can’t bear to be seen with.

Goes up to their room, and there’s a briefcase locked away in a safe - PLOT REASONS - they check on while they’re there. (A bit obsessively, it’s true, they’re a bit nervous by nature and having this briefcase and its contents is ramping that up exponentially. Thank goodness they’re meeting with a buyer later in the week, someone who may or may not be affiliated with a rival crew to this Fake AH Crew they’ve heard such unflattering things about. Incouth ruffians, that bunch.)

And, conveniently, thanks to the sleight of hand and teamwork down on the casino floor, Gavin and Matt get their grubby little mitts on the safe combination/code and its location and all kinds of previously unknown information.

After a bit the target goes back downstairs, but to their disappointment Jack and Ryan are nowhere to be seen, and the same goes for the two fashion challenged gentlemen. (Pity, they were remarkably entertaining.)

The target goes off to see if the betting’s any good on the dog/horse races - always a bit thrilling, those, added bit of risk and the like with the unpredictable nature of animals and the what.

After that it’s some fine dining at the casino restaurant, and dessert and drinks and, well. It’s a good long while until they return to their room, which.

Unfortunate for them, seeing as how someone’s broken into their room.

They don’t know that, yet, however. Won’t know until they do another check on the briefcase only to learn about the break in then because the briefcase is empty.

No, wait.

There’s a playing card left in its place, a joker with a bent edge the likes of which the man in the Ensemble was using when he was caught cheating and escorted from the premsis. (Shortly before the string of events where JAck spilled their drink on the target and the timing can’t be a coincidence, ca it?)

The target runs back to the casino floor, out of the casino itself as though they thin they can catch the bastards behind all of this to no avail.

Meanwhile, meanwhile, meanwhile, the Fakes have the briefcase’s contents - hard drive with Vtial Information they can use to take down their rival crew or net them a nice rich reward or something along those lines - all smug and victorious.

Jack and Ryan have started another game of poker with the others, lights down save for the ones over the table, because Atmosphere.

Geoff’s Geoff laughing and a little too smug about how smoothly things went, still wearing bits of his horrendous fashion choices and Jeremy eyeing his own hand of cards dubiously.

Trevor’s got this little smirk going on and Alfredo’s looking a touch concerned. Fiona’s losing patience and Lindsay is playing her own game, card close to her chest and terrifying everyone there without really trying.

Michael’s over by Gavin on the couch watching these idiots trying to outbluff one antoher, sipping at his drink and heckling the fuck out of them. Matt playing with his new puzzle or whatever and absently heckling them and really, it was a good day for them all told.

#miss-ingno #prompt fills #ragehappy #could be ryack if you want?#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#technically not a fic #vagrant fic #also thank you for such a great prompt i was loling to myself from the moment i saw it #<333!

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bluepenguinstories · 4 years

Text

Happiness Overload Chapter Forty-Five

It was an unnamed restaurant in an unnamed city where we sat across from each other. Sure, the restaurant had a name, same with the city we resided in, but neither of those seemed to matter as of late. If they ever did at all.

What mattered was our candlelit dinner, dim lighting, and exquisite dining. Something we both deserved for quite some time.

“What did you order, by the way?” I asked the rascal across from me with the flat-brim baseball cap and the blue hair in a pixie cut.

“Escargot and garlic bread. You?”

She was slumped down on the table, her elbow planted firm. The way she always seemed to scowl was always such a sight to behold.

“Mm...Crepes and spaghetti.”

“Wait. Spaghetti? I thought this was a French restaurant.”

“Maybe it's a combination French-Italian restaurant. You know the kind.”

“What does it matter, anyway?” She turned her head and grumbled. “I'm only here because you're paying.”

I shrugged. “Fair enough.”

At that point, it was my turned to slouch. I leaned my head forward and rested it on the table, then reached my hand out and poked her on my nose. She, of course, growled and swiped my hand away.

“Hey! Get your grubby mitts away from me! I bet you didn't even wash your hands!”

“Aw, come on! You know it's romantic!”

“As if! You and I both know the only reason why we're here.”

She was right, of course. It wasn't because we wanted some kind of date night or some kind of romantic night out (not that it was night, anyway. It was the middle of the afternoon, still a few hours before sunset). No, if you wanted to call it a getaway...you wouldn't be wrong. Not completely, anyway.

Rather than dwell further on why we were there, I looked up and the opportunity for distraction presented itself.

“Look! Our food!”

The server set the plates down. I thanked the waiter and when I saw the waiter's face, I was filled with shock: a rather-dead and tired looking face but with a mouth so full of life, opened wide:

“THE MANAGER MADE THE RESTAURANT OPEN 24/7! I HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANY SLEEP IN DAYS AND I LOVE SERVING CUSTOMERS!”

This isn't good.

I gulped. He went off to attend to someone else. I really hoped she didn't pay any mind to that.

All around me, the other folks seemed more or less normal (whatever that meant). Nothing too out of the ordinary. So, after a sigh of relief, I turned back to her and saw her poking at the dead snails, chomping away with a serious and resolute expression. As for mine, I thought my face was about to turn green.

“How can you stand to eat any of that?” I pointed to her dish with my fork in hand.

“We had to eat all sorts of weird things in the military. Builds character,” she replied, a mouthful of, if you would call it such, food.

“Oh yeah. I forgot Area 51 is part of the military...”

“What are you, some kind of baby?”

“No!” I protested. “I just know what I like, okay?”

Great. Girl had me on the defensive. I had to find a way to retaliate.

“Say, I've got spaghetti...wanna re-enact that one scene from Lady and the Tramp?”

She took a gulp as she swallowed another...ugh. Don't even wanna say.

“I don't know who would be who.”

“We set our own roles, baby,” I gave one of my signature smirks.

“No thank you. I'd rather just eat.”

Bluh. No fun. No fun at all. I would've thought that us getting out of the house and somewhere nice would've put both of us in good moods. Or at least...a non-destructive kind of good mood.

“Shouldn't there be more people here?” She asked.

“Hun, this is a high-class restaurant. I bet it's too bougie for most folks.”

“You know what I mean.”

Oof. I was trying to be evasive.

“Yeah...” I sighed.

“The only reason we're able to be here, not here at this restaurant specifically, but here as in outside of the apartment, outside of the ship, is because the ones who would have otherwise pursued us probably already succumbed to the global pandemic.”

“You know, I was really hoping you wouldn't bring that up.”

She grunted, and pointed her fork at me. “I know you pretty well by now. Even more than when I thought I knew you. I know you use humor to cope, but you can't just ignore the situation and go on like it's all fun and games.”

“Hey!”

I really just wanted to enjoy my meal; she sure loved playing the antagonist, huh? I watched her push her plate back and brought out a package of beef jerky out from her pocket and started munching.

“At least I know you're having a good time eating,” I conceded. It was some wonder how she could eat so much and still be so serious. Half of my plate of spaghetti had yet to be eaten and I was already having my doubts that I would be able to finish it all.

Jeez, what happened to the Velvet who could eat a whole thing of pizza all by herself?

“Not really,” was her response. “Eating just makes me ha--” She took a couple of deep breaths. “Full. Eating makes me full.”

I smiled and twirled the noodles on my plate as if they were ballerinas in a play. I must have been just as tired as the waiter, or in some kind of daze.

“That's the goal,” my voice carried a softer tone than usual.

“Heh. I guess so.”

I took a sip from my glass. Wine? Water? Soda? I couldn't even recall anymore. It tasted a little sour, a little fizzy. It could have been anything.

“It's just messed up what's become of everything.”

I nodded. What else could I have said to that?

“I mean, what kind of world do we live in where it's so dangerous to be ha...ha...” I could hear her breaths grow shorter. “Happy? It's really not fair.”

“I know. I want to do something about it just as much as you do.”

“Do you? Do you really? Because I don't see you doing anything. I don't see either of us doing anything. We're both just sitting here. Maybe you think we should, huh? I mean, we escaped with our lives and been through hell together, so it only makes sense, right? Don't we deserve to be happy? Don't I deserve to be happy?”

“Of course you do...” I mouthed the words.

“So then why? Why are you happy when I'm not? What is wrong with me? WHAT?” Her fists shook. Part of me feared something like this might happen, but I thought that it wouldn't. “WHY CAN'T I BE HAPPY?”

She began to laugh and all at once, she knocked all the stuff off the table. Our plates, the candles, they shattered. I glanced down and noticed a fire forming. She reached across the table and fork held firm in her grasp, swung down. Either my own hand, or my throat, seemed to be the target.

On cue, I grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

“I DESERVE TO BE HAPPY! I WILL BE!”

My grip tightened and the fork fell from her hand. I managed to fold my palms over her fists and hold her hands tight.

“I know it's not fair! I agree! You deserve to be happy! And you will be! I'll make sure of it!”

She took deep breaths. While it could have been risky letting go, I did just that and watched as her fists uncurled. That was when I seized the moment and interlaced my fingers in hers.

Her breathing slowed and she looked to be calming down. I saw her eyes widen.

“...Why are we holding hands?”

“I thought it would calm you down!”

Such a response made her face turn red and she looked away, though she didn't let go of my hands.

“That...that doesn't mean I gave you permission.”

“Oh, you're so stubborn!”

Before we had a chance to salvage our day, I smelled the smoke next to us and was reminded of the fire spreading. If that wasn't bad enough, I watched as everyone around us got up from their seats. Not in a panic, no, but each carrying that ominous grin.

“DID SOMEBODY SAY 'HAPPY'?” One said in a tone that reminded me all too well of Chuck E. Cheese's.

“I SURE AM HAPPY!”

“FIRE BURNING ON THE DANCE FLOOR!”

We looked back at each other and that time I knew we were on the same page.

“Run.”

We got up, hands still locked together, and bolted toward the door. I could hear the manager yell out “no one leaves until they pay!” but we ignored and pressed on. We were just about to leave when a steel wall came crashing down in front of the door.

“IT MAKES THE DOOR HAPPY TO KEEP CUSTOMERS INSIDE!” The restaurant manager's exclamations echoed.

Again, we gave each other a look, nodded, and took to the window. Luckily there was no barrier of any sort to keep us from jumping out. We landed on the sidewalk, not on our feet, but with a crash, and scrapes against our elbows and knees.

“Next time,” she groaned. “Let's just order take-out.” I watched as she let go of my hands.

If only I could have savored the hand-holding just a little longer...maybe back at the apartment. Yeah! We could do all sorts of intimate things back at the apartment!

As much as I wanted to think of and list all the sexy things we could (and would) do, my gaze shifted back to the restaurant. If it were just an empty building, I would have opted for the two of us to keep running, but oh, my stupid conscience.

Yeah, I know I'm not great or nothin', but who would I be if I didn't at least try to save them?

“Hey!” I yelled to a guy across the street. “Call 9-1-1! Tell them there's a fire!”

Maybe it was the tone of my voice that made him do as I said, or maybe he was just clear enough in the head to not be affected by the syndrome spreading. Wishful thinking on my part, maybe, but it seemed like he could at least put two and two together, and I watched him make the call.

I hope they can put out the fire. I hope there's any way for at least a few people to be saved. If they even want to be saved. Oh no...what if I end up endangering the fire fighters and then the 'happy' thing spreads and I just made anything worse.

I shook my head and stopped myself from continuing such thoughts. There had to be a way, and even if there wasn't, I still tried something. There was still some semblance of a world left.

“Okay, Butch, let's get out of here!”

“Hey! You used my name!”

Deep down I was still used to Mavis, but I myself have gone through many names, so I could respect that. What was wrong with a little name change, anyway?

We bolted out of there and continued running until we reached our apartment.

Although we had spent a bit of time in Paris, we didn't stay long, and we stayed in the ship the whole way through. I mean, I could've stretched or something. Not like I thought it would kill me to leave the ship. Velvet sure left the ship in spite of the danger she knew she faced.

It was still early into the outbreak, and although both of us were aware time was of the essence, much of the world was yet to be affected. Our concern then was more the worry that those in authority (CIA? Interpol? The Flashbulb?) would try to kill us both.

“Hey Mavis, I'm gonna go out for some snacks! Be back in a few!”

I was just laying back in the bed and trying to write schematics for building a robot, or some death ray. Just like the good ol' days. I really didn't like that she used that name, and she knew how I didn't like being interrupted when I was busy.

“Fuck you! It's Butch! And do you mind? I'm trying to make some new technology here! How are we going to take on an evil organization if we don't have anything to defend ourselves with?!”

She paused. “Right! Sorry! Butch! I promise I'll get it down, so just sit tight and I'll bring back munchies!”

“You better! And you better not die out there, ya hear me? If you don't make it back tonight, I'm gonna kill you!”

Velvet knew by now that I didn't want anyone besides me killing her and even then, I didn't even want to kill her. Anymore. That was the old me. Literally.

As soon as she waved and I knew she was gone, I went back to penciling in some blueprints.

“Stupid good-for-nothing shipmate,” I grumbled. “The world could end in a few months and what was she doing? Getting snacks, that's what.”

Although in a much worse state, the world would still be around a few months later. Deep down, I believed there really was nothing we, or anyone else, could do about it. At least I could take comfort knowing that when I died, she'd die as well?

I shook my head. That wasn't as much as a comfort as I thought it would be. I still wanted to live, I still wanted to know and define myself before I died. Like it or not, it was hard not to see myself as that 'thing' created with the mindset of wanting to be someone else. Not just anyone else, but the person I once thought I was better than. Or was it that I thought that person was better than me? Regardless, I didn't want to be that person who I felt so compelled to compare myself to. Not if I could help it.

Back at the apartment, I sat back on the couch and pulled up the foot rest to recline. It was the best I could think to do to calm myself. Whatever you wanted to call me, I'll be the first to admit to having quite the scare back there.

“I'm sorry.”

I heard her voice from behind me. I turned to see her in a chair, looking down at the floor.

“Don't worry about it,” I reassured her.

“I thought I was over that. I thought that wouldn't happen.”

So that was it, huh? She scared herself, too. The chivalrous me should have comforted her with a big hug or something, but the me on the couch was too tense to get up and do anything.

“Sorry,” she repeated.

“So what? You relapsed. It happens. I don't blame you.”

I said that. I meant it. So why did it come out in such a huff?

“Sorry.”

“Stop saying you're sorry. It's fine.”

“Sorry.”

“I said it's fine!” I snapped.

My heart jumped. That was the wrong move. I knew it. If it were any other friendship, I would have acted better, I knew I would. If we were lovers, I would have acted a hell of a lot better. But we were neither. We weren't enemies (not anymore, anyway), but...we weren't really anything else.

Even still, I felt bad about snapping.

“I'm sorry,” I got up and faced her. “I didn't mean for it to come out like that.”

She looked up, her eyes looked a bit misty. I hope that didn't mean what I thought it meant.

“I understand why it did.”

“Look,” I gave a toothy grin and pressed both of my index fingers to my cheeks. “I feel great! So let's dance! Everything's fine!” I did a little dance in place, leaning from one end to the other, keeping my smile going.

“Just admit you think I'm a burden,” even with her usual under-the-breath growl, it was still clear how sullen she was.

“I don't think you're a burden. I swear.”

I really am no good at this, am I?

“Don't lie to me. That's the LAST thing I need.”

I stamped my foot. There must have still been an ounce of adrenaline left in me.

“Listen: I think I'm a burden!” I pointed to myself. I must have looked like the greatest asshole in all of existence. Oh phooey. “The world could end any day now and I still haven't figured out how to do anything about it! I'm such a procrastinator that the world is literally ending and I'm still waiting until the last minute! I need a concrete deadline to even function! If Conrad was here, he could tell me to go and do the impossible and stop the world from ending before the day is over, and maybe I'd stress myself bald, but damn it, I'd find a way to do it!”

“You still can, you idiot!” She barked back. Oh, she was angry, wasn't she? While I wouldn't want us to fight, I preferred her being angry over depressed. “You broke into Area 51 and lived! Twice! You stole a ship, you stole precious data, and you stole a girl!”

“I...what?”

“Never mind that last part!”

Oh, no. I was going to mind it, all right. I knew I was. I burst into laughter and fell to the floor. My sides ached as I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

“No take backs!”

“Oh, fuck you!” I couldn't tell if she was angry or flustered. “It was the heat of the moment!”

I sat up and wiped my face. Looked like I had a bit of tears as well. What were they from? Laughter? Stress? Who could say?

“You don't want me to lie to you? Sure. I'll be honest. It's not easy. I didn't want anyone with me. I wanted to go this alone and I would have considered anyone who came along to be more responsibility than I would have liked. But...I'm glad to have this responsibility. You're important to me. I want to do all that I can to keep you alive.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “I don't need you to be responsible for me just because you feel guilty over your friends dying.”

Oof. That should have struck a nerve, but I was used to it. Not like she was wrong, anyway, but still, oof.

“Hey! Low blow!”

“Yeah, you're right.” She must've realized what she had said was hurtful. “Sure, I like to provoke you, but that was much, even for me.”

“Heh. That's okay. I'm oddly into it.”

“Don't know why you would. Weirdo.”

“Hey, speaking of being provocative... “

“No! You shut up right now!”

“Make me.”

Butch leaped down from the chair and landed on top of me. I found my arms pinned down and I was on my back; in other words, I had become her prey.

“What are you going to do?” I egged on. “Going to try to steal my face? Going to try to kill me?”

“Even worse,” she whispered.

Ah, that was how my fate would be sealed, huh? Helpless at her mercy. Very well, I was going to accept whatever she had in store for me.

I closed my eyes and felt her breath against mine. Next thing I felt were her lips against mine. When I felt her pull back, I opened my eyes.

“Again,” I told her.

She kissed me again.

There were some perks to the apocalypse on the horizon. First off, we found an empty apartment, all furnished and everything. Just up a flight of stairs above a convenience store, no less. Best part was, there were no landlords to deal with. They must have been one of the earliest ones to go. All the better for us.

After we had staked our claim, Velvet landed the ship in a nearby vacant lot, and we got to work setting up our new pad.

Oh yeah. That was the other perk about the whole “end of the world” thing: it was quite easy for us to nab ourselves some furniture and electronics. There were a few shops left abandoned and fair amount of merchandise left unlooted.

“We really lucked out, huh?” She grinned.

“Yeah, yeah. This is only temporary, y'know? At least until we figure out how we're going to infiltrate The Flashbulb HQ and reverse the damage already done.”

If we can manage to do that at all.

“Lemme 'yeah, yeah' you back! We're golden, baby! We got the world in our hands!”

“People are dying.”

“Well, this IS only temporary.”

“THAT'S WHAT I JUST SAID!”

Honestly, I shouldn't have been surprised. We've been with each other for...at least a month? And that's not counting the few days spent underground back in the desert.

Neither of us bothered to learn the name of the city we had set up camp in. You'd think that would be easy enough to do, like the name of the city would be plastered around in enough places that there'd be no way we didn't know where we were at. Or hell, the ship's GPS could have told us. Anything.

But the reality was that we knew the name of the city, but neither of us thought of it by name, especially considering the world's condition. Rather, we just called it a city and carried on.

Both of us did our best to gather intel. I had already told her just where The Flashbulb's HQ was, but knowing where it was wasn't the same as knowing how to get there.

“It's in space, sort of,” I told her back then.

“What do you mean 'sort of'?”

“Well, it's like...in a space outside of space.”

“That makes even less sense!”

“I know! Look, I don't know how it works, either. But it's like, the station, craft, whatever. It's a giant...”

“Is it like the starship enterprise?”

“Uh...yeah. I guess so.”

“So we got a Star Trek thing in space, but it's...not in space?”

“It's in a place where time doesn't flow. But time flows inside.”

Velvet was getting irritated. For as smart as she could be, it seemed even she was having trouble wrapping her head around it.

“Each time you try to explain, it makes less sense! Like, if they're some time-traveling illuminati, and there's, like, an unlimited amount of universe, or some kind of bullshit like that, then wouldn't that mean that there's an unlimited amount of Flashbulb headquarters? At least, potentially, anyway? So how does time not flow outside, but it does inside?”

“Look, maybe all I know is bullshit. I mean, I only know these things because of what I learned in Area 51, which itself is red herring among red herrings. But if I had to guess, and for the sake of making another pointless reference, maybe it's like a Doctor Who thing?”

“Fuck it. What's that mean?”

“You know, one of those time-traveling phone booths? Like, maybe there's an unlimited amount of Flashbulb headquarters inside of the one, but there's only one on the outside.”

“But if we tore it apart from the inside, wouldn't it show on the outside? And, say they're overseeing this mess on Earth right now, but in a different universe, they never even come in contact with the entity that they used to infuse so much stuff with? Then what?”

“I don't know! It's not like I've even been there!”

She paced, obviously not satisfied with my answer.

“So we know they're behind this. We know they exist. We know they have a main headquarters. We may or may not know where that headquarters is. What we don't know is how to get there nor how to stop them.”

“I can one-up you.”

“Oh?”

Even saying such a thing made me feel just a little bit triumphant.

“We know the ETNA Corporation is a subsidiary of The Flashbulb. More specifically, the ETNA Corporation is the Morale Department.”

“Oh, right. I think I knew that, actually.”

“That's why I said 'we', you dingus!”

“Know anything I don't?”

I did, I knew plenty she didn't know. Just as she probably knew plenty I didn't. I had to have some secrets, too, didn't I? Then again, with the way she can get me to talk, there was always that chance of them spilling out at any moment.

“So what if I do?”

“Well, what do you know?”

Maybe I could've told her something small. What I told her instead was something I should've known better to do.

“You know when you lived in that one city with your partners Conrad and Kelly Roger?”

Her eyes lit up. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Well, I did some research...”

“And?”

C'mon, I told her how the old man she gave a home to had been killed like it was no big deal. So why should I feel bad about telling her about her friends?

“No. I don't feel like telling you.”

“Come on!”

“Screw you! I can choose what to and not to tell you!”

“Please? I can take it!”

Hm...maybe she could. She was notorious for being tough.

“Well, I found out that both of them died.”

“What?! Did they do it?”

I shook my head.

“I don't know. It seems not even The Flashbulb knows how they died, just that they did. Conrad went through one of those elevators in an act of desperation and both Conrad and Kelly Roger's body were later found in the wreckage of what used to be that base under your group occupied.”

“I can't believe this...I should've been there. I shouldn't have ever left them behind. It was the same for Blanc. Why does this happen with everyone I meet?”

“God damn it! This is why I didn't want to tell you!”

“I should have been there...”

I could see her start to get agitated. Hm. What's something she would have said about anyone else in her shoes? 'That's not a good look for you'? Hm. Maybe that's not what I want to say.

“There's nothing you could have done, you idiot!”

“I could have protected them. I could have prevented it. Somehow, anyway. I'm sure of it.”

“You want to prevent more deaths? Then let's figure out how to put a stop to this!”

Oh, sure. I sounded so confident when I said that. As if there was really anything we could do to put a stop to what's already begun.

“If it was Kelly Roger, they'd be able to find all the info on The Flashbulb without having to put themselves in any danger. Maybe that kid didn't know much else, but I couldn't have figured out all I did the same way Kelly Roger could've.”

Oh, bother.

“Yeah, but if anyone but you were to do what you did back at Area 51, would they have survived?”

There. That should've gotten through to her.

“You're right. But I shouldn't have survived. I wouldn't have, too, if it weren't for several miracles.”

“YOU'RE GONNA DRIVE ME MAD!”

“Madly in love with me?”

I scoffed. “Ha. At least you retained your sense of humor.”

“Okay, but really, you think I could ever get you to like me?”

What was this? Was she some kind of puppy? No. That couldn't be it. She must have been employing one of her tricks. That, or she really was in such a place of weakness. I knew I needed to treat carefully, so I shook my head.

“I don't even trust you.”

“Aw, come on! Would I ever lie to you?”

Yep. There it was.

“Yes. You do it all the time!”

She sat down. “What if I told you something I've never told anyone else?”

“Like what? And how would I know you haven't told anyone else.”

“I'm 28 years old.”

“...What?”

“I've never told anyone my age. Not Conrad, not Kelly Roger, not Blanc. Not any random asshole on the street. I've just never felt the need to tell anyone.”

“So three years ago, when you were in that city...”

“25.”

“But how is that even possible? You were in the CIA at what?”

“21. I infiltrated Area 51 and took off with the ship when I was 23.”

“That doesn't add up, but then again, I'm not surprised. Nothing you say ever adds up.”

“Sure it does. I was young, but I can tell people I'm a few years older than I am and they never question it. I actually graduated college at 20.”

“How do I know you're telling the truth?”

She smiled her sly smile. “You don't. There's no way to prove I am or am not 28. Any records of me have been erased long ago.”

“Great. So I still can't trust you.”

“Sure you can! When I met you just a couple months ago, you were 20 and I was 27. Hm...now that I think about it, that's quite a gap for a relationship.”

“You were 27? So you had your birthday recently?”

She shrugged. “Probably. I can't remember when my birthday is. Head's too jumbled by all these other identities I've taken on in the past.”

“Also,” I pointed out. “I never told you I was 20. I was 22.”

“Ah, I thought I recalled you saying you were 20. I could've sworn. Well, I guess 22 and 28 isn't as bad.”

Maybe I did. Not all of my memories of previous incarnations of me were intact.

“And another thing! We're not in a relationship!”

“You mean we're not in a romantic relationship. We've definitely got some kinda dynamic going on here.”

“Bleh! And for your information, I'm not even 22!”

“Oh? Did you have your birthday recently too? So you're 23.”

“In a sense I had my birthday recently. But I'd still be 22 in a sense as well.”

“Explain.”

I really didn't want to. Why did I have to run my flap? That was supposed to be one of my strengths over her. She couldn't go without talking at all times, but me? I could keep quiet if I needed to. So why am I letting things slip while she's still got her secrets intact?

“I didn't survive Area 51.”

“Holy shit. Am I speaking to a ghost or something?”

I shook my head. “I really wanted to keep this from you...maybe I'm just a little different from my past self...”

“Your past self!”

Yes. She was already catching on.

“Etna appeared sometime after you ran off. The leader of the ETNA Corporation. She gave me a choice, a sadistic one, but those are the only kind of choices she provides. I took her offer. I stepped through one of the elevators. She made one appear, as if through magic. I wanted to go right to you.”

“So...”

“In a manner of speaking I've only been alive for a couple months.”

I watched as she clutched her head and shook it. “Ew. Ew. Ew. Why did you have to make this weird? You make it sound like I'm dating a baby!”

“WE'RE NOT DATING!” Deep breaths, Butch. “Er...I only went to you because I didn't know where else to go, only that I wanted out of that facility. We just share a ship together.”

“Ugh! If this was any other sci-fi or fantasy or whatever involving clones, something like that would never even come up! You're mentally and physically in your 20s, right?”

I shrugged. “Sure. And I've only been alive for a couple months.”

“So the one I spent time with underground who hated me, you're not her?”

“Correct. Then again, I am her. Just not the same her.”

Huh. It seemed I was taking things rather well. Velvet started grinning real wide. I hoped she hadn't caught that thing going around.

“So the one I've been with these past couple months doesn't hate me, huh?”

“Sure I do. Just not enough to kill you. I just put up with you.”

Velvet huffed and crossed her arms. Heh...whether or not I wanted her dead, I still loved the thought of pushing her buttons.

“Well, nice to meet'cha. Mavis, Butch, whoever you wanna be.”

I scoffed. “I wanna be me.” That's right. I didn't even want to be her, I just wanted to be me.

I woke up to a pitch black apartment. The clock on the wall said it was 3:33 AM. Cool. Witching hour time. That was when the magic happened, right?

I leaned my head up and saw Mav...Butch over me, resting her head on my chest. My...unclothed chest? I lifted my left hand and ran it down her back; it glided against her skin and that's when I realized: she wasn't wearing anything either.

Oh right. That. You see, one thing led to another, we got up on the couch, and...clothes were on the floor. Or somewhere. I couldn't quite recall. One of those heat in the...things.

I began to shiver. Fuck. Speaking of heat, the least we could've done was put a blanket over us! I tried reaching up to the top of the couch, but it was no use. No blanket.

You know, we have a bedroom! There are blankets there!

What was also no use was my continued shivering. Now that I remembered what led to all that, I felt wide away and could not stop from shivering. I shivered so hard that the kawaii gremlin herself fell onto the floor.

“Ow!” She rubbed her eyes. “What was that for?”

“I'm fucking freezing!” I got up and took a snuggie out from the closet. Poor thing must've been gathering dust. Well, mama decided it was finally time to bring you out.

“I was plenty warm...” She muttered.

“Oh, good for you! I could have died from pneumonia!”

“If you did, I would have laughed. Out of all the things to kill you.”

“At least you weren't suckin' on my tits in your sleep!”

“Do you have to say it like that? It sounds weird coming from you.”

“Or grabbin' my butt! Jeez!”

“Is sex all you think about?”

“It is when that's what led us to being passed out and naked on the couch!”

She didn't have a response to that. I saw her looking down at the floor, which either meant one of two things: flustered, or depressed. Lucky for me, it wasn't hard to figure out which. For as rude as she liked to act, she sure did fluster easily and when she got embarrassed, she'd just look away or look down at the floor and not say anything.

“I'm going to bed. Our actual bed.”

“Can you carry me there?” She whined. Whined? Begged? I don't know. She must've been so tired that she wasn't even aware of how she sounded at the moment.

“You can walk.”

“I'm still sleepy.”

“Do I look like I can carry you?” I crossed my arms, snuggie sleeves sliding over my hands. Damn, that thing was comfy.

“No. But I know you can.”

Rude and with 'tude. At least she was predictable.

“Fine.”

I went over and hunched down. She climbed up on my back and wrapped her arms over my shoulders, her legs spread out and also wrapped around...okay. I didn't want to think such thoughts. It was already past 3 AM. Both of us just wanted some sleep, I was sure.

“You're furry...” She murmured.

“I'm wearing a snuggie.”

“Share.”

“It's a one person snuggie.”

“No fair.”

“You have no room to talk. You got my body heat.”

I set her on the bed. Where there were blankets. As there should be.

Ah, then it was my turn. I crashed on my end, face down against a pillow. My, how I was glad there was so much space on our bed. Queen sized, because of course.

“I'm going to crawl in your snuggie while you sleep,” her tired impish voice threatened me.

“You can't...there's not enough room.” That was probably a lie. But she knew what blankets were. I needed that snuggie all to myself, dammit!

“Then I'll steal it from you when you're asleep.”

“Ah, so that's how you finally do me in. How dastardly.”

Face met pillow. Pillow invited face into her warm embrace. Pillow was the only lover face needed.

“Now that I'm in bed I can't sleep.”

I turned over. Ah, if she couldn't sleep, I wouldn't be able to sleep, either.

“So what do you want to do?”

“Stare up at the ceiling.”

“Yeah. That sounds like fun.”

“Would be nice if there were some glow in the dark constellation magnets on the ceiling.”

“Hell yeah, dude.”

“Hey,” she turned her head my way. I did as well. Even apart, we were still so close to each other. “I was thinking about earlier. At the restaurant.”

“I know. You're sorry.”

“I don't want to be like that.”

“I know.”

“It scares me.”

I gulped. Yikes. What could I say to that? That it scared me too?

“You aren't the only one who gets like that. I've seen folks on the street fuck each other in broad daylight until their skin rips off or their hearts give out. I saw a few folks chasing traffic, or folks in cars running into other cars in a sort of high-stakes game of bumper cars. There were firefighters setting buildings on fire so they had more to put out. People who can't swim going down waterslides. The list goes on.”

“I've seen some things, too. It's not just people.”

“Mhm. It's like logic has gone out the window. Some of the actions are more...in the realm of reality, but in other cases, it's like Wonderland. Either way, everything's affected. But I think it just affects the ones who have been cloned more.”

“Is that why you aren't affected?”

“Who says I'm not?”

“It doesn't seem like you are.”

“It affects everyone differently. I don't even know how to describe it. It's like one of those highs you get when you've been laughing with friends, but the high doesn't stop until you're all gone. It brings out those intense desires in people – It doesn't have to be sexual, mind you. Just anything that makes you feel good. From there, it's heightened to such levels where you're all but sure to burst.”

“It doesn't make me ha...” She started to hyperventilate. “Ha...ha...”

“Slow breaths. You got this.” I placed my hand on her cheek.

“It doesn't make me feel very good.”

“That's because you've managed to come down from it. When you're aware of how destructive it can get, sure, it probably wouldn't feel very good.”

“I've only managed to come down from it because of you. Why?”

That wasn't something I could say, was it? I didn't know the answer. Not in specific terms, anyway. I knew the gist: conversing with the source behind it all. But how could I explain that? I didn't know why the...thing...let her get back to normal, even if temporarily. Because I asked them nicely?

“Because I have the magic touch.”

“Okay.”

“Wait. You're just gonna buy that?”

She didn't say anything at first, then spoke again:

“What is it that makes you ha...feel good?”

“You already know the answer to that,” I teased.

She glared at me.

“Oh fine,” I relented. “Right now, it's helping you get to where you want to be.”

“What is this, a Hallmark movie? You're such a sap.”

“Hey, I answered! What about...at risk of saying something that could trigger you...”

“Nothing triggers me.”

“...What would make you happy?”

Her eyes widened. I thought I had really done it that time. Well, I did say 'at risk'.

“Being in control,” she answered. “Of myself. Knowing myself. Being myself. Being who I want to be, whoever that may be. As long as it's me.”

“I'd like to help you with that.”

Her eyes closed. So did mine. We both went back to sleep.

Just a few days prior to the incident at the restaurant, I had finally completed work on some of my personal projects while Velvet was away. Earlier that morning, she said she was out “shopping”, but of course it had to be something else. Nothing was ever just “shopping” with her. She was scheming something, I just knew it.

“Okay, computer, show me what Velvet's up to.” I spoke into the mic.

“Velvet is coming up the stairs.”

“What? Fuck! Fuck! Abort!”

No wait. That was perfect, actually. She could be my test subject...

“Computer, employ reinforced wall.”

I watched as steel plates slid out from the walls and pressed themselves against the door frame. With it, she was in for a surprise.

“Heh...heh...heh...”

Sure enough, I heard the sound of her footsteps click-clack as she approached the door. Then, there was the shimmy of the knob. First slow, then vigorous. The sign of frustration. Then...

“HEY MAVIS! WHY IS THE DOOR LOCKED?!”

Her shouts of despair was music to my ears. I couldn't help but burst into a cackle. But, there was just one problem.

“That's not my name!” I called back.

I wonder if she could actually hear my reply or if my voice was too muffled by the steel plating.

“OH! SORRY! BUTCH! WHY IS THE DOOR LOCKED?! WE NEVER LOCK THE DOOR!”

“Hm. Well maybe we should...” I grumbled. She of all people should've known how dangerous the world could be.

“WHAT'S THE PASSWORD?” I shouted back, making sure she could hear me.

“WHAT? JUST OPEN THE DOOR!”

“THE PASSWORD. WHAT'S THE PASSWORD?”

“SWORDFISH.”

“NO!”

“WHAT? IT'S ALWAYS SWORDFISH! ALSO, WHY ARE WE SHOUTING? I CAN HEAR YOU JUST FINE!”

Oh. Well then. That changed everything.

“Why would it be swordfish? I don't know how your mind operates!”

“Neither do I! Just let me in!”

I sighed. At least I knew it worked.

“Computer, disengage the reinforced wall and open the front door.”

“As you wish.”

The door slid open and Velvet fell through. But it wasn't as slapstick as I would have it to be. She didn't fall to the floor, not one bit. Just a little wobble, then she regained her balance.

“Jeez! What was that? Oh, never mind! Look!”

Wow. Was she really not that impressed? I turned to see what she was so excited about. In her hands was a package of dry noodles. That was all. Nothing else.

“We're eating good tonight!” She beamed. “I got us some gourmet top ramen! You can tell it's good because it's got 'top' in the name!”

I glared at her. “Is that some kind of sexual joke?”

She continued to beam and just pointed at the name of the product on the package. Our eyes locked, but no response was given to me right away.

“Well...?”

“No, silly! 'Top' as in 'the best'! It's the best ramen there is!”

“I can never tell with you.”

I went back to my computer, working out some formulas and testing out various things. In the background, I could hear her hum as she strolled to the kitchen. If cheap ramen was her idea of gourmet, I didn't want to know what her idea of a simple dish was.

“Now that you mention it, you could be my top ramen,” she snickered.

I turned around in my chair. “Oh, come on!”

She walked over, hands on her hips. “We're both lesbians, nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I like girls, yes. I don't like you.”

“Ouch,” she made a wincing face. I could tell she was still in her silly mood.

Sometimes you had to be harsh to have your peace and quiet. At least, that's how it ought to work. That kinda stuff just didn't seem to faze her, rather, she may have relished in it. I watched her grab a chair that was lying in the middle of the floor and sat next to me.

Maybe if I made myself more clear, she would leave me alone and I could get back to work. I could only hope, right?

“I don't think I could ever like you even if I wanted to.”

She turned her head and pursed her lips. “That bad, huh?”

Why did she have to dig it out of me? Sheesh. I really didn't want to deal with any sort of emotions. All I wanted to do was focus on my work.

“It's not like that,” the words came out absentmindedly. “It's just that I was programmed not to like you.”

“Programmed? Like you're some sort of robot?”

“You know what I mean. Like my personality was cultivated a certain way, tailored to however they wanted me to think and behave.” It really got under my skin when I thought about such a thing. How unaware I was for so long. “Everyone back there was like that.”

“Mhm. Yeah. Sgt. Michaels certainly wasn't so mustache obsessed when I came across him the first time around.”

That guy. Right. He was a thing.

“That's why it gets to me. I don't know what kind of person my original self was like. Maybe someone who admired or looked up to you. Or just someone at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I know. We've been over this.”

I slammed my fist on the desk. “Yes, but this is important to me! I'm still someone, aren't I?”

“Of course! So in that case, why does that mean you aren't able to like me?”

“You're really fixated on that?” I shook my head. “I was programmed to resent you, or consider myself better than you, or want to replace you. With so many times being recreated without my knowledge, it probably took its toll on my mind. I imagine I may have had some connection to you in the past, or thought of you in some capacity, but the way they engineered me, it turned into a hateful obsession.”

I inhaled the sterile air and drew a deep breath, then exhaled.

“Now, if you excuse me, I would like to focus my thoughts on something more productive.”

Those noodles were going to be overcooked, I was sure of it. But the thought of “gourmet top ramen” must have escaped her mind, as she didn't leave her seat at all.

“Like what?”

“My pet project.”

She snorted. “Your 'pet' project.”

“I don't like the way you phrased that.”

I clicked a button on my keyboard and bionic laser pointers descended from the ceiling and focused themselves on the annoyance next to me.

“Set scopes on Velvet.”

“Hey! You tryin' to kill me?”

“They're harmless. For now. There isn't any material for them to blast anything. They're just infrared rays.”

From the corner of my eye, I watched her get up.

“So that thing with the door? And these laser things? You've been working on all this?”

“I've also got cameras which track your whereabouts.”

“What?! Creepy!”

“I've only just used them today. Though I am curious what it is you do all day, considering what kind of person you are and all.”

“You still don't trust me?” She pouted. Bleh. What a terrible actor.

“Could I ever? You probably have some great plan that I'm unaware of.”

“Okay, ignoring that for now...” She looked away, as if embarrassed.

Yeah. I'd probably get rid of that. That just confirmed it: she had nothing. Still no progress after all this time.

“Anything else?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. I duplicated the remote to your ship. So now I can get in and out whenever I want.”

She was taken aback. “What are you trying to do? Kill me and run off?”

“What's it to you if I am?” I grunted. “Though I'm not. I told you before, I don't have anywhere else to go.

“So what's all this for, then?”

“Working with tech's what I know how to do, even if such knowledge feels inherited, or false, it's still knowledge, nonetheless. We ought to be prepared for when we face off against The Flashbulb.”

“That may not be for a while.”

“How long is a while? In case you're forgetting, 'all the time in the world' isn't very much time, here.”

“I haven't forgotten! I just need to know for sure where this place is and how to get there! I can't just go off of hunches!”

“Push comes to shove, hunches may be all we got! If there's anyone I hate, truly hate, it's them!”

“Yeah, I get that, but it's not like you can take all this stuff with you.”

“I'm working on that. I'd like to have a laser-backpack of sorts.”

“Wild.”

There was a smell of super salty spices in the air. It was a rather permeating aroma.

“The ramen must be done!”

I'd pass and just opt for making pizza rolls. Seemed like the safer option.

Ah, the morning after. Still in the snuggie and everything. Yet I noticed when I woke up that Butch had wrapped her arms around me while I was asleep and was pressed against me.

“She claims to hate me, but she always seems to cling to me...” I groaned. I needed coffee. Or orange juice. Or coffee flavored orange juice.

That groggy feeling persisted, even after I pried her loose (I managed not to wake her up, some kinda miracle right there) and got up to fix myself a cup of coffee. Even two cups in, I was still dead tired.

“Yeah...not getting out of this snuggie. Too comfy.”

Another lazy Sunday was upon me. Or Wednesday. I checked my laptop just to confirm the date, then I closed it back up.

For a moment, I thought of curling up on the couch, a little velvety snuggie burrito, but instead, I did the noble thing and did the zombie stroll to the shower. Half an hour later, I was dressed and refreshed.

When the bathroom door opened, the steam that aired out seemed to signal my arrival back to the rest of the apartment, just like I was someone important. Like I was the main event, and I took center stage. The crowd would go wild and...

Butch was slumped over on the couch, bags under her eyes, wearing a navy blue hoodie and grey sweatpants. In her hands was a Nintendo Switch.

“Really? You get on my case about not doing anything but here you are, playing Animal Crossing?”

“Go away, grandma. Busy.”

“Excuse me? Grandma?! I'm not much older than you!”

“Can you keep it down,” she turned her head and looked like death. Eye crusties and messy hair. “I'm trying to bankrupt Tom Nook.”

“You should be proud of me! I'm in my important clothes and all! I've decided to take this more seriously!”

“You say that, and then...”

“I'm giving myself five days! We'll leave in five days, I'll find a way!”

“Make it four.”

Before I could argue further, the doorbell rang.

“Oh yeah. I ordered pizza while you were in the shower. Could you get that?”

I grumbled, but it wasn't like I was going to say no. While marching to the door, I fired one shot at her.

“I swear, you're the only person in the world who likes anchovies!”

“That's only because there's few people left in the world.”

Yes. Less than a week. Self-imposed deadlines never worked in the past. It was either impulse decisions or short deadlines set by others. But things were different. Things were different because I was getting bored.

I opened the door and faced the one at the other end. That same second, I wondered if the person I saw outside the door appeared specifically because I had made my decision.

#happiness overload #comedy #drama #horror #scifi #apocalypse #supernatual #surreal #happy #writing #stories #fiction #lesbians

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