#ashley sticking up for her FUCKS by the way. great moment for her
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SHES RIGHT AND SHE SHOULD SAY IT
#fuck houndstooth so hard for this shit#hate his ass#a Nine Year Old made some mistakes and he thinks thats reason to pretty much ruin her life#NO PHYSICAL CONTACT OR AFFECTION UNLESS OKAYED BY HER THERAPIST????#jesus fuck dude i hate you#ashley sticking up for her FUCKS by the way. great moment for her#ashley stillons#kenzie martin#wormblr#parahumans#worm spoilers#wardblr#ward liveblog
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Edit: Please don’t send me spoilers for later episodes. This includes “you are right/wrong about xyz interpretation”. Thank you!
Episode 17 has so many incredible, heartbreaking, heartwarming, hilarious and frustrating moments; it’s one of my favorite episodes thus far for sure. A friend of mine told me that he fell in love with the Bells Hells in this episode and I’m inclined to agree.
Between episode 14 and 17 I feel like the rest of them have really come together and have had the opportunity to show some of their softer, less silly sides. I love the silly, but sometimes it can get in the way of genuine character moments and those episodes are full of both, which is great.
Here’s a little roundup of my impressions of the characters so far:
Ashton: This guy is so dumb. Like, can’t get any dumber. They are so preoccupied with being the unattached one, that every of their actions just screams “I don’t deserve to be loved and I will show you why!” - I love his short temper, I love his reluctant admiration of the others and I particularly love that Taliesin gets to play someone who is queer as fuck, yet determined to be disagreeable. That is just peak Taliesin PC design and I think he is having a blast with Ashton so far.
Fearne: This fawn is so smart. And I mean that genuinely. Fearne knows exactly how she can utilize her charm and her assumed innocence to get away with the most outrageous lies and actions. I’m sort of glad that Little Mister has faded into the background a little. I feel like Fearne needs nobody to help her shine. And it’s fascinating to me that it had never before occurred to me that Ashley would be perfect at playing a fey, since Ashley exudes heaps of fey energy even when she is just being herself. I’m curious how she will handle more dramatic scenes in the future. Fearne has shown that she can genuinely care about others, but there is a clear sense that she - as any fey creature - struggles with the dark grey morals of her heritage.
F.C.G.: Sam is a menace. It is known. But I wonder how much of a menace he is being with F.C.G. I think there is a very good chance that Sam knows very little of their backstory, or how much of it is true. The memories Imogen saw in him could’ve been placed there or altered. I adore that Sam chose a race/class/subclass combination that doesn’t cater to his usual dry sarcasm as Nott’s and Scanlan’s builds did. Instead he gets to experiment with humor that stems from F.C.G.’s genuine concern and their unawareness of certain social cues. I’m sure the other Riegel shoe will drop soon enough, but until then I’m just happy to receive puzzle piece after puzzle piece of this robit’s tragic past.
Imogen: Until recently I really thought Laura had built a sweet, soft horse-girl sorceress. Oh what a fool I was! Not that she isn’t all of those things, but Imogen is so much more multi-facetted than I had originally understood. She is driven and curious. She is intrigued by power and convinced of her own abilities. She apologizes to people for invading their minds, but she also enjoys learning other people’s secrets. She is confident! She knows her worth! She understands how to get people to do what you want (not in a strictly manipulative way, but she has definitely learned that showing compassion is a way to get people to talk). I’m super intrigued by her and thus afraid to delve too deep into fandom interpretations of Imogen, because Laura’s track record is 1. build intricate, layered character, 2. fandom builds one-dimensional fanon version of said character, 3. fandom gets mad when Laura dares to stick to her original design for said character (one of the reasons why I’m not massively into glasses!Imogen - it just triggers a fight or flight response in my brain).
Laudna: What a ballsy character design! What a choice of a backstory and a patron! I love that she came up with this and Matt said “yes, and” to all of it. I agree with Orym that Laudna is fascinating not because of her backstory, but rather because she is who she is despite of her backstory. I’m a big believer that great tragedy functions like a fork in the road of your capacity for compassion. Either you become the least or the most compassionate version of yourself, and I adore that Marisha went with the latter. And for some reason I keep thinking of Laudna’s connection to Vox Machina and that she feels like the rebirth of Kerrek’s line in his letter to Keyleth: “Did you know that there are some seeds that cannot sprout unless they are first burned?“ I wish Laudna could’ve had the life she deserved, but I think her capacity to love and feel deeply is informed by the tragedy of her past.
Chetney: Detective!Travis and comic-relief!Travis are two of my favorite Travises, so of course I adore Chetney. I’m so glad he finally gets to live his lycanthropy dreams! I’m curious about Chetney’s backstory and how much of it will activate the other kind of Travis I love, which is the what-makes-a-good-man!Travis. I love when he gets to explore the themes of masculinity, bravery and worthiness and I feel like Chetney might give him the opportunity to examine them from a very different perspective. Or maybe the wolf will die in three sessions, which is also entirely possible. Travis doesn’t trust Sam and I don’t trust Travis. C’est la vie!
Orym: This little guy! What a wee man! In ExU I was not super into Orym because I felt like he faded into the background next to so much color and character, but it is always the quiet ones who worm their way into my heart in the end. In one way or another Liam’s characters always carry an unspeakable amount of grief with them and that grief usually is for a future that was stolen from them. Vax, Caleb and Orym all had to come to terms with the loss of a version of themselves/their lives that they didn’t get to see or live. But with Orym there is a new kind of twist to this baseline of grief: There seems to be an immense amount of hope stored in this tiny dude; a hope for a life that’s worth living or a future that’s worth fighting for or a revenge that is worth pursuing. There is not a lot of Orym (physically), but every inch of this small man is full of love and hope and a deep sense that there are things worth fighting for.
I thought about listing my favorite relationship dynamics so far, but the truth is that it is... all of them. I genuinely enjoy all of their interactions and how the characters mesh with each other. Eleven more episodes until I’m caught up and can laugh about my naïve impressions of them as of episode 17.
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Context and Perspective: Lurking Problems
Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F Reader
Rating: Teen.
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood
Chapter: 10/15
Word count: 1695
Summary: The newest member of the Heroics has gone missing and as one of the better-known Villains on the scene, you are blamed. Then your sidekick goes missing. You must go after the Heroic’s leader to try to get them back and clear your name.
Note: This has not been beta read, so apologies for any mistakes.
This is my first time writing for We Can Be Heroes and Marcus Moreno.
Part Nine | Part One
The obnoxiously loud beeping of your phone startled you out of your slumber and, groaning, you rolled over to turn it off. Peeking at the screen with one eye still closed, you had no new messages. Not from Jada or B and none from Marcus.
After pulling off the clothes Marcus had given you yesterday, you’d changed into a set of pyjamas and immediately called Jada to provide her with an update. You made a point to tell her about Ashley being Freefall’s mom and asked if she knew if Chloe had a friend called Noah.
“Not that I can remember.” Jada had said. You had practically been able to hear the frown as she answered. “I don’t know all her friends, though. I’ll get onto Ash. Leave it with me.”
You told her about meeting Marcus and speaking with Donna. She listened and took notes as you told her about the building collapse and agreed it needed looking into. You left out the part about the shower and the clothes Marcus had given you.
Getting out of bed, you looked over to the top of your drawers where you had put them yesterday. You stared at the carefully folded clothes and the implication they represented.
“Fuck.” You muttered as you headed for the shower. You needed to get ready for work.
~~~~~
Once out of the shower and dried, you quickly dressed, pulling on the typical drab clothes considered appropriate workwear. Gathering your phone from your bedside table, you glanced at it again. You had a missed call and voicemail. Frowning at the unknown number, you brought the phone to your ear for the message.
“Hi,” Marcus Moreno’s voice filled your ear as he softly said your name. “I hope this is the right number. It’s Marcus Moreno, by the way. Please call me back whenever you get this.”
After deleting the voicemail, you hit redial on the number you now realised was Marcus’. After a few rings, he picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Marcus. It’s-” You began to say your name, but he beat you to it, sounding genuinely happy you’d called back.
“Hi!” Marcus sounded like he was definitely a morning person. “Glad you called. I was worried I’d got the number wrong. The card you gave me was smudged with crap from yesterday.”
You laughed, walking from your bedroom to the kitchen. Propping the phone against your shoulder, you carried on with your morning routine and started preparing yourself something for breakfast. “Well, it’s me. What’s up?”
“I was hoping we could follow up on the lead Donna gave us yesterday.”
“That sounds great, but I have to go to my day job today.” You sighed. “Do you want to follow up on it and catch me up later?”
“No.” Came his reply quickly. “No, I want us to stick together on this. Better chance of clearing your name in the long run if we do this together. I’ll check out some leads at headquarters today, then.”
By leads, you knew he meant the reports of Heroics activities you had called into question the day before. Heroics had been taking the credit for other powered people’s saves for years, and Marcus wanted proof of what you’d said.
“Fair enough. Do you want to meet up tonight then, after I finish work?”
“Sure. Missy will be home, but if you come back to the house, I should have more for us to go on.”
You were shocked for a moment that he would invite you back so quickly but also touched. Apparently, he really did trust you.
“Sure. See you then.” You smiled.
“See you later.” And with that, Marcus hung up.
Finishing off your breakfast, you were just about to head out the door when you remembered the clothes sitting in your bedroom. Walking slowly back in, you frowned as you found them exactly where you’d left them. They sat there looking so innocent, as though there were nothing odd about their presence in your apartment. You really needed to give these back.
Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the lavender-fragranced garments and stuffed them into a plastic bag before setting off for the day.
~~~~~
Most of the morning went by without issue. There were files to check, data to compile, and reports to pass along. Shortly before lunch, a jam in the copy machine ground your floor to a halt, and as you went on your break, you smiled as your colleagues chatted around you.
The day took a turn, however, a little after 3 when a small cough behind you startled you out of the spreadsheet-induced stupor you had fallen into. You turned your head a little to the left to see Dale leaning on one of the panels of your cubicle.
“Hi, Dale.” You gave him your best fake smile. “Need help with something?”
“No.” He took a sip from his mug and looked you up and down. You shifted in your seat, unsure where this was going. “I was just wondering how you were doing. You were off yesterday, right? Were you sick?”
“Yeah.” You lied. “Thought I had a bug, but it must have just been something I ate. I feel better today. Thanks for stopping by.”
You had hoped that would satisfy his curiosity, but instead, he smiled at you again while frowning.
“Oh. I thought it might have been a hangover after your date on Monday night.” He said cocking his head to one side like a confused child.
“I didn’t have a date, Dale.” You narrowed your eyes. “Also, not that it’s any of your business, but even if I did, I wouldn’t drink on a weekday.”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with letting your hair down now and again.” Dale held his hands up in mock surrender. “And if I’d been out with such a good-looking woman, I’d want to sleep in late too.” He winked, and you felt your stomach turn. As you opened your mouth to speak, he cocked his head again. Again looking at you with what you could now see as fake confusion. “I didn’t know you were into the ladies, though. Guess that explains why I’ve struck out with you so many times.” He laughed, and you had to stop yourself from sneering.
“You followed me?” You were finally able to get out.
Dale said your name in such a sickly sweet way you winced. It was as though he was talking to a child. “You’re my friend. I gotta look out for you. Plus, you lied to me. You said you were meeting a friend of your mom's. I gotta say that lady looked way too young to know your mom.”
“You. Followed. Me.” You repeated. “You had no right to follow me and watch who I talk to.” You could feel the rage building inside you and had to push it down. You could easily kill Dale. Your weather powers had taken you a long time to master but were still linked to your emotions. If you lost it here, it might not just be Dale you hurt.
“So if it wasn’t a date or a friend of your mom's,” Dale continued, still smiling down at you as though you were two friends gossiping. “Who was she?”
“None of your business.” You spat out through gritted teeth. “My private life is just that, private.”
“I’m just hurt I guess that you’d lie to me.” Dale put a hand on his chest and stuck his bottom lip out. “I thought we were friends. That's how I knew something wasn’t right, with us being so close. Imagine how hurt I was when I saw you with that woman.”
“How do you know she’s not a friend of my mom, Dale?” You scowled at him. “Do you know my mother? All of her friends? Also, stop dancing around the fact that you followed me.”
“I have a nose for lies, you know.” Dale tapped his nose and winked. “Yes, I followed you. But like I told you, that was to check you were ok. Why is she meeting a friend of her mom’s, I thought to myself. Is her mom sick? I thought you might need a friend. I’m sorry that you feel my friendship and my need to protect my friends is a bad thing.”
You could feel the anger rising in you again as you listened to his bullshit reason for stalking you. You’d known he’d pestered other women in the office and wondered how many others he’d followed. Right now, you felt like you were seeing who he really was for the first time, and you felt sick.
“Why is this such a big deal to you, Dale?” You snapped, finally turning in your chair to face him. “Why is it any of your business who I talk to?”
“Woah.” He held his hands up again. “I was just being friendly.”
“Friendly would have been asking about it then moving on.” You frowned at him, watching as his eyes darted to your other colleagues to see who was listening. “You’ve been demanding I tell you how I know her. Demanding. Not asking politely or in a friendly way. You followed me.” You allowed your voice to rise, watching as he squirmed as the heads of others nearby began to turn. “You followed me after work and are now demanding to know who I was talking to. That’s not being friendly, Dale. That’s creepy.”
“Well, I…I have work I should be doing-” Dale started to shuffle away.
“Yeah, you do.”
You watched him leave before turning back to your desk. You were so angry your heart was pounding in your ears. You saw as the lamp on your desk flickered as a small bolt of lightning danced over your fingers. Closing your eyes, you started to take deep breaths. You needed to calm down.
But your mind was racing. Dale had followed you. Besides the creepy side of that, he had seen you talking to B. How close had he gotten? You hadn’t noticed him but had she? What would she or Orphan Maker do if they found out?
~~~~~~~~~~
Tag list: @Anaaaispunk, @littlemisspascal, @galaxyofmando, @pintsizemama, @athalien, @wondercloud, @amoriavelton, @alm0501, @kinda-nobody, @zanzann, @furiousmushroom, @lemonboynsp,
#marcus moreno#marcus moreno x reader#marcus moreno x f!reader#we can be heroes#fanfiction#fanfic#context and perspective#my writing
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That other shoe dropped.. I figured we’d pay a toll for all the great content. Now we know why they were feeding us all the Chenford content from the official account.
Lucy will spin out apparently, Tim more than likely will shut down again after this.
It’s obvious Chris lives and that Lucy will stay with him. Tim and Ashley I think will be done though soon. Question is, since Lucy stays with Chris, will Tim do something dumb to mess the Chenford dynamic up even more??
Eric did say messy and complicated, but how the hell will they get out of this mess? This seems beyond messy and complicated now in my opinion.
I’m thinking Lucy takes Sacramento to distance herself since in her mind, people are getting hurt because of her.
This is one steep hole 😬. Holy moly. Do you have any thoughts?
Hello hello. Yesterday all I was seeing a hole too deep to climb out of - I don’t know how they’ll find their way back to each other. But because the episode was so heavily Chenford - and clearly with ABC’s hype machine involved - the network will make sure that there is plenty of hope for them to move forward again throughout the season. Catnip, Eric called it at one point.
I stick by my earlier statements about seasonal story arcs. What happens in the first episode? That tells you the themes of the season. Chenford, Rosalind, Nyla being a detective, Nolan being stupid, Bailey doing the impossible, and Angela being an awesome and brilliant detective. Family, passion, danger, love and all the sex that Tim and Lucy wanted with each other. Oh and Fakeford showing up late and messing up everything. Heh heh.
I think it’s going to be brutal for a bit. Lucy needs to grow up. She needs to get promoted. She needs confidence in herself. She’s going to go through the wringer this season - much like Tim did 8n Season 1 (nice parallel eh?). She’s not yet fully formed. I’m excited to see this training I hope she takes. That’ll help. Tim will support her no matter how much it hurts - because she did for him.
But Lucy will spiral. She’ll stay with Chris out of guilt. She’ll run from Tim when she needs him the most . She’ll probably run to Nolan (gag). Big head Nolan has to be involved somehow. She won’t live in that apartment any more. Where will she and Tamara go? I expect things to get worse with her parents. Because of the vulnerable situation all of these changes will put Lucy in, if I’m Rosalind I want someone there, by her side messing with her mind. Creating doubt, fear, panic. Making her think she’s losing her mind, ghosting her, terrorizing her.
And who is sitting in a prime position to do all that? CHRIS. What if the end of that episode, was the plan all along? To ingratiate Chris more deeply into Lucy’s life? To wreak havoc on her mind and psyche? To make the most of her guilt? The longer they are together, the more he can fuck with her - ultimately making her less likely to turn to her friends and face Rosalind alone. Rosalind from a position of strength, and Lucy not.
Tim on the other hand- has fallen off the deep end for Lucy and it’s going to drive him crazy. Voldie is history thank god. And him walking into Lucy’s apartment with the intention to hook up? I mean…. That’s going to be hard for him to reconcile with his professionalism. He’ll probably be triggered by Lucy’s suffering like Isabel suffered. Maybe he’ll be triggered to reevaluate what it is to be a man with honor - and we’ll see him finally deal with his military stuff. I dunno. Obviously, he and Lucy get to a somewhat better place by episode 8 if they are riding together again. It’d be great if Tim was the one who figured out what Chris was up to and then did not blame himself for what came next.
As far as the insurmountable odds we find ourselves facing at the moment, I think we need to take a moment and be grateful for where we are and how far we’ve come.
We wouldn’t be having this conversation if someone else had been hired to play Tim and/or Lucy. EW+ MO and massive fan support of them and their performances of Tim and Lucy got us here.
Not only are we in uncharted waters, but unlike previous seasons, we now have significant support from ABC. full support of a fan created relationship. Alexi never would have done the full court press content release for Chenford. That was ABC. They are invested in that storyline and yes making as much money off of it as possible. That aside, literally anything can happen at this point. Our course has not yet been charted.
And for now, I am perfectly content to anchor here and sunbathe in the excitement created from that truly amazing episode.
I know at some point Lucy and a Tim will ride together again - so all hope is not lost. There’s a path forward, we just don’t see it yet.
Our map is incomplete.
#askandrea#chenford#tim bradford#lucy chen#tim x lucy#the rookie#i love them#uncharted waters#our path is unclear#incomplete map#boating metaphors#too soon to call it
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Top 5 favorite fics of all time?
favorite fics of all time omg ok i'm sure i'm going to have forgotten about some because i'm not too much of a rereader so i'm relying heavily on my ao3 bookmarks for this one but
someone reaching back for me by @enoughtotemptme
i'm still in my chrissy cunningham phase and this hellcheer fic about eddie stuck in a groundhog day style time loop of the day chrissy dies until he ends up looping in the whole party and they figure out how to fix it is a big fave from this hyperfixation. i love it so much. it is so well done and it was so interesting and there are so many heartsqueezy lil moments and gut punches and eddie tries so hard!!!! until he finally got that much-deserved win 🥲
what lies beneath her skin by @chispas-and-broken-bindings
;) i thiiiiiink this fic was finished by the time i found it (at least part 1, part 2 i think hadn't started yet) and i was ready for a big ol deep dive. 100k words!! it's alayne/jon realness but in a different context than you usually get alayne/jon. sometimes you read something and you're like "i should befriend this author" which is actually how i made a lot of my fandom friends lmao.
the last enemy: the howling nights by @chdarling
i haven't been in my marauders era for a while now but @offbeatorbit and @julvett told me i had to read this fic and dragged me back in. and they were right!!! it's the best. ch wrote such a good first book in what is going to be a MULTI book fanfic. turned me into a marlene stan. need marlene to kiss any and all characters just to see how she'd react. studying marlene like a little bug under a microscope or whatever. poking her with a stick. etc. anyway if you need a long marauders fic to read, this is a great one. relatedly...
it's all politics by @offbeatorbit and love is a powerful sort of magic by @julvett
i'm combinging this into one for squad purposes. i remember reading it's all politics a decade ago and also being like i must be friends with this person. i love all of ashley's lily/marauders/snape stuff but i always distinctly remember the "complete fucking yoko ono" line about sirius from this fic. i also loved jules' ask jily comics and had started to weasel my lil way into her ask box way way back before messaging was even a twinkle in tumblr's eye and am so psyched now that jules has started sharing her writing, too!! i've gotten som sneak peeks and this is one to watch for sure
the ghost inside by @cellsshapedlikestars
a jonsa writer so prolific that it was hard to pick just one!!! i almost went with to all the boys i've loved before au but instead had to go with this one magic/dreamscape one as soon as i laid my eyes on it. dream scapes are always so fun but imo hard to pull off in a way that feels both like it is making good use of that premise while also furthering the story itself. jon and sansa visiting each other's dreams and slowly peeling back the layers on each other's backstories is so fun and special. also i love witchy sisters sansa and arya!!!!
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The Evil Dead rewatch "liveblog" (couldn't shut the fuck up but instead of making a long rb chain i shoved it all here together <3)
Sumthin i only noticed now is that during the intro there was a car crashed in the lake, pretty subtle n cool detail!
Gotta say i still am in love with Ash stupid ass hair. Literally peak.
Love to see Ashley was a himbo even this far back btw
Watching this movie is harder now i don't have glasses anymore
Rewatching this in the middle of watching Ash vs Evil Dead is making me super nostalgic ngl
That drawing sucks so much only now i realize it was meant to be the book
Bruh i forgot the book was this ugly originally 💀
The fact that it was Ash to first start up the tape... 🤦
FACT THAT CHERYL NEARLY SAVES THEM ALL... 🤦💔
I don't think it was ever outright stated so I'm gonna hc Ash as the big brother :)
Cheryl is so stupid but i cannot expect anything less from a Williams
Funny how Ash went from not believing Cheryl to not being believed by anyone
Really into Ash being a consistent coward even if having to fight it due to the circumstances, he let Linda approach Cheryl before him
The women in this movie really just KILL it man they are so incredible
Funny how Scotty is way more of a protagonist than Ash in this one
Man Scotty's transition from "hit her" to "hit it" is so good
Rewatching this movie makes me extremely sad bc of how Ash is now like man. There really was a time where he was normal 😢
Y'know, some scenes hit different now that I'm rewatching it w a different mood, being able to appreciate how the characters feel and shit, but even now i still find the way Ash treated Scotty comedically mean 💀
I FORGOT ASH HITS LINDA WKSGDJGEJE
You can really pinpoint the precise moment in which he loses his sanity it's great
Love that he excludes Cheryl of the list of them who will leave, he just says "me, you, Linda, Shelly" and then trails off
Possessed Linda is still the hottest bitch ever she can kill me any day of the week 🥵
Obsessed w the noises Ash makes while beating up Linda with a stick i don't know how he can pick up
THE LITTLE JUMOS HE'S MAKING TO HIT HER HARDER 💀
Rlly into how Ash is barely relevant throught this whole thing until the last 17 minutes or so where this becomes Let's See How Much Abuse A Man Can Take :)
Which only continued in 2, of course 😋
Gotta say, the ending does have some of the best shots and transitions in the whole movie
I always adored how the pendant was a magnifying glass for no reason at all, the simplicity enhances the cuteness of it <3
#luly talks#evil dead liveblog#fun fact btw i didnt actually finish watching it LMAO#i closed it w 9 minutes to go bc i went ''i remember this all 😑'' so i didnt wanna waste time#i enjoyed this more than i did the first time but the last minutes are. not the best tbh?#is funny to see how much changed in the sequels tho ngl
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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E131 (March 30, 2021)
Tonight’s guests are Liam O’Brien and Sam Riegel!
Brian points out that a lot of Caleb’s greatest fears have come to pass. Liam: “It’s funny, because he’d kind of believed for a while that those things weren’t going to happen. After a while, he got complacent.” He notes that it was extra wild because everything with Trent popped up again in the midst of that complacency. And how did it feel to be defiant toward Trent? “I think Trent successfully made Caleb question if Caleb really was in control“ at the dinner party. “I feel like anything that I do is part of his plans for me, or is that just gaslighting? I’m legitimately scared of that dude.” Sam: “Of Matt?” Liam: “Sure.” He highlights the disconnect between knowing that the M9 is mechanically powerful and could possibly defeat Trent in a dice-and-stats battle, versus fearing him in a story sense and being convinced he can do almost anything.
Sam, on Luc’s death: “That was brutal, man. Matt Mercer is a-- he hates children! Clearly. He actively sought to kill a child in the campaign in as brutal a way as possible. He hates children and wants them dead. Canon. No, but to RP, that was horrible.” He highlights that so much of Veth’s arc has been about trying to get back to her family. “We had to choose something and we thought we were making the right choice. It was all Veth’s fault, and it was pretty rotten. My heart was beating pretty fast, and I certainly didn’t want to have my son die live on the stream. I don’t know what Veth would have done. That’s the end, that’s over. It’s almost worse than when your own character would die. This is something that would also kill Veth.” After the episode was over: “just shaken. I also didn’t know what to do next! That felt like a turning-point moment for my character, weirdly so close to what we assume to be the end arc of this campaign. I texted Matt later that night and was like, that’s it, Veth’s out, I’m tapping out.”
There’s an interlude in which Sam discovers a new dream to record an episode of this show from his Peloton. Dani informs him that she will not be inviting him back.
On Astrid, Liam: “I literally don’t know what she’s doing. I know that she’s dangerous, she always was ambitious, and there’s not been a moment where Caleb let his guard down with her. He’s not trying to reestablish what they had. He cares for the both of them, for Astrid and Eodwulf. He thinks about it a lot, still. He can’t tell how much she buys into everything that she experienced and is now living as a full-grown adult. He suspects that she’s bought in and is not going to change things, because she believes in the system, as much as he’d like to peel her away. He does believe that they want what’s best for the Empire, and stopping whatever wants to come vomiting out of a hole in the frozen north is good for everyone. And they’re powerful. They’re not trustworthy, obviously. But there’s enough at stake to make it worth it. He could imagine a situation where they fight each other to the death.” He was convinced Astrid was going to stop them when they left the tower and was really shocked when she held back. Sam: “Not me! I’ve trusted Astrid since day one. She’s the greatest! I sent a letter to her, she’s very nice, I think you guys would be a nice couple. I believe every word she says.”
On having to decide on Veth deciding to go off and save the world after Luc’s death. “Like I said, I was ready to be done. And then I decided somewhere in there that that’s not very D&D. So I thought I’d leave it up to somebody else, so I asked Caduceus to decide for me, essentially. She knows she’s putting her other family in danger if she doesn’t go. It’s an impossible choice, you know?” Liam: “I love watching you grapple with it, because you’re a lovely father and love your kids.”
On the Sanatorium, Sam: “That was brutal, man. Matt lulls you into a sense of complacency. We’d forgotten that Caleb was a stone-cold killer! It had been a while since he went on a murder spree. Still got it!” Liam: “I never meant for this character to be perfect sunshine.” Brian: “You don’t say.” Liam: “He’s very not-perfect, and I think in his brain, he was going in with the impression that they needed to get in and get out as soon as possible. The place is crawling with people with magic ability, and I didn’t have faith that we wouldn’t be sussed out or something wasn’t going to blow an illusion.” Everything was about getting out of there as fast as possible.
Did the conversation with Yeza help with Veth’s decision? “First of all, every conversation with Yeza is a beautiful one. Every time she talks to Yeza, it makes her feel good. In some ways, she’s gotten to the point now where she knows Yeza’s going to be supportive, she knows he’s going to allow her to do what she wants, but maybe that’s too much. Maybe she needs to not listen to him, basically, and be like, no, you need to be selfish now, dude, you need to say ‘come home, I’m sick of you leaving’. At a certain point, being supportive can turn into being enabling.”
Cosplay of the Week: Jester in the snow! (liljerbear47, photography by kairiceleste on Instagram)
On Trent’s motivations for chasing Caleb: “I really don’t know. The simplest explanation is to just hammer down the nail that’s sticking up. It has crossed his mind that all high-level wizards are in danger of their own ambition and egos, so it’s occurred to him that Trent might have the same kind of ideas that Halas had in the past, and maybe Caleb was always meant to be another body to jump into. Maybe in some sick, disgusting, twisted way, he wants him to be his successor. I am thinking of the next campaign, without getting too deep in, trying to do something that is much more ride-along. Caleb is very, very specific, and I thought long and hard about all the different pieces on the chessboard for him. For campaign three, I’m looking forward to seeing what happens.”
Dani: “Do I need to be keeping lore on your fucking ads?”
On the cursed dagger: “It was a tricky one, because in campaign one, one of the characters was under the influence of a cursed weapon, but it interacted with him and he knew what it was and what it did. And it affected his gameplay as a character. For me, Veth didn’t know what it was, ever. I as a player knew what it was doing, but Veth didn’t know at all. So it was kind of like my dirty, dark secret for many months. I knew this thing was coming perilously close to killing me, but my character didn’t know enough to bring it up to her friends. Nobody ever asked! So I was like, well, I guess this thing’s just going to kill me one day, and it’s kind of going to be a surprise.” Liam: “Sam, you love danger and self-destruction so much, you might as well be Mollymauk.”
On the fight in Yasha’s sequence, Sam: “You gotta put a character in your storm giant creature. It was so fun! It was so great of Matt to involve us in this encounter. It would’ve been fun just to watch, because Matt would have made it amazing and Ashley was sweating bullets, which is always fun to watch.” Sam notes he felt guilty, but Liam was going for the kill. Liam: “Matt’s gotta be careful about giving me that kind of story beat. I do not fucking care, I just fucking flip, I’m like, well, I’m going to destroy you, and I have no qualms about it. It’s too much fun!”
The Beau/Yasha tower date was in part inspired by not being able to give gifts as easily this last year. “This thing that we do together is a gift, but I love finding these moments, like the book for Jester and the tower for Yasha and for Beau. I really just wanted to give both of them a little magic for a night. I wanted them to leave this-- we’re trying to be as entertaining as possible, but shit is having an effect on all of us too, and I wanted them to have an escape, a great place to escape to.”
Fan Art of the Week: an amazing group shot, plus Marion, Yeza, and Luc! (vocaz on Twitter)
On choosing Essek over Trent, Liam: “It would have been so interesting and awful and great! Essek and Astrid and Eodwulf are everything that Bren used to be attracted to that are terrible for him. Essek, hopefully he can with time find a way out of the hole that he dug himself into, but it was only two months ago where he was found out and his ambitions came crashing down around him. Long-term, I have high hopes for him, but I think it’s going to be hard.” In contrast, Astrid and Eodwulf are still “deep in the shit. It would have been really hard to navigate, but fun to play at the table. We made the right choice with what we went with. Essek’s just getting started, and Caleb doesn’t trust him entirely, because he was burned so hard not too long ago. He’s still more trustworthy than the other three. So it’s the better choice. While Caleb has all these ties on the other side, they’re really fucking dangerous. So if you have to choose, you choose Essek. But fuck that die.” Sam: “Veth, much like Sam Riegel, makes instant decisions about whether to trust someone or not and sticks to it forever. Astrid, 100% trust. Eodwulf, 100% distrust. Essek, completely distrust. I still don’t think he’s a good guy. Ikithon? Trust. 100%. Because you know where he’s coming forward, you know what he wants. I still want him dead, but I trust him.”
On Veth’s post-adventuring plans: “Veth is probably still too in it right now to think about what comes next. I, Sam Riegel, have a good idea of what I want Veth to do post-campaign.” Brian: “Maybe you shouldn’t tell us. Save it for the show!” Sam: “All she knows is she can’t do this anymore. It’s very unhealthy to be battle-wounded every other day. It’s fun for a while, but college has to end at some point, and she’s gotta go home.”
On Frumpkin changing appearance and returning to the Feywild: “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but the way it feels now for Caleb is that he feels too enmeshed in everything that has happened, and too much good has happened, and too much needs to happened, that that really narcissistic, selfish goal has the risk of harming everything else, which is more important. And that’s how he looks at it now. So he’s gearing towards letting everything from the beginning of the campaign, and where he started, go, and trying to figure out what use he’s going to be now and what he’s going to do if they’re not all dead. If Matt throws that shit down, I don’t know what I will do, I think about it a lot. But turning Frumpkin white and saying you’re free either way is him preparing to let go of everything he’s been holding on to for a really long time. He’s addicted to that idea that he can fix himself, and we’ll see if that hard choice gets presented, what he might do. But where he stands now, he doesn’t think that’s going to be reality, and he sees a way that he can be of use that he never really anticipated before, so he’s slowly shifting gears towards living with the pain he was trying to remove.”
On the last request scene and confidence heading into Aeor, Sam: “I feel like that’s a good request. I think all of us realized that if we die, that probably bodes badly for the world. I feel like all of us are at a point now as characters and as friends, that the first order of business would be to take care of everybody else’s shit, although we probably have different ideas of how to do that.” Liam: “I want the Empire to be healed, Caleb has all these memories of his parents and what they wanted for the world, and he wants that too. It’s clearly not in place now, the system needs to be broken and replaced. That could be a part of Caleb’s sunset. I don’t want Caleb to die, so maybe he can work on that after. As everything starts to shake out and we start heading towards our destiny, Caleb’s just free-floating. He’s not even going after the same thing he started for. So he’s looking at Veth’s family, and Luc specifically, and seeing that’s me, that’s a little boy in the Empire.”
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Stella x Striker
Because I’m shipping trash and a few small posts dragged me into this. Some of this is from my discussions with @sleepyhoneybunn and some is just stuff I came up with. Now I’m imaging Blitzo saying Stella needs to “get railed by some fucking imp dick, maybe then she’ll calm the fuck down.”
This ended up way longer than I expected.
I imagine Stella being very defensive and angry for a while once she realizes she starts to have feelings. She’s super conflicted and not sure what to do. She has an image to uphold. Not just because she’s royalty but because in Hell any form of weakness can paint a massive target on your back.
Striker is probably much the same, but better at hiding it. There’s no way he’s fallen for some blue blood demon royalty, especially not some uppity bird like Stella Goetia.
It doesn’t stop him from flirting though. Stella being all huffy and denying that she likes him and he just smirks, chuckling. “Sure ya don’t, darlin~”
Stella is probably an angry version of Ashley. “Oh, Stella~” “ASDFGH! That’s Lady Goetia to you, imp!”
They totally end up fucking before anything happens between them. They do it on Stella and Stolas’s bed. Turnabout is FairPlay after all. "HA! Now I've slept with an imp in our bed! How does that feel you wanker???!!"
Stolas is both confused and amused. “How was it?” Stella is pissed he’s not as angry as she wants him to be.
Striker starts realizing that he enjoys annoying Stella. Never going so far as for her to pull the funding for him to assassinate her husband, but a few flirty remarks here and there make her turn red and it’s hilarious.
Slowly but surely, less time is spent plotting to assassinate Stolas and more time is spent together. Simply talking. Striker sneaks in all the time. Stella hates that he hardly calls ahead, especially since she hates the idea of this dirty imp climbing her walls. Striker just says he needs to know how to get in and out undetected, for the job, of course.
Stella having a depressed moment in one of the other rooms, having a moment of weakness and heartbreak and she just hears that rattle. Striker snuck in (again) and immediately puts on her cold noblewoman armor. She’s not in love with Stolas, but not only is he putting the family at risk, it makes her feel like she wasn’t good enough. Like she’s being disrespected. Not that she’d ever tell Stolas that. She might tell Striker though, after too many drinks of expensive wine.
Striker isn’t that great with feelings, his own or anyone else’s for that matter. But the fact that he even tries shows a lot. He helps the lady to bed and stays until she’s asleep. He’d stay all night but he can’t risk getting caught.
Their relationship, for a long time, is a bunch of secret rendezvous filled with flirting and irritated denial, by Striker and Stella respectively. The damn cowboy gets bolder with every visit. Stella is still a massive tsundere but she hasn’t killed him yet so... They only had sex the one time at this point. Striker doesn’t push for it again, but he still enjoys flustering the prim and proper lady.
Imagine him stealing a smooch and slipping away, sneaking a rose into her hair before vanishing into the night. Stella turns bright red and screams with rage. Later on she’s standing on a balcony, holding the rose with a small smile on her face.
It’s been established that Striker can sing and play guitar. Him crooning a love song for Stella has her torn between being a tsundere and swooning like a lovestruck girl. He’d totally do the cliche playing for her while she’s on a balcony. She’s trying to look irritated but she can’t fight the smile. How long has it been since she’s been romanced?
Stella secretly trying on his hat in a ‘morning after’ situation. Striker catches her and purrs. “Ya look good with my hat on. Maybe I should let ya keep it~” he winks and Stella turns red. “As if I’d ever wear this filthy patch of fabric! ...in public.”
Stella always patches up his wounds. Under the guise of him not getting blood all over her expensive carpets. It’s not like she cares about the imp. Of course not...
Striker has to admit, sneaking around with Stolas’s wife makes him super smug. It’s just a fun dalliance, a small way to stick it to the tall bird man. It’s not like he cares about her. No fucking way...
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Damaged Goods (Johnny Depp x fem reader)
for anon @kittenlittle24 @evelynrosestuff
“You are enough just as you are”--- Meghan, Duchess of Sussex
WARNINGS: mentions of self doubt, therapy
Johnny shifted uncomfortably on the brown leather couch. His new therapist, a woman with brown skin and dark curly hair sat in a chair in front of him, legs crossed, her pen flying across a legal pad bound in black leather. If there was one thing Johnny hated, it’s opening himself up to other people, especially strangers, but here he is, basically telling his entire life story for what had to be the millionth time to his therapist Heather, the therapist you recommended to him; Johnny waited for Heather to finish jotting down notes before she continued: “So tell me about your relationship to Y/N. You’ve known her for over thirty years? So far it sounds like she’s been a constant in your life.” Johnny stopped his movement as he tried to think of the words to describe the relationship between you two. Yes, you’ve known each other for over three decades, have stuck by each other through every major life event: marriages, divorces, parenthood, and everything in between.
Your lives were so intertwined with each other it was hard to tell when one left off and the other began. He loves you, of course he does, but he didn’t know what kind of love he felt for you until very recently. While there were some moments of the more-than-friends variety, nothing ever happened, and now Johnny wished something had happened because it would mean he wouldn’t have married her. Johnny looked up into Heather’s waiting eyes. Waiting for an answer.
“Y/N’s my... friend.” At this point, Johnny knew that Heather sensed the hesitation in his answer, how it took just about thirty seconds just to come up with a response, but she just nodded, pen in hand, scribbling on the pad. “So I take it you never told her how you feel?” All he could do was shake his head no; Johnny didn’t think he could ever go through with it. He’d think you would only see him as a friend, and he didn’t think of himself to be good enough for you.
After another forty five minutes, the session was over and Heather gave him a bit of “homework” to do: talk to you about his romantic feelings for you, he wouldn’t know unless he said something. Once at home, he checked the time, deciding on the best hour to call you, and if he called now, Johnny would probably catch you on a break. Like everyone else in the world, you were learning how to adjust on how to work for home, but thankfully you answered on the third ring. Meanwhile, you were holed up in your apartment, trying to cool off from an argument you had with a coworker on Zoom about a rough draft of an article you finished late last night. Some of it touched up on the ruling of Johnny’s UK trial, not all of it, but you and this coworker could not come to an agreement.
In an effort to calm down, you decided to run a few errands. You were putting away the few groceries you picked up when your phone rang, you let it ring twice to see who was calling and picked up on the third when you saw it was Johnny; he was probably calling to tell you how his first therapy session went. “Hey you! How’d it go today?” You had recommended Heather to him yourself; you went to her in the late nineties when you became a single parent and she proved to be a great help. “It went pretty good. She gave me a bit of homework,” he replied and you could hear the air quotes around homework in his voice.
“What kind of homework?” You’d done a similar exercise when you went to Heather. She made you do journal entries which would be reviewed every session and helped you find a support system so you could connect with other people in your situation. “Actually, she wanted me to talk to you. You came up a few times.” You put away a box of your favorite cereal and a package of coffee before sitting down on the couch.
The words just started pouring out of him, you’ve been friends for over thirty years, and that he’s in love with you, and how you deserved so much better than him and can do so much better than him. He just had to get this off his chest. Johnny kept going on and on about being “damaged goods”. In that instant you started seeing red. Johnny really believed that he wasn’t good enough, started to believe every online article that tore into him.
Most of all you hated Ashley* who planted those seeds in his head in the first place and you could still hear her voice in those recordings. You felt like punching something or someone. “Johnny, listen to me. You are not damaged goods or whatever the fuck she told you. You are good enough and I’m going to keep telling you that until it sticks in your head. Do you understand me? You are wonderful, perfect, stunning, beautiful, the absolute complete opposite of what she said. You, Johnny Depp, you are enough as you are, and I love you. I always will. Now get your ass over here so I can tell you all of this to your face.” You could practically see the smile creeping on his face as he answered, “I’m on my way. And Y/N? I love you.” You smiled and answered back, “I love you too Johnny.”
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yIt's done. It took me waaaay to long to write this piece out but between June and my computer apparently deciding to kick me in the teeth this month, the fact I made it to 5 full squares completed anyways I will gladly take as a victory! And, just fyi, this WILL be the last piece for this month. I know that there is still another four days left of June, but I am sick and tired of dealing with my keyboard so this is the last fic you're gonna see from me until I get a new laptop hopefully fairly soon. (Unless I decide that I'm desperate enough to try and write things out on my tablet of course...)
Anyways, the First Date trope was specifically requested by @jesus-hotsauce-christmas-cake when I let her know that the one she did guess (road trip) was going to be a second chapter of a twoshot. Which you still might get because I'm very likely going to be sharing the short little summary blurbs I had written down for each trope so people can very easily bully me into writing them anyways if people still wanted to read them. And even though it would be like months and months late, still post them under this bingo board because I can and I had a cool idea for what I was doing with the colours and layout before life decided to say 'NO!' in a very firm voice. (Unless of course the three lovely ladies that came up with this idea in the first place say no obviously)
Rambling over though now I promise. Chocolate Covered Confessions can be read over and AO3 of course, with the full fic also under the readmore as well.
Chocolate Covered Confessions
Trope: First Date
Fandom: Until Dawn
Characters: Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley
Words: 8214
Rating: General (though reader beware there is some almost scandalous hand holding and a couple of scandalously public kisses. You have been warned...)
Authors Notes: Oh look, more chrashley fluff. Who da thunk it? Pride month? What pride month? This is just me apparently figuring out how many different ways I can get Chris and Ash to confess their feelings. Because you only read like three of them, I still have another two waiting in the wings. Plus at least three others if you count climbing chrash lol.
Something was...weird. It wasn't something that Ashley could put her finger on just yet, but something was definitely off that was for sure. The problem of course was that she didn't even know where to start looking in the first place, because for the most part her day had been extraordinarily ordinary.
She, Chris, and Josh had planned to go and see a movie Saturday morning a few days back and then hang out the rest of the day. But seeing as they were, you know, best friends that certainly wasn't the issue. Not even close. They always made plans to do stuff like that together. And yeah, okay, so maybe Josh had 'coincidentally' texted them just before the movie started to let them know that something unavoidable had come up and he wasn't going to be able to meet up with them. And when her and Chris had brought up just waiting until a later showing when he was free, he had immediately been quick to affirm that nope, he was going to be busy the whole rest of the day actually. So the two of them could continue with their original plans and they could make it up to him another time.
While certainly suspicious, that wasn't what was wrong though. Josh had been flaking out on their plans more and more, especially when it was plans that took up an entire day. Ashley Brown wasn't stupid. No siree Bob she was not! She knew exactly what Josh was trying to do by leaving her to spend the day with Chris. Alone . And she appreciated it (she really did!), but if Chris was going to make a move then he would have done it ages and ages ago, because she sure as hell wasn't going to do it! Ashley Brown wasn't stupid, but she also wasn't exactly what you would call brave either.
Not that Chris had seemed to notice what Josh was pulling though, he had just sighed and rolled his eyes with a grumbled "fucking typical", and then the two of them had entered the theater to watch the movie. And as per their usual shtick when Josh wasn't there with them, Chris paid for the tickets while she paid for the food and drinks. Or, at least, that was how it normally went. Instead, when she had decided to take a run to the bathroom while he held their spot in the long concession line, she had come back to Chris waiting for her with the pop and popcorn already in hand. After brushing off her flustered apologies, he had explained that shortly after she had left, another cashier had popped on till so the line had gone down in half the time either had expected. And it seemed like a dick move to just wait there until she came back so he had just decided to get the food instead.
She still felt a little guilty about it honestly, even after swearing that she would get both the tickets and food next time.
And, to be completely fair to Josh, he hadn't exactly been missing out on a lot by skipping out on the movie. It wasn't a horror flick (he would never even think of skipping out on that after all) so it wasn't one that he would feel the need to make the two of them watch again with him. Which was more than fine honestly, because if she was to describe the movie in a single word, well, that word would definitely have been 'dreadful'. If she was given a few more words, then she would have easily elaborated and stated that it was 'a boring, plot-hole driven mess, with only extremely over-the-top action scenes and explosions every five minutes to carry any semblance of the extremely loosely written plot'. In other words, she had lost interest in the movie barely half an hour in, and considering that Chris had started scrolling through his phone bored, she wasn't alone in this boat either.
Still, Ashley had resolved herself to sit through this over-budgeted explosion fest if only because movie tickets were horribly expensive. Not to mention the fact that Chris had shelled out money for both the movie and the food. But then he had turned to her, asked if she was as bored to tears as he was, and once he got that confirmation, asked if she wanted to just ditch the movie entirely. And she did—she really, really did—but didn't want Chris to waste the money he had spent more. And then yet another explosion...exploded on screen, and she realized that she was wasting precious hours of her life that could be used to do something more fun and less mind-numbingly boring.
Like watching paint dry. That at least had a semi-cohesive plot.
And so the two of them had walked out, continuing to share the extra buttered popcorn between them (the movie may have been awful, but the popcorn certainly wasn't) as they left the movie theater behind and wandered into the nearby mall. That wasn't the strange thing either. The mall and subsequent window shopping had absolutely been part of their day plans after, even if those had been unexpectedly pushed forward a couple of hours.
Admittedly the art show that the mall was running in one of the empty storefronts was unexpected, but it had been simply a nice surprise and a great way to kill time. So after paying the $2 entrance fee, the two of them had continued to share the popcorn as they looked at some of the paintings and sculptures that had been on display, giggling childishly at most of them. And okay, so one of the curators had been glaring at them( or rather, at their greasy, butter-covered fingers) the whole time, but that had just been a little rude and insulting. Not strange. And that had stopped almost the moment they had run out of popcorn, Ashley nudging him in the stomach with her elbow as she licked her fingers clean, and the two of them laughing under their breaths at the curator who had looked exceptionally much more at ease once Chris had crumpled the empty bag into a ball.
The rest of their day in the mall had just been spent following the rest of their day's plan, wandering from shop to shop and browsing at all the things that caught their eyes, and then taking a break after a few hours to have a late lunch in the food court. The two of them checked out another couple of stores, these ones to try and get some ideas for Josh's birthday in another month, before moving onto the small arcade on the top floor. As part of their deal and agreement since it had just been Josh and Chris (Ashey not joining the duo until five years later), Chris bought the tokens needed while she scouted out the various games for an empty console and claimed it until he could join her in another couple of minutes.
They spent the next hour in there, trying to beat each other or work together depending on the game in question. They almost never played a game twice before moving onto the next one, in hopes to both try as many games as possible before their self imposed hour ended and to see if they could beat their previous high scores or make it onto the leaderboard in only a single try. But as the hour came to a close, they both made their way over to their final game: one of the racing simulators scattered around the arcade. And as had been done for ten years now, played to determine which of them would be paying for the tokens next time they came.
And once the race ended, with Ashley winning by photo finish for the third time in a row (and celebrating her winning streak by maturely sticking out her tongue and doing an awkward little shimmy dance in the seat while Chris jokingly sulked and pouted), they had finally left the mall altogether and got into Chris's truck. There, he had surprised Ashley with the novel she had been eyeing in the bookstore (or at least, eyeing closer than all the rest she had picked up) and that he had somehow been able to buy without her noticing. And that certainly hadn't been weird, because it had been so exceptionally sweet of him, sweet enough that Ashley had so badly wished that she could thank him properly. But as mentioned before, Ashley Brown was a coward pure and simple, so she had just clutched the book to her chest and beamed at Chris in heartfelt thanks instead.
He may have said something in reply, but Ashley had already settled into the passenger seat and opened to the first page of the book, so she was already long gone. A fact that Chris had anticipated, if the light chuckle he had let out before starting the truck meant anything. And no, Ashley reading a book while Chris drove them to their usual game store across town was not the strange thing either. If Chris hadn't wanted her to read on the drive over and talk to him, then he never would have given her the book now of all times. He would have waited until he had dropped her off home, or not even bought the book in the first place. After over a half a decade of friendship, if anyone knew what would happen after giving Ashley Brown a new book, it was Chris Hartley.
The drive over is done quicker then she had expected, and even then Chris still hadn't let her know that they had arrived until she had finished her chapter. Yes he had certainly teased her about it the entire time, joking about how she would never find someone as understanding of her reading habits then him (he didn't know how right he was, that she didn't want to find anyone else), but the fact that he had just continued to let the music play in the truck and distracted himself on his phone was so unbearably sweet that she decided to let it lie.
The fact that Ashley and Chris hung around in the game shop comparing dice and looking at new books while wincing over the prices for nearly two hours wasn't what was off either. Hell, if anything the fact that they only spent a couple of hours there before leaving was weird! Her, Chris, and Josh could easily spend almost half a day in there flipping through comics and rolling dice to test them out, only leaving because a tired employee was forced to ask them to leave for making too much noise and taking up a table when they weren't playing anything, especially when there was a group that had been waiting for a table for close to an hour now.
Which brought Ashley to where she was right now, sitting at a sticky plastic table under the shade of a cheap umbrella while Chris had run off to get them some ice cream before dropping her off at home. Her new book was open in front of her, the pages crisp white even in the umbrella's shade, but her mind wasn't on the book anymore. A random line had a character mentioning that something had been feeling off all day ever since they woke up ('like everything had been moved three centimeters to the left, so while it all looked normal, nothing felt right anymore'), and Ashley had also realized that hey, wait a second, her day was also feeling just a little wonky too! But no matter how hard she thought about it, she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Today had just been a normal day hanging out with Chris after all. They went to see (and bailed) a movie, spent hours hanging out in the mall and at the game store, and now they were each going back home. Nothing unusual had happened, so why did it feel like something hugely monumental had been going on all day?
"Oi. Earth to Ash, you okay in there?"
A light flick to the center of Ashley's forehead has her blink in surprise, and she finds herself back into the present once again. Chris is standing next to her, carefully balancing the two cones in his right hand and his left ready to flick again if needed, and a bemused smile on his face.
"Oh, uh, sorry Chris. Got a little too into the book I think." She closes the book, not wanting to get melting ice cream all over its crisp white pages (and she really hasn't absorbed a single word for nearly ten minutes now), but Chris doesn't hand her the cone just yet.
"Yeah, I'm not buying that," Chris says as he snorts in disbelief. "I know your 'praise be to books' look, and that was not it. That was your 'head full, too many thoughts' look."
"Excuse me? What? I do not have a reading look! Or a thinking look for that matter!"
"Oh you do. You really, really do. Trust me. You may have been staring at that book but there was no way that you were reading, I would bet my own ice cream here on it." Chris brandishes his double chocolate cone at her, then seems to reconsider and switches to show off her own dipped soft serve that he still has yet to actually let her eat. "Actually, you know what? I would eat your dipped monstrosity if I'm wrong."
Ashley sighs, but she can't keep the smile from her face. "It's not that bad this time, oh my god. It's chocolate ice cream dipped in blueberry syrup. This is actually a normal combination for people who go out of their way to order more exciting cones then two scoops of chocolate." She leans forward and places her elbows on the table to support her head in her hands. "But I wanna see you do it anyway, so tell me exactly why you're so convinced that I wasn't reading."
Chris opens his mouth, but immediately closes it a second later, as though he didn't realize exactly what he had signed himself up for here until now. Ashley of course takes it as a sign of victory. "I knew it. So let's see this Chris, I wanna see you eat something that isn't—"
"When you read you get, like, super attentive." Chris's face is pink, and not looking at her but at the book on the table as he bashfully continues. "You become so drawn in to whatever you're reading that you ignore everything going on around you, because all of your attention is now on that book. Pretty sure a bomb could go off right next to you and you wouldn't even notice sometimes. And it's always so easy to tell what's happening in the book when you're reading too, cause your face is always so expressive. Like your eyes get big when something exciting or surprising happens, and when you're really enjoying whatever it is you're reading, you start giggling like a loon."
Ashley is too stunned and, quite frankly, her heart is beating too fast for her to even think of a proper response to that . She manages to squeak out a quiet little "oh, um" but Chris doesn't notice. Not when he's still babbling and not looking at her at all.
"But when you get deep in thought, you're not like that at all. All of your attention goes inward, and everything around you disappears cause all the important stuff is going on inside your head right now. Your mouth falls open just a little, sort of like you're gaping at all the information in front of you. And-and sometimes you'll mouth out what's going on inside your head as you try to fit the pieces of everything together so it's neat and tidy like a puzzle. And even though you have the, like, blankest stare imaginable, it's not empty at all if that makes any sense. Cause your eyes narrow and your forehead scrunches just the tiniest amount so you have a small little wrinkle form like right here—" with his unoccupied hand Chris points at the bridge of his nose right between his eyes "—and it's weirdly, insanely cute? But when you finally figure out the puzzle in your head, your face lights up like a kid on christmas morning and...and..." He lets his words trail off and stops awkwardly there, as though finally realizing exactly what he's been saying this entire time.
His face is almost beet red now, and Ashley is pretty sure hers is too. "Oh, uh, wow. I-I didn't realize you paid any attention to me when I was like that..."
Somehow his face only gets redder, and though he mumbles the words under his breath, Ashley can still make them out. "I'm always paying attention to you."
But not close enough attention it seems, she thinks sadly. If you did then you would have noticed something way more obvious than that. But she doesn't want to embarrass him anymore than he already is (then she already is), and she isn't sure what else she could possibly say that wouldn't be her blurting out that she likes him, so instead she pretends that she hadn't heard a single thing and wordlessly accepts the ice cream that he hands to her, accepting her defeat as she takes a small bite of the blueberry covered chocolate soft serve.
...The blueberry covered chocolate soft serve that he had bought for her. Or, you know, the ice cream he had paid for himself. Just like he had paid for everything today. Kind of like it was almost a, uh, date. Like he had taken her on a date.
Oh .
"Oh boy, let me guess: I was right and your ice cream really is a crime against taste buds?"
Ashley comes crashing back down to reality to see Chris, his face still a little red but the playful smile back on his face as he teased her. And yet, that only makes it worse as she can't help but feel the usual gymnastics routine the butterflies in her stomach perform at that particular smile, only they're a thousand times worse now that's she's realized exactly why today had felt so strange. And she can't help thinking how much everyone else would classify what was just a day hanging out with her best friend as a date. And how much she really, really wished it was one.
"Nope," she unfortunately squeaks out, and clears her throat so she can continue in a more normal tone of voice. "Nope, sorry to disappoint Chris, but the ice cream tastes fine." She takes another bite for proof (and to her credit she's not lying, it tastes more than fine). "Just, uh, realized something funny that's all." And the moment the words leave her mouth she realizes just how badly she's screwed everything up, because there is no way in any world that Chris Hartley is just going to let that comment lie.
"Funny? Oho, well now I'm interested. You mind sharing your glorious epiphany with the rest of the class Miss Brown?"
Taking another small taste of her ice cream, Ashley averts her gaze as she gives what she is kicking herself for is obviously an extremely forced laugh. "Did I say funny? I meant boring, just super boring actually."
"Well now I just want to hear it more."
"No, you don't. Trust me, you really, really don't."
Chris's brows furrow in concern. "Ash? You okay?"
She isn't, of course she isn't. She's now realized exactly what a date with Chris would be like, and it would be exactly like this. With them going to all the same place and doing the same things but she's allowed to hold his hand and kiss him when he does stupid sweet things like buying her the book she's been eyeing and talking about all day. She's never wanted something to be so true so badly in her life. And it's likely this thought in her mind that causes her to blurt out "A date." before she even realizes what she's said.
That only makes the confusion on Chris's face go deeper, which is appropriate considering she's sinking deeper and deeper into her chair in a futile effort to hide or escape as well. "What? Are you saying that you just remember what date it is today? Or that you had something you were supposed to do today instead? I'm not really following you right now Ash..."
This is perfect. It's the perfect excuse, she could laugh and say that she totally forgot what day it was and that she had an essay due pretty soon, or that she was supposed to babysit for a neighbour tonight. Anything really, the sky was quite literally the limit. And instead she just bit her lip and stared at the ice cream melting in her hand before weakly admitting "No, a, uh, date. As in, the romantic kind. I realized that today probably looks like a date to anyone else. Funny, huh?"
She's not sure how Chris would react to that. Maybe a startled laugh, and hand wave as he brushes her off. A scoff as he assures her that this definitely isn't a date, cause they're just friends and that's all they'll ever be. Whatever the reaction she expected, it was certainly not the fumbling for his ice cream as he nearly drops it in his shock, and how absolutely flustered he sounds as he trips over his own tongue. "W-what? I-I-I, uh—I mean, th-this obviously isn't—Who would even—? Wh-what would even give you the idea that we could um, possibly be on a date?"
Ashley shrugs weakly. "Isn't it obvious Chris?" She ignores his even more flustered babbling that no, he absolutely did not see what was so obvious as she continued on, still too nervous to look him in the eyes. "You've kind of paid for everything today."
"I wha—? I mean, no I haven't!"
"You kind of have, Chris. The theater?"
"You know I always pay for the tickets, and it would have just been really rude to make the line even longer!"
"The art show?"
"It was just a couple of toonies! And you saw the face of the worker there, they would have kicked us right out if they'd had to break a twenty. It was just easier."
"Lunch?"
"They-they'd had a special on for a two-person meal at that stall in the food court, and they wouldn't let each of us pay half..." he neglected to point out that Ashley could have easily paid for their lunch, and probably should have, but before she had been able to offer he'd already been swiping his debit card.
"The arcade?"
"Okay, that was my turn to buy the tokens, you know that. That one doesn't even count."
Ashley lifted her eyes from the ice cream to the book that sat menacingly and innocently all at one at the center of the table, it's pristine cover mocking her. "The book?"
"T-that was just a gift! You seemed really into it at the store and friends buy each other gifts all the time—"
There was no describing how soft and nervous her voice got as she asked the question that would put the final nail in the coffin. "The ice cream?"
"I, uh, it was just—um..." Chris let out a breath in a weak chuckle. "Shit, I guess I kind of did, huh?"
Ashley doesn't say anything, and neither does Chris, as the table goes silent. She's bracing herself for when Chris inevitably shoots her down and confirms that it doesn't matter. That the two of them will never be anything more then friends and that she never should have hoped for anything more and by revealing this she's ruined their friendship for good—
"Hey, uh, Ash?" He sounds so nervous that it immediately takes Ashley out of her anxiety driven thoughts of doom and gloom, but she can't do anything more than just shakily nod to let him continue. "It's, uh, probably like a really, really, really stupid question but—" he takes a nervous breath "—did you want this to be a date?"
Her head immediately shoots up as she stares at him with wide eyes, her breath caught somewhere in her throat where her heart is currently lodged. She frantically rakes her eyes over Chris's face looking for any hint that he's mocking her, or playing some cruel joke on her and her feelings, but all she sees is just nervousness all over a pale, shaking face with what she thinks ( prays ) is a glimmer of undisguised hope. But it's still too much uncertainty, and she's too scared to risk it all on a mere glimmer that she is likely only imagining because she wants it so badly to be real, so she throws the question back at him instead.
"...would you have been opposed if this was actually a date?"
"Nuh uh, I asked you first."
Ashley realizes that he's just as scared at what the answer might be as she is. She wants to tell him, has wanted to tell him for years and years and years. And maybe this is the chance she's been waiting for her whole life. The two of them sitting at a sticky plastic table under the early evening sun, long forgotten ice cream melting in their hands, and she can finally tell him that she's had such a huge crush on him since she was twelve.
"Yeah." The word is less choked out than it is released. Like it's a breath of fresh air and she feels simultaneously lighter and heavier for it. "I-I think I would have liked that. I would have liked that alot."
Chris snaps his gaze up to meet hers, and the glimmer of hope that she had seen earlier has now nearly taken over his face at the disbelieving smile that's threatening to crack his face in two. "Really? I-I mean, uh, I would have been alright with the idea too. More than alright actually."
She can feel her own smile start to nervously match his, and then the first giggle breaks out. His own ecstatic laughter quickly follows her own until the two of them are both giddily laughing at the table, but too embarrassed and bashful to even look at each other now. The giggling abruptly cuts off when Chris lets out a yelp of surprise when he realizes how much of his ice cream has melted onto his hand and Ashley joins him in trying to finish off their ice cream before it's melted entirely. But there's definitely a change in the atmosphere around them now. The contentness and laid back ease that always formed between them whenever they hung out was still there, but there is a charge that hadn't been there before either. An excited anticipation that only surges higher and higher whenever Ashley shyly glances in Chris's direction to find he's looking at her with the same disbelieving smile beaming on his face.
They never say anything more about it as they both finish off the ice cream, but Ashley knows. With that little agreement, the entire day had changed. This wasn't just them hanging out as friends anymore, this was an actual, factual date now, pure and simple. So when Chris hands her a couple of extra napkins to clean herself off, she may have let her fingers brush against his for just a moment. The resulting blush and dumbstruck smile on his face when he cautiously took his hand back so he could clean up the rest of the mess on the table was oh so worth it. And when he returned from his trip to the garbage can and held out his hand as an offer to help her up from the chair, she accepted it readily.
Once she's back on her feet, the two of them drop their eyes to stare at their still clasped hands, realizing that they could easily hold hands the entire short walk back to Chris's truck if they wanted. And she does want that—horribly in fact—but it seems it's still a little too early for either of them to make that teeny tiny but monumental jump to hand holding so they let go awkwardly and slowly, letting their fingers linger against the others before letting go completely. As though giving themselves a taste of what may yet actually come to pass in the (hopefully) very near future.
The short walk back to the truck is filled with both anticipation and dread alike, but unusually silent. Ashley knows it's because she's now a buzzing ball of nervous energy, terrified that saying anything at all will shatter this dream that's apparently coming true before her eyes, but Chris is different. He looks more like he's trying to work up the courage to say or ask something, and is spending all his energy on that alone. So when he reaches out to open up the passenger side door for her, Ashley can feel her heart pick up speed when he stops with his hand on the door handle and looks at her nervously. His mouth opens and shuts a couple of times as he tries to work up the courage to say whatever it is he wants to say, and all she can do is stare at him expectantly as she struggles to hold back an excited smile.
"Hey, Ash, ca—nevermind. It's, it's stupid. Don't worry about it." A second later, he has the door opened for her and the moment she can't see his face, she lets her smile fall crestfallen. But only for a second before a polite one replaces it as thanks when he closes the door for her and continues to his side of the truck. It's fine, she supposes as she buckles herself in, while the two of them have been hanging out all day, it's only been an actual date now for barely ten minutes. And once he drops her off home in just another few short minutes it's going to be over. The fact that she even managed to get this far is franky mind blowing, so expecting anything more from her dreams would just be extremely selfish. She can't have everything she wants all at once, no matter how long she's been waiting for it.
The drive back to her place is also quiet, filled with only the droning of the radio playing in the background. Ashley's returned back to her book, but she knows that Chris knows that she's not absorbing a single word, hasn't turned a single page even. She keeps glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he nervously taps at the steering wheel, and then tightening his grasp when it looks like he's going to say something, only to return to the nervous tapping when he inevitably backs out at the last second and returns to the frantic pep talk he's likely giving himself. The air that fills the vehicle is heavy and thick with anticipation and it's taking almost everything in Ashley to not start shaking the question out of Chris at every red light they stop at.
But, eventually, they pull up in front of her place and Chris stops the truck. There's a moment where the two of them just sit there, not wanting to leave because leaving means the end, and Ashley schools her face into a cheery smile in an effort to hide as much of the disappointment as she can when she turns to face him and bid him farewell, only to have it fall to confusion when he starts fumbling at his own seatbelt.
"Chris? What are you doing?"
He struggles further at it, frustrated that the buckle's apparently decided that now is the perfect time for it to stick once again. "Trying to get this fucking thing off."
"Yeah, I figured that much. But why are you trying to take it off, you're just gonna leave right away again anyway."
He slows his fumbling as cheeks start darkening in embarrassment. "I, uh, I just thought that was something you were supposed to do after a date, walk them to their door to stay goodnight. I mean, at least I think this is a date now? And, and only if you're okay with it! I can stay in here instead if you don't want me to. I was just hoping..."
The once forced cheery smile on her face is certainly not being forced any longer, if anything she's trying not to show how much the idea of Chris walking her to her door thrills her. "N-no!" Well, so much for trying not to show how desperately she wants that. The startled look he gives her at the unexpected outburst had her trying to control her voice into something less desperate, but considering she doesn't think she's ever going tame the frantic butterflies that have been flapping around non-stop in her stomach ever since the ice cream realization, she's probably doing a terrible job of it. "I-I mean if you want to, it's completely up to you after all..."
"Cool. Cool cool cool. Just, just give me a second." He continues to struggle with his seatbelt buckle, letting out more and more agitated curses escape the longer the thing continues to stick, and Ashley is getting the feeling that if he was able, Chris would have ripped the entire thing straight out of the seat by now. Broken safety laws and ensuing repair costs be damned. The moment he finally manages to unstick the traitorous buckle it's with a cry of victory and relief so exuberant that Ashley finds herself laughing in disbelief and awe that he had wanted to walk her the short ten or so feet to her front door that badly. Thankfully, for both of them, her seatbelt unclicks easily and much more quickly in comparison, only taking another couple of seconds to grab her bag from the footwell and joining him.
The far too short walk up to her door is over before either of them realize it. One second the two of them had been standing awkwardly and nervously by the truck as she fought the urge to reach out and grab his hand, and the next they're standing just as awkwardly and nervously (if not moreso) in front of the front door. Both of them waiting for the other to say or do something to break the tension, but cleanly aware that doing so would signal the very final end of the day, and the date. In fact, just knowing that Chris doesn't want this to end just as badly as her, is what gives her the courage to look at him with a surprisingly heartfelt and soft smile.
"Today was fun."
Chris lifts his eyes from where they had been staring at the dried leaves on the doorstep to match her smile. "Yeah. It was."
"And thanks. For the movie, and everything else." Ashley raises her hand to give the new and still shiny paperback a small wave. "And, you know, the book too. Of course."
"Yeah, it was no problem. Anytime." There's something with how he says the last bit—not really emphasizing it but making it clear all the same that he means 'anytime'—that causes her face to flush giddily as she pulls her lower lip in between her teeth in a weak effort to fight back against the ecstatic smile that forms anyway. And when she sees his eyes lower just a smidge to follow the motion and the way his shoulders stiffen in reaction, Ashley very quickly also finds she's trying (much more successfully) to hold herself back from just saying 'to hell with it' and throwing her arms around Chris so she can finally kiss him silly and until they're both breathless. But considering that she's too much of a coward to initiate something as innocent as hand holding apparently, there is absolutely no way that something as...as scandalous as kissing him on her doorstep is ever going to happen. Clearly.
And yet, she gives Chris another few seconds to try and work past that blockade in his throat, but when he still can't muster a single word, she decides to just put the both of them out of their misery. Or further into it. It's probably just the same thing really. "I guess I'll see you next time. I'll talk to you later, okay?" She turns away and puts her hand on the doorknob, and tucks the book under her arm so she can dig into her bag for keys, but is stopped when Chris's hand abruptly snakes out and wraps itself firmly around her wrist before she can reach into the bag. And it works—boy does it ever —turning back to him and the hand wrapped around her wrist as excitement just starts to bubble up inside of her.
A second later though, his brain has apparently caught up with the movement he clearly hadn't intended to make, because his face goes beet-red and he's dropped her hand so he can shove both into the pockets of his jeans. He averts his eyes so he's back to staring at the loose gravel and dried leaves under their feet.
"Oh, uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean to..."
"It's fine, Chris." Ashley tries to smile softly at him in reassurance, but it's considering she's gripping the doorknob in an almost vice-like grip in anticipation, it's likely far more eager than she would like. "What is it?"
Somehow, his face goes even redder and he blurts out the question so fast that it may as well have been one word. "CanIkissyou?!"
Immediately, Ashley's gaping at him wide-eyed and her mouth open in shock as her heart's beating so fast that she's pretty sure it's ready to burst out of her chest at any moment. "Wha—"
"I-I mean goodnight. Can I kiss you goodnight? That's what people are supposed to do on dates, right? A-a-a-and I think we agreed that this is a date now, or at least I really, really hope we did. Cause I've wanted to go on a date with you for the longest time and-and-and I didn't want Saundra or-or-or any of your neighbours to see cause I know that would just really embarrass you and me but I've been trying to ask you for the past thirty minutes now cause I've wanted to kiss you since forever but I was scared about how you would react cause I really, really, really like you Ash and I just wanna to kiss you so fucking bad right now you have no idea and—"
Ashley would like to believe that she's brave enough to throw her arms around Chris and drag him down into that searing kiss she's been dreaming about forever and ever, but she doesn't. Even with a confession that is everything she's ever wanted to hear and more. That's not to say that she doesn't want to do it—god does she want to do it—but she's so frozen in place from shock that she physically can't. So instead she just continues to gape at him as he (adorably) rambles on and on, and giggles out an elated little "okay".
His nervous rambling stops dead in its tracks, and he finally looks back up at her, nervous relief evident all over his face. "Really? I mean, are you sure? I'd understand if you didn't want to—"
" Chris ."
That immediately shifts the relief to a different kind of nervousness entirely, one of excited disbelief, but even then neither move to actually initiate this promised kiss for several seconds. Instead just staring at each other waiting for the other to be the first to move, Chris with his hands still in his jeans pockets and Ashley glued to the doorknob with her other hand frozen as it hovers over her bag. Finally, Chris is the first to slowly bend down to meet her awkwardly half turned body, and she unsteadily tries to rock herself onto the tips of her toes without losing her balance completely and falling over. And still, they both pause about an inch away from each other's faces, though whether to give the other an out if needed or just to work through the logistics of how to do this exactly without their foreheads or noses smashing into each other or Chris's glasses getting in the way is anyone's guess.
But finally, mainly due to the fact that Ashley can't lean forward anymore without falling completely on her face, Chris closes that final bit of distance and kisses her. It's a nervous brush of the lips really—a quick peck at best —but they jolt back from each other so quickly that the single action may as well have activated some hidden magnetic repel function that neither had been aware of until this moment. Both of them are staring at each other wide-eyed and breathless as the magnitude of what they had both finally managed to accomplish hit them. The kinda-sort confession and the almost hand holding meant absolutely nothing in comparison to this. Those she could have (and would most likely have) brushed off as her reading too much into innocent statements and gestures when she thought over everything that had happened today in the safety of her room later tonight. But this? This was physical proof .
Looking back, Ashley's not sure which of them moved first. One second they had been staring at each other in disbelief, stuck in the same awkward bent and leaning stature from before, and the next it's as if the magnetic attraction between them reverses its flow entirely. Chris is cupping her cheek with one hand as he kisses her in the way she always dreamed he would, his other hand slowly skating across the back of her neck so he can pull her up closer to him. The book that had once been clutched protectively under her arm was completely forgotten about—fallen to the ground with a sharp crunch as it crushed the dried leaves beneath their feet—as her arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders as she props herself as high as the tips her toes will allow her. She can still taste a hint of the chocolate from earlier on his lips, and the small part of her that isn't being blown away by all of this is wondering if he can taste the blueberry and chocolate on hers as well.
She's not sure how long the two of them stood there on her doorstep, kissing for all the world to see, but she does know that they still separate much, much too soon for her liking. Not that they fully separate of course. She may be back on the soles of her feet, but neither of them have removed themselves from the embrace itself. And with the way that Chris is lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone as he just stares at her with the same stupidly giddy grin she's got, Ashley would be perfectly fine if they could just stay standing like this forever.
"So..." she starts, and stops to take a moment to giggle when Chris bumps his nose into hers. "I think that was a perfectly acceptable first date if you ask me."
Chris doesn't let go of her when he leans back to consider her, the comically raised eyebrows in shock doing nothing to take away from the absolutely thrilled beam of his smile. " First date? Why Miss Brown, are you perhaps asking me out for a second one already?"
"I mean, if it's not too presumptuous of me, I suppose I am. I-if you're not opposed to it of course." She can't help the way her nervousness starts to bleed through with that last sentence, already panicking that she's somehow completely misread everything that's just happened and that maybe that kiss didn't mean as much to him as it did to her after all.
His next words completely derail those fears entirely. "Of course I'm not, I would love nothing more than to go on a second date with you. Followed by a third and fourth and even a fifth if you have the time for it."
"I mean, I'm a pretty busy girl but I think I can open up as many days in my schedule as it takes if I need to."
Before she knows it, the two of them are leaning in for another kiss when the sound of pot being dropped in the nearby kitchen through the open window jarringly brings them back to reality and the two of them let go of each other red faced and embarrassed. Oh no, how much of this had her mother heard? Or worse, saw? She wants to leave the doorstep (which is rapidly becoming her favourite place in the whole entire world) even less now, but the longer she takes the worse the excited interrogation from Saundra will be so she starts digging back into her bag to try and find her keys once again.
"I'll text you later, okay? And, maybe, we can talk some more about that second date...?"
The reply from Chris is flustered but eager. "Yeah, totally. I-I wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Cool. And um, the next one's one me. The date that is. It's only fair after all."
"Yeah, right. Only fair. Totally. And, uh, your book..."
She finally finds her keys from where they had sunk to the bottom of her bag, and looks up at him and the paperback book that had fallen during their, uh, intimate embrace. "Oh! Uh, right. Thanks." She could easily leave it at that, but the last few minutes have made her bold so when she reaches out to take the book back from him, Ashley curls her fingers over his and bounces onto the balls of her feet so she can give him one last kiss on his cheek—almost the corner of his mouth really—before finally stepping back with the book and keys in her hand. "I mean it. Thanks . For everything."
"Yeah. No problem. It was my pleasure."
She lets herself have one last glimpse of the stupefied grin on his face just as he turns to walk just a little unsteadily down the path back to his truck. The only sounds being the leaves crushing underfoot and the jangle of metal as she sticks her keys into the door to finally unlock it. A sound that it quickly interrupted by not only the click of the door unlocking, but a muffled shout.
Alarmed, she turns quickly expecting to see Chris having accidentally shut his coat into the door as he is sometimes known to do when the weather gets colder, but instead watches in elated shock as he continues to keep energetically flapping his arms and fist pumping into the air and screaming what she can vaguely make out as 'yesyesyesyesYESYESYES' over and over again.
Suddenly it hits her. Despite the shy confession over ice cream, and then the much more rushed and rambled one only minutes ago, and followed by the kiss(es) that are still sending her heart into rapid fire, Ashley still hadn't believed what all the evidence had been saying. Chris liked her. He really, really liked her. Possibly as much as she liked him even! This wasn't just a one-off event that would now make things awkward between them for the rest of their lives. This was happening. They'd just had a first(!!!!) date and after Chris had kissed her goodbye, she had asked him out for a second one.
And he had accepted .
Ashley fumbled with the door and the moment she was in the house, slammed the door behind her, not even bothering to lock it. She let her bag fall from her shoulder to the floor with a soft thump and slowly slid down the door until she was sitting against it with her eyes wide and breathless. She ignored the surprised clatter coming from the kitchen as Saundra immediately dropped whatever it was she had been doing in and held up the book so she could stare at the once innocuous cover in amazement.
He had bought her this book and the ice cream because he liked her and he had gladly and excitedly accepted to go out on another date with her. And even more if he had been serious about that third date and beyond line.
And not that either would ever know it, Ashley mirrored Chris at that exact moment by placing her head into her hands and screaming as the built up joy and bliss finally exploded out of her.
#pride month prompt challenge#my writing#until dawn#chris hartley#ashley brown#chrashley#take two of trying post this stupid thing!#tumblr deleted the last one >:(#but this one actually copied over the italics so that saves me a shit ton of time if im being honest
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Bronze
Alright, I had this wonderful idea come into my head about Clayton, honestly he deserves his own fic. So here is his version of events! Lots will tie together with Golden so I recommend you read that as well. But you don’t have to of course.
Explaining:
Before Letter is the present.
Letter is updating the lives of the people back home, of whoever wrote it mostly.
After Letter is memory.
The first few letters will be very awkward because writing letters and not being sure what to talk about and what not to talk about is hard and confusing. Stick with me! Yes, this prologue is just a letter.
TW/CW: Discussions of death, miliatry training, smut, cringy jokes, underage drinking, dumb choices, swearing, and more later on.
Beta: @walking-crisis
Some Characters belong to @lumosinlove
Chapter 2:
For You
Chicken Fried
It was silent besides the radio humming faintly over the walkie attached to his vest. Every breath he took in filled his lungs with dust.
Nothing felt real.
The mission was to take out a target. Clay left it at that because he hasn’t been in the military long enough to be able to consider targets… people. He felt sick anytime he put the two together but he knew this is what he signed up for. This target has taken many lives and he was watching through his scope, gun pointed at the door of the building where the target operated.
He had to put himself in the headspace where he couldn’t think about anything other than the trigger where his finger flinched whenever the door opened.
He didn’t have the signal so he didn’t shoot.
His partner sat next to him, completely relaxed tapping his thigh to the beat of the music. Every hit of his thigh almost made Clay flinch. This wasn’t his first mission where he had to take a target out, but this was the first where he didn’t see them actively doing something horrendous. The slight breeze felt like it could push him over with just the right amount of pressure. Everything was sensitive… yet he felt numb.
The door opened for the fifth time in the last hour and an old woman waddled out of the building, she smiled at a small group of children who ran past. She has aged with stress from the lines of her wrinkles. Her baggy clothes looked homemade.
She was sweet, reminding him of his own mother.
He relaxed when he saw her, knowing she couldn’t be the target. Watching her talk to a man on the street he hears the signal. His partner rolls over to lay next to him and takes out his binoculars to look at the woman and gives Clay the signal to get ready.
Two Fingers Pointed Up: Get ready.
Two Fingers Pointed Out: Shoot.
Hesitating for a moment, his partner notices and gives him a look to get his shit together. Swallowing his hesitation. He takes the safety off his gun and ready's himself for the shot.
One he would hear forever.
Dear Honey Bee,
How's my baby doing? Making friends I hope, that’s the one thing you always amaze me with. The way you make friends so easily. I could never, shy little thing like myself. I was terrible at breaking out of my shell. Your daddy always convinced me to go out though.
Which reminds me! You remember Miss Bell down the road? She is pregnant with triplets, and no one knows who the father is. How scandalous! I always thought she would end up with that farmer Micheal across the river but she never liked him much.
Your lovers stopped by last week and Little Miss… what do you call her? Sparky or something. She was absolutely glowing when we gave her a photo album of you and Leo from when you were in middle school. The hunk you managed to catch had hour long conversations with your daddy about the latest sports which I didn’t understand so I did what you always tell me to do.
Smile and Nod.
It’s odd writing letters to you, I remember writing to my family when I first moved in with your Daddy because we didn’t have the email or the phones. But I am so used to writing to you over the phone that writing on paper is odd. I hope you’re getting these letters, everyone has said you haven’t responded but I remember when Wyatt was in the military and Eloise was a mess, long before you and Leo were around. So, I’m not too worried.
I am sending you and your Team the best wishes for safety. Praying y’all all get home safe and make lots of babies. We need more kids, I want grandbabies and I made sure your lovers know that.
Now, on a more serious note. Your Daddy is still upset with you for just leaving like that. He wishes he could have convinced you to stay because he wants you safe. I want you safe too but I know this is something you need to do. From the calls I've had with Leo he is also still angry with you.
I keep trying to convince your Daddy to write but he says it hurts too much. So know that He sends his best anytime I write to you. Anytime you think of us.
We love you so much Clayton London Bruss. Now get some rest, I know you’re tired.
Love,
Your Mama
He knocks on the window of Leo’s truck, horny fuck can’t control himself. Clay doesn’t mind it much though, walking over to Ashley who hands him his phone that she was routinely checking.
“Find anything interesting?” He takes his phone and puts it in his back pocket, putting an arm around her shoulders.
“Nothing besides your terribly gay nudes.” She rolls her eyes. “Just because Leo is a faggot doesn’t mean you have to sink that low.” Clay furrows his brows and is about to say something back when Finn walks over to them, looking like he just had a great make out. Clay smiles.
“How was the truck?”
“Warm, I forgot how hot it gets in the south.” Finn pulls his shirt to get some airflow and Clay nods while Ashley scowls a little at the redhead in front of them. The music starts to play over the speakers. Logan joins them after a couple of minutes.
Clay has gotten a few… interesting vibes from Logan when Leo isn’t looking. He notices the hesitation that Leo can’t see. He sees the way Logan wants to tell Leo to back off and to pull him closer at the same time.
Leo doesn’t deserve that.
Clay likes Finn better because Finn definitely likes Leo, and Logan probably to a point where it's bad for himself. But Finn is someone who cares with all or nothing.
Leo does deserve that.
They start heading over to where Leo has parked, a Bronco in between their trucks, Clay notices Logan hesitate reaching for Finn’s hand. So, it wasn’t only a Leo thing. Lots of people think Clay is an oblivious idiot but that would be sort of wrong. He is very observant when it comes to people, maybe not so much when it comes to safety.
“CLAY!” He looks upt just in time to see Leo chuck a BudLight, yuck, at him. Obviously needing to get rid of it, he pulls out his keys and punches a whole to shotgun it.
Way to start off the night.
Lot’s of drinks later, one of his favorite songs came on over the speaker. Chicken Fried by The Zac Brown Band, it's a great song. Casually singing the lyrics he turns to Ashley who is on her phone, he shrugs not caring and runs over to Leo and jumps on his back. Hopping off after Leo lightly elbows him in the ribs, Leo turns around and joins him in singing the lyrics.
Dancing like idiots he looks at Leo’s infatuations and sees them with sappy looks on their faces but he knows Leo won’t notice them.
As the night goes on they do more stupid shit, crawling into the passenger side of his truck he let’s Ashley drive him home. The blind trust he puts in her is something he will regret later. About 20 miles from his house they see flashing red and blue lights behind the truck. Ashley pulls over and sighs annoyed, crossing her arms.
Clays anxiety is off the charts, he knows he isn’t sober and underage. If this is who he thinks it is then there is a 100% chance he will be taken down to the station. Of course, they would get pulled over when Ashley’s dad knew she would be at a bonfire with her “degenerate” boyfriend.
“Hi Daddy” Ashley smiles a little at the officer as he shines a flashlight into the cab of the truck right into Clay’s eyes.
“Sir, I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle. Hi Ash, can you drive your car home after you drop his truck off? I’m gonna book him down at the station.” Clay gets out and about falls over and neither Ashley or her dad is impressed.
Getting thrown into the back of a cop car after an aggressive handcuffing and pat down is not how he wanted to spend his night. He honestly just wanted to go to bed.
Having been arrested for no reason so many times he knows the process by heart now. So well in fact that the officers don’t even have to tell him what to do. He just does it and goes to sit in his favorite cell. Where he can throw pieces of paper at the Sheriff’s desk.
He calls his mom with his one phone call and tells her what happened. She is out of town with his dad for a conference about cattle prices in the south this year so Clay gets to spend the night in the cell. Great.
Just what he wanted.
#leo knut#clayton bruss#finn o'hara#logan tremblay#thomas walker#noelle tremblay#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#sweater weather#lumo
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not a rebound ~ yungblud
word count: 1302
request?: no
description: after a heartbreaking break up, dom’s friend colson decides to hook him up with a friend
pairing: yungblud x female!reader
warnings: swearing
masterlist
no hate towards halsey, i actually absolutely adore her, but she’s just the ex-girlfriend in this imagine so there’s some instances of dom and colson saying not very nice things about her. i also don’t know the details of their breakup so i’m making it up for the sake of the imagine.
“Come on, man, you can’t keep moping over some bitch that broke up with you. You gotta move on from her.”
Dom looked up at Colson from his position on the studio couch. "How can you say that about her when you fucked around with her, too?”
“I got my anger out through a song, and that’s what you have to do,” Colson told him. “Now get your ass up, we’re going to write something fucking amazing and blow everyone away.”
Dom put his head in his hands and sighed heavily. It was easy for Colson to say, his fling with Ashley was very short lived, and eventually they ended up being friends again. Dom and Ashley had something real, he was sure he was in love with her. Then, out of nowhere, she broke up with him, claiming their relationship just wasn’t working out and she wanted to be by herself. Not even two weeks later, she was pictured out with another guy, and it was recently confirmed that they were together.
Ever since, Dom had just felt so heartbroken and down. He didn’t even want to make any music, although all his friends, especially Colson, were trying to get into the studio with him. Finally, feeling fed up with Dom’s sadness, Colson picked him up and dragged him to the studio to try and get his mind off the breakup, which currently was not working.
When Dom didn’t move, Colson sighed. He shook his head and sat himself down, deciding to start on the song without Dom. The two sat in prolonged silence as Colson wrote some notes down, humming them out and figuring out the songs every now and then.
Just as Dom was about to stand up to leave, the door to the studio opened and an unknown girl walked in carrying a tray of paper coffee cups. Dom sat up straighter, noticing how beautiful this woman was almost immediately.
“Hey (Y/N),” Colson said. “Thanks for the coffee. I don’t know about the sad fuck over there, but I’ll definitely need it. I’m planning on at least writing enough songs for the next album.”
“Kells, you need to slow down and rest at some point,” the woman, (Y/N), told him.
“I can rest when I’m dead,” Colson said, waving off the comment. “Oh, by the way, this is Dom. Dom, this is (Y/N).”
She turned and smiled at the young Brit. “Hey! It’s nice to meet you. Kells talks about you a lot.”
Dom tried not to visibly deflate upon realizing that (Y/N) and Colson really knew one another. She was probably another of his recent string of girlfriends or hookups.
As if reading his friend’s mind, Colson stood and wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder. “(Y/N) is an old friend from Cleveland. We’ve known each other for years.”
“Colson’s like my big brother,” (Y/N) added. “Right down to the wishing I didn’t know him.”
Colson playfully shoved (Y/N), causing her to almost fall onto Dom’s lap. Although he would’ve loved to have her sat there, Dom caught her instead and placed her on the couch next to him.
“We;;, it’s nice to meet you, (Y/N),” Dom said.
“You wanna stick around, (Y/N)? Maybe you could help us write something,” Colson suggested.
(Y/N) scoffed. “I can barley speak English, let alone write a good song. I’d love to stay and watch the process, though. If I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all!” Dom responded before he could stop himself.
Colson looked between the two, a mischievous smirk on his face. “Well settle in, we’re gonna be here a while. I gotta piss, be back in a few.”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes and waved Colson off. Once he left the room, things got slightly awkward. (Y/N) leaned against the arm rest furthest away from Dom, putting a lot of space between the two. She pulled her phone out and began typing something. Dom longed to say something, but he didn’t know what. He was also too afraid that he’d let something embarrassing slip if he opened his mouth.
Suddenly, (Y/N) gasped. “I knew you looked familiar! You’re Yungblud!”
Dom raised an eyebrow. “Kells didn't tell you that?”
(Y/N) shook her head. “Nope, he always just referred to you as Dom, and he hasn’t said anything about your song or the tour or anything. I can’t believe he invited me to hang out with one of my favourite musicians without telling me!”
Dom laughed. Luckily, this was what he needed to get the conversation rolling. They started talking then, really getting to know one another. They were so deep in their conversation that neither realized that nearly 20 minutes had passed and Colson still hadn’t returned.
“So, what are you and Kells working on? Anything big?” (Y/N) asked.
Dom sighed. “He’s trying to get me to write something, but I’m just not feeling overly creative right now. I just went through a bad breakup so I don’t feel like writing another epic hit song right now.”
“Oh yeah, Kells told me that,” (Y/N) said, shuffling awkwardly. “And I’ve...seen the pictures of Halsey with Evan Peters. I’m so sorry, Dom, that sucks so bad.”
She reached over and took Dom’s hand in hers. When he turned to look at her, he found himself lost in her eyes, as cheesy as that sounded. She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear, slight blush creeping across her face.
And, of course, it was that moment that Colson decided to walk in.
“Geez, took you long enough to piss,” (Y/N) said. “What, did you get lost on your way to the bathroom?”
“Sorry,” Colson shrugged, although he sounded less than apologetic.
“Well, you were gone long enough that now I’m hungry.” (Y/N) stood. “You guys want anything?”
“Grab me a burger. No pickles, fuck that shit,” Colson responded. “Dom?”
Dom shook his head. (Y/N) shrugged and headed out the door. Colson hit Dom’s arm, causing the young Brit to actually jump. “What the fuck?”
“Go with her!” Colson insisted. “Dude, I just watched you two get super close, she totally digs you!”
“You watched us?” Dom asked.
“You didn’t actually think I went to piss for nearly half an hour did you?” Colson questioned. “I saw you two hitting it off and decided to wait and see where it was gonna go. You obviously like her, and she is totally into you. Go with her to get the food, spend more time with her!”
Dom couldn’t deny that the idea of spending more time with (Y/N) sounded great, but he shook his head at Colson’s suggestion. “I can’t. I’m just out o of a relationship, Kells, I’m not ready for anything else. And I don’t want a rebound.”
“She’s not a rebound if you really like her,” Colson told him. “I’m telling you, hang out with her, get to know her. Then when you’re ready, go out on a date with her. I’m telling you, dude, you two would be great together.”
Dom took a moment to think about what Colson said before standing and running out of the room. He caught (Y/N) just as she was reaching the door of the studio. “Hey, (Y/N), wait up!”
When she turned to look at him, Dom caught a look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. It looked like hope, or excitement.
“Want some company for your food run?” he asked her.
“Yes!” she answered excitedly, but quickly regained her composure and corrected herself. “I mean, yeah. That’d be pretty cool.”
Dom laughed, causing (Y/N) to smile, and the two made their way to (Y/N)’s car.
#yungblud#yungblud imagine#yungblud x reader#dominic harrison#dominic Harrison imagine#dominic Harrison x reader#imagine#one shot#mgk#machine gun kelly
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Mizar the Mediocre, Chapter 4 (Final)
Alcor gets a summons from a strange Mizar. Maybe there's still something to recognise, here.
Thank you so so much to @feferipeixes for beta reading this chapter!!
See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.
______________________________________________________________
Demons didn’t ‘sleep’ - not in the way humans did. When Ashley turned off the lights and shut her eyes, he watched the colours in her aura fade to a peaceful grey, felt the sharpness of coherent thoughts soften into mindless, pleasant nonsense; into dreams. Humans were so lucky, to dream.
In the absence of such luck, Dipper shut his eyes. It wasn’t really sleep, what he was doing, but there was still a certain peacefulness to it. He found himself paying attention to all the ambient sounds of this little room; the hum of the air conditioner, the creaks of the building, Ashley’s slow breathing… if he really paid attention, he could just about pick up the sounds of the traffic going on far, far below.
It was strange. He didn’t often enjoy being alone with his thoughts, but tonight just… felt right. He could feel a couple summons itching at the back of his mind, but he waved them away. Even if he didn’t have to stay with Ashley, he didn’t want this moment to be over just yet.
If this was sleep, he wanted to dream on a little longer.
…
…?
...It started out as a prick of light, fainter even than the traffic. Dipper opened his eyes, and saw that it wasn’t in this room - it was an aura, bright with fear, heading this way.
It was her aura.
Mizar.
Voidbrick spread over his skin, and he blipped to her location without a second thought. He was in an elevator; it was just him and a man in a leopard print dressing gown jabbing a button.
“M̹͕a̠̦͎̫r̢t̘̼̯̱?̣͉̘̀”
Mart glanced back, then let out a shriek and threw a beer can at him. It missed by a long way and clanged against the far wall.
“Whoa, hey, wait! It’s okay!” Dipper let the void dissipate. “It’s just me!”
He stared at Dipper for a long moment, eyes still wide as saucers. He was swaying a bit from leg to leg; finally, he blinked, and there was a thickness to his voice when he said, “Oh, Dipper. Hi, buddy!”
“Hi, are you ok?”
“Ok? Oh, I’m good! I’m sooooo good!” He chuckled. “You gave me bit’d’va, bit’d’ver scare there, I was like, screaming! Hahaha!”
“Are you drunk?”
He gave a sloppy smile, then shrugged.
“You’re drunk.”
“Only a…” He pinched his fingers together. “Y’know? S’not a crime.”
“I guess not.” The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Dipper caught Mart’s arm as he tried to exit. “This is the wrong floor.”
“It is?”
“You pressed four. We’re on fourteen.”
“Oh… hah, whoops! See, this is why you’ra buddy, you’re always looking out for me!”
Dipper made a face. “Yeah, uh… about that. What happened?”
“What?”
“I sensed a lot of panic in your aura when I, uh…” He noticed Mart’s blank face. “You were down at the casino, right?”
“Sure was!” He grinned proudly… but it quickly started to pale. The panic washed back into his aura, and he looked around the elevator. “I gotta, uh, go to Ashley, where’s Ashley?”
“What happened?”
The second the doors started opening, Mart squeezed himself through them. Dipper followed, a pit growing in his stomach.
“What happened, Ma-”
“Everything’s fine!” Mart stumbled trying to look back at him. “Haha, everything is juuust fine, it’s all good! I can handle this.”
“Handle what? I-”
“Don’t even worry. It’s this door, right?”
“Yeah, but-”
“Shhhhh.” He turned to Dipper, and smushed a finger into his chin. “Shhhh. Ashley’s, uh, sleeping, isn’t she?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t wake her up. Don’t wake her up. I got this.”
Dipper backed off a little, and watched. Mart fumbled loudly for his keys, jabbed them against the wood several times before getting it in the hole, then shoved open the door and fell flat on his face as it swung violently into the wall. Ashley sat up.
“Hello? Dad?”
“Ow…” Mart stumbled to his feet, tripped on his dressing gown again, and then flopped onto her bed. “Hey Ashley, wanna, uh, get your shoes on, we gotta-”
“What?”
“We gotta go, we gotta…” He patted the wall for a light switch. “Where’s it gone?”
Dipper turned on the lights, revealing Ashley’s bewildered expression.
“Gotta go? Dad, it’s - it’s one in the morning! What do you mean?”
“We gotta go, Ash.” He picked up her school bag. “It’s like - adventure! We’re going on an adventure, it’ll be fun! Come on!”
“I’m not - we can’t just-”
“Come on!”
Ashley opened her mouth… but then she paused. Closed it. The corners of her lips turned down as she watched Mart bring her shoes to her.
“Here you go, sweetie!”
“How much did you lose.”
Her voice was quiet, but it sent shivers down Dipper’s spine. Mart’s smile stretched.
“Uh, so let’s get our shoes on, sweetie-”
“I can’t believe you.” She clenched her fists. “You told Mom you weren’t gonna do this again. You promised her you weren’t going to do the slots this weekend.”
“Well, actually, I was playing cards-”
“I should’ve ratted you out the first fucking night!”
The room seemed to drop ten degrees. Dipper watched Mart go very, very still. After a second, he tried for a laugh.
“Sweetie, l-look, I didn’t mean to-”
“Shut the fuck up, I don’t fucking care anymore!”
She drove her feet into her shoes and stormed out of the room. He scrambled after her.
“You forgot your-”
“I don’t care!”
“Ash, I-”
“I don’t care!”
“Ashl-”
“I don’t care just leave me alone!” She slapped his hand away and covered her ears. “I hate you! Just leave me fucking alone!”
At that, Mart froze, hand poised above her shoulder. He tried for a laugh, then a smile, then drew his arm back and gave her a bizarre thumbs up. She didn’t even look at him.
At that point, Dipper set his jaw. He floated forwards, and grabbed Mart’s arm.
“Huh? Oh, Dipper, I-”
“What’s going on?”
“What?” His smile stretched. “Um, look, I can handle-”
“Why do we have to leave the hotel?”
“Uh, well, I can tell you later-”
“Mart.”
“No, no, seriously, uh…” He gulped. “I’ll tell you once we get out of the hotel, okay? Promise.”
Promise. Ashley refused to stand next to him when they piled in the elevator. He glanced her way and tried for a grin.
“Hey, uh, Ashley-”
“Are we going to your car?” She crossed her arms. “You’re drunk, you can’t even drive.”
“Oh, uh… huh. Didn’t think that through.”
“You never do, do you?”
His smile crumpled at that. Dipper quickly cut in:
“Uh, I can drive.”
“You can drive? I mean, see, he can drive!” Mart patted his back too hard. “Perfect plan! Everything’s going to be, uh, a-ok, Ash!”
The elevators dinged. The doors opened into the lobby. She immediately walked out; Mart hung behind a second, glancing both ways before hurrying towards the entrance. Dipper frowned, and followed close behind.
Through the crowds.
Past the casino.
Out of the light, and into the darkness. Mart was only a shadowy figure in the parking lot; Dipper could make him out mainly by the fear pulsing in his aura. He put a hand on his shoulder, and felt him tense.
“Where are we going?” He asked. Mart let out a laugh.
“Haha, just to the car! You need my keys-”
“No. Where are we going, Mart? It’s one in the morning.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, there’s-” He unlocked the car. “Tons of motels, uh, open this late! We’ll have a new room before you can blink, don’t you even worry!”
“But why did we have to leave this one?” Dipper watched him open a door for Ashley; she walked around to the other side. “Mart?”
For a moment, he just stood there. He didn’t say anything.
“Mart, why-”
“I don’t know! I don’t know, okay!” He snapped, then took a breath. “Sorry. That was, uh, loud of me. Haha.”
Dipper watched him chuckle a bit; it sounded empty. Mart shook his head, and then ran his hands through his hair, and then he spoke again.
“L-look, I usually don’t go crazy in the casino or anything. I’ve gotten really good at that! I have, like, a couple dollars, and if I lose it I lose it, you know?” He wrung his hands. “I went in there with your fifty dollars, and I doubled it! Played again, doubled it again! It was going amazing!”
Dipper made a face. “And then?”
“Well... you get the picture, you don’t have to make me say it.” He sighed. “Look, I know I messed up, just… help me get Ashley somewhere safe for tonight, okay? Please?”
“Do you need a deal? I could find you guys a place-”
“No no no, I can find a motel real easy. I’ll fix this, you just gotta drive.”
Dipper frowned, but that was when Mart ducked into the car. He sat down next to him, in the driver’s seat, and Mart handed him some keys.
“Take a left when you’re pulling out… no, a right. Yeah.” He turned around and grinned at Ashley. “I know a great place, don’t you even worry. They’ve got a pool!”
She didn’t say a word to that. Dipper cleared his throat, started the car, and pulled out. Next to him, Mart was tapping his fingers on the window.
“Yeah, a pool,” he repeated, and then made a face. “Hmm… I could call ahead, see if they’re open - they’ll definitely be open, but it’d be good to, uh, call!”
“Why don’t you do that, then.”
Ashley’s tone was biting. Mart gave a nervous chuckle, and patted his pockets. “Y-yeah! Where’s my, um, phone?”
“I don’t know. Did you stick it in a slot machine when you ran out of money?”
“Oh, haha, uh, good one, Ash.” He opened the glove compartment. “I didn’t do that… they don’t let you do that.”
“Oh no, what a tragedy.”
Dipper loudly cleared his throat. “Uh, which way do I turn, guys!”
“Hmm? Oh… you can go straight on the next two! Then turn right on the third one, I think.” Mart patted his pockets for the last time, then let out a sigh. “Huh, I just can’t find my phone! Ashley, could you-”
“Whatever you’re asking, the answer is no.”
Silence. They drove on, past red lights, blinding streetlights, and whatever cars were still on the road at this time. Through the mirrors, Dipper could see the towering casino receding into the distance… and Ashley’s death glare in the harsh light of her phone. He tried to keep his eyes on the road.
They turned right, into a darkened street. Mart pointed at something.
“Oh… I think that’s it! That’s the motel, but… huh.” He made a face. “Looks like the lights are off?”
“Wow. What a mystery.” Ashley rolled her eyes. “It couldn’t possibly be because it’s one in the morning and they’re closed, right?”
“Ashley-”
“I’m just saying you don’t need to act so fucking suprised about it, Dad.”
Mart didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he opened the door. “I’ll uh, just see if they’re really closed. There’s still a chance, you know!”
“I bet that’s what you say at the slots too.”
Dipper watched him jump out of the car and shuffle towards the building. He glanced back at Ashley, who was still on her phone. Almost as if she felt his eyes on her, she looked up and shot him a death glare.
“What?”
“Are you… okay?”
“I’m fine. Why do you care?” She crossed her arms. “What, am I being too mean to your special little Mizar friend?”
Outside, Mart had reached the building. He pressed his eyes up to the darkened glass, and knocked. Then knocked again. Then knocked again. Glanced back at the car, then knocked again. Ashley shook her head.
“Nobody thinks I’m serious when I say he always does this. Mom says I shouldn’t be so hard on him, but I’m sorry, this is fucking pathetic.” She watched him nearly slip and catch himself on the door. “Every weekend with him, it’s always dragging me to fucking Vegas so he can go play the slots and pretend he ‘took me somewhere real cool’. Yeah, sure, we watch TV together in the mornings while you get over your hangover. Really fucking cool.”
Mart finally stepped back from the door. He was heading back to the car; Ashley finally looked down at her phone.
“All I’m saying is, this never happens with Mom. It’s almost like she actually…”
Ashley stopped, abruptly. Her glare deepened. She swallowed hard.
“She… well, whatever. I don’t care.” She shot Dipper a furious glare. “Are you gonna stop staring at me, already?”
He turned his face to the front. Through the rear view mirror, he watched Ashley as she quickly wiped something off her face.
Then Mart opened the door. He shot Dipper a grin, and he… didn’t know how to return it.
“Seems like they’re closed.” Mart said. “It’s okay, there’s still loads of motels ‘round here! Why don’t we try… Oh, there’s one just up north! I don’t think I’m banned from that one anymore; if I am, they won’t recognise me, heh. That was way back in my wilder days, when I still had my hair.”
He chuckled at that, but no one joined in. Dipper turned the car around, and headed back to the main road.
“Alriight! This isn’t so bad!” Mart turned around in his seat. “How we holding up back there, Ash?”
Ashley didn’t reply.
“Sweetie? How we holding…” He noticed Dipper tapping his shoulder. “Huh? What’s up?”
“She, uh, might want some space right now, Mart.” He kept his eyes straight ahead. “Where do I turn?”
Silence fell as they drove around the city, from motel to motel. The clock on the dashboard was clearly a few hours off - it read seven o’clock - but Dipper watched the minutes tick up, watched Mart knock on door after door, watched Ashley slump lower and lower in her seat. She hadn’t said anything for ages now, and when Mart returned from the latest locked up motel, he pointed at something on the display.
“Oop. Gas light.” He tried for a laugh. “That’s, uh, not good.”
“We need to go to a gas station, or-”
“No, no, it’s fine, it’s…” He rifled through his pockets. “It’s… I’ll just…”
Dipper frowned. “I can buy gas.”
“No, I can fix this! We can, uh…”
Mart fell silent for a long moment. He looked through the glove compartment, then checked under his seat, then went back to the glove compartment. His aura radiated a growing desperation; Dipper sighed, glanced back at Ashley’s tired face, then-
“Oh, no, you know what? I’ve got it!” Mart flashed a grin at him. “Just turn off the engine.”
Dipper raised an eyebrow. “Okay… but what are we going to do when we get moving again?”
“Oh, we don’t need to do that. You know, motels are overrated; who even thought of ‘paying money to sleep’? That’s a scam, if you ask me.”
Dipper blinked. He glanced around the darkened parking lot, then back at Mart’s big grin. He had to be missing something, here.
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean, is we can do a little, uh, ‘urban camping’! We park here for the next few hours, get some of that sleep in, and… well, that’s what we can do! What do we say, team?”
There was silence, for a moment. Ashley looked up from her phone.
“You want us to sleep in a car?”
“Yeah, it’s not so bad!” He reached back and dug through his clothes. “Here, I got a sleeping bag just for you, sweetie!”
“But… I don’t want to sleep in your car! I thought we were going to a motel!”
“Well, uh, I mean, what’s the difference between a motel and a car anyway? Don’t worry, sweetie-”
“A motel has walls! And a bed! And it’s not out in some… sketchy parking lot!” Ashley shook her head. “Is this even legal? What if something happens?”
“Nothing’s gonna-”
“I don’t want to sleep in your stupid car, Dad! I want to sleep in an actual bed! Why can’t we sleep in an actual bed!”
Dipper nudged Mart. “Hey, I don’t think this is a good idea. Maybe we should-”
“No, no, it’s totally safe! I do it all the time, and I’m fine!” He reached an arm out to Ashley. “Look, sometimes… stuff happens, you know? You win some, you lose some. You sleep in beds, you sleep in cars. That’s life, right?” He chuckled. “That’s how it works for me, anyway.”
“But I don’t want to sleep in a car, Dad!”
“I know. I know, it’s not ideal, but it’s just one night, okay? I promise, I would never let you spend two nights in a car.”
“But I don’t want to!”
Mart’s grin was frozen on his face. “Well… I don’t know what else to say, sweetie. This is the only solution, y’know?” He tried for a smile. “That or, uh, haha, we could sleep on the streets! Would’ya like that more?”
There was silence, for a moment. Then there was one, hiccupping sob that tore through the car. Then another. Dipper’s stomach dropped. Mart blinked.
“Wait, are you crying?”
Ashley furiously shook her head and covered her face, but the tears were already coming.
“Ashley? Sweetie?” He reached out, but she jerked away from him. “No, hey, it’s okay, I wasn’t gonna make you sleep outside. It was just a joke, I promise. Sweetie?”
“No… No no no, no no no…” She was shaking her head, pressing her face into her knees. “I just want to go home, I just want to go home, I-I just want to g-go home, I…”
Mart pursed his lips. He tapped his hands on the back rest for a moment, then turned to face the front again. The silence was deafening as Dipper watched him think for a moment, pat his pockets down one more time… then turn to look at him with the last semblance of a grin he could muster up.
“Hmm,” he said, and gave another one of his obnoxious chuckles. “Maybe, uh, we could start looking for motels again?”
Dipper said nothing. He could say nothing. He was at a complete and utter loss for words.
“There’s still a few around, I think. I mean, even if they aren’t open, they might have better parking lots, hah! That’s a good idea. Yeah, that’s a good-”
Alcor couldn’t listen to another second of that voice; he clenched the steering wheel, and Mart suddenly fell silent. He blinked, tried to say something else, then looked over at Alcor with that fucking oblivious expression like he couldn’t possibly imagine he’d done anything wrong-
Breathe. Breathe. In, and out.
The steering wheel stopped smoking, and he dared to open his mouth.
“N͖͙o͇͕̣.” He said, and watched Ashley look up from the back seat. “Your daughter wants to go home. I’m taking her home. You’re done.”
Mart blinked. “What? No, wait, it’s okay-”
“Yo̫̗u̖̠͇'̜̖̖͖͝re d͓̲͚͢on̪͓͉͟e̻̳̰̰̦͓.” He let the reverb rumble through the vehicle, watched Mart pale a little and shrink back in his chair. Then, he turned to look at Ashley, and spoke softly.
“Where’s home for you?”
She just stared at him, eyes wide as saucers.
“Is it your mother’s house?”
A pause, then a quick nod.
“Okay. I can take you there. Is that what you want?”
Another nod. Ashley sniffed, then croaked out, “I-it’s, u-um, 4155 East W-Witch Way, it’s in the California Isles…”
“Okay, thank you,” Alcor said, although he didn’t need the address. He could already feel where she wanted to go; every fiber in her being was pointing to it like the X on a map, and he closed his eyes. Ignored her soul shining too brightly from the front seat - focus on Ashley, now.
In, and out. In, and out. Here, and there.
He opened his eyes to find himself parked in front of an apartment. The porchlight flicked on; it glowed warmly in the darkness, and Mart let out a soft whistle.
“Wow, uh, we’re really here. Sure beats a road trip, doesn’t it, Ash?”
Ashley jumped out of the car and sprinted towards the door. He tried for a chuckle.
“Wow, I better, uh… try and explain this to Ellie.” He rubbed his neck. “She’s not gonna be, um, super happy with me…”
Alcor just stared him down, silently. After a moment he opened the door, and hurried over to Ashley.
They knocked. Lights turned on inside the house. Mart had pressed himself into the wall, covered his face with a hand as footsteps came to the door. A woman in a nightgown opened it,and he let out the quietest “Hey” when she fixed her eyes on him.
“Martin?” She stumbled a little when Ashley latched herself around her waist. “Ashley? What’s going on? It’s two in the morning, is everything okay?”
Alcor couldn’t hear what Mart was saying; he could, however, see clear as day how the concern vanished from Ellie’s face. She hugged Ashley tighter, ushered her indoors… then stepped outside and shut the door hard.
“Martin…”
“I know. I know. I messed up.”
“Messed up? Messed up? You brought her home in tears, what the fuck is wrong with you?! I can’t…” A pause. “Have you been drinking?”
“Uh... a little?”
“You didn’t-”
“I didn’t drive, don’t worry. I’d never do that.”
“Oh, that’s a real high bar, Mart. I… I don’t even have words right now. How could you do this to Ashley?!”
“I’m sorry.” He watched her turn away. “I’m really, really sorry.”
“It’s not me you need to apologise to. She’s going to remember something like this for the rest of her life - you know that, right?”
“I… I didn’t mean to-”
“Just stop, okay?” She rubbed her eyes. “I just can’t, can’t deal with you right now… I’ll call you in the morning, alright?”
“Uhhh, okay. I mean, okay, sounds good! Thumbs up, haha!”
“You’ve got a place to stay, right-”
“Yup! Yup yup yup, don’t worry about me, I’ll get out of your hair!” He started backing away. “Bye, lo- uh, t-talk to you in the morning! Tell Ashley, uh…”
There was a pause. Ellie stood there with one hand on the doorknob, staring at him expectantly. After a moment, he only managed a thumbs up. She rolled her eyes and slammed the door in his face, leaving him standing there, utterly alone.
And finally, in that moment, Alcor saw that happy facade of his fade away. His shoulders slumped. His head hung low. He turned, and glanced back at the door one more time before heaving a slow, wistful sigh and shuffling back into his car. Alcor almost didn’t recognise the man who was sitting next to him now; he wasn’t even wearing a ghost of his old smile.
“You can…” Mart started, and made a half-hearted gesture. “You know. Just drive.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere you want.” He sank into his seat. “Doesn’t matter, I guess.”
They pulled out of the apartment complex. Turned onto a silent road. The time on Mart’s clock read seven thirty, but the pitch black skies told a different story. They stopped at a red light, and for a long moment, the hum of the engine was the only sound between them.
Mart cleared his throat. Alcor looked over at him, and he shot back the weakest of grins.
“Uh, so… just the two of us now. Heh, time to hit the town, right?”
“Are you serious?”
“No, I’m… I’m sorry, I just say things. Whatever pops into my, my dumb head, I just say it.”
The light turned green. Alcor accelerated, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.
“Like…” Mart cringed. “Like, ‘Hey Ashley, at least we aren’t literally sleeping on the streets!’ Ugh. Why did I say that? Why on Earth did I say that?”
“I don’t know. Why did you say that?”
“What?” He glanced over at Alcor. “Well… that’s what I’m saying, I don’t know! I’m just… I’m dumb sometimes, you know?”
“No you’re not. You have a better answer than that.”
Mart frowned. “Wha- what do you mean?”
“It’s not ‘just because you’re dumb’, because you’re not dumb!” Alcor snapped. “You’re better than this. I know you’re better than this. Stop trying to weasel your way out of this.”
“I’m not trying to-”
“You never apologised to Ashley.” He was driving too fast; with difficulty, he forced himself to stop and pull over. “Not once this whole night. Why didn’t you do that?”
“Whoa, hey, buddy,” Mart tried for a chuckle. “How’d we get to arguing all of a-”
“Why didn’t you apologise?”
“Well, I don’t know, I-”
“I thought you just say whatever pops into your head, right?” He bared his teeth. “Or were you not sorry? Is that it?”
“No, no! Of course I was sorry, I-” He paused for a second, at a loss for words. “I don’t know where you’re even going with this!”
“Then let me be very, very clear.” Alcor reached out with void-black claws, grabbed Mart by the front of his shirt, and dragged him in close. “You’d better start thinking through your words very carefully, because I d͏i̡d̴n’t ̸l̴i͞k̶e w͠h͞at ͠I ͜ saw tonight. You’re hurting Ashley, and you don’t want to see what I do to p̡e̪o̬̹̺p̨le̻̮ͅ w̼̥h̻o̝̙̣̖ ͎̮h̟͕̣͚͚̝u̮̜r̝t̶̺̭͔͉̮̦̠ c͡h̹͉ị̧͓̯͕̙̯l̰̙d̝̻̱̞̣̳ͅṛ̺̗̤̞e͈̯̝͔̼̙̠n̳͚͚͓.”
Mart tried to pull away. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! Look, I know, I made a huge mistake-”
“You’re not ļiś͡ţ̨͢e̕ń͝i͜n̶̨g̶ ̢to me! And you’re not listening to Ashley, either! She hates going to visit you! She doesn’t like Vegas! She thinks you don’t give a shit about her!”
“What? No, that’s not-”
“Y̺͔̭͍͙̣̯̻O͍̝̝̤̣͔U̟͉̱͔’̘̩͔̙͚Ṟ̰̞͖̬͈͎̘ͅE͓̘̣͕̲̱̙ ͙̤̭̙S̝T̙̩͉̥̠͉I͙̬̜̗͎L̤̳̟ͅͅL̞̺̬̰̩̥ ̹̱̙̩͕N̹͖̮͕̯̲͎̠O̹͉Ț̭̜̪͎͚̘͔ ̣̜̳̬̱̭̤Ḻ̳̜͇̥̮͚̯̠͜I̳̤̮͈S̶͈͎̩̲̱̝̞͎͢͡T͜҉̻̜̱̤E̵̵̥N̨̰̹͙̳͉͟͟I̩͢͝N͏͖̖̬̟̞̭̥̫̤G̺̟͉̮̬̺͕ ́͡҉̪͓̩̼̖̟̭͉T̶͖̯̺̟͕͢O̠̱̱ ͙͘H̦̮̯͈̪E̸̯̖̠͘R̪̺̜̯̦̬̝͓͝͝!̹̦͓”
Mart’s mouth clamped shut. He froze in place, and stayed rigid when Alcor shook him.
“W̖̯͚̪͕͙̖͠ͅe͏̡̗͕͕̱̱͍̳͟l̨̥̯̦͖ͅl̮̤ͅ?”
He just stared past Alcor, mouth open a little, eyes wide, stricken. Finally, he swallowed once, and, in the faintest whisper:
“She really thinks I don’t care about her?”
Alcor growled, and released his grip on Mart. The man dropped back into his seat like a ragdoll.
“But… I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I do care about her. I love her so much.”
“You have an interesting way of showing it.”
Mart swallowed again, hard. He turned to look up at Alcor. “What am I supposed to do?”
“You know.”
“I don’t. Please, I-I don’t know how to fix this-”
“Yes, you do.” Alcor turned away. “I told you. I know you’re better than this. You’ve always been better at this than me.”
He stared forwards, out into the starless night. He could hear Mart sit up in his chair, could hear him hesitate, then lean forwards.
“Uh… buddy?” A pause. “C-can I still call you buddy, or-”
“What do you want?”
��Well, um, look, I’m no demon expert or anything, but… you guys usually don’t just hang around a guy for a whole day, right?”
“It’s not common.”
“So… why’d you do it?”
“I think you know why.”
Alcor couldn’t see Mart’s face, but he could see the shift in his aura as the answer came to mind. After a moment, he spoke.
“...Because of me,” he said. “You… know me somehow, right?”
Alcor’s lips curved upwards. “I told you. You’re not dumb.”
“Have we met before?”
“Oh, we’ve met before.” He sat back in the chair. “We’ve met thousands of times across thousands of ages. We’ve met in every corner of the globe, and when humanity leaves this Earth, we’ll meet on every planet in every star system in every galaxy of our universe.” He looked over, and met those shining eyes. “We have met before, Mizar.”
Alcor watched a certain shiver pass through him. Almost unconsciously, a hand reached up to cover his heart.
“Mizar?”
“That’s you.” He paused. “Or, well, that’s not quite true. It’s your soul.”
“So… you know my soul?”
“Your soul, and so many of the faces you’ve worn.” Alcor chuckled. “So many wonderful, wildly different faces… but, you know, you’re always someone special. The first face I knew, she was my sister. Mabel Pines. You’ve probably heard of her.”
“Huh… does ring a bell. She was in my history textbooks or something, way back when.”
“She was wonderful.” He felt a lump building in his throat. “And when she was… gone, there was Carmen. There was Belle. There was Mira, Maddie, Lane, Noie… B-Bentley, Fang, there was…”
He couldn’t say any more. Couldn’t bear to. He had to breathe, in, and out, until words came again.
“There were so many. So many, I couldn’t name them all. And they were all such… amazing people… and they’re gone now. They’re gone forever.”
That hung in the air for a moment, hung between them. Mart gave a grim smile.
“And then there’s me, right.”
“...Yes. And then, there’s you.” Alcor felt his hands tightening on the steering wheel again, and he sighed. “Look, I don’t… I don’t think you’re an awful person. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I thought you really didn’t care, but… I gave you a lot of leeway because of your soul. I overlooked things I shouldn’t. And that’s not your fault, but… I’m not going to go out of my way for you like this again.” He made a face. “I gave you a lot of freebies today. Doesn’t feel good when you’re a demon.”
“Oh… sorry, buddy.”
“It’s fine. I’m just letting you know, I can’t keep bailing you out of situations like that. Not without asking for a lot in return.”
“Okay.”
“And Mart?”
“Yeah?”
Alcor turned, and fixed him with a glare. “If I see you’ve gotten Ashley into trouble again, your soul isn’t going to save you. Is that clear?”
He gulped. “Yeah. Yeah, no, that’s… totally fair.”
“Good.”
“What do you, uh, do to people who… Uh, nevermind. Yeah, nevermind.” He chuckled nervously, and rubbed his neck. “So, um… good talk!”
“I hope so. What are you going to do now?”
“Me? I’m probably gonna… catch some sleep, I guess. Try and find my phone so I can call Ellie, and...” He made a face. “Figure out what I’m gonna say to her. And Ashley, too. Yeah.”
“Are you sleeping here?”
“Yeah… uh, I only got one sleeping bag, but you can take that if you want! I’ll fall asleep anywhere, I don’t need it.”
“No.” Dipper frowned at him. “You know what, one second, let me get us into a motel room or something.”
“I thought they were all closed?”
“Yeah, but I can get us in.” Dipper gave a slight grin. “Being a demon has its perks.”
Mart made a face. “But wait, didn’t you just say that demon stuff needs deals and all that?”
“Then this is the last freebie.” He raised an eyebrow at Mart’s expression. “What, you think I’m gonna bend the rules to pay off a bet I didn’t make but not to make sure you can sleep in a bed? Nobody deserves a night on the streets, man.”
“No, no, I don’t want you hurting yourself over me-”
“It’s not hurting, it’s hard to explain. It’s fine. I’ll make it back in summons, don’t worry.”
Mart didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Yeah… look, I’ll tell you what.” Dipper stuck out his hand. “You promise me you’ll start listening to Ashley, and I’ll find you a room for tonight.”
His hand gently pulsed with blue flame, and Mart whistled. “Oh, yeah, I promise… that’s a hell of a magic trick, buddy.”
“You’re supposed to shake.”
“Won’t it hurt me? I tell you, I tried to high five a dude who’s hand was on fire once, it was not a good time.”
“Wh… when did you…?”
“One word. High school. Wait, is that two words?”
Dipper chuckled, and let the flames die down. “You can shake, Mart. It’s safe.”
“Alright.” He reached out and clasped Dipper’s hand. His skin felt rough, but warm, and there was a genuine smile on his face. “Thanks, buddy. I mean it.”
“I hope you do.”
______________________________________________________________
There was a pattern over the week as to who summoned Dipper. Monday to Thursday, he got a fair number of demonologists, summoning him in highly secure labs for their research. Friday seemed to be a popular time for cultist meetings, both for harmless ones… and those less so. Saturday, he spent a lot of time lecturing bored kids, and Sunday was the Dreamer’s Star.
Ugh, the Dreamer’s Star. Don’t get him wrong, he liked the offerings, and he definitely preferred them to most other cults… but had their ceremonies always been this excruciatingly wordy? Right now, he was standing behind some dude in a fancy robe addressing a whole room - and speaking like he was, too.
“O, mighty Dreambender!” The man called out, right into Dipper’s eardrums. “We humbly bring thee our finest offerings so that we may be blessed! Let us list the offerings, so that our devotion shall be proven…”
No, don’t list them out- ugh. He tried his best to not look bored as the man brought out a literal list of items. See, the Circle always complained that he didn’t show up enough for meetings, but how many of these was he realistically supposed to attend?
“And now we shall name those that contributed such offerings, so that they shall be recognised before our Lord-”
Oh stars, someone get him out of this already. He started checking through all the other calls he was getting today; there were a ton of other Circle gatherings, great, and- oh!
“...we name Gregory Smitt, and we name-”
“Hey!” Dipper quickly cut in, then cleared his throat. “I have, ahem, pressing duties to attend to. You must excuse me.”
“Oh.” The man looked disappointed. “What duties are these, my Lord?”
“They’re… important… duties. Yeah.” He looked out into the crowd, and gave an awkward smile. “Um, thanks! For all the stuff! Bye!”
Then he quickly blipped himself away, back to somewhere a little more familiar. He arrived in a tiny room with a mattress on the floor and an open box of clothes next to it, and looked around for a second before-
“I GOT THE JOB!”
“Y-” Dipper barely opened his mouth before Mart tackled him to the floor. “Whoa!”
“I got the job! I can’t believe it!” Mart squeezed him tight; he was wearing a suit, and the tie flopped in his face. “I have to tell you ALL about it, buddy, it was amazing!”
“That’s great, Mart! I’m really happy for you! Can, uh, you let me up, first?”
“Hmm? Oh, sure!” He let go of Alcor, then tried to get to his feet. “Can you give me a hand? My knee doesn’t like it when I do this.”
Dipper reached out a hand, and pulled him up. He grinned at Mart. “Now tell me about the interview.”
“Yeah! We talked for a little and then she just offered me the job on the spot! That’s never happened to me before!” He chuckled. “She did say it was because she really needed someone for tomorrow, and I was the only guy who showed up with a shirt on… but hey, you were right! The suit really does make a difference!”
“I’m really glad, Mart. It looks good on you.”
“Yeah, and I’m taking it off now.” He unclipped his tie. “This whole get-up’s way too hot and itchy; how do you do it every day, dude?”
“Eh, it’s less itchy when they’re just constructions of your mind.” He watched Mart take off his shirt, and floated towards the door. “Anyway, that’s awesome! I’m, uh, gonna go to the living room.”
“Oh, yeah, go put something on! I’ll be out in one second!”
Dipper phased through the wall to the living room. It was also tiny; the room was split between a narrow tiled kitchen and a patch of carpet with a TV, a box doubling as a coffee table and a lumpy grey couch Mart had picked up from a street corner (“It says ‘no bedbugs’, Dipper, it’s perfectly fine!”)
He gave a halfhearted glance around the place for a remote, then shrugged and turned it on with his mind. Perching on the armrest of the suspicious couch, he flipped through programs until he found the pre-Transcendence channel playing… aww, an old black-and-white movie. That was the problem with ‘pre-Transcendence’ stuff; he was only around for twelve years of it, so there was a lot of stuff from way before he was born being lumped in with his Ducktective reruns.
Dipper rolled his eyes, and sank back into the couch. It wasn’t much better, he thought, when they were playing the stuff he did know. Maybe it was always going to be a little surreal to see his favourite movies being played on an ancient history channel.
A phone rang from Mart’s bedroom. He glanced that way, and then looked down. There was a pile of cards and a half-melted candle on top of the box. He picked the cards up, tried to shuffle them into a neat stack, and the candle rolled off. The box opened a little, and he found himself looking inside.
Much like all the other boxes Mart had, it seemed there were just a lot of knick-knacks. Dipper honestly didn’t know how he fit half this stuff in his car, or why he’d kept it - who packs up a pile of empty soda cans? He couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked them over… oh, they’re, like, the special holiday cans that get released on Christmas. That sort of made sense.
There were also a couple pictures here. There was one that had been smushed into the side of the box; he gently unfolded the creases, and saw it was of a younger woman sitting on a windmill at a mini golf course. She was laughing, genuinely laughing, and Dipper felt a little twinge in his chest.
There was another photo, one with a cheap paper frame around it bearing the name and brand of a restaurant. The same woman was there - Ellie, most likely - along with a much younger Mart. He was clean-shaven, wearing a t-shirt with some sort of joke on it, sitting beside Ellie with one arm around her. She was giving him bunny ears.
These were sweet photos… and Dipper felt a little weird looking through them. A few other photos had been squashed by other stuff in the box, so he took the time to pick those out, unfold them, put them neatly back in the pile, and then closed the box back up.
He looked back at the bedroom again, and then picked up the playing cards. He split them in two, shuffled them together, split them in two, shuffled them together… waited for Mart to come out.
Eventually, he did. The door swung open, and Mart came out in his leopard print dressing gown, phone up to his ear.
“Yeah, I- Yeah, I start Monday.” He shot Dipper a grin as he walked up to the couch. “Yes, this Monday. I did check… Yeah, haha, that’s why I remembered to check! Not making that mistake again!”
There was a pause, and Dipper could hear someone talking on the other end. Mart mouthed something to him; he had no idea what it was, but he gave a thumbs up and Mart winked back.
“Yeah, I totally get that. No, yeah, I’ve kinda worked a payment plan for it, so as long as I stick to that I don’t think I’ll need… no, I have worked out a payment plan, sorry. That ‘kinda’ just kinda slips in there, heh.”
Dipper looked down at the cards. He shuffled them together, and then split them in two.
“No, I’ll definitely, I’ll definitely make sure I stick to it. Yeah. Thanks, I… really appreciate it.” Mart fiddled with the collar of his dressing gown. “So, uh, how’s everything been? How’s Ashley?”
A pause. His smile stretched.
“Oh, that’s cool! Did you see her up there? Aww, that’s great, I hope she had fun! That’s great, yeah.” He nodded, and sighed. “Yeah, I get that. I do. And... no pressure to her, okay? She can take as much time as she needs. I’ll be here. I’ll be… here.”
His shoulders drooped, but he gave a chuckle. He nodded.
“Yeah. Yeah, thanks for calling, I really do appreciate it. You have a good day, Ellie. I will.” He hesitated. “And, uh, tell Ashley I love her? If you get the chance… Yeah. Tell her I love her, and I’m still really, really sorry about what I did last month. Yeah. I know. Of course… Alright, I’ll let you go now. Have a nice day - again, heh. Bye.”
The phone clicked off, and Dipper watched Mart just stand there for a moment, facing the wall, still holding it to his ear. Slowly, he lowered his arm. Gave a long, deep sigh. Stared at the TV, then traced his eyes back over to Dipper, and smiled.
“Whatcha, whatcha watching, buddy?”
Dipper shrugged. “Nothing much. You can change it if you like.”
“Alright!” He flopped himself down on the couch and started patting around for the remote. “Sorry I, uh, left you for a sec! I just got off the phone with Ellie!”
“I heard. How did that go?”
“Pretty good, pretty good!” He lifted up a cushion. “We just talked for a little while. Told her about my job, and she was real happy for me about that!”
“That’s good!”
“Wanted to, heh, make sure I knew what day I was starting. She’s good like that, always makes sure I know what’s going on… always made sure I knew.” He stuck his hand between the seats, and grinned as he drew out a remote. “Oh, hey, here you are! A bit sticky… huh. Well, I’m sure it’s fine.”
He started flipping through channels. Dipper sat back a little in the air.
“And then, uh,” Mart continued. “Ashley played in a concert on Friday!”
“She plays an instrument?”
“Yeah, she’s played the clarinet since fifth grade! She’s so good at it.”
“That’s awesome!”
“It is. I love going to see her up there, I bet she had fun.” He looked down. His smile stayed frozen on his face. “I bet she had fun.”
It was quiet, then. The TV chattered away, staving off total silence, but something still hung in the air between them. He sighed, and set the remote down.
“Wish I could’ve been there.”
Dipper tried for a smile. “There’ll be other concerts?”
“Yeah… how many of them is she gonna want me at, though? She doesn’t even want to talk to me, and I keep telling Ellie I’m sorry, and I am sorry, but…” He gave a shrug. “I dunno if she believes me. Feels like… she thinks I’m just saying it so she’ll stop being mad at me, you know?”
“Yeah…” Dipper struggled to find something to say. “Well… it’s only been a month, right? Sometimes it takes a bit.”
“I guess. I just… I dunno. You’re right. It just takes time, I guess.”
They sat there for another moment, still, quiet, thinking, reflecting. Eventually, Mart cleared his throat, and shot Dipper something like a smile.
“Welp… that’s something to bring to the shrink, right?” He chuckled. “I’ll stop moping at you, buddy. Let’s see... how ‘bout we go do something else? Something fun!”
“Yeah? What have you got in mind?”
“I got just the place.” Mart grinned, and the starry shine in his eye was as bright as it was familiar. “You up for a round of mini golf?”
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Feliz Navidad
Pairing: (Mayans MC) Angel Reyes x Female Reader/You
Rating: Explicit, NSFW
Warnings: Language, oral sex (female receiving), inappropriate use of a candy cane, a little hand job action, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluid, Angel being adorable hot as fuck, Angel’s ringed fingers (bc that shit is what keeps me up at night)
Word Count: 3.8K
Summary: There’s a Christmas party at the Mayan’s clubhouse and Angel has a sudden bout of inspiration that includes a candy cane, EZ’s trailer, and his very persuasive nature your extreme horniness.
AN: This is my contribution to @ne-gans follower celebration. Congrats on the shit ton of followers! And if you aren’t following her, please do! She’s an amazing writer of all things smut. My chosen prompt was “Who knew candy canes could be so erotic?” for Angel Reyes from Mayans MC and it was way too much fun to write. Hopes this puts you guys in the Christmas spirit, and if not, at least in the Angel Reyes spirit because that man deserves. Please read, enjoy, and share with your friends!
The amazing aesthetic was done by my fellow Angel thirst bitch and homegirl Ashley @negansdirtygirl22.
*Masterlist in bio.
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Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
Próspero año y Felicidad
You hummed along to the music flowing through the speakers as you sipped from the eggnog clutched in your hand. The Mayan clubhouse was alive with holiday cheer and activity, a sight rarely witnessed within the walls. It had been a joint effort between you, the other wives, girlfriends, and of course Letty and Chucky, to bring some much needed spirit to the club. The last few months had been hard on everyone and you and the other women wanted to give the men something special to put their heavy hearts and minds at ease.
That’s where the Christmas party came into play. There had been plenty of parties around the holidays in the past, but nothing actually dedicated to one of your favorite times of year. This celebration was all about the horrible Christmas music, the way too boozy eggnog, the tamales that one of Creeper’s tias made, and the much needed sense of familia that had been lacking as of late. And it seemed to be paying off.
The space was decorated, all thanks to Letty and Chucky, who chose some of the most heinous looking plastic garland you’d ever seen. But it was the thought that counted. And everyone was having a good time. People were eating, drinking, laughing, and even playing Loteria in a corner. That’s where your eyes settled as they landed on your boyfriend trying to cheat in the game of bingo. His younger brother sat to his right, though he’d been banned from playing because of his unique memorization abilities.
You’d made a move to join him when Chucky appeared in front of you, mouth pulled into a wide grin. The man was obviously having a great time, if the red lipstick caked on his cheek was anything to go by.
“Señorita…” He greeted as he held up a candy cane, one of the larger ones that he’d purchased for the tree set up in the corner. “Para ti.” He held the treat out to you and you laughed, taking it from him.
“I accept that.”
If possible, his smile got even wider as he bounced off. You shook your head and smiled, truly taken by the oddity that was Chucky. Never a dull moment with the man.
You returned on your quest to finally join Angel. You two had rode together in your car, but had hardly spent time with each other once you’d hit the door. You’d been making sure everything was in place, helping El Presidente’s old lady as much as you could. Now you could finally relax and take in all the hard work; the outcome making you feel warm and impossibly cheerful.
“There she is.” Angel announced to the table, gesturing to your approaching figure.
You maneuvered so that you could sit on his lap, your legs pulled to one side and tightly together to keep your red dress in place. His arms welcomed you in, immediately attaching to you like a magnet. His calloused hands landed on your hip and bare thighs, unconsciously caressing the skin there. The motion made a rapid zap of heat shoot up your thighs.
“Baby, tell the guys that I don’t cheat at Lotería.” His voice sounded slightly petulant, like he’d been accused of the crime and teased mercilessly for it.
You sat your cup down and let your fingers dance in his hair, his dark eyes gazing up at you with boyish charm and excitement. It felt good to see him so carefree. It made all the pain worth it. All the late nights and brushes with death; the time you spent worrying that he’d never make it home to you. That all got erased in these moments.
“He doesn’t cheat at Lotería.” You dutifully repeated for him to the table of men. He nodded in satisfaction, feeling as if he’d won. “But he does at Uno.”
A loud series of “Ohhhhhs” and deep chuckles filled the space as they reacted to your statement. Angel looked at you in faux betrayal, his eyes crinkling at the sides from barely subdued laughter.
“Really, querida? Just like that. Telling my whole business.” His ringed fingers landed heavy on your lap, edging the hem of your dress up slightly.
You giggled and burrowed yourself into his neck. “Sorry, baby.” You left a chaste kiss on his neck, knowing your comment would be forgiven with the gesture.
“Hmmm,” He hummed, eyes squinted up at you in scrutiny. “You can make it up to me.” He raised his brows in question, lip pulled into a devilishly handsome smirk.
You let out a girlish giggle, unable to help yourself when he flirted with you. You vaguely noticed that the rest of the table had gone back to their conversations and the game, no longer paying attention to the wrapped up couple.
“Oh, I will…” You teased with a bite to your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement, hands gripping your bare flesh just a little bit tighter in response. He ran his tongue over his own bearded lips and your breath caught slightly, feeling the alcohol and your sudden arousal start to take effect.
“How about right now?” He whispered into your ear, nibbling at the appendage. You closed your eyes for an instant, momentarily lost in the sensation before you remembered where you were. Angel had that kind of influence over you, and you hoped it never waned.
“And where would we go?” You responded breathlessly, only slightly embarrassed by your strong reaction to his minimal ministrations.
He smirked up at you, somewhat surprised by your willingness to go along with his mischief. Angel loved pushing your sexual limitations. He loved testing your boundaries and exploring all facets of pleasure. You felt comfortable enough with him that you found yourself ready to follow him to the ends of the Earth. Not to mention, the man owned your heart, fully and without condition. You were his in a way you’d never belonged to any man before. And you could confidently say the same thing about him. Angel was devoted to you. And he liked to show you just how much on multiple occasions.
“I got an idea.” He looked around you and to the room, inspecting your surroundings. He leaned up again and whispered into your ear, the grittiness in his voice making you shiver. “Let’s go outside.”
You nodded and wordlessly got up with Angel’s help, letting him lead you to the door and outside. No one called out for you. No one even seemed to notice your absence. Excitement pulsed through your blood as he gripped your hand and pulled you with him across the dirt lot. You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t stop him. You let him take control.
He opened the door of EZ’s trailer with a key inside of his leather. He helped you up the rickety steps, your black heeled boots not making the feat easy. He shut the door once you’d made it inside, the space cramped and narrow. EZ hadn’t been staying in the trailer lately so the place was a little dusty. You felt a small sweep of guilt at invading the space for your own personal debauchery. But seeing Angel eye-fucking you like he was right now made those feelings dissipate right out of the trailer.
“Have I told you how fucking hot you look tonight?” He asked from his spot near the small dining table. His intense study of you and his words made you instantly wet, your panties barely catching the residual.
“Yeah, you mentioned something about wanting to bend me over the counter before we left the house earlier. Does that count?” You replied with your own wicked smile.
He chuckled and stepped forward, hand smoothing down his whiskers. You’d started to see hints of grey within the strands and you’d let Angel know how attractive you found that as soon you’d spotted them. He was more than appreciative of your “compliments”.
“What’s this?” He pulled at your left hand, just now seeing the candy cane still clutched in your palm. You barely remembered you’d had it, too concerned with letting Angel get you alone.
“Chucky gave it to me.”
He took the red and white candy and pulled at the wrapper, removing it far easier than you would’ve been able to. He eyed the item closely and seemed to get an idea because his eyes bled into yours, the sizzling tension now undeniably boiling over.
He held out the long end towards you, near you mouth. You didn’t need to be told what to do. You wrapped your lips around the candy, sucking at the flavor. You stared up at Angel through your made-up lashes as you gently tongued the stick, the innuendo more than obvious. His breathing hitched when you took more of the candy down your throat, your mouth nearly meeting his fingers clutching the other end.
“Fuck…” He cursed once you finally released it from your clutches. He let the end dance over your lips, plucking your bottom one down and watching it fall back into place.
He pulled you to him with his other hand and captured your mouth. His tongue immediately sought entrance and you obliged. He tangled himself up with you, tasting the peppermint that now seeped from your mouth. Your hands gripped his kutte, desperate to feel his body pressed against yours.
You both pulled away, chests heaving. You could feel the heat around your mouth, the scratches of his beard burning your flesh. There were remnants of your lipstick smeared on his bearded lips, the sight fueling a possessive streak in you. He brought the candy cane up to his own mouth and sucked, intertwining the two of you.
“Come on, baby…” He grasped your hand and directed you to one of the cushioned benches. “Sit back.”
You had a weakness for Angel’s commanding nature in the bedroom. The way he would demand things of you while never expecting a response made you feverish. He knew he couldn’t get away with that treatment outside of the bedroom, but he more than catered to that desire when necessary. And he did it verywell.
You followed his lead as he gently sat you back against the cushion, kneeling in front of you. Your heartbeat accelerated, centering right between your thighs. His hands widened your legs and pushed your dress up, propping your heeled boots on his shoulders. He stared up at you with such intensity that you had to squirm against the seat to alleviate the ache. He caught the action and snickered.
“Relax, dulce. I got you.”
You nodded and bit your lip when his hands shifted your dress over your hips to expose the festive red lace panties you were wearing. You were exposed to him and you relished the unbridled lust that oozed from his pores and out onto you.
“Goddamn, you look good.” He swept a finger over your clothed slit, causing you to jerk. The material was damp, your body more than ready for his touch. “Feel good too.” He mumbled, finger still tracing your swollen lips.
You let out a whimper, his teasing having a more powerful effect than usual. You rocked your hips against his touch, encouraging him to explore you further. Angel was an impatient man, and while he was a master at teasing, he ran out of patience just as fast. He pulled the lace down your thighs and off, flinging the fabric somewhere behind him. You tugged at his thick locks and arched your back when his mouth finally connected with your opening. His hands split your thighs further apart, making room for his eager mouth. You threw your head back and moaned, feeling Angel lick up your walls. There was a slight cooling sensation and you realized it was the peppermint that lingered on his lips. The result felt amazing against your heated skin.
“Jesus, Angel…” You moaned when his lips attached to your clit. His face was buried in you, your slick coating him, and yet you felt as if he wasn’t close enough.
He pulled away with a smirk and suddenly brought the candy cane into your line of vision. You struggled to center back into reality and not on the neediness of your hunger.
“You trust me, baby?”
“Of course.” You answered without hesitation.
He nodded and moved back down to your spread thighs. “Lemme know if you want me to stop.”
You were about to chastise him for making you wait when you felt the pressure of something hard at your entrance. It was small, but firm and it slid into you easily. A low moan fell from your lips as it shallowly entered you and then traveled back out and up to your clit. Angel blew on your skin and the realization hit you. He was fucking you with the candy cane. The minty tingle left in its wake made you scratch at his scalp, unsure if you wanted more or not. The combination of dueling hot and cold sensations had goosebumps breaking out onto your flesh.
“You good?” He asked with a gentle lick to your weeping pussy.
You nodded, unable to find your voice as he continued to assault your clit with the candy.
“Want me to stop?”
“No.”
His mouth launched into a frenzied feeding as he opened you up to him. His tongue dived in and out of you, making your thighs clench around his head. That rush of lava-like heat started to consume your entire body as he worked you over, never stopping. His goal was clear as he sped up and you cried out when his mouth became too much. You stiffened and shook with each shock as you sailed through feelings of love, adoration, and immense pleasure.
“Shit, mi amor…” Angel rasped with amazement as he stared down at your now lax body. He didn’t let you rest as he pulled you into an upright position, locking your lips against his. You tasted yourself mixed with the sweetness of the candy and you found yourself wanting more.
His hands gripped your thighs and lifted you up, switching your positions. He now occupied your spot on the bench while you sat astride his lap, your needy pussy seeking out is hardened cock through his jeans. You pushed down on him, taking pleasure in the way he growled into your mouth. He began lifting your dress over your head and you aided him in removing it. His mouth immediately sought out your pebbled nipples through the red lace of your bra. You pulled him to you, your hands back to tugging at his hair.
He unclasped your bra and pulled it down and off your shoulders. You mirrored his actions by pulling off his kutte and unbuttoning his flannel. His tanned skin beckoned you, the black ink only fueling your want. You ran your nails down his chest, not hard enough to hurt but enough to let him know just how much you needed him in that moment.
“Take what you want, baby.” He taunted, directing your hands to his belt buckle.
You didn’t waste any time, pulling the buckle and button from its confines. He shifted his hips, helping you release his aching cock. At the sight of him you could feel your walls literally pulse, the phantom sensation of him buried inside you making you clamp down on nothing. You licked your hand, coating your palm with saliva. Cum was already leaking from his tip and you used it to pump his rigid cock.
“Fuck,” He cursed with his head thrown back. You took the opportunity to leave bruising kisses on his neck, suckling at the skin and making your way up to his ear lobe. You gently pulled at the appendage with your teeth, feeling his hips buck up into yours.
“Ride me.”
You followed his breathless request and slowly slipped him inside you. Your walls greedily accepted him, seating him inside of you perfectly. You both moaned in unison once you’d taken him in fully, his pulse synchronizing with yours. You sat in his lap, unmoving and soaking up the feel of him. He craned his mouth up, seeking yours. You met him in a slower, more tender kiss than the ones previous. He palmed your ass, rolling your hips against his. You took the hint and began moving, letting him slide in and out of you at a leisurely pace.
“Fuck, keep going.” He panted, fingertips gripping your hips and ass tightly. His mouth moved across your chest and collarbone, his hips attempting to meet yours.
The whine of the seat bench beneath you began to fill the space as you moved faster, chasing the fireworks that were sure to come. The trailer began to rock as you repeatedly fucked yourself on Angel’s cock. The girth of him burned, but the orgasmic bliss that came with it soon overpowered.
“Angel, right there…shit.” You rubbed at your clit as he fucked up into you, white lights starting to dance behind your lids, though that could’ve been the twinkling lights decorating the clubhouse that reflected in through the curtains.
“You gonna cum?” He nipped at your chin, his pace not letting up.
“Mmhm…” You moaned, biting into your lip to keep your enthusiastic screams at bay.
In the next moment, Angel had your hips halted in place above is cock as he rammed repeatedly against your cervix. You gripped his forearms, keeping your balance as he ravaged you. Your whole body reacted to the shift and when his hand manipulated your clit, you came undone.
You acted on impulse as you held Angel to you, gripped tightly in your quaking embrace. You no longer cared about being quiet as you moaned and whimpered, careening through space. He talked you through your orgasm, mumbling expletives and how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you. All of it added to the fire. All of it made both your heart and pussy flutter.
“Mi amor,” He called, his voice still sounding distant in your ringing ears.
You buried your face into his neck as he chased his own end. He grunted, his rings digging into your skin as he finally came. Thick warmth filled you, the feeling of being complete finally achieved. You watched his features twist in ecstasy and in a flash they were relaxed, his body following suit.
The distant laughter and music could be heard over the lot, the party still very much going strong. You both caressed and held each other, not in any hurry to detach. Angel touched you with a softness that made you smile lazily, the leftover oxytocin making you feel more connected to him. He mirrored your expression, caressing your neck and cheeks.
“Te quiero.”
“I love you too.” You confessed, shifting a strand of hair that had fallen against his forehead.
“Fuck...” He sighed tiredly. “Someone’s gonna come looking for us soon.”
“We can pick this back up at home.” You replied with a sleepy smile and wink. You shifted off his lap, hissing at the loss of him. His cum started to slip past your lips instantly and you rushed to find your panties.
Angel found them on the counter and helped you step into them, your legs still feeling unsteady. He smirked up at you once they cleared your hips, a lone finger sliding against your crotch.
“Quit, Angel.” You whimpered, pushing his hand away. He laughed, enjoying how sensitive you always got after sex. He was already dressed and pulling his kutte back on while you slipped your bra onto your shoulders and turned away from him. His fingers clasped the garment in place, hands smoothing down your back. He placed a soft kiss to your shoulder and reached for your dress. You took it from him and pulled it over your head, walking to the small vanity mirror above the sink to check your reflection.
After making sure your hair and makeup were still presentable, you turned to face Angel. He had the candy cane back in his hands, eyeing the sweet with a wistfulness.
“Where’d that come from?” You asked, having suspected the candy to have gotten lost during your activities.
“The table.” He motioned to the flimsy piece of furniture, the thing looking like it was on its last leg, literally.
You both moved towards the door, Angel opening it for you and taking your hand to help you down the steps. You took in gulps of the crisp night air, glad to be out of the stifling heat of the trailer. The thing surely smelled of sex and you made a mental note to air it out before you left.
“Don’t you think you should throw it away?” You gestured to the candy cane as you both walked back up to the clubhouse.
“Nah,” Angel shook his head and popped the thing right back into his mouth, a self-satisfying smile lighting up his face. “Think we should keep it. You can use it on me later.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you.
You laughed as heat warmed your face. Thinking on where that candy cane had been moments before and how much you enjoyed it made you look away from his mischievous expression, the desire already making a fierce comeback.
“Who knew candy canes could be so erotic?” You questioned playfully.
The moment was interrupted by the clubhouse door opening as you both climbed the steps, EZ walking out with an unreadable look on his face. He took a moment to look between the two of you. Angel was sucking on the candy cane, suppressing a smirk, while you tried hard not to meet the younger sibling’s eyes. His gaze shifted to the trailer and he sighed, head shaking.
“Are you guys serious?”
“What?” Angel attempted in an act of innocence. It wasn’t believable.
“You find ‘em, boy scout?” Coco called from behind EZ, cigarette propped between his fingers. He joined you on the porch, eyes taking in the situation. He appeared to find the whole thing comical, leading you to believe that you did not look as put together and unassuming as you’d initially thought when exiting the trailer.
“You owe me.” EZ deadpanned to Coco. You watched in astonishment as Coco cursed and then reached into his pocket for what looked like a twenty dollar bill, begrudgingly handing it off to him.
“What the fuck?” Angel questioned, eyes jumping between the two men.
“I bet boy scout you guys left to handle business. He said you were handling it out here. He won.” Coco explained rather nonchalantly.
Angel scoffed out a laugh, male ego now inflated, while you rolled your eyes. “Are we really that predictable?” You asked.
“Yeah.” Both men replied in unison. They laughed and turned to go back inside to the party.
You went to follow when a hand stopped you. Angel tugged and motioned up, your eyes catching the mistletoe hanging from the wooden beam. You smiled and let him pull you in for a more PG-rated kiss than the series of impassioned ones moments before.
“Merry fucking Christmas, querida.” He whispered against your lips, dark eyes conveying emotion he didn’t have to voice.
“Merry fucking Christmas, baby.”
#lisa's 5.5k follower celebration#lisa's xmas challenge 2019#angel reyes#angel reyes x reader#angel reyes x female reader#angel reyes x you#angel reyes fic#angel reyes fanfiction#mayans mc#mayans fx
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Daniel Michaelson: Trembling
(for @whumptober2019, Day 20: Trembling TW: serious violence/torture, SW: creepy whumper thoughts, Abraham Denner is a bad bad man)
“Am, am I doing okay so far?” The man’s blue eyes are wide, moving from one lawyer to another, a constant dance of seeking approval and reassurance from anyone he can see.
Of course, no one in the courtroom can see the lawyers he is looking at, only him - he is the center of the frame, wavy red hair falling nearly to his eyes, scarred hands flat on the table but visibly shaking even through the digital image projected on the screen.
“You’re doing great, Mr. Michaelson. We just need to keep going, okay? Do you think you’ll be fine to continue?”
The man slowly nods. “I, I can try to keep going.” The warm blue eyes are rimmed in red by now - his testimony includes several edits and jump-cuts, and the jury doesn’t see the tears but they do see the way his face has changed, over time, from nervous but resolute to sniffing and uncertain and finally to frightened and eager to smooth over whatever offense he thinks he might have caused by not being perfect enough.
He doesn’t give up, he never stops trying.
He’s trying so hard to be brave, and it’s so fucking beautiful.
He’s being such a good boy, and Abraham wishes he were right here in the courtroom so he could tell him so right to his face.
Abraham Denner can nearly feel those tear tracks that shimmer only a little in the soulless fluorescent lights, the way they would give the slightest damp warmth if he ran his thumb down pretty red scar dug deep into his cheekbone, down the softer skin below it, all the way to his jaw.
He could picture how Red would hold himself so still, trembling under Abraham’s touch, but he would never flinch or pull away.
If Abraham wanted information from him, of course, it would all fall out of his mouth like a waterfall of words, whatever he wanted to hear, to know, all his for the taking. Red was all his for the taking, but these lawyers - they did not know how to take him correctly.
Instead, they question and dance around and try to coax without really coaxing. It’s annoying, but it draws everything out, so he tries to sit back and enjoy it. Honestly, who knows when he’ll see his Red all tear-stained and gorgeously tempting like this again?
Little less bleeding than he likes to see, granted, but he can just imagine that part.
His memories provide so many images of Red bleeding.
“Okay, Daniel. Let’s keep going.”
“What is your name? Who do you belong to?” He holds Red by the chin, tilting it up to meet his eyes where the man kneels on the floor, his wrists tied with barbed wire Abraham found in the body’s workshop out back and held out in front of him at chest level, holding himself perfectly still so none of the barbs will cut him.
He’s been kneeling like that for an hour in the smokehouse, in the dark with the scent of old fires and curing meat all around them. Abraham set a timer on his phone and sat back to take some photos, then simply waited, watching him, until the timer beeped.
It’s hot, and Red is pouring sweat in rivulets and rivers, but he doesn’t try to get up, and he doesn’t try to move his wrists even as his arms begin to tremble with the effort of holding themselves up like this.
“Red, m-my name is Red.” The voice shakes, it shivers for him. Red is always shivering for him, one way or another, when he bleeds. “My name is Red and I belong to y-you, Abraham, to you.”
“Good boy. Put your hands on the ground.” He watches Red do as he is told, smiling as some of the barbs finally prick into his skin and Red winces, laying his palms flat on the ground. “Now are we going to try any of that nonsense again? You going to try picking the lock on your chain again?”
“N-No. I’m sorry, Abraham, I won’t. I’m sorry.”
“Good.”
Abraham lets one boot come out and press against Red’s wrists, forcing the barbed wire to dig into the skin, and listens to the sound of Red hissing through his teeth at the pain, digging his fingernails into the earthen ground, with perfect contentment.
Those blue eyes stay open, and they never look away from his, even as they well with tears.
Abraham leans down, reaches out, and gently wipes one tear away as it slides down that perfectly scarred cheek. “I adore you, Red,” He says softly. “You’re going to be our perfect puppy forever.”
Red licks his lips, breathing in shallow pants to avoid making any noise as Abraham puts even more weight over the wire wrapped around his wrists, and nods quickly. “Yes,” He says in a gasp. “Yes, I will, I will, please stop, I’m sorry, I’ll try harder to be good-”
“Yes,” Abraham says thoughtfully, and pulls his foot back, listening to Red’s relieved half-sob in response. “Yes, you will try harder. And you will be good.”
“Th-thank you, Abraham,” Red manages in a voice just above a whimper. “Thank you for listening to my apology, thank you for only hurting me a little, thank you.”
The way the lawyers question him is irritating. What Red really needs, of course, is someone in that room to give him some orders, using his true name, the name Abraham had gifted to him, a way to understand his place, to become what he was meant to be.
If they would only tell his good boy what to do or say, of course, Red would understand what they want from him. He would feel safer, more secure, hemmed in the way he deserves to be. Red feels safer in a life full of cages, now, defined bars made up of commands and orders and expectations.
Red likes the rules. He understands his name.
All those lawyers in fancy suits do, though, is ask questions, they give him choices. It confuses Red, makes him struggle to figure out the right thing to say.
No one bothers to get Abraham’s advice about any of it, of course. He’s the bad guy, he’s the villain, just for simply doing what came naturally to him and turning Red into what he had been meant to be all along.
In a world where the monsters all wear nametags and point at someone higher-up when called to accept responsibility, Abraham is a monster all on his own, one they cannot tame, and so they want to lock him away.
They call him a lot of things, in the newspapers that report on the trial - he gets four newspapers every day in jail - but mostly he’s picked up the nickname The Carver in the Cabin, and he kind of likes that one. It’s better than he thought he’d get, anyway, and his guards are quick to let him know that the Carver is the nickname that seems to be sticking.
He likes the guards. They’re his best friends now.
Granted, everyone he talks to is his best friend if you give him long enough - that’s always been true.
Abraham and Ashley have been caught so many times, but until Nate burned the cabin down none of those moments ever seemed to stick.
Abraham Denner could charm the pants off anyone - and often did, shortly before killing them.
Ashley could never seem to charm anyone - something about her was too cold, the violence in her coiled too close to the surface and too visible to anyone who looked right at her. Abraham could bury his.
To him, though, Ashley was always his warm and loving twin sister. To him, she had been arms around him from birth, arms he could still sometimes feel even though she had been dead for more than four years.
Nate’s fault - but he couldn’t feel angry… he couldn’t feel anything but pride at his black-haired prince for being strong enough to pull it off, to leave. No, he’s not mad at Nate.
He’s mad at Ashley for leaving Nate the opening to kill her. She should have known better.
In the video, Red rubs compulsively at the scars around his face, and Abraham feels his mouth go a little dry just watching him, pouring himself a glass of water (next to him, his defense lawyer flinches, just the slightest bit, and Abraham feels good about that). He sips slowly, savoring the cool clear nothing-taste of it while imagining Red’s tears were just for him, just for him and Nate, the way it should be.
Red, a tall and lanky man with heavily muscled shoulders, is hunched over like a child waiting for punishment with fear in his eyes, and it’s all because of Abraham Denner. He’s so perfect, so genuinely and perfectly beautiful.
Nate was his true love, of course - and Abraham fully intended to find some way to see his sweet man again, either a prison visit or, hell, never write off an escape, he’d done more unbelievable things in his life… but he would never walk away from his Red, either.
“All right, Mr. Michaelson,” The prosecutor on the video is saying. “We need to move on to speaking about what happened in this photo. Would you be able to look at this photo for us, Daniel?”
The soft scrape of a bit of paper being moved across the table, and Red reaches out as if to touch it. His eyes glance down, too quickly to do more than take in the basics, and then he looks back up, looking more confused than frightened, pulling his hands back. “We, we have to talk about, um, about that?”
“Yes. We need to understand what was happening in this photo. Would you be able to talk about that now? Obviously if you need a break-”
“No,” Red says quickly, leaning forward, pulling the paper towards himself, shaking his head so his hair falls back over his eyes. “No, I’m fine, I can do it, I’m sorry, I’ll just try harder, I can, I can be good and do this for you-”
That’s my good good boy, Abraham thinks with a grin. He knows the jury watches him. He can feel their revulsion when he smiles at Red’s tears.
He doesn’t care.
Nothing about this trial was ever going to end in anything but a prison sentence, and Abraham isn’t the type to delude himself. He’s not here to try and find acquittal. He’s just here to have some fun before he gets locked away.
“I will show the photo using the secondary screen,” The prosecutor sitting at the other table speaks out loud. The judge gives his approval, and when the prosecutor clicks the remote to pull up a large-scale version of the photo the man is holding in the testimony, everyone in the courtroom sees a photo of Red sitting on the ground, his face turned away and eyes shut but his mouth open wide in a scream, his hands wrapped tightly around himself.
Nathaniel Vandrum is crouched just behind him, one arm around him, one hand buried in his hair to pull Red against his chest. Nate’s chin rests on top of Red’s head and he’s glaring right at the camera - right at Abraham - with pure, loveless fury.
Closed around Red’s left leg is a bear trap. The smears of bright red showing through his torn jeans seem too brilliant to be real in the courtroom’s yellow light.
Abraham takes a deep breath, seeing it blown up so large, larger than life really, and has to take another drink of water before he’s totally bowled over by the incredibly knife-sharp surge of pure joy that rocks through him head to toe.
Joy, and something much darker.
“I stepped in a bear trap,” Red says in the video testimony, staring down at the photo. “He took a photo before he let Nate get me out of it.”
“Why were you in a bear trap, Mr. Michaelson?”
“I was bad and I did not apologize,” Red says, head tilted down at the photo, tracing his fingers along it. “When you do something wrong, you apologize, and you get hurt so that you do not do it again.”
Someone in the jury coughs hard.
Red’s eyes are glittering again, and Abraham can see him trembling, even though this isn’t really happening right now.
He shivers so well, little Red.
He knows just how to shake the way Abraham likes best.
“Are you saying that Mr. Denner forced you into the trap? We need you to be absolutely clear, for the record, Daniel. Can you be clear about this for us?”
Red takes a deep breath, licking his lips, and slowly nods. He looks around the ring of lawyers offscreen again, looking for their approval, and then lets his eyes drop back down to the photo. Abraham looks over to the jury to see some of them glaring right at him with hatred, most of them looking at the photo still, and one old woman dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a tissue.
“Yes,” Red says finally, and his voice is shaking as hard as he is. “He told me to step in the trap as hard as I could or he would, um, he would… he would…” His voice trails off and he hunches over, mumbling too low to be heard.
“Please, Daniel, please try to speak clearly for us, just to finish this last little bit. Then we’ll take another break. Describe what happened.”
“He told me I had to step in the bear trap to punish myself or he would hurt Nate again.” Red looks up, pleading with them to understand with his wide eyes. “He, he said he would really hurt him this time - he’d break his leg or worse, if I didn’t go in the trap, so I had to. The last time I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t take my punishment like a g-… like he wanted me to, he beat Nate so badly, so.. so I had to go in the trap. I had to step in it, I had been, I had been bad I had tried to say no again, and I don’t get to say no. Puppies don’t get angry, pets don’t… I had to, I, I had to be good, I had to…”
They cut the video short again, but Abraham isn’t done with this memory, not at all. He’s going to be thinking about the bear trap for days, running over and over in his mind the moment Red had agreed to do exactly what he said to spare Nate.
The way Nate had glared at him over Red’s head, holding onto him, the way the guilt had shredded Nate for days and days, that Red had been so willing to take a punishment to save him.
“I’m sorry, Abraham, please, I’ll do it. Don’t hurt him, please!”
“I won’t, if you step right in. Not just a little step, either. These things are made for much larger animals than my skinny little puppy. You stomp your foot right into it and take your punishment, or Nate takes it for you.”
Red’s hair is sweat-soaked and stuck to his forehead, even out here in the chill air. He nods quickly, hugging himself around his middle as though it would ever make it any better. “I will, I’ll do it, Abraham, just, just give me a second, I just need…”
“Take a moment. Deep breaths, Red. In and out, in and out. That’s my good boy.” Red’s whole body shakes, but he nods, breathing slow and deep, just the way Abraham tells him to. Nate steps over to him, hands on either side of his face.
“You don’t h-h-have to d-do this,” Nate says softly, gently, and Abraham missed the love in his words, because he was so busy searching for it when Nate looked at -him-. “I c-can take it. I’ve t-t-taken it before, Red. I can t-take it. Don’t d-d-do this just because of m-me.”
Red looks up at him, tears in his eyes, and shakes his head. “I’ll do it. You were so hurt last time, I can do it, Nate. Okay? Okay, Nate?”
Nate just pulls him close for a hug, holds him tightly, and finally steps back. “I’ll b-be right h-h-here to hold you after,” He says, gently, reassuring, leaning in to kiss Red’s forehead, each side of his face, the tip of his nose. “I’ll h-hold your hand.”
Abraham’s not jealous, not yet. He had taken Red to give Nate a friend, after all, and in Abraham’s world there was no such thing as a platonic friend. The puppy’s not a person, and taking is what puppies like Red are made for.
Red nods, stepping back, taking breaths as deeply and slowly as he can.
He turns back to the bear trap, one hand gripped white-knuckled onto Nate’s, as he moves towards it, staring down with abject dread. He shivers, he shakes, and Abraham all but purrs watching it.
Red’s left foot is trembling as he slowly lifts it up above the open trap.
He looks back at Abraham - maybe hoping for some sort of last-minute mercy - but Abraham just smiles and waits, shaking his head. “Will you be good for me, Red?”
“I’ll be good,” Red whispers. “I’m going to try harder. I can be good, just… just don’t hurt Nate.” Then he jams his left foot down into the trap, onto the little metal plate in the center, as hard as he can.
The trap snaps shut around his left leg and Red collapses long before the pain reaches him. He gives out and falls backwards, Nate grabbing onto him tightly around the chest and waist, holding onto him and murmuring soothing nonsense sounds.
Red goes suddenly still, his eyes wide and white-ringed, and he begins to scream. The sound shatters the woods around them, sends a flock of birds flying up into the sky in a burst of wings, bounces around the trees and crisp air, goes on and on and on.
Red screams, and screams, and screams.
The video testimony cuts to after the break, his little Red looking shaken but still resolute, still resolved to see this through. Abraham glances over to the prosecution’s side and sees Red’s little brother, that Ryan kid, ashen under his darker skin (adopted brothers, and still the brother comes here every day but the parents don’t… interesting, that) and staring at nothing now, twisting a little bit of paper into shreds with his hands.
He sees Nate, looking straight at the screen still, his jaw locked tightly and his green eyes totally focused. He doesn’t look to Abraham. He doesn’t see what his reaction was.
But Abraham settles back. He doesn’t care about this next bit of testimony.
No, he closes his eyes and relives, one more time, the moment his beautiful Red put his foot down in the trap.
#whumptober2019#no.20#trembling#whump#intimate whumper#broken whumpee#Daniel Michaelson's story#creepy whumper#tw: torture#tw: blood#tw: violence#barbed wire#restrained#bear trap#prior whumpee#secondary whumpee#Nathaniel vandrum#Abraham denner#whumper's POV
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First I Love You
Warnings: Smut. fluff, the tiniest bit of angst
Word Count: 6k
A/N: this concludes what was meant to be just a one-shot but I turned into a mini-series of sorts. I hope you enjoy my conclusion to this story as much as I did writing it. Check out the rest of Miss Yer Kiss in my masterlist!
“What did you wanna do today?”
“Your plane is later tonight right?” he asks, fingers running through your hair as you laid on the comfortable bed, in all honesty, you just wanted to lay in bed all day.
“Yep,” you sigh, “10 o’clock.”
“Why’d you get such a weird time? You won’t be home until nearly 5 in the morning New York time!”
“Cause it was one of the cheapest, shush.”
“I’ve got a surprise for you then.”
“What’s that?” you grin as your hands intertwine. Your eyes roam the way his hands seemed to fit perfectly with your own.
“Come on, let’s get dressed, I’ll take you to it.”
“Okay.”
“And wear like a baggy t-shirt or something.”
“Huh?” You frown as the two of you sit up and you begin looking through your suitcase.
“It’ll make sense when we get there.”
“You’re being weird.”
“Weirder than usual?”
“Just a little,” you laugh, putting on clothes, including one of his shirts you stole one day before he left New York the first time.
“I love that shirt on you.”
“Gotta steal another one before I leave tonight, it’ll be a tradition or something.”
“I would love to start that tradition with you.”
Thud thud thud.
He made you close your eyes as you walked closer to wherever he planned on taking you.
“Okay, open your eyes,” he grins, hand squeezing yours as you slowly blinked, adjusting to the bright light of the day.
You crane your neck to read the sign of the store in front of you. A tattoo shop.
“What’re we doing here?” You ask and he excitedly brings you inside.
“The surprise is in here.”
“You didn’t, oh my god,” you attempt to hide your excitement so you don’t make a fool of yourself, but your wide smile does look a little goofy.
“Hi,” Ryan Ashley smiles, standing up from one of the tattoo chairs.
“Wow, hi, it’s so great to meet you,” you shake her hand and give Tom a wide eyed look.
“I was in town and your lovely boyfriend here contacted me, let me know it’s been a dream of yours to get a piece by me.”
“Oh yeah, I mean isn’t it every girl’s dream to get a piece by Ryan Ashley? I mean you’ve helped shape the industry for women so that’s just phenomenal.”
“I just love to see younger artists like you get their start, wanna see the piece I drew up for you?”
You nod and walk to her workstation, “I didn’t think you remembered,” you teased Tom and he blushed slightly.
“You were so excited when you talked about it, how could I not forget?”
She shows you a small gorgeous jewelry piece that looked like it would intricately sit between your breasts, a red jewel in the middle.
“It’s gorgeous,” you smile, running your hand over the stencil.
“Excellent, do you want him to hang around?” She asks, looking between the two of you.
“Yeah,” you nod.
You start the process of taking off your shirt and bra, adding panties to your nipples before walking back to her workstation. She closes the door as you lay on the bench, Tom sitting next to you.
“I uh, I heard that the chest can be painful, so you can hold my hand and squeeze it if you want.”
“You just wanna hold my hand.”
“Ok maybe that too,” he laughs and you let his hand hold your own, resting on your stomach.
“Now, I’m sure you know this but you want to attempt to breath when I pick the needle up, i'm sorry I’ll be leaning over your breasts the entire time but if you ever get uncomfortable just let me know and we can figure out a new way to make this work.”
“Sounds great,” you hum as she picks up the needle and leans over you. She does a small line to start, testing the area.
“How was that?”
“Not bad,” you lightly squeeze Tom’s hand.
You and Ryan talk about tattooing, the industry, how she came to specialize in the intricate jewelry work she does.
“And what type of work do you want to specialize? I saw you draw lots of portraits.”
“Yeah, I mean, tattooing portraits on skin is super different than drawing them, so I hope to eventually get enough practice to be really good. I’ve done a few before, not too huge but just small pieces here and there.”
“Once you get to do the same type of thing over and over again, you’ll be amazing. I know a lot of people who try to be really versatile in their craft and do a bunch of different styles. That’s what I had to do on ink master, but if you can find one style that really brings out your best talent, you should stick with it. I mean when I first started I did literally any tattoo anyone asked because you know how it is, scraping together enough money to get good at different styles so I could go on ink master, but this,” she says, looking at the jewelry piece between your breasts, “this is my style. Do it long enough, you’ll become a master.”
“Is this the most painful area to get tattooed?” Tom asks.
“Well, everyone’s pain tolerance is different. Girls usually have higher pain tolerances than boys, just how it is.”
“I don’t doubt that, I definitely couldn’t get as many tattoos as you’ve got princess,” he says squeezing your hand.
“You’ve got tattoos then?” Ryan asks, eyebrow raised skeptically.
“Only one on the bottom of his foot, literally don’t know how he went through with it,” you stifle a laugh so you don’t move as the tattoo needle glides across your skin.
“Ouch, yeah that shit hurts, but I’d say it’s up to the person, it depends on a lot of different factors. So pain tolerance is one of them. How much muscle and fat come before the bone. How thin a person’s skin is, if it’s thin and bleeds easily it’ll hurt more and take longer to do, simply because you need to stop every so often to make sure that the skin isn’t too sore to continue. So the area I’m tattooing now can be painful, back of the knee, around the elbow. Just depends.”
****
“So this area can be sore for a while, you don’t want to work up too much of a sweat, you don’t want to take the wrap off before it starts to heal, so wait 48 hours. Afterwards, keep it out of water for long periods of time, so no baths or swimming. And moisturize it once the wrap is gone, three or four times a day. Should start peeling in a week or so, and it’s best if you don’t wear a bra until it heals.”
You nod and pull your shirt over your head, “Alright how much is it?” You ask pulling out your wallet.
“It’s all set,” she smiles as you head to the front of the studio.
“What? At least let me give you a tip or-,”
“Your uh Prince Charming took care of it,” she laughs patting your shoulder, “never let the world bring ya down kid, keep tattooing and tattooing until one day you can ink the Mona Lisa on someone’s skin.”
“Thanks that means a bunch to me,” you say, in awe that you’ve met the woman you look up to the most and also got tattooed by her.
***
“You didn’t haveta to do that,” you sigh, content but feeling a little weary knowing the price tag attached to Ryan Ashley’s hourly rate, as Tom and you walk hand in hand back to the hotel.
“You had a good time though right?”
“Yeah of course but-,”
“And you like the tattoo?”
“I love it but-,”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
“Thank you.”
“Besides, it’s a little anniversary present,” he grins as you step into the elevator.
“Anniversary? What anniversary?”
“It’ll be four months since the first night in a couple days.”
“Oh. Oh. I uh, didn’t get you anything,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him.
“I can think of a few things you can give me to make up for it,” he whispers against your lips.
“You can’t touch my tits,” you giggle, keeping your sore chest away from his.
“Oh god I miss yer tits already,” he groans, kissing and nipping at your jaw.
“Oh come on you got to hang out with them last night,” you laugh as the elevator dings.
“Yeah but I wanna hang out with them every single day.”
“Well you can have other parts of me,” you grin, dragging him down the hallway to your room.
“What parts are those?” He asks with a wiggle of his eyebrow.
“Come on and find out,” you say swiping into the room.
He’s pushing you up against the door, hands tight on your hips as his lips trace down your neck, fingers slipping under your shirt and setting your skin on fire.
You grin as he bites down on your neck, flipping him around so his back is against the door.
“Want you to scream my name,” you smirk as you drop to your knees, reminiscing on the first time you had him against a door, the very first night you were together, before you thought that this would be more than a one night stand, before you fell for him.
“Fuck I’m gonna miss this,” he whispers as you unzip and tug down his jeans.
“Then don’t miss it,” you say, tugging down his boxers.
“Huh,” he huffs out, eyes slipping shut as you wet your hand and start to jerk him off.
“Stay in the moment, don’t miss me till I’m gone,” you say, winking when he looks down at you.
“In the moment, yep, staying in the mo-oh fuck,” he moans as you take him into your mouth.
Your eyes twinkle with excitement as his hands tug on your hair, encouraging you to move.
“Fuck, princess, feel so fucking good,” he whimpers as you swipe your tongue on the head of his cock before taking him back into your mouth.
You let him take the lead, pushing your head back and forth as his hips slowly thrust into your mouth. Your hands are splayed out on his thighs, steadying yourself.
“Love your, fuck, love your lips,” he groans as you move faster, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his cock.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
You fucking loved the way the word love sounded coming from his lips.
Love your mouth.
Love your tattoos.
Love your kisses.
You wondered how he would say I love you, you wondered how you would react. But this wasn’t the time for that.
You focused back on making him feel good, grinning around his cock as he twitched in your mouth.
Your hands grip his thighs encouragingly as he moves his hips faster, chasing his release.
He comes with a cry of your name followed by a string of curses and princess. Which made your heart just fucking swoon.
He pulls you up, chest heaving as he kisses you, fingers hastily tugging your shirt up.
You break apart so he can take your shirt off. You slip out of your pants as he pulls his own shirt off.
“Let me make you feel good princess,” he says, hands gliding up and down your sides as you walk back to the bed.
“How’d you like to do that?”
“Sit on my face.”
It’s not a question, or an invitation but rather a command. He just wants you to ride his face like you’d ride his cock.
“Shit,” you laugh as he pulls you down onto the bed with him.
He shuffles up to rest his head on the pillows, “take a seat darling,” he says before licking his lips.
You almost roll your eyes and if you weren’t so wet you were already on the edge you would’ve teased him. Instead, you do exactly as he says, his hands grip your hips as you straddle his face. Your pussy is wet and close to dripping as you hear him sigh underneath you.
You plant your hands on the headboard, holding on for dear life as his mouth meets your pussy.
He goes slow at first, savoring the moment, tongue slowly tracing along your folds, licking away your juices before slightly dipping into your hole, his fingers gripped your thighs, sure they’d leave reminders of your time together when you left.
“Fuck, Tom, always, always know how to use that mouth of yours,” you sigh, relaxing as his tongue moves to circle your clit.
You can feel him practically smile against you before wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking slightly as you tremble above him.
“Fuck,” you whimper, feeling one of his hands move to push a finger into your dripping heat.
One finger doesn’t do much, just a way for Tom to be as close to you as possible while his tongue makes quick work of making you come undone, tracing shapes into your clit.
“Gonna come, fuck,” you cry out as you feel yourself get closer to your release.
You hear him groan against your clit as you come, covering his chin and mouth in your wetness as his hand moves up to grab your breast. You quickly snap out of it as you come down from your orgasm.
“Stop, stop,” you whimper, batting his hand away.
He helps you off him, eyes wide as he sits up.
“Are you okay? Shit I’m so sorry princess what’s wrong?”
“I fucking knew you were gonna try to touch my tits,” you laugh, collapsing next to him.
His eyes soften as you tickle his sides, giggling as he relaxes.
“I knew I’d miss your tits,” he groans.
You roll your eyes, straddling his hips and kissing him, licking away your own orgasm from his chin before kissing him again. His tongue meets your own, groaning as he tastes you.
You get an idea, hands gliding down to grab his arms from your hips, tugging his wrists and pulling them to the headboard.
“Stay still.”
He groans, lips wet and shiny from kissing you and eating you out, his cock is hard again as you grind against him.
“Condom?” You ask, reveling in the way his cock felt against your folds but scared he wouldn’t want to come inside you, afraid he didn’t want to be that intimate.
“Mhm, are you, are you on birth control?” He asks, voice slightly nervous as his arms flex, fingers tightening against the headboard.
“Yeah, I, I am,” you stutter as his cock twitches against you.
“Do you wanna, I mean, I wanna, only if you want to,”
“I’ve never, never had someone come inside me before.”
His cock twitches and you can’t help but grind down against him again.
“We don’t haveta-,”
“I want you to come inside me,” you say, capturing his lips in your own as you take his cock in your hand, wet from your juices as you guide him to your entrance.
“Holy fuck,” he manages to stutter out as your walls wrap around his cock.
“Have you ever, ever come in someone before?”
“No,” he groans as you bottom out, your hips resting flush against his as you kiss along his neck.
“Does it, fuck, feel as good being inside me as it does feeling you inside me?” You pant out starting to move your hips above him.
“Fuck, your, your pussy feels so good wrapped around me, fuck, so perfect, like it was made for me.”
“Shit,” you groan as you grind your hips against him, hands resting on his chest as his hands shakily start to move from the headboard.
“I’m gonna, can I touch you? Fuck, you feel so good princess just wanna touch you.”
“Course Tom,” And his hands move to your hips, eyes watching your tits sway above him, the new tattoo bright red around the edges behind the plastic in between them. He wanted nothing more than to trace every intricate detail, every groove of inked jewelry, every part where Ryan Ashley made it look like there was a shadow as if they were real jewels. He wanted to sit there all night and trace each tattoo of yours, talking about the stories behind them until you fell asleep in his arms.
“I-,” he starts, voice faltering as you started to bounce on his cock, reminding him that you were having sex, that you were with each other in that sense and it was enough for now.
“What’s up baby?” You ask, lips mouthing over his jaw as his hands grip your hips harder, hips moving against yours.
“I love the way you feel around me,” he smiles, hand eagerly bringing your head up so your lips meet his.
His lips are soft and insistent against yours as you move faster, holding you as close as he physically can without pressing your chests together.
“I love,” you start, your heart thudding in your chest, cheeks impossibly redder, “your kisses,” you finish, not wanting that first to be now. Afraid if it slips out during sex it won’t feel as genuine.
His hands grip you, fingers practically bruising your hips as he pounds into you.
“Getting close?” He grins, thumb slipping between your hot and sweaty bodies to rub your clit.
“Fuck, Tom, almost there, wanna fuck wanna feel you fill me up, come in me please,” you whimper, as his cock twitches inside you. And the feeling of him coming and coating your walls, filling you, is a feeling like no other, sending you into a blissful orgasm, so blissful you almost collapse onto him but he holds you up, careful not to let your chests touch.
“That was…” you start, trying to catch your breath.
“Amazing,” he finishes, flipping you over.
“Showertime?” You ask as he sits up, cock slipping out of you.
“Showertime,” He agrees, kissing your nose before helping you get up.
***
“Stay,” He says, eyes locking with yours as you dry off from the shower.
“Hmmm?”
“Stay tonight?”
“I’ve got a plane to catch,” you sigh, not wanting to leave either.
“Miss yer plane, come on, stay with me one night, I’ll get you a plane tomorrow morning.”
He sees you’re hesitant, “you won’t regret it, promise princess. One more night. Don’t wanna miss you just yet.”
You nod, dropping the towel and grabbing a clean T-shirt, pulling it on before he tugs you down into his lap.
“Don’t wanna miss you either,” you sigh, rubbing your nose against his before kissing him quickly.
“Come on, let’s watch the sunset,” he says, picking you up as you squeal.
“I quite like our balcony trips,” you sigh as he sets you down, both of you pulling on sweatpants before walking hand in hand to the small balcony that overlooks the pool and the parking lot of the hotel.
“I think California sunsets are prettier than New York sunsets.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well at least at my place all you can hear is the roar of the subway, the bustling of people leaving work, going to work, neon lights everywhere. Here it’s just, I dunno, calm, you can pick out every color in the sky.”
“And how about London sunsets?”
“I dunno, didn't really get a chance to see them that well, the hustle and bustle of the nightlife, we were usually in a museum or getting dinner when the sunset. I’d love to see it eventually though.”
“I’ll bring you back,” he says, hand resting on the ledge as you lean against it.
“I’d like that.”
You turn slightly and caught him looking at you from the corner of his eye.
The sun is shining on him as it sets, the orange and light purple hues illuminating his freckles much like that night at Coney Island. Reminding you that this feeling wasn’t just a fleeting moment at the top of a roller coaster, waiting for it to all come crashing down. This feeling has been building since that night on the Cyclone, hand gripping his arm, mouth open in an excited scream, feeling your heart pound in your chest, from the exhilaration of the coaster and from being there with Tom, from falling for him. This feeling was bubbling over and you wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
“Tom?” You ask, eyes moving back to the sunset, fingers tapping nervously against the rails.
“I love you,” He says, and it’s not rushed or hurried, like he was afraid you’d run if he said it as slowly as he did. His voice was sure and strong, confident.
“I’ve never felt like this before.”
“what?” He asks, voice quiet as he tries to understand what you’re saying.
“I love you too, I probably should’ve said that first,” you laugh.
“Oh, oh,” he joins in on your laughter.
“I’ve just never really felt like this, and it kinda scares me but I’m glad you feel the same?” You squeak out, giggling when his arms wrap around you in a hug.
Your head rests against his shoulder as he kisses along your neck.
“Come here, I wanna do something,” he grins, bringing you back to the room.
“What?”
“Here, get naked.”
“Oh?” You say wiggling your eyebrows as you toss your shirt to the side and pull down your sweatpants before flopping back into the bed, sitting up on your elbows.
He hovers over you, kissing along your shoulder bone, tracing the crescent moon with his tongue and lips, “tell me a story.”
“What do you want to hear?” You laugh, his hair tickling your neck.
“What’s this moon? What’s the story behind it?”
“Do you really want to hear the stories behind my tattoos?”
“Every single one of them, yup,” he says, hands running up your side.
“The one thing I brought with me to every foster home, was this copy of goodnight moon, one that I stole from a school’s library in kindergarten.”
Tom’s quiet as he breathes life into your skin, kissing along the bunny from the book, sitting against the side of your arm in the signature blue and white striped PJs.
“So every night, if wherever I was allowed it, I’d read it to myself, and god this is embarrassing,” you pause.
“Never,” he mumbles, pressing a soothing kiss to your blushing cheek.
“I would read it in different voices, pretending to be a dad or a mom. Cause I always wanted a parent to read me a story, and well, that never happened so I guess I just used that to cope.”
“And this,” He says, hand pulling your arm to lay perpendicular to your body, fingers tracing the astronaut with an outstretched arm, trying to grab a heart.
“It’s a piece from this comedian, Melissa Villasenor, I guess how I interpret it, is floating in space, this huge open universe we’ve explored so little of, you’re chasing and reaching out to grab your heart, trying to keep it close to you as you explore new feelings and everything, afraid of the unknown,” you slip your eyes shut as he kisses along the astronaut.
“Are you afraid right now?”
“A little.”
“You’re a little afraid?”
“I’m afraid of how I feel about you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because, I’ve never felt this way, fallen in fucking love, Christ, I’m sorry.”
“Why’re you sorry?”
“For falling in love with you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I feel like I fell so fast and so hard and I dunno how I’m gonna cope if something bad happens.”
“Why would something bad happen?”
“Because every time something good happens to me, the world reminds me this isn’t what I deserve, it turns my world upside down and I don’t want that to happen again.”
“You don’t have to worry anymore, that something bad is gonna happen, you don’t have to constantly be waiting for the other shoe to drop anymore.”
“You sure?”
“Because I’m here, to listen to you talk about the bad days at work, here when you just want to lay here and talk about everything and nothing and you just want to hear your own voice. I’m here and I’ll drop whatever to be by your side, you know that right?”
“Tom,” you sigh feeling tears well in your eyes.
“Promise.”
“Promises are made to be broken.”
“Why?”
“The first promise someone ever gave me, I was 12. I just left a foster home I was in for a year and half, the woman was basically hoarding us kids and had us all crammed into sleeping bags in her living room just to get the checks. Kids would rotate in and out, the kids who were there for the shortest amount of time were the younger ones, nobody wanted to adopt the older of the bunch. I thought I’d be stuck there forever, for some reason the foster system forgot about us because not once did they check on us other than to take kids or swap kids out, then half of us would disappear and the other half would pretend to live in the other rooms of the apartment. One day I got the news that I was going to be adopted, actually adopted, not just thrown into another foster family for a year. They would foster me for a year and then the adoption paperwork could get pushed through. Their names were Katie and Jason Hill. They had as cookie cutter a home you could in Queens, right on the edge, a condo. And I met them and we clicked instantly. They said they wanted an older kid because we were generally easier to take care of, they were on the older side themselves. They said they had a cat at home, Snuffles, and although she was a little bit grumpy, she would always sit on your lap whenever you needed a little comfort or a warm body to be near. They were everything I could’ve ever dreamed of in adopted parents, I actually almost called them mom and dad. Katie would make my lunch for school, something I’ve never had before. Jason tried to teach me how to play baseball. And although I was a little too old, they would still tuck me in and wish me goodnight every single night. I was scared they’d get sick of me or the state would take me away from them, every day I just lived in fear that something would happen, but the shoe didn’t drop, six months passed, everything was great. It was my first summer with parents and they took me to the local YMCA and I learned how to swim, we went to the carnival, and they were everything I ever wanted.”
“What happened?” Tom asks, voice afraid as your body shook next to him.
“One day, we were having a backyard picnic the night before my first day of school, watching the stars in the sky, Katie would point out a constellation, I would trace it with my finger. I started crying, out of the blue, and told her, promise me, promise you won’t leave. And she hugged me and held me tight and told me that I could grow old knowing I had a mom and dad now.”
“Y/N…” he says, thumb wiping away the stray tear that rolled onto my cheek.
“And I felt okay, for the first time in literally forever I felt like I had a home, a place to call my own. The next day I came back on the school bus, excited to tell Katie and Jason all about the art teacher who said I was incredibly talented. I got off the bus and saw a car in the driveway, not Katie or Jason’s car, and a woman in a pencil skirt standing at it.”
“What happened?”
“She was from DFS, Katie and Jason didn’t want me anymore. They said the financial burden of a child was a lot more than they were expecting, they couldn’t keep me. They didn’t even want to say goodbye to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, really,” you sigh, shaking your head and opening your teary eyes to look into his own, “so I guess that’s when the other shoe dropped, after that I didn’t want any more promises, but if they were made, I knew I couldn’t trust them.”
“You know the difference between them and me?”
“What’s that?”
“I love you, and god I love saying that too.”
“Dork.”
“And you know what?”
“What?” You say, eyes watching as his fingers intertwine with your own.
“You don’t needa wait for the other shoe to drop. They’re both right here. I guess what I’m trying to say is there aren’t any surprises, you don’t have to worry about me waking up one day and saying that you’re too much of a burden for me. When I’m around you, I’m the most comfortable I’ve been in years. Everything with you is natural.”
Thud thud thud.
“God I love you,” you smile, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying that.”
“Good,” Tom laughs, kissing your cheek. He lets go of your hand and his fingers trail up your arm, raising goosebumps along it that make you shiver, “And this?” he says, moving onto the spider as his legs straddle your own.
“You know the origin of the spider silly,” you laugh.
“I know, I just like to hear you talk about it.”
“Well I don’t know, Black Widow, she sort of reminds me of me in a way, she’s badass and strong and tough as nails, but she’s also got a soft spot and can learn to be open and honest.”
“Mhm.”
“And growing up, I mean we obviously didn’t have the same childhood but she never knew her parents, neither did I, so I guess I can relate to her on a few different levels.”
“Do you want to know your real parents?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, my mom left me for a reason, so she didn’t want me or couldn’t take care of me, and I’ve got no idea who my dad is.”
“What if they do now?” He asks and you wiggle underneath him, “sorry I don’t mean to pry.”
“You’re fine, I just, I don’t want them. I don’t need them. You know? I spent my entire childhood praying my mom and dad or a mom and dad would pick me up from my shitty foster families, sweep me off my feet into a suburban house with a dog and another kid, a regular sibling, and we’d be a happy family. But I grew to learn that not everyone gets that cookie-cutter family. And that whatever cards I got dealt, are the ones I need to live with.”
“And what’s this one?” He says, tracing his fingers over Rumple, a character created by one of your favorite TV actors, Matthew Gray Gubler, “a green dinosaur with a banana peel on his head?” He asks, giggling a little, “everyone is weird?” tracing over the words in Matthew’s scratchy handwriting.
“Yeah, it's a book, by an actor, and this is the main character, Rumple, basically the story is about learning to love yourself, in all your weirdness and quirks.”
“I like that.”
“Me too,” you laugh.
He shuffles to the other side of your body, hand moving your arm to the side so he can see your half sleeve.
“I still don’t know how you sit still for so long, this thing is huge.”
“A ten hour session, people have done longer,” you shrug as his lips trace the ocean waves engulfing a woman, a bird with a broken bird laying on the beach below it.
“And you said this was from the book, oh god what’s its name?”
“The Awakening.”
“And what’s it about? I know you’ve told me I just suck and can’t quite remember.”
“You’re fine,” you laugh, stretching your other hand to rest behind your head as you tell Tom all about the book.
“So Edna is married and has kids, and basically she feels stuck in the confines of traditional womanhood, she has an affair with a man when her husband is away. Which makes her feel free, at least a little bit. She also teaches herself how to swim which is huge for women back then, and swimming also helps her feel free. One of the controversies of the book is debating whether she killed herself by drowning or not. So some people say she didn’t want to die, that she drowned by accident. But I guess I don’t think she drowned by accident. She knew how to swim, and the book is full of symbolism, this just so happens to symbolize breaking free from the bonds of what typical and traditional femininity and womanhood was like at the turn of the 20th century. She killed herself this way. Kate Chopin, at least I think she was trying to symbolize that Edna is free from these bonds by committing suicide. In the book, there’s this annoying parrot in a cage, and now the bird is free, it’s a little broken, but everyone has to make some sort of sacrifice to break from what society wants everyone to be. Sorry, I’m totally rambling now.”
“You’re fine, you’re adorable when you ramble princess.”
“Pssh,” you scoff as his lips trail up to your own once more.
“Turn around, wanna see your back piece.”
He moves off your body and helps you turn, careful not to rest your chest against the bed.
“And this? You drew this one too right?”
You hum as his fingers trace the expansive upper back piece, from one back of your shoulders to the next, a girl sitting in a field of flowers, dozens of different kinds, with a tear slipping down her cheek.
“I drew it yep. I dunno where I got the inspiration for it. I guess I’ve always lived in the city, one day I’d like to travel to the country, go to those big fields full of flowers and open-air like in books, like in Grapes of Wrath, and just sit there. I think I added the teardrop because at the time I was worried I’d never be able to.”
“And what about now?”
“I think I’ve got a little bit of a more positive outlook.”
“When did you know?” He asks as you turn around and he cuddles into your side, arm laying across your stomach.
“Know what?”
“That you love me,” he says in a singsong voice.
“What is it a competition?”
“Maybe, but like what moment made you say ‘oh yes this dork, it’s him’,” Tom says in your accent.
“That night, on the cyclone, my heart was beating so fast and I was so scared but I realized that you’re there next to me, and I guess knowing that made me feel comforted, and I felt safe, so yeah.”
“I knew that night, on your balcony, you said the sky was pretty or something, like you said the first night we were together. And everything in me was saying to tell you, tell you how gorgeous you are and how the sky couldn’t even compare but I didn’t. And when I left, I wanted to call you and say it, over and over again until you’re sick of me saying it. But I didn’t.”
“That’s okay. Cause you know what?”
“What?”
“We’ve got all the time in the world to say it now.”
***
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