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ironmandeficiency · 3 years

Text

falcon, falcon, goose!

pairing: sam wilson / reader

word count: 3547

summary: there were reports of geese leading people to their soulmates spanning centuries, and it seemed like a cool concept, but why did it have to coincide with you coming out of your writing slump?

warnings: cursing, geese, dumbassery, implied happy au where the avengers get along, iw and endgame who?

a/n: this is an older piece i wrote a couple years ago, decided to brush it up and repost it. and the reader works for snl bc why the hell not? keep in mind that the original was written before everything went to shit w iw & endgame. posted from mobile yet again yall what is wrong w me

it was a sunny day outside, and deciding that you had been cooped up for far too long, you brought your laptop to the park a couple blocks from your studio apartment.

being a writer for saturday night live wasn't always so peachy, what with the lack of a social life outside of your co-workers and constantly explaining your job to confused relatives. you had been in a slump for the past couple weeks, the fact most of your sketch ideas not making the cut for the next episode continuing to throw you off your rhythm.

this week, you were going to change that. Your headphones were playing your concentration playlist full volume and you were hyped to the max. with your laptop on the picnic table in front of you and a warm cup of tea beside it, you were ready to blow the producers away with your next idea.

"honk! honk!"

you felt something nudge your leg, but you were too engrossed into what you were typing to care. after getting through a few more lines, it happened again.

"honk! honk! honk!"

you couldn't hear the sound but the feeling on your leg got a little bit rougher, more demanding. you moved your headphones to the side for a minute and took a moment to look around you. there was no kid running to get their ball back or any squirrels nearby that dropped a nut.

strange.

but you put your headphones back on, trying to keep your groove alive while hoping the interruptions are finished.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!" the goose honked louder, pecking at your leg harder than it had earlier.

you were getting frustrated and a little pissed. the creativity was flowing through your veins for the first time in what felt like ages and this — whatever it was — decided that today was the best day to annoy you.

you kicked your legs out with a strange flail and when you came into contact with something large and solid you nearly screamed.

"ow! motherf- oh my god!"

standing on the ground beside your table was a goose. it honked yet again with impatience (geese could do that?) and nipped lightly at your thigh closest to it. looking to the pond nearby, it was nearly an entire gaggle of the damned things.

so here was this goose honking at you and nipping at you like you were supposed to know what the hell it wanted from you.

"i don't have any bread, dumbass. go find someone else to bother." thinking it would leave if you ignored it, you turned away and continued your work.

"HONK! HONK!" it continued to honk and decided to peck you before flapping its wings, landing itself on the table next to your computer.

"get outta here, ya damn goose!" while you were trying to shop it away, it expertly evaded you. "go! shoo! leave me alone!"

it just stayed over on the bench, expertly dodging your attempts to get it to leave.

a few people nearby had heard your altercation with the infernal bird. one of them was an older gentleman that laughed as he sat across from you, the mirth in his eyes glinting as you give him a sarcastic side eye while trying to deal with the current issue.

"that bird won't leave you alone, you know." At his voice, the goose calmed down and waddled a few feet away from your arm's reach.

that was the first time the thing had been seemingly calm since he showed up at your little table.

"what do you mean he won't leave me alone?"

he pauses, part of him enjoying the irritation in your tone. he remembers someone talking to him like he was to you many years ago, and it made his heart smile at the idea of repaying the favor. "have you ever read about soulmate geese?"

"hey we're gonna go for a run, wanna join?" steve’s offer was given with a smirk. ever since reuniting with bucky, the two supersoldiers found so much humor in doing laps around sam every time they went out jogging.

it annoyed the shit out of him, the "on your left" comments from steve and the newer "on your right" jabs from bucky, but it also pushed Sam to work harder during his runs. ultimately he knew his non-enhanced body didn't stand much of a chance beating them, but he enjoyed when he was able to close the gap between their times just a little bit.

"sure, just gimme a few to eat breakfast and I'll join you guys." the blond nodded and turned back to the elevator, having woken up far earlier than sam and therefore already ate.

he hummed otis redding as he laid the bacon flat into the pan, shoulders moving along with his created rhythm while changing the grounds in the coffee filter. this was how he spent most of his mornings, barring the occasional hangovers and missions where he couldn't afford the distraction.

he ate, got dressed, and told FRIDAY to let bucky and steve know he was ready to go. h had his water bottle in hand, giving his body a pep talk in preparation for the run. they met in the common room and soon, the trio was off.

"on your left!"

"on your right!"

"oh, come on!"

he knew it was gonna happen, but for some reason it felt like it happened sooner than normal. either they were trying really hard to mess with him today, or he was off his game. but regardless, he pushed his body harder than he probably should have because when there was something obstructing his path, he didn't pause. no, he charged it straight on through and fell hard.

steve and bucky had seen this from a distance and immediately rushed to get to their friend.

sam rolled onto his back, exhausted and now in terrible pain from the fall. he closed his eyes and just let it all sink in. when he opened his eyes at the sudden foul smell flooding his nostrils, he could feel the palpitations, thinking he was about to have a heart attack.

"holy shit!" sam sat up like a rocket despite the way his body was throbbing from the fall.

the goose stared at him curiously and turned its head toward the pounding footsteps from the approaching brooklynites.

"sam! What happened?" steve was concerned, inspecting sam while bucky noticed the bird. The brunet bent down to meet the goose eye-level and was somewhat surprised that it didn't run away at the close proximity.

"did you trip the dumbass? was it your fault sam landed on his face? Huh, little guy?"

"honk! honk!"

"i thought so. good job, man." bucky pats the animal on the head gently before turning to help steve get sam off the ground.

"nothing’s broken but there's probably a sprain, can't really be sure until we get to cho." sam and bucky lift their friend from the pavement and they have no problem supporting his weight.

they began the walk back to the tower in silence. well, almost silence. there was a faint pitter-patter of tiny, webbed feet behind them that sam and bucky weren't paying attention to.

steve noticed the goose slowly waddling behind the trio and looked at sam with a smile. sam responded to steve’s happy face with a glare, not enjoying any of the situation he found himself in.

"look behind us, guys."

both men took turns looking behind them and see the goose waddling behind them patiently. sam wasn't particularly happy about the culprit from moments before trailing behind him, but bucky thought it was hilarious.

"do you know what this means?"

sam rolled his eyes because he thought the blond was about to make some sort of poetic comment about one thing for another.

bucky had paused to think about the implications of a random goose for a moment before gasping. "dude," bucky nudged sam softly, being conscious of his friend's injuries. "you’re gonna meet your soulmate, man!"

"a soulmate goose. man come on, are you out of your mind?"

"steve got his goose back during the war, i think we know enough about it."

sam had only heard vague reports of soulmate geese throughout his life, but now that he thought about it, it did make sense. the goose showed up randomly in the middle of his routine, completely throwing him off, and was now refusing to leave him alone.

"well if this is my soulmate goose, then somebody’s gotta tell tony about our newest avenger." they laughed at the implication, viciously eager to witness tony’s reaction to the newest resident of avengers hq.

it has been three days of dealing with your goose, and you were now teased at work as “bird brain”, walking into your office to see several loaves of bread covering the desk. your goose, that you had named piper once you got home, was excited at the prospect of more food, but you planned on donating most of the bread to local shelters, only keeping a couple loaves for the house.

the guest host that week was mick jagger, and he had emerged into the room “i dream of jeanie” style, startling both you and piper, who honked at him in irritation.

it was time for you to work on the song for your little sketch with him, and you had only two more days before performance night (it was thursday) to finish writing it. after settling down and getting into the right mindset, the writing process had begun.

"alright let's see," mick murmured. "let’s all go to the picnic, let's all have a drink. what rhymes with 'drink'?"

you thought for a moment and said quietly, "think?"

you weren't prepared for the absurd response you received from the man, his accent making him round mean as he barked out a loud "NO!" with an unnecessary hand gesture.

piper just about lost it. she was honking and flapping around your office in a tizzy (but staying away from mick because the man was seen as a stranger she wasn't comfortable with).

you racked your brain for another solution, something else to rhyme with 'drink' and you eventually found it: "sink?"

mick thought about it for a moment before replying with a much lighter "yes!" also paired with unwarranted pointing.

‘motherfucker, is this how you write songs?!'

thursday and friday came and went, and soon it was time for your piece to be performed by mick. du to an accidental ankle twist someone else suffered, you were forced to perform a skit live for the first time in your career. it would have been great, but there was one teensy problem: piper blatantly refused to leave your side when it was time to perform, and she would honk and bite anyone that tried to keep her from you onstage.

even poor bobby, who she had grown fond of, was taking the brunt of it. she was not allowing you to be more than a couple feet away from her, and it was almost endearing if you weren't being broadcast on national television.

apparently, piper would also be making her debut appearance on saturday night live tonight as well.

saturday had arrived, and it was sam’s day of rest. he spent the day doing the bare minimum, eating junk food and watching almost everything on netflix he could find.

he didn't stray too far from tradition, not really. it was just that now he had a goose accompanying him the entire time, honking at this and that and eating occasional pieces of popcorn that sam didn't want to share.

he didn't mind his feathered companion, he was actually quite fond of his goose at this point. whitewing (not to be confused with redwing) was the most calm goose any of them had seen, no biting or nipping and especially no honking at ungodly hours of the night.

steve was perplexed. "Are you sure whitewing hasn't done anything bad? no waking you up at night or bites when you don't feed him soon enough?"

sam would chuckle and shake his head, proud to have such a calm goose. "why are you so keen to see him misbehave? aren’t all soulmate geese like this?"

"for lack of a better word, most geese are assholes. i don't know how whitewing is so well behaved," steve balked at the very idea of all geese being so mellow and decided it was story time.

steve’s goose from the century before was the most rambunctious animal anyone had ever seen. he recounted the first and several occasions following where his soulmate goose, jimmy, fended off the blond man's alleyway attackers.

sam was extremely grateful that whitewing had less feral and goose-like tendencies. whitewing was extremely well behaved and had an almost human way about him, the way he honked in reply to sam or the rest of the team when they talked to him.

it was late in the evening when clint decided to plop down onto the couch and flick the channel to nbc, where tonight's host was mick jagger.

"why are we watching this?" sam was enjoying his sitcoms before the other bird man had showed up.

"i haven't watched it in ages, plus mick jagger is on tonight."

"alright, whatever you want."

the intro played like usual, and whitewing was perfectly complacent. they laughed in the right places with the occasional honking from the bird, and everything was great.

"hey man, look!" clint interrupted, keeping sam from being able to hear the punchline. "i think that's a goose!"

"why is there a goose? The skit has nothing to with-"

sam and clint seemed to come to the same realization at the same time as whitewing, the goose beginning to honk incessantly. he was going absolutely berserk, flapping his wings and hopping off of sam’s lap and onto the coffee table, occasionally pecking at the tv where he saw the other goose.

he was going absolutely bonkers.

"whitewing! whitewing, no! calm down!" sam scrambled to calm down his goose, but he was having none of it. the whole entire skit, whitewing was honking and flapping and being a general nuisance.

he found his soulmate.

whitewing kept at it until the screen went to a commercial, his soulmate off of the screen.

"y’know," clint spoke around a slice of pizza. when did he get pizza? "if you hurry, you could go to the studio and meet your soulmate. the show is about halfway over."

before sam could think over the proposition, tony’s voice was heard from the corridor. "somebody shut that damned bird up before I pay ramsay to cook it!"

"i’m taking care of it!"

with that, sam heads to the armory with whitewing on his tail to get his wings. once he's equipped, sam heads to the window and jumps, immediately setting his course for studio 8h and his soulmate.

you’re released to go back to your office once you finish the skit alongside mick and piper, the show almost over. you’re gathering your things lazily, knowing that you have no other responsibilities for the night.

just as you lock your office and piper is waddling beside you without a care in the world, you see kyle running towards you with a look of fear in his eyes. that fear seems to only triple when his eyes land on piper beside you.

"kyle! what’s-"

"there’s another goose on the set! no one is safe!"

wait, was he bleeding?!

you were going to try and help your friend but one look at piper sent him off the rails, the lanky man nearly falling on his ass in an attempt to skid the corner. you hoped that someone would help calm your panicked friend, seeing as you were literally the worst person for the job at the moment.

without further incident, you are able to say goodbye to cecily and mikey before you're stopped in your tracks by michael, who gives piper a funny look.

"wait, so the goose that attacked kyle wasn't piper?" You shake your head in confusion. "dude, your soulmate must have come to the set!"

piper must have either understood what your co-worker had said or she could sense a change in the studio, but she began to honk erratically and run away from you. the last thing new york needed was two feral geese running around attacking people, so you did what anyone would do and ran after her.

"piper! piper, come back!" michael laughed as you chased after your goose. while you were running, you nearly died when you heard a honk that you knew wasn't from your piper. hers were carved into your brain, and you were positive that you could pick hers out of an entire gaggle of geese, so there was indeed a second goose in the studio.

to your dismay, piper did not stop and wait, she just kept on honking and flapping and scaring people in pursuit of the other goose, poor old you having to chase her.

there was another voice you assumed was yelling at his goose since you didn't know of anyone naming their kid whitewing. your eyes were not looking straight ahead when you suddenly bumped into someone, immediately stumbling a bit before regaining your balance.

piper had stopped her honking and that scared you. did someone hurt her? was she-

her and another goose were making muted honks to each other. they sounded like affectionate honks, which is one of the weirdest sentences you ever constructed in your head. but it was true! they were cuddling close to each other and making really quiet honking noises at each other, and if that wasn’t affectionate then you didn’t know what would be.

so if piper found her soulmate, that means yours was-

"i hope comin' to your job was okay. whitewing wasn't gonna give up until I left, so here we are." your eyes were dragged from the touching scene of piper and her special goose to a pair of dark brown irises that radiated warmth and a promise of happy days.

you were absolutely dumbstruck. your mouth was unable to form coherent words, so you decided to take in the appearance of your soulmate. he was wearing a soft grey tee and sweatpants, and socks without shoes. did he realize how unsanitary the streets of new york were?

but upon further investigation, you realize that he probably didn't walk to the studio. on his back was what you would normally call a jetpack, but when you recognize the face your mind completes the puzzle: your soulmate is sam wilson, otherwise known as the falcon. holy shit.

"uh yeah of course, i guess you flew here? no sane person in new york would walk around barefoot in the street." did you really just say that?!

sam nodded and then remembered that he was in his pajamas in front of his soulmate without any shoes. "yeah, he wasn't gonna stop attacking the tv once he saw uh…"

you realized he was asking for your goose’s name, and so you hastily gave it to him.

"yeah, once he saw piper, he went wild. caused more chaos in five minutes than he did in five days!"

you laugh, the nervousness falling away as you recount the story of you first meeting with piper.

people are staring at the pajama-clad avenger and his soulmate, their geese finally satisfied. after all, it wasn't every day so many people were able to watch soulmate geese (and their people) meet for the first time.

sam gently took your hand, his thumb smoothing the skin on the back of it, just listening to you talk. you asked him a question about whitewing and he was in the middle of telling you when he cut himself off. "i just realized i don't even know your name!"

in most scenarios you’d be slightly put off by this, but you didn't have an issue because of the specific circumstances. if he weren't an avenger you wouldn't have known his either, and plus, no one really pays attention to the little rat writers. you give him your name and smile when he introduces himself, his voice even helping show off the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

with impeccable goose timing, piper and whitewing honk at you to hurry your introductions and leave the studio.

"do you want to fly back to your place , or can I drive you?" it was a risk to ask him such a question, but you were genuinely concerned. you hoped he wouldn't think you were trying to jump his bones only minutes after meeting him so you used (terrible) humor to show your intentions. "you shouldn't fly so late at night without headlights, no matter how high up you get."

sam’s laughter was infectious and soon you joined him, your geese about to get more irritated with their humans.

"yeah, I'd like that. lead the way, soulmate." piper and whitewing honk as the two of you head to the lobby hand in hand, the birds waddling behind you just as happy as soulmate geese could be.

#falcon #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #mcu #marvel #falcon falcon goose!#sam wilson imagine #falcon imagine #bucky barnes #please don’t judge this mess

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supernaturalfreewill · 4 years

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Words: 3,736 Sam x Reader Summary: Dean stays behind while Sam and Y/N head to the local bar. Suprisingly, sparks fly and what starts seemingly as a drunken hook up could be more. Warnings: sexual content A/N: A little flirtatious banter, a little bit (maybe a lot) steamy, a little humor, a lot of cute and fluff... Trust me. You want to read this fic. Also, that second gif... *fans self*

Your name: submit What is this?

You looked over at Sam across the pool table, leaning a little on his cue, and you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip. “Are you gonna go or just stare at the table all night?” you prompted, drawing what was clearly only a half-serious annoyed look.

“Will you just give me a minute?” he laughed. “I’m figuring out the angles! It’s a little hard to do mental geometry with you over there scoffing every 5 seconds!”

“Scoffing, huh?” You shook your head at him. “You know what?” You lined up a shot and knocked in two of your balls.

Sam’s jaw dropped open. “What?! Are you kidding me? It wasn’t your turn!” But he was laughing through his amazement at your gall.

You raised your eyebrows at him and leaned heavily on your cue, shrugging carelessly. “You were taking too long. And if I’m not mistaken, I just sunk two, so it’s my turn again!”

Sam shook his head and bit his bottom lip. “You’re a cheat,” he said. You grinned back at him.

“Alright, cheater. I’m gonna go get us some more drinks while you finish out your ill-gotten turn,” he said, giving you a last scolding look. You only returned a satisfied smile and began lining up your next shot. You didn’t see Sam pause on his way over to the bar to take another look at you over his shoulder. There was warmth on his face as he laughed to himself and signaled to the bartender. He returned in a couple minutes with two drinks and immediately let out a laugh when he saw the table was cleared except for his balls and the cue ball.

“Looks like you lost, Sam,” you said accepting a glass from him and wiggling your eyebrows.

“It looks that way, but did I actually lose if my opponent cheated me out of the game?”

“It’s not my fault you can’t shoot based on pure instinct like me,” you retorted, grinning at him and taking a deep drink of the whiskey in your glass. “If I had waited for you to take that shot, you’d probably still be standing there ‘doing geometry’,” you teased him.

Sam laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not playing with you anymore!”

“Good,” you said, putting your pool cue away in the rack on the wall. “Because I usually like to finish a game faster than if I were playing my dead grandmother.”

Sam gave you another look and shook his head, but he too stashed his cue away on the wall rack. You grabbed a nearby stool at a high-top table and he came over to join you, sipping his drink. “This is good,” you said with a content sigh and a small smile still on your face. “I needed to blow off some steam after today.”

Sam nodded in agreement, his eyes wandering over your face freely while you glanced around the bar. “Yeah. Same here. But I hope Dean isn’t too upset we went out without him…”

You laughed. “Who cares? We invited him. He’s the one who decided to stay at the hotel and pout.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “It’s true,” he said, sipping his drink. “I just hope he doesn’t purposely try to be unpleasant when we get back…”

You snorted with laughter into your drink. “He can be unpleasant enough without trying,” you laughed also drawing laughter from Sam.

“Yeah… imagine growing up with him. Add some father issues and teenage hormones into the mix… Yikes.”

You smirked at Sam. “You mean to say that you don’t have father issues?” you teased him, your skepticism lifting one eyebrow.

Sam let out a loud laugh that lit up his whole face. “No, I don’t mean to imply that at all. I have father issues. I have hella father issues,” he laughed and you joined him, giving him a somewhat sympathetic look. “No point in trying to lie to you, Y/N, we all know it.”

You nodded and stared down into your drink. “Well, hey, um—same,” you laughed. You downed the rest of your drink and continued your evening with Sam full of laughter and also quite full of drinks. The time passed easily, swapping hunting stories and goofing around. And by the time the two of you left the bar to walk back to the motel only a few blocks away you were a little unsteady on your feet. In fact, you missed the small step coming outside and Sam put an arm out to catch you as you stumbled.

You pressed a hand to your face, which was red, and laughed at yourself. “Woops. I seem to be a little bit drunker than I expected,” you laughed.

“Shocking with the way you’re always bragging about how you can hold your liquor,” Sam teased you. His arm was still around you and there was a beat where you looked up into his hazel eyes and your lips parted slightly to speak, but you suddenly couldn’t get the words out. Sam’s eyes were just… wow. Both of you seemed to perceive the sudden tension in the air between you and Sam felt a tightness in his throat and slipped his arm from around you. You cleared your throat a little nervously and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

What the hell was that? you wondered, your heart still racing in your chest. You’d never felt that before with Sam… Had you? You walked the short distance back to the hotel, managing to fall back into conversation easily but the mood seemed to changed again as you neared your room, which was only a few doors down from the one Sam and Dean were sharing. Sam hovered nearby to make sure you got in okay. You slipped the key into the lock and turned it, the clank of the deadbolt unlatching sounding loud in the quiet of the parking lot. You turned around to look at Sam and gave him a small smile. “Tonight was fun,” you said. His hands were crammed into his pockets, and you didn’t know it, but it was because he was suddenly inexplicably nervous. And he couldn’t stop looking at the color of your eyes, richer and deeper in the shadows of the inky night around you.

“Yeah, it really was. I should let you cheat at pool more often,” he joked, his heart leaping a little when you laughed.

“Or maybe we should piss Dean off more often?”

“I don’t think he needs any help with that,” Sam laughed again. “Well…”

“Well.” You didn’t know you were doing it, but you subconsciously were biting your bottom lip, and there was a wave of warmth slowly expanding in your chest, rising up like the tide.

Goddammit, Sam thought, and he just went for it. The tension between the two of you was unbearable and he couldn’t just let it fade again. Maybe it was just the booze… Probably it was just the booze, right? But he wrapped an arm around your lower back and his other hand slid into your hair, and he was suddenly pulling you in against him and kissing you with a heat and insistence that was overwhelming, and you were stunned but instantly kissing him back with the same fervor.

Suddenly he pulled back, out of breath, his eyes wide, searching your face, which was locked in an expression of stunned surprise, but with a disbelieving smile thrown in. “Wh—what was that?” you asked, your voice breathy.

Sam shook his head, his eyes still wide. “I don’t—I don’t know,” he said, still holding you. “Oh God—” he said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re drunk,” he said guiltily. “I don’t want—I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I’m so sorry!” He started to release his hold on you and back away but you interrupted him.

“Shut up,” you said forcefully. “And kiss me again. And I swear to God, Sam, I am giving you permission to take advantage of me.” Sam gulped at your words. “I want you to take full advantage of me and if you don’t I will 100% take advantage of you,” you said, a smile growing on your face with each word.

Sam stared down at you still in his arms for another moment with wide eyes, disbelieving. “…Are you sure?”

You nodded. “God, yes.”

And that was it. Sam was kissing you feverishly again and you were sinking into him. He pressed against you and you backed up into your hotel room, Sam carelessly kicking the door hard to shut behind you. You suddenly felt his hands on your ass and laughed into the kiss as he picked you up so you were straddling him, your arms around his neck. You sighed as his lips moved from yours to your neck, one of his hands now splayed out on your back and wandering up to tangle his fingers in your hair. His lips found yours again and you gently bit his bottom one. Sam immediately deepened the kiss and the next moment you let out a gasp as you tumbled down onto the bed with Sam over you. You broke apart for a moment, both wearing matching grins, out of breath, hearts racing, searching the others eyes and seeing the same fiery desire. Sam bit his bottom lip and shook his head vaguely, like he couldn’t believe this was happening, which only widened your smile.

You pulled him in again to crash his lips into yours again, feeling his hands wandering over your curves and edges hungrily, and yours doing the same. You slipped one hand underneath his shirt and scratched your nails lightly down his back. The feeling of the powerful, tense muscles under his skin making your head feel suddenly fuzzy. Sam let out a sigh and his hand squeezed your hip. What happened next was a sizzling whirlwind. Suddenly you were both just skin on skin, gasps and moans of pleasure, your nails digging into his back, his shoulder. Sam planting kisses along your collarbone, his breath hot on your neck, hair rising with goose bumps and electricity. His fingers fitting between yours, palms squeezed together, hips moving in unison. Sam’s fingers tangling in your hair, tugging it just enough to turn your head so he could kiss your neck, drag his teeth lightly over your earlobe, the feeling of the rough stubble on his face exhilarating. You laughed and squealed as Sam pulled you on top of him, his fingers digging into your hips, his face overwhelmed with the feel of you, the sight of you. Another few minutes and he had you pinned below him again, his eyes locked with yours for a long moment before your lips met again in a passionate kiss. The waves of pleasure were building toward the top of the crescendo and you were overcome with sensations. Sam’s fingers interlaced with yours and he broke the kiss to look down at your expression as you reached the height of pleasure, gasping out his name and squeezing his hand tight in yours, completely overcome. Sam did the same, capturing you in another kiss as the waves white-capped and started to recede, his kiss growing softer, and soon you were both just heaving gasping breaths through unsure smiles.

He fell into bed beside you and let out a disbelieving laugh, looking over at you, his eyes flitting between yours. You could feel that your face and chest were flushed and you shyly smiled at him, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek. Sam’s fingers lightly brushed the strands of hair away from your eyes, studying your expression. You giggled and bit your bottom lip again, rolling over on your back to stare up at the ceiling. Sam watched your eyelashes flicker as your blinked.

“That was, umm… a little unexpected,” you said, turning to catch his eyes again.

His mouth fell slightly open and he mouthed wordlessly for a moment, which only brought another wide smile to your lips and a hot blush in your cheeks. “I didn’t—did that really just happen?” he laughed.

You nodded. “I’m pretty sure…”

Sam propped himself up on one elbow so he could study your face again and then clasped it gently and kissed you. It was soft but somehow still intense and you felt starry-eyed when he drew away. You could see every fleck of multifaceted color in his eyes and you were grateful to be laying down because it felt like everything suddenly shifted at that moment. You were dizzy from Sam.

“Can I just say… it’s weird how natural that felt?” he said. “I mean—nothing was awkward or… I don’t know.” A surprised smile was on his face and your heart skipped a beat.

“I was kind of thinking the same thing,” you said. Sam reached over and slipped his arm underneath you before pulling you close against him. You rested your head on his shoulder and your hand on his strong chest. You could feel his heart still pounding like yours.

“I mean, honestly,” he said, “I’ve been dating people where our first time was waaaay more awkward.”

You laughed and pressed a hand over your face as you blushed again. “Same,” you agreed.

“Hey, come on. Don’t be hiding those blushes! I earned those!” Sam said, gently taking your hand and pulling it away from your face. He laced his fingers with yours again and his expression softened. “What are you thinking right now?” he asked you.

You chewed your bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. “Mmm… I’m thinking ‘Thank God Dean didn’t come out tonight.’” You grinned up at him and he returned it.

“Me too.”

Not long after, both of you sunk in to one another, and after Sam captured you again in another soft kiss, you drifted off to sleep.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Dean woke up fairly early, having gone to bed much before his usual time in frustration with the research he was attempting. He was surprised he didn’t wake up when Sam came back in but a glance over at Sam’s bed explained why. It was undisturbed. And the next moment Dean was on his feet in alarm, his mind immediately rushing to worst case scenarios. He checked his phone to see if Sam had left a message or sent a text with an explanation. Nothing. Dean quickly threw on some clothes and stepped out into the early morning light, pistol at his hip, making a beeline straight for your room to see if you knew where Sam was.

He faltered as he approached. Your room key was still in the lock, dangling down. Dean gulped. Something was seriously not right here… Adrenaline started to flow into Dean’s veins and he gulped at the tightness in his throat. He withdrew his pistol and carefully grasped the doorknob, testing it ever so slightly to see if it was unlocked. It was loose. He heaved a steadying breath, gritted his teeth, and burst in through the door.

The crash startled you and Sam awake and you let out a scream and instinctively reached for your knife on the bedside table. Sam had his gun up and aimed at the figure in the doorway, who was silhouetted by the morning light and thus difficult to make out clearly until his eyes adjusted. Sam was protectively shielding you behind him. When you saw who had just burst in you let out a string of expletives and in your attempts to duck beneath the sheet accidentally fell out of the bed.

Dean’s face contorted into shocked perplexity and he lowered his gun. “…Sam?”

“Uhh…” Sam’s eyes went round as he stared at his brother, now also lowering his gun. He turned his attention to you where you were on the floor by the far side of the bed, thankfully still wrapped in the sheet. “Are you alright?” Sam asked you.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, looking up at him, feeling your face burn. You stayed put on the floor, hiding just below the edge of the bed.

Dean was watching the scene before him with his mouth hanging open in confusion and disbelief. “This is—this is Y/N’s room,” he said. He turned to look at the number on the door as if to confirm he hadn’t gotten the room wrong and burst into a random one that simply happened to have Sam in it.

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked back at his brother. “Uhh… yep…”

Dean’s brow lowered heavily over his eyes. “Did you—“ he cleared his throat and asked in a near-whisper, “—did you bring a girl back to Y/N’s room???”

Sam’s lips tightened into a thin line. Dean was really not putting this together. Apparently in his mind you and Sam hooking up was not even the shadow of a possibility. Sam avoided his eyes and pulled the blanket up. “Dean—would you mind getting the hell out of here?”

“Oh—right. Yeah, but… umm… where’s Y/N? Did she hook up too?” he asked in surprise. Down on the floor your pressed an exasperated hand to your face.”

Sam nodded, his eyebrows lifting. “Mhm. You know, I think she did. So. If you don’t mind…”

Dean seemed to come back to his senses. “Heh—right. Sorry. I don’t normally burst into hotel rooms but your bed wasn’t slept in and I thought something bad had happened and—” he pulled the key out of the door and tossed it on the spare bed, “—then I saw the key in the door—Y’know, sorry. I’m sorry. I’m going,” he said, his face finally cracking into a boyish smirk. “Way to go, Sammy,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped out and shut the door.

Sam let out an exasperated noise and fell back onto the pillow, one hand in his hair. He glanced over in your direction, but you were still apparently hiding on the floor. “Hey—Y/N?”

Your voice drifted up over the edge. “Yeah…”

Sam laughed a little to himself. “Are you okay?”

“…yeah.”

“Well, Dean’s gone. You can come back up here,” Sam said, a question in his voice.

“Umm… I know…”

Sam heard some uncertainty in your voice and he rolled over across your side of the bed to peer down at you. “What’s the matter?”

You chewed your bottom lip and shrugged. “I mean, that wake up call wasn’t great…”

Sam laughed and nodded in agreement. “Yeah… Listen, I had something much better in mind, so can we start over?”

Your eyes flitted up to his but still looked a little unsure.

“Please? I need you back up here though…”

You took in the pleading expression on his face and the soft, warm light in his eyes and you couldn’t resist. You slid back into bed beside him and Sam’s face immediately broke into a warm smile.

“Alright, now come here,” he said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close just the way you had been before Dean burst in. Your heart was beating fast with nerves. “Now, close your eyes,” Sam said. You did as he asked and for a long moment he just studied your face and waited for you to sink in against him. Sam gently turned toward you and you felt his hand caress your cheek so lightly it was like a breeze, and then his lips met yours with a soft, sweet kiss. “Good morning,” he said. You could feel his voice reverberate in his chest and your eyes shot open to look right into Sam’s. You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face to match his. “Better?” he asked.

“So much better.” You had hardly finished answering when Sam captured you in another kiss, and this one you returned with fervor.

Sam’s eyes were flitting between yours when you broke apart and he relished the sight of the blush on your face. “Listen, if you don’t feel this way that’s okay but I want to put this out there. On my end,” Sam started, licking his lips because he was feeling suddenly nervous, “this did not feel at all like a ‘hook up’ regardless of how it may have started.”

You laughed through a wide smile. “You mean, you taking ‘full advantage of me’?”

Sam laughed. “You remember that, huh? Not gonna lie… that was super hot.” This only drew more laughter from you and increased the heat in your face and chest. “But really, I think I always wanted this, but I didn’t admit it to myself until it was already happening.” He rubbed a hand anxiously across the back of his neck. “If that makes any sense.”

You felt wildly happy in that moment and you grabbed him and pulled him into a passionate kiss, his arms wrapping around you immediately, his fingers lightly tracing over the bare skin on your back. “It makes perfect sense,” you said. “Because I feel the exact same way.”

Sam’s face lit up with a huge smile.

“One thing,” you asked. “How exactly are we going to explain this to Dean?”

Sam sighed and shook his head. “You know, it’s funny. I really don’t care.” He leaned back down onto his pillow. “The only thing I can think about right now is carrying you into a hot shower and taking advantage of you again.” Sam’s eyes darted over to your face.

You were wearing a stunned expression, your eyes a little wide at his boldness. It made Sam laugh. But the next moment you were giving him a warm look that suggested you were entirely on board with that plan, and a moment later he was showering you with kisses.

#sam fics #sam winchester #sam x reader #reader insert fanfics #sammy #sexy!sam #spn fics #supernatural

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jungkookiebus · 4 years

Text

Quarantined | jjk

Genre: smut x fluff x slice of life Rating: 18+ Pairing: nonidol!jungkook x reader Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: food play (maybe there’s some peaches), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, ass play, creampie, squirting, reader is blindfolded, sickeningly sweet domesticity. Summary: With your city effectively under quarantine to help stop the spread of the new virus, you find yourself in a, at least, two week period of isolation with your live-in boyfriend, Jungkook. During a quick trip for groceries, Jungkook picks up something that just so happens to pair well with the taste of your skin. Author’s Note: this is just a little slice of life fun for people to have during our mandatory quarantines and self-isolations. Much love and I hope everyone is staying safe! I wrote this for my boo @bulletproofbirdy

My stories are on tumblr only. Do not repost or plagiarize in any way.

“Well, that settles it!” Jungkook said as he threw the remote on the ramen laden coffee table. “QUARANTINED!”

You were still staring at the tv, watching the news. Your city was in lockdown, effective immediately. Police were soon to be patrolling, making sure no one was making any “non-essential” trips. You saw him pick up his phone out of the corner of your eye; probably going into the work group chat. You lived five blocks away from work, which was a local bar. Jungkook bartended and you served. You were known as The Couple™, having met at the bar when you first worked together, eight years ago. There were the “old” employees, the ones that had been there as long as you or longer, and the newbies. For girls, Jungkook was always the first employee they clung to. How could anyone blame them? Muscles for days, tattoos on almost every available surface, piercings, and a sweet personality that made every girl, and the occasional guy, swoon. You’d watch playfully from a distance as a new waitress would lean against the bar talking to him before open. Jungkook would always make polite conversation, going about his duties, and preparing for the night. The girl would usually pretend to be folding napkins but would sometimes fold the same one five times. She’d tried to get her boobs in her over padded bra to nestle against the bar surface. You’d laugh as Jungkook would look anywhere but there, grabbing a glass and setting it out. This always played out the same way. Jungkook would look up, spot you wherever you were and call out.

“Hey, babe!” he’d say as he threw up his hand.

The girl at the bar would slowly swivel around, searching the room for whoever he was talking to. You’d stop and gesture to yourself as if asking, ‘me?’

“Who else, you goose?” he’d start to wave emphatically for you to come over.

So, you’d set down whatever you were doing and make your way to and around the bar. He always did something a little different, but this time his hand came in contact with your waist first, then he slid it slowly around your back until he almost circled you. He’d draw you in closer to him and place a kiss usually to your lips, but sometimes your cheek or forehead, then he’d smile down at you and then the girl.

“This is _____. She’ll be your shift lead tonight so whatever she says goes and if you need help, she’s your girl.”

He’d look at you proudly again, arm still around your waist. This sickening display was usually enough for them to never try again.

“What is everyone saying?” you asked, still half watching the news.

“Well, Yeol is saying we’re definitely closed. Some people are pissed. I get it, but damn am I excited to have a break.”

“This is serious,” you said now looking at him.

He looked up from his phone at you. “I didn’t say it wasn’t, but aren’t you the least bit excited to have some time off?”

You had to admit it was something you desperately needed, just under different circumstances. He put his phone back on the table as he scooted closer to you and reached across to the opposite thigh and rested his hand there. He leaned in close to your ear and you shivered a little bit as his breath tickled you.

“Plus, you get to hang out with me for two weeks,” he whispered.

“Ugh, Jungkook, you perv.” You slapped his hand on your thigh and he pulled away giggling. He settled back into the cushions on the other end and started poking your side with his toe. You rolled your eyes and ignored him as you looked at your phone to see what the others were saying.

Four days into quarantine and you guys needed groceries.

“Let’s go together and we can haul back whatever we can carry,” Jungkook said as he shrugged on his coat by the front door.

You were getting slightly stir crazy anyway. There was only so many people you could kill on Sims before it got boring and listening to Jungkook yell into his headphones while playing Overwatch got old fast. He was enjoying this time to upgrade every character he had in every game he played.

The walk to the store was eerily quiet. Very few people were out on the sidewalks. You adjusted your mask as Jungkook took your hand and stayed close. The store was surprisingly not busy and there was still a good stock of product. Jungkook grabbed a basket, wiping it down with provided wipes, and sidled up beside you.

“Split up?” you asked.

“Heck no!”

He was smiling when you looked up at him, eyes crinkling, and you wished you could see his smile right now.

“If I see someone who I even think has the virus, I’m picking you up and running out of here.”

“Fine,” you said dramatically as you stuck your hand into his coat pocket.

Once in produce, you grabbed the usual. You came back to the cart with lettuce, tomatoes, and some potatoes as Jungkook was tying up a bag of peaches.

“Since when do you eat peaches?” you asked as you screwed up your face.

His face reddened and you wondered what had gotten into him.

“I-I like them. Silly.” He reached out, thumped you on the forehead, and all you could do was laugh. So what if he liked them? It didn’t even cross your mind again.

Forty-five minutes later and you made it back to your apartment, bags draped on all arms, and breathing heavily while the blood was cut off to your fingers. You sighed loudly as you dropped all the bags on the counter and stood there for a second before struggling to get your arms out.

“We should be set for a while,” Jungkook said as he started to take things out of bags.

With shared effort, the groceries were put away fast and Jungkook was suddenly excusing himself to go take a shower as he ran away. You weren’t sure why he was acting so weird. Maybe being cooped up in the house and then being suddenly let out in public had fucked with his brain. You didn’t think twice as you sat down to play the new Animal Crossing.

“Your turn!” he yelled, causing you to jump as he came out in a towel. His hair was still dripping, and you took a second to drink him in. Damn he looked good.

“Okay? I’ll go later.”

He sounded exasperated; like a child as he huffed.

“But I want you to go now.”

You sat the Switch down and looked up at him.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He pouted as you stared at him. Fucking ass.

“Fine,” you said, standing from the couch. A smile broke out across his face and you saw him dance a little bit. “Only because you made that stupid face now get out of my way.”

You half expected him to come in the bathroom and play some prank on you, but your shower was peaceful. You even took your time since he wanted you to take one so badly. It wasn’t like you weren’t showering. Yea, you were in quarantine, but that didn’t stop you from practicing good hygiene. What you did discover as you got out of the shower, though, was that your clothes were gone. You rolled your eyes as you opened the bathroom door, letting the steam out into the hallway as you walked, towel wrapped around you.

“Jungkook seriously?!” you yelled as you moved fast down the hall to your bedroom. “Hiding my clothes. That’s rich. Why did you-“

You were cut short as you walked into the doorway. Jungkook was fully naked and sprawled out across the bed. He was never one to shy away from being nude, but his behavior had been so weird today.

“Do you…possibly have the virus?” you asked.

“What?” he said, sitting up now.

“You’re losing it.”

“No,” he said while standing. He walked over to you and grabbed the front of your towel and snatched it away.

“Hey!”

“We’re gonna have some fun.” He pulled you in quickly, chest crashing into his as your naked body became flush against him.

You could practically feel the water rise off you as your body heated. It was humid and sticky between you, but his skin moved smoothly against yours. His toned muscles moved rigidly against your nipples and you moaned. His hands smoothed down your back until he was grabbing your ass cheeks in his hands. His fingers were calloused, but his touch was always soft, so gentle. He treated you just rough enough, knowing your limits instinctively. But even when he was rough, there was always love behind his touch. You felt him grow harder against your stomach and you suddenly realized how long it had been since you got to touch him. With the increasing fear of the outside world, you had completely forgotten about the one you had inside. Your arms were around him, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. His lips were on yours; just a little chapped but uniquely his, so pouty. His tongue was minty with a hint of cherry chapstick. He moaned into your mouth as your tongue flicked just behind his teeth. You grew just the more wet as he became absolutely rigid against you. His fingernails dug deliciously into your ass cheeks; his grip suggesting that he was trying to get as close to your core as possible; his cock like a magnet to you.

He pulled away with a hooded gaze. His eyes flickered to your strawberry red lips, your cheeks dusted in the same color, and a slight glaze over your eyes.

“Can I play with you?”

You nodded dumbly. He could have whatever he wanted. You weren’t sure why he still asked. Always the gentleman. He smiled sweetly, almost too sweet. He grabbed your wrist as he stepped towards the bed. He produced a black sash, his grin so sickeningly sweet that you wanted to object to this, but you didn’t.

“Lights out, doodle bug,” he said while holding it up.

“Don’t call me that right now,” you sneered as you stepped forward.

“Alright,” he said as he wrapped it around your head and started to tie, his voice husky, “baby girl, I don’t want you seeing what I’m doing.”

You gasped as he jerked the knot tightly, his breath hot on your cheek.

“Now, lay back and relax, okay?”

You sat on the bed comfortably, situating yourself on the pillows in the middle of the bed. You heard Jungkook’s soft movements around you. Then, the light dip in the bed and then deeper as he crawled a little closer to you. He straddled your hips just right so that his balls hung against your pussy while his cock lay heavy atop you. Jungkook dug his thumbs under your jaw, pushing it back as his lips attached to the column of your throat. He kissed and nipped lightly, your body alight with goosebumps as your other senses were sent into overdrive. He moved down quickly, dipping his tongue into your collarbone. His fingers skated quickly across your nipples and they hardened, only flicking his tongue across them briefly. You groaned as he didn’t pay too much attention to anything, obviously teasing you.

“Baby,” you moaned.

“Hm?”

“Is your idea of playing teasing me?”

“Of course not.”

You felt him move slightly. Was he reaching for something? That was when you heard the soft, fibrous crunch. At first you told yourself you were hearing things, surely some outside city noise sounded similar. Then you heard it again and a soft slurp. His hand moved off your waist and when it came back it was sticky.

“Are...are you eating?”

He leaned forward, capturing your lips

Peaches.

He tasted so strongly of peaches. The taste that was naturally Jungkook mixed with the soft fruit, had you rubbing your thighs. He groaned as your soft skin encased his balls. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and bit down hard before letting go.

“Be a good girl.”

He held a piece of fruit to your mouth and you opened immediately, accepting the fruit slowly. You heard him moan as he pushed it into your mouth. You chewed slowly before swallowing the fresh fruit. You gasped slightly as you felt the cool wetness against your skin. He skimmed it across your chest and circled it around one of your nipples. Within seconds his lips were attached, moaning as he licked the sweet fruit from your skin. Your body was so hot. He kept you pinned at the hips, but your back arched off the bed as he suckled at the skin around your nipple. As his tongue worked the underside of your breast, he had the fruit at your mouth once more, pushing it past your lips. This time, as soon as you were done chewing, he slid his fingers into your mouth, and you sucked the stickiness of his skin. He breathed heavily against your chest as you sucked, bobbing your head much like you had done on his cock hundreds of times. Sometimes at home, sometimes in public. He pulled his fingers from your mouth slowly, dragging your bottom lip down, and his tongue was in your mouth again. He kissed you deeply, hands roaming down your waist and to your hips. Your hips canted upwards slightly under his weight. You wanted him inside you so badly and he was so close. His hand was on your jaw, squeezing lightly.

“I said be a good girl.”

It sucked that you couldn’t see him but fuck your touch sense was rooted straight to your core and Jungkook was delivering. You tried to imagine what he looked like right now. Surely he was sweating. He was always so worked up around you that his self-control caused him to sweat, his dark hair sticking to his forehead and neck. His tattoos would glow that special way they only did in the low lights of your bedroom, in each other’s arms, and connected in more ways than one. The one you loved the most was the watercolor galaxy. Bursts of purples, pinks, and deep blues were splattered across his skin, dotted in stars and planets. It sparkled spectacularly when Jungkook fucked you.

He got off you, sliding back on your legs and suddenly you felt cold despite the heat rising inside of you. You dug your fingers into the blankets as you lost contact with him. You liked feeling his skin against your hands. He got in between your legs and pushed them apart with his knees as he sat deeper. He massaged the skin of your thighs, bit by bit as he started above your knee. By the time he got anywhere close to your center you were already whimpering.

“Shhhh,” he whispered as he now kneaded your hips.

You pursed your lips tightly, hands digging just a little deeper into the blankets. Once again, you thought you were imagining things when you felt the first drip. But the definite second, then third, then almost a small drizzle until your pussy was dripping with not only your slick told you you weren’t dreaming. Jungkook spread you with his pointer and middle finger as he dripped more on your clit. More peaches were all you could presume. He planted his hands on your thighs as he moved backwards, and you felt him move to lay in front of you. He spread you as fully as he could before running his tongue up your center, collecting some of you and the peach on his tongue. He curled it around your clit for a second before flicking it back into his mouth and swallowing. His lips came apart with a smacking sound as he repeated the action, lapping at you like a thirsty puppy at a water bowl. Your whimpers became louder. His fingers dug a little harder. He dipped his tongue inside of your dripping pussy, the whole half of his face sticky against your skin. He fucked your tight walls with his tongue, moving so that his nose brushed softly against your clit. You wanted to grind down into his face. You wanted to ride his face, but this was his play time. He laved his tongue a few more moments before moving to enclose his lips around your clit, suckling it as he stuck two sticky fingers inside of you. Tears slipped from your eyes and quickly soaked into the fabric. Your breath caught in your chest as he started to thrust his fingers, hooking them perfectly against your g-spot. You saw white behind your eyes as you dug your fingers into his hair. He moaned again, fingers squelching inside of you lewdly, tongue working overtime on your clit.

“Ngh-h, ah, f-uuck,” you breathed out, body shuddering inward as your hips worked up into his face. You were so fucking close, body going rigid, and about to fucking fall when he disappeared.

“What-,“ you had wanted to protest. You really did. You were ready to fight him. Rip the blindfold off and possibly find the closest book and heave it at him. You were plotting his death and funeral in one thought and were about to give him a piece of your mind as he slammed his cock inside of you, sending you blindingly into the orgasm that your body held onto. You cried out, loudly, completely caught off guard and blown away by how fast he had moved and sent you over the edge with one move. Your body was so tense that your toes cramped and your grip on the sheets was deadly. His hands stayed on your waist keeping you grounded to the here and now. He didn’t move and he didn’t speak as you came down. Only when your body began to relax did he begin to move. You cried just a little, your pussy was so sensitive now, but you loved the feeling of him inside you. He picked your left leg up, straightened it, and pushed it to the side causing you to move to your side. He grabbed your ass cheek in one hand, using the other on your thigh as leverage. He started to fuck you faster and your body practically bounced on his cock as he moved you amongst the blankets. His grunts and soft sighs were like music to you. You imagined his face again. His eyes were probably closed, head tilted back slightly, mouth open with that lopsided bottom lip glistening with spit. His hair would look wet as the sweat permeated it, but he would still be so beautiful. His short fingernails barely created pain against your skin as his fingers dug deeper and deeper. His pointer and middle finger of his left hand were at your lips again. The slight dip he took to reach you caused his cock to hit a little deeper and you moaned loudly around his fingers as you sucked. He began to thrust his fingers a little harder in your mouth, pushing just a little deeper until he was hitting your gag reflex. Every few pushes of his fingers, he’d have you gagging around them until you were drooling on the sheets. Just as quickly as he was gagging you, he pulled his fingers from your mouth, pulled your ass cheek up and his fingers found your asshole quickly, pushing them, layered in your own spit, into your ass. You buried your face into the wet sheets as much as you could as you moaned. His pace in your pussy maintained the entire time as he now pushed further and further into your ass. You shuddered involuntarily as he seemed to be hitting some very sensitive nerve endings. You reached towards him, hand finding his wrist as he clutched your thigh again. His skin was so wet that you were having trouble holding on to him and it didn’t help that your palms were sweating. He was working his fingers into your ass in short thrusts as he slammed his dick into you. Your clit was throbbing, and you wished more than anything you could touch it right now, but you knew Jungkook could make you come like this. His moans would sometimes match his thrusts. Other times he would growl as he thrust a little faster. His skin slapped against yours, balls hitting that junction between your ass and thigh. Your cunt became vice like around him and thankfully he was balls deep. All he could do was move his hips, stimulating you from within. He was just on the other side of your g-spot in your ass, causing an array of sensations that had you drooling again.

He leaned down again, changing his angle. His wet stomach was against your hip and lower waist and it felt as if his cock were in your stomach. Under the blindfold, your eyes were fluttering shut as they rolled back. His breaths were short, but not the least bit labored. Sweat dripped from his brow and chin, dripping across your shoulder.

“Come on my fucking cock,” he growled.

That was the push you didn’t know you needed. You came hard. Gushing around his cock, hard. Jungkook was moaning in pure satisfaction as you wet his cock and the sheets. He had pulled his fingers from your ass without you noticing and he was gripping your ass again as he moved slowly. He kissed the skin on your shoulder as he breathed heavily. Your fingers were beginning to relax their grip on the covers.

“What a good girl,” he whispered. His lips skimmed across your upper arm.

You had a little mental clarity to envision him again. His pupils are probably blown. He’s so hard, close to bursting inside of you, but he’s showing the best restraint. His skin is most definitely flushed. Jungkook was famous for turning cherry red when embarrassed, but when aroused, his body glowed with it. He’s going to need another shower.

He pulled out of you, leaving you empty and fluttering around nothing. He moved you to your stomach, locking your legs together with his and slid his cock into you from behind. He laid his chest against your back, hooked his arm around your neck, and sat his chin on your shoulder. His thrusts were slow again, working their way speed up as you felt his painfully swollen cock slide in and out of your used pussy, still so tight around him after everything. His hand slid over your mouth as he bit down hard on the side of your neck. Your loud groan was muffled behind his hand as he thrust faster. His lips and tongue were soothing over the spot. The sting lessened as he lapped at your salty skin. He kissed up your neck and behind your ear. His breath was deep and loud in your ear as he got to the pace he needed. Now was about him as you squeezed around him. He moaned, hand tightening over your mouth. His mouth was open against your ear and the heat from it added moisture to your skin. He put his fingers into your mouth again and you dutifully sucked. You imagined the head of his cock as the pads of his fingers moved across your tongue.

Before he came you heard him whisper softly, ”Fuck, ______.” He groaned deeply as he came inside of you, uninhibited. He filled you up and more, leaking out around himself and wetting the blankets further. Slowly, he released his fingers from your mouth, and he let you drop your head to the bed. He rested against your shoulder blade, too tired to move and frankly, at this point, you didn’t care. As long as you were somewhere soft and prone, you were happy. You had your arms stretched out to either side, releasing some of the tension from your shoulders. Jungkook ran his hand from your shoulder, down your arm, and intertwined your fingers, his hand on top of yours.

“Who would have thought,” he began, “a pandemic would make me want to rub peaches on you.”

“Maybe for the next one you can use cured meats.” You voice was muffled amongst the fabric.

“God, you’re disgusting.”

“I love you, too.”

“I wouldn’t want be quarantined with anybody else.” You heard the smile in his voice as he said it and, in his lips, as he kissed the side of your neck.

Yea, you guessed isolation wasn’t so bad.

#bangtanarmynet #ksmutclub #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #slice of life #nonidol!jungkook #jungkook x reader #reader insert #bts #jungkook #quarantined #18+#bts fics

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rwbwby-writes · 3 years

Text

Master Key (Snippet)

As the two friends stood there beside the gravel road, stretching their legs and breathing in the crisp spring air, a chipper pop tune startled them both. Gage pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and grimaced when he saw a familiar face on the screen.

“It’s my dad.”

Tali offered him a sympathetic look as he tried to delay the inevitable. A few seconds before the ringing would stop, Gage pressed the green button and put the phone to his ear. Bile rose in his throat along with his pitch as he offered a quick “Hello?” and Tali watched as her best friend’s face fell. His father’s cheerful voice was just loud enough to catch the full conversation.

“Hey kiddo! Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. You haven’t forgotten your dear old Dad, have you, sweetheart?”

“No, no, of course not. We’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

“Oh, that’s right, that’s right! Your little road trip with, what’s her name again—Tori? Ally?”

“Her name is Tali, Dad. My best friend, remember? We went to middle school together.”

“Right, right. She’s a smart one. Always liked her. A little ‘artsy’, though. Tell you what, when you come back, how about I take you girls out to dinner sometime and you can tell me all about your adventures?”

“Sure, that’d be fun.”

“Come on, ——, at least try to sound excited.” He had said a name Tali hadn’t heard in years. She saw Gage’s breath catch in his throat.

“I-it sounds like a good time,” Gage stammered.

“Great! Well, let me know if you run into any trouble, okay? I don’t want to see you two on the news!”

“Right, of course. I’ll let you know.”

“Sure, sure. Stay safe out there!”

“Yeah, we will. Bye, Dad.”

Gage slid his phone back in his pocket and sighed. The sounds of distant traffic grumbled through stagnant air. Without speaking, Tali wrapped her arm over his shoulder, taking care to not catch one of her many bracelets in his long hair. As soon as she did so, she began to feel the weight he’d been carrying there. They were hundreds of miles from home, yet he looked as if he’d never left. Tears began welling up in his eyes, and although he tried to blink them away, they persisted, until eventually he gave in. Every breath seemed to scrape against his throat, and his chest tightened.

“I’m so sorry,” Tali whispered, and she meant it.

“It’s been five fucking years,” Gage spat. “You would think—”

“—he’d know by now,” his friend finished for him as he choked on another breath. “I mean, you’ve got a deep voice! And a beard! You don’t even sound—”

“—like his daughter.” He finished this time. “But he only sees what he wants to see.”

Tali let out a sharp breath through her nose and rolled her eyes. “Your dad’s as blind as a bat, then.”

“You know bats aren’t actually blind, right?”

“Well, yeah, they echolocate, or whatever.” She opened her mouth, crossed her eyes and let out a high-pitched screech, causing her friend to laugh through tears. “Look, I’m Gage’s dad!” she said in a squeaky falsetto. “I eat bugs all night and shit all over your car!”

Gage wiped his eyes as he began to laugh harder. “I don’t think—” He paused to swallow and catch his breath. “I don’t think bats hang around cars much. You’re thinking of geese.”

Tali thought for a moment and grinned. She patted his shoulder. “That’s even better, then. He’s a goose! I always hated those things.”

“Yeah, they’re awful, right? If Hell exists, it’s probably filled with them.”

The mood lifted for a moment, and a sunbreak through the clouds briefly filled the area with warm light. Gage wiped away another tear and leaned in against Tali. “You know, it’s kind of funny. I always thought…” He let out a deep sigh. “I figured, you know, once I got top surgery, he would finally see how happy I was, how much more I felt like myself, and he’d stop calling me by my deadname. I wanted so badly for that to be the tipping point for him, that he’d finally realize I’m not just trying to be different to piss him off.

“I mean, my mom was there for me from the start!” he continued as the tears began to fall again, harder this time. A few made their way into his mouth as he spoke. They tasted like saltwater. Like home. “We had our bad times, sure, but she never—” He choked back a sob. “She never threatened to kick me out. She never tried to cut me off, or call me a disgrace, or…”

His shoulders were shaking now, and Tali wrapped both arms around him, pulling him closer into a tight hug. She could feel his heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest. For a moment, he felt like his scars would bust open, that everything he held so close would leak out and leave him with nothing. They stood there for what felt like hours as his strangled sobs struggled to escape. The sun had vanished behind the clouds again, and the whole world seemed to dull once more.

“Do you remember that big fight I told you about, Tali? Right after I went on testosterone?” His voice was soft now, muffled further against the fabric of her black cardigan.

“Yeah,” she replied, closing her eyes. “I do.”

“He told me…I wasn’t his son. He looked me in the eyes and said ‘You’ll never be my son. You’ll never be “Gage.” You’ll always be my daughter named—”

The sound of his deadname on his lips brought forth another round of tears, and he curled his fingers against Tali’s shirt as she began to slowly rub his back in small circles, just between his shoulder blades.

“You’re not his daughter anymore, though,” Tali said softly. “And someday, he’s going to see that.” She tried to sound convincing, and a small part of her felt guilty for not believing it herself. If Gage caught on, he certainly didn’t show it.

“Do you want to know the worst part? He doesn’t even remember saying this stuff at all. It’s not that he denies it. He just…doesn’t remember. As if it never happened. He’ll never apologize for it because he doesn’t think it actually happened.” He swallowed hard once more, trying in vain to push down the lump in his throat. “I’ve been aching to just be myself for so long, though. I pushed it down for his sake, ran from it, acted like if I didn’t face it, it would just…”

“Disappear?”

He nodded. Tali felt herself getting choked up as she loosened her hold. A few stray tears welled up and fell onto her best friend’s shirt. Gage looked up and smiled weakly. “Hey, you’re not supposed to cry, too!”

Tali just chuckled and pulled him into another tight hug. “It’s part of my job, okay? I can’t just let you cry alone. That’s a miserable way to be.”

“Come on, Tali, I’m all out of Kleenex!” he protested.

“We’ll just buy some more at the next rest stop, okay? Maybe we can grab some root beer and candy, too. How’s that sound?”

“You hate root beer.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “But it’s your favorite, so we’re getting some. Who knows? Maybe it’ll grow on me.”

He just laughed as the two broke their embrace. “Doubt it,” he said with a smile as he brushed his hand against each cheek. They began heading down the short gravel path toward Tali’s parked car. The sun peeked through the clouds once more, its blinding light reflecting off of the car’s side mirrors. Gage opened the door and slid into the passenger seat as Tali started the car and turned up the radio. A local channel was in the middle of a weather report.

“Cloudy skies today with a chance of rain going into the evening. If you’re thinking about yard work, you might want to put it off until tomorrow.” Gage began flipping through channels until he landed on an alternative rock station from a nearby city. It was playing some grunge song he hadn’t heard in a while, but he couldn’t recall the name.

“Good enough,” he said as Tali pulled out of the side road and onto the main one. As they passed by acres of farmland and forest, their alien companion seemed to still be snoozing comfortably in the backseat, and they let their minds settle on more comforting affairs.

For a few hours on that sunny afternoon, they were untouchable.

#tz writes stuff #scifi #master key #gods i'm so proud of this #this was nearly 1500 words long which is like half of an average chapter #this would be the second half of the chapter #i'm so goddamn proud of myself holy shit #just took a couple hours of work and i hand-wrote it first and edited it once there #then typed it up and edited it again #i'm going over a third edit right now

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vergilthelibrarian · 4 years

Text

Curiosity.

Part 2 to In Due Time

Serial Killer/Yandere!Jeno x FTM!Reader X Mark

Bitches be bored because of the quarantine. I’m bitches

Mark, my love, I am so sorry

Mark sighed as he hung up his phone.

Once again, you didn’t answer his call.

One day you just told him that you were cutting ties with him only to simply vanish.

He asked your family what was going on but they said you did the same thing.

It didn’t shock him that you would cut ties with your family though as some of the members in your family wasn’t accepting of you being trans but what shocked him was how you up and disappeared.

Mark checked with your job and your boss said you had quit on Tuesday, the day before you vanished.

He was concerned.

Very concerned.

Mostly because he remembers you talking about how your boyfriend Jeno was acting strange as of late. You said he was snappy and stressed, even angrily breaking a plate when you two got into an argument.

Mark had a feeling that Jeno was behind this but he didn’t know how to go about it.

He would tell the police his concerns but the cops here were practically useless in domestic violence cases, always blaming the victim about why they got their partner so angry.

Mark lean back into his bed. He wouldn’t lie, he thought Jeno was a good guy.

He seemed to really care about you, to genuinely be in love with you but the fact that you two were arguing before your disappearance made him believe there was something more going on, something sinister.

What if you were dead? Mark wouldn’t be able to handle of you being gone forever like that.

Putting his phone on his nightstand, he turned around in his bed, trying to fall asleep.

~~ Mark awoke to his alarm going off.

He stopped, got up from his bed and started to get ready for the day.

You were still on his mind.

Where were you?

You wouldn’t just leave like this.

Mark threw some clothes on, fixed his hair and left off to work.

Once he was at his job, which was a music shop, he went to the back of the store in the employees room and conveniently the radio was on.

“In breaking news, the dismembered body of a 19 year old woman by the name of Sue Lim was found in a trash can this morning. Detectives say that this seems to be the work of the Hatchet Killer. If you have any information on this case, contact your local police.” Mark gulped.

He thought the killings were over but apparently it wasn’t.

He knew Sue a bit. She would come over to the music shop to hangout with her friends. It was always heartbreaking when someone was a victim of a murder.

Mark prayed that her soul was a peace and that this killer would be stopped.

As much of a man of faith he was, he couldn’t help but wonder why God just let things like this happen. Why he’d let some people die in gruesome and horrid ways.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, he took a deep breathe and left the back room, standing behind the register to start his day

~~ When it was his time to go, Mark left, saying goodbye to his coworkers.

As he was walking home, he stopped in place as his phone ranged.

Taking his phone out of his pocket, he saw that the number was unknown.

He answered it.

“Hello?” “Mark! It’s so nice to hear your voice.” and his breathe hitched.

It was you.

“Y/n? Where are you?” he asked, his heart beating fast.

“I can’t tell you. Just don’t look for me okay. It’s for your safety.” Mark frowned.

“What do you mean? What’s going on? Is Jeno behind this?” he had so many questions.

“Mark, I know how you are. Just don’t look for me okay. Pretend that I never existed. Goodbye.” the call ended and Mark stood in frozen in place.

He couldn’t just not figure out what the hell your phone call was about now.

Now he felt he needed to find you.

~~ Mark took a week off of work, telling his boss a family emergency came up.

He was going to start his investigation now.

Sitting at his desk, he was on his computer, searching through your social media for anything cryptic. Anything that would give him a clue as to where you were.

He found a post on your blog that talked about how Jeno had found a house in the country side about 2 months before your disappearance. He thought that this could be a clue and decided he would go to the country side to look for you.

He had a week to find you but he started thinking more.

What would happen if he does find you? What if Jeno was there? Would he even be able to fight the guy? Jeno was a boxer and Mark couldn’t fight at all, so if he were to find you out there in the country side, how would he even save you?

Mark shook his head and decided that tomorrow he would rent a car and go to the country side to find you.

Before he went to sleep though, he wrote a letter explaining what he did and why just in case anything happened to him.

He didn’t know what he was getting himself into so he had no idea what would happen to him.

All he knew was that you were in danger and he wouldn’t to do something to try and help you.

He was in love with you after all.

~~ Mark made sure to take some of the pictures he had of you with him and as he drove, he thought of you.

You occupied his thoughts 24/7 since you left and all of it was filled with horrible scenarios of you being dead.

You were in trouble and he knew that Jeno was the reason, that was easy enough to figure out. But what he couldn’t figure out was just where you were.

Yes he was going to the country side to search for you but what if you weren’t even there and this was just some wild goose chase? His grip tightening the stirring wheel, Mark let out a sigh.

He just needed to have faith.

Seeing a farmers market, Mark drove into the dirt parking lot and parked the car.

He grabbed the pictures of you and left the car, making sure it was locked.

He went inside the farmers market, thanking God for the cool air and started asking the workers if they saw you, showing a picture of you.

The butcher was the only one who remembered seeing you with a muscular brunette the other day, commenting on how sad and docile you appeared.

“Do you have any idea of where they live?” “No. But if you don’t mind me asking, why are you looking for him?” “I can’t say much but he just means a lot to me.” was Mark’s answer. He didn’t want to out right say it was because you were missing and your boyfriend was acting strange.

“Well, if you need any help with your search, I can always help.” the butcher smiled and Mark smiled back.

Walking out of the farmers market and back to his car. He sat in the car with his door wide open, staring out into an open field.

So you were here…

Scratching his head, he jumped slightly when an old woman called out to him.

“Are you okay?” the woman asked and Mark nodded his head.

“Yes, I’m fine.” he answered and then a thought popped into his mind.

“Um, excuse me!” he said, getting up from the car. “I was wondering, have you seen this person?” he asked, quickly taking out a photo of you and showing it to the old woman.

The woman’s eyes sparkled as she nodded her head, “Yes, I have. That’s Jeno’s sweet little husband.” she smiled and Mark eyes widen.

“Do you know where they live?” “Of course, they’re my neighbors! They live at 235 Houston Road. It’s a big blue house, you can’t miss it!” and with that Mark thanked the old woman and ran off to his car.

Driving away he made it Houston Road and saw a big blue house.

Before he was going to enter the house, he decided to text his friends and family, telling them he loved them and will always watch over them.

He felt a dreadful feeling staring at the house and as he got out of the car and headed towards it, the feeling became bigger.

Once he was in front of the door, he knocked 3 times and ranged the doorbell once.

To his surprise the door opened and you were the one who answered it.

“Mark?” “Y/n! Oh my god!” he said, grabbing into a hug and hugging you tightly. You hugged him back, missing his warmth and presence. You pulled away eventually and closed the door shut behind you.

“Mark, what are you doing here? How did you find me?” and Mark explained everything and you couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes.

“Mark you have to go or he’ll hurt you.” “You’re talking about Jeno aren’t you? Come with me. I’ll protect you Y/n, I promise, just come back with me.” and you shook your head.

“I can’t, for yours everyone else’s safety I can’t leave. Mark, go back home before he comes back!” you pleaded with your best friend.

Before Mark could say anything, a car drove into the driveway and you felt your stomach drop.

Jeno was back home and you could see he was visibly pissed.

You pushed Mark, trying to get him to leave.

“Mark leave! Leave right now!” but Mark didn’t budge.

“Mark please! I don’t want you to die!”

Everything happened so fast.

One minute Mark was standing next you and the next minute he was tied up in a chair in the basement of the house and you were chained up to the wall where you were usually kept at for punishments.

Jeno cracked his neck and rolled back his shoulders.

He was feeling wonderful today but then Mark just had to ruin his day by trying to be your savior.

What did he think he was going to do? Rescue you? You didn’t need to be saved.

You were perfectly fine with him.

“Oh Mark,” he started. “You’re too smart for your own good. You know, I was gonna let you live but now… now I have to kill you.” Mark’s jaw clenched.

Jeno looked back at you, noticing how your head hung.

“Don’t be sad love. He had this coming. As they say, curiosity killed the cat but… satisfaction brings it back so maybe he’ll be satisfied knowing our little secret.” Jeno smirked. He walked closer to Mark, and leaned down, his lips skimming his ear. “I’m the Hatchet Killer.” he whispered and Mark gasped.

“N-no. You can’t be.”

“But I am and you Mark will be my first male victim.” Jeno laughed. Stopping, he leaned down once again, his face close to Mark’s as he said, “I am going to enjoy breaking you.”

#i was gonna write a detailed torture scene with implied smut but that might be taking it a bit too far...#i mean if y'all want a torture scene and implied smut just message me ^^#when you try to be the hero but end up dying oops #jeno x reader #jeno x male reader #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno x male reader #jeno x ftm reader #lee jeno x ftm reader #yandere jeno #yandere kpop #yandere nct #nct yandere

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thealphabetmurders · 5 years

Text

Scrambled Thoughts

Pairings: Romantic Logince, Sibling Analogical

Word Count: 2224 (for Chapter 4), 10424in total

(Previous) (First)

Summary: Roman was not a rebel by any means. Roman was not a fan of breaking rules. Sure, he bent some from time to time, but never done anything blatantly wrong, that was not in service to his passions. Yet, despite the protests his best friend and his consciousness, he picks up two dozen eggs and goes to vandalize. Now, Roman has to avoid suspension, make amends with Virgil, alleviate the concern of Patton, and not fall in love with his enemy Logan.

Triggers: Bullying, Violence, Vandalism, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Mentions of Racism, Classism

Authors Note: This took way too long to get out and I am not 100% satisfied with it, but you all deserve something, thank you for reading. This chapter is basically Roman saying “eat the rich” for 2k words. Also, I made both Roman and Logan 2nd Gen immigrants for fun. (,I was inspired by a dream @misplaced-my-notes had, thank you).

Taglist (for everyone who seemed interested): @misplaced-my-notes, @jaszczurkaaa, @an-atypical, @jughead-is-canonically-aroace (let me know if you wanted to be added/taken off)

(Read on AO3)

Roman liked working with his hands. Whilst worksheets and tests were never working in his favor, labs and presentations were always where he shined, despite them coming up less frequently. Which, pointing out, that that put many kids like himself at a disadvantage, seeing as it is difficult to focus on school work as just a piece of paper or online quiz, but give that same subject matter in practice and he excels.

Moving past poking holes in the modern day schooling system, Roman is a physical being by nature. While many people destress by watching television, listening to music, or sleeping, Roman is finding anything to do to keep himself working.

This does not mean in a “completing all of my homework 3 weeks in advance” way. It is in a sense of “I will do chores that I like so I can daydream freely” way. Today, Roman has planted new cilantro, walked down to his local farmers market to pick up fresh tomatoes, onions, and jalapenos for the tostadas he is making for him and his mother tonight, and is currently working on changing the oil in his car.

After talking to Mr. B and Dr. Picani, they both came to the agreement that Roman was working extremely hard for extended periods of time and needed to take a ‘mental health day’, which Roman was not a fan of. Not working often times gave him spouts of anxiety, like he was failing himself and others around him by not working towards his goals.

Nevertheless, the two adults were incredibly adamant about it, and Dr. Picani even wrote a note for his mother so he would not get in trouble for missing school. Mr. B even arranged for someone to bring his work to him at the end of the day, which was ending right as he began working on his car.

Roman would never be considered a “car guy” by any means, considering he drives his dead father’s old Jetta, but, the cost of auto repair (like healthcare) is hyper-inflated and (unlike healthcare) Roman finds most of the repairs he can perform himself. Also, it gives him an excuse to wear muscle tee shirts not entirely appropriate for mid September.

The rough texture of the skateboard he was using as a creeper dug uncomfortably into his spine, but a few moments of discomfort was worth it to use his old skateboard as a multi use tool.

Roman adjusted his oil pan so it was directly underneath the drain plug and took his socket wrench to twist it off. He hummed along to the low ambiance of Dear Evan Hansen , but the music was still quiet enough for him to hear doors to apartments opening and closing and the cars passing him in the parking lot and a low rumble of an engine near him.

After getting the plug out, he set it next to him and Roman made sure the oil was flowing nicely into the pan and pulled his phone out of his pocket, setting a timer for 15 minutes. He pocketed the phone and turned to grab the plug, but the metal piece was not where he left it.

“Shit,” He turned to his left and right to see the plug, but it was nowhere under the car. He lifted himself off the skateboard slightly only to hit himself on the head of the undercarriage of the car.

Roman groaned out in pain, though, the goose egg on his head was the least of his concerns. He looked out from the dark of the car into the light and saw the piece of metal glistening on the pavement. He reached to his left for the plug, the skateboard leaning in that direction, but was just a few millimeters too far. He reached again, hoping to obtain a different result, but this time a hand reached down and grabbed the metal plug, handing it to the man under the car.

“Oh!” Roman cried out in relief, promptly pocketing the plug, “You are a lifesaver,”

“You are quite welcome, Roman,”

That familiar voice sent a chill down Roman’s spine and blood boiling in his veins. Of course he was here.

Roman did not want to come out from under the vehicle, knowing he would have to directly confront his problems. He could just turn up his music to max volume and pretend Logan was not there. Nevertheless, he would have to come out from under the car eventually, and Logan was just as stubborn as he was. Roman dug his heels onto the concrete and pulled himself out from under the car, to stare up at Logan, looking as radiant as ever.

“ Stupid gorgeous bastard, ”

“What are you doing here?” Roman asked, voice laced with venom, “Can you not see I am busy,”

“I am not blind, I do see,” Logan frowned, “What exactly are you doing, I am not privy to car maintenance,”

“Oil change,” Roman said sharply.

Logan chuckled weakly, “Do they not do that type of thing at car repair shops?”

“An oil change for a car of my mileage would be about $75. And I like to do things myself,” Roman told him, curtly. Logan hummed in response, hugging his sides awkwardly, “I answered all your questions, Arias, are you not capable of answering mine,”

Roman could not help but notice the way that Logan’s face hardened at the use of his last name, but the discontent with his presence was still prevalent.

“I am just here strictly for business, Prince,” Logan whipped his backpack around to his front and pulled out a bright red folder, “I was told to deliver your homework,”

The sting of betrayal from his teachers hit Roman in the heart, but he snatched the folder regardless, “So Picani asked you to deliver this,”

“Picani asked the student body president to deliver this. He did not say anything else,”

Roman hummed in response and tossed it off to the side after flipping through the pages, lazily.

“Thanks, then. See you later,” Roman shrugged his shoulders and leaned back on the skateboard to check on the oil, only to be quickly pulled back out, Logan frowning over him with his foot on the board, “What the hell, Arias,”

“I do not want to overstep, but what is going on?”

“I have no idea what you could be talking about,” Roman rolled back under the car, but not for long as Logan pulled him back out.

“Really? Because it was just two days ago we were making plans for Bubble Tea, now you are acting as though you have no idea who I am,”

“Tch,” Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I don’t have to act like I don’t know who you are, ML- Lame Formatting,”

Another roll back, countered by another roll forward, this was now coupled with an even more confused looking Logan, “What exactly are you insinuating?”

“Let me just say, I am not the only actor in the midst of this tiff,”

“Acting? Prince, you know I do not do theater, please just state what is upsetting you,” Logan pleaded, his eyes filled with malcontent and confusion, but Roman said nothing in response, choosing to look at the other’s forehead to avoid eye contact with his bespeckled foe, “Princey, just listen, whatever I did to hurt you, just know you have my deepest apologies, surely, but you have to tell me what is going on,”

He opened his mouth to speak but he had nothing to say to the other. Instead, he rolled back underneath the car, staring at the darkened under carriage.

Roman felt the skateboard jerk around underneath him to where he almost fell off after Logan kicked on of the wheels, “Roman, get out from under the car and talk to me, goddammit!”

Too filled with rage and annoyance at his former friend, he rolled out from underneath the car and stood up in one fluid motion, towering over the other, both of their faces filled with anger.

“You wanna know what is wrong? Fine. I am not upset. I am pissed the fuck off, Logan! I am pissed because I don’t have many friends- no, I do not have any friends except for my friend Patton, who is a damn good one because he told me all about what you were conniving and planning. I trusted you, Logan, and you decided that using me and my friendship to get me expelled was more important than forming an actual bond between friends-”

“Roman, I-”

“Quiet!” Roman ran his hands through his hair, he was now pacing, “You used me. You wasted my time and my energy just so that you could get a leg up, a leg up you do not even need! I do not even care about UCLA or- or a scholarship. I care that you stooped so low to act like my friend for - for what? For information? A confession?”

“But I did-”

“It doesn’t matter your reasoning, it is the principle of the matter. You cannot just go through life picking and choosing people to feed off of and discard once you are finished. I - I - Y- You made me feel like nothing, like I was nothing and you made me feel like an idiot, because of all the time you have been in school, you never befriended anyone, self preservation should be your middle name, because it sure as hell -!”

“Roman I was not acting!” Logan stated, not too loudly, but stern enough to get Roman to stop ranting.

“W-what?”

“Roman.” Logan stated, punctuating each syllable, “I was not, acting,”

Roman head felt as though it had been filled with cotton, “You weren’t?”

Logan scoffed, “Of course not. Whilst it would have been a brilliant plan on my part, it was not worth the mental and physical energy to prove something that may have seemed like a lost cause. And, over the course of getting to know you better, there is a minimal chance of you actually causing the property damage,”

Roman opened his mouth to speak but promptly closed it again, not wanting to correct any of Logan’s suspicions. He did not know what to say.

“I- I do not know what to say, I guess, I am sor-”

“Do not apologise Roman, please,” Logan waved him off and leaned on the back of his car, “I understand why you would believe what you do. I too often times have difficulties trusting people,”

Roman raised an eyebrow, leaning next to the other, “Really? Why is that, Bezos?”

“Well,” He sighed, “I am sure you can relate. I am gay and I am the kid of a first generation Peruvian immigrants, and neither of them were ever really around until a few years ago. It can get really hard to know who you can and cannot trust. People take advantage of you because of what they think you are, now more than ever. You sit next to people in school who believe you do not deserve to live because of who you love or are partnered up with people who believes our parents are 'stealing their jobs',” Logan’s expression was unreadable as he stared off into the distance, “I am just trying to understand, I know how hard it can be,”

Roman twiddled his thumbs and bit his lip, debating what to say, “Yea, you can understand Logan,” He sighed, “But… Also, you cannot understand.” Logan looked at his with confusion, “Look, if I tried to get you expelled then you can just apply to UC Berkeley or Harvard or wherever. UCLA is the only ‘elite school’ quote-on-quote, that the school counselor said would even give me a chance at a scholarship. Our lives are different and will always be different because you live in higher income and I live in the low. Your parents came here and now one is an anesthesiologist and the other is a lawyer. My parents came here from the Dominican Republic and my father died and my mother is working as a hospice aide living paycheck to paycheck. Everything is always going to be easier because of your money. You have a motorcycle and a nice car. And I- I have this car that my dad died in,”

“Jesus, Roman,”

Roman chuckled in spite of himself, “Yea, that was a bit dark.” He kicked himself off the side of the car and spun around to face Logan, his expression riddled with guilt, “Look, we do not choose our upbringing, but it does shape the people that we become. Comparing the two is like… Is like comparing ionic bonds to covalent,”

Logan smiled at this, “You actually remembered something I taught you, for once,” Logan moved closer to Roman, “So, I am presuming that this row is over, and we can go back to friends now,”

Roman smirked, “Of course, my glorious nerd.” Roman’s phone violently beeped at him, making his heart skip a beat, “Before we do anything else, I have an oil change to attend to,”

“Roman,” Logan said, hesitantly, “Do you think that you could, maybe… Show me?”

“Show you?”

“Show me how to change… The oil,” Logan bit his lip, looking down at his black, shiny boots, wearing an unsure expression that does not go with his usual cocky attitude, “I have always wanted to learn and fine tuning motor skills is important to become a well-rounded individual,”

Roman smiled and grabbed a wrench, throwing it to Logan, “It would be my honor,”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logince #sanders sides fic #my writing

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distinctivelibrarians · 6 years

Note

Soft Leverage prompt: Eliot had a nasty surprise/close call and is a bit rattled. Cue intervention by (character of your choice).

Thank you for the prompt! Sorry I didn’t get this out as quickly as I said I would, but I finally like what I’ve got!

I will admit, this did kind of wander away from “soft” and more into “hurt/comfort”, but I hope you still like it!

(warnings: referenced graphic violence, blood, and panic attacks. nothing “on screen” but just to be safe)

(ao3)

Hardison wondered, as he sat on the couch, counting the thump-thump-thumps of the knife hitting the cutting board, if they made cutting boards that could actually handle the wear and tear of living with Eliot Spencer. Because he’s pretty sure the one they had right now wasn’t going to make it through the night, the way Eliot was going at it.

He’d been in the kitchen for two hours now. He hadn’t noticed Parker leaving (Hardison didn’t blame her one bit for that. She’d given him a look, big worried eyes and a questioning frown—she’d stay if he needed, if they needed, but stuff like this still made her fidgety in the worst way and after everything today? Hardison had just shaken his head and out she’d gone). Hell, Hardison’s pretty sure that short of an actual earthquake tearing through the apartment, Eliot wasn’t in a state to notice shit.

But, Hardison had let him stew for awhile now—if he had to listen to that cutting board much longer, he was going to throw something—and if he left it too long, Eliot would get too far in his own head and that was the last thing they needed after today.

Because today? Today had been an absolute disaster.

Files destroyed before they got there. Wild goose chase. Back up they hadn’t known was coming. A bad guy way too satisfied that he’d gotten the drop on them and determined to gloat over it personally.

Fifteen minutes where neither Hardison nor Parker could hear Eliot over the comms. Fifteen minutes where they hadn’t been able to go find their hitter because they’d been caught and dragged away.

Eliot bloody, roughed up, and absolutely furious, crashing through the door at the last second. Seeing a gun pointed in Hardison’s direction. Everything getting a little...tangled after that. But ending with Hardison and Parker being hauled up and out, job be damned.

(Not completely, not really. They had enough to bring the man down, had enough to nail him to the wall just fine. But they’d need to go at his network, the people that helped build him up, at another time. A new game plan entirely, and that would have to wait.)

Eliot hadn’t been okay, in the van, while they were tearing out of the lot they’d parked in—he’d hidden it well, but Hardison had seen his hands shaking, had seen him curl his hands in the fabric of his jeans hard enough to turn his knuckles white to get them to stop. He hadn’t been okay, two hours later, when they knew they’d made an escape, and they had confirmation that the police and the local FBI were systematically tearing the place apart, and had their guy in custody—it had taken way too long to get Eliot to focus, to get him to actually listen to the news. He hadn’t been okay at the hospital—oh, sure, the nurses in the ER patched him up fine, though they were...more than a little concerned about the amount of dried blood. Eliot told them he always did bleed easy. Hardison knew most of it wasn’t his (but, nothing was broken, no concussion...he’d be nursing bruised ribs for a little while, and taking care of some stitches, maybe keeping an eye on what looked like a recently dislocated shoulder, but that was it. Thankfully).

And he definitely hadn’t been okay when they’d gotten home. But instead of actually letting Hardison or Parker do anything, he’d waved them off and disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower starting up a couple minutes later. After that, he’d shuffled to the kitchen, and that’s where he’d stayed.

Hardison leaned in the doorway for a moment, just watching, trying to get an idea where the man was at. Sometimes, this shit just had to work its course and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Eliot either didn’t notice him standing there watching, or didn’t care. His back was to Hardison, stiff and straight and looking all kinds of painful, the only parts of him moving were his hands, steadily chopping...looked like bell peppers now. When Hardison had last checked, it had been carrots.

Hardison was pretty sure, if he looked in the fridge, everything that could be chopped and diced probably was at this point. And he knew Eliot would be pissed about it in the morning, would end up hauling everything down to the brewpub to use, go grocery shopping to fill up their fridge again. (...Maybe the day after, given just how rough he looked.)

“...Eliot?” It wasn’t quite a whisper—he needed to be heard over that damn thumping—but it was low. Careful. Eliot stopped. For a second. Before resuming his cutting. But that was all Hardison needed really, so he slipped over, bare feet scuffing against the tile best they could. Eliot knew where he was just fine, but still. Better safe than sorry.

Eliot didn’t stop, didn’t turn to look at him, but he also didn’t turn to stop him. So when Hardison pressed carefully up against his back, one hand wrapping around the other man’s waist and the other reaching out to catch the wrist of the hand holding the knife, he wasn’t too surprised when Eliot kind of just. Slumped. The knife was taken from unresisting fingers and set aside before Hardison wrapped that arm around him too, pulling him close and burying his face in the crook of Eliot’s neck.

He could feel Eliot’s breathing (tense, shallow, too tightly controlled), could feel the minute shaking that he hadn’t been able to see. But he didn’t push Hardison away. If anything, that sharp, brittle line of his back folded after a couple moments, pressed back into Hardison more easily, fitting them together in a way that actually felt comfortable (instead of desperate).

Hardison doesn’t know how long they stood there—long enough that their breathing was easier, and close to, but not quite, in sync, with how tightly pressed together they were—but eventually Eliot let go of his death grip on the counter (Hardison hadn’t wanted to say anything about that because, frankly, Eliot letting him this close, this soon? Victory all on its own), and gently pulled Hardison’s hands away.

He’s pretty sure he made some kind of argumentative sound at that—he didn’t want to let go yet—because Eliot shook his head, catching one of his hands and bringing it up to his lips to brush a kiss over his knuckles. And Eliot still wouldn’t look him in the eyes, but it was enough for now, so Hardison didn’t fight it. Didn’t seem to matter much anyway since Eliot didn’t let go of his hand, instead using that hold to lead him back out to the living room.

They got to in front of the sofa, but Hardison’s pretty sure that’s where Eliot’s plan kind of just stopped, because he didn’t make any kind of move to sit down or head further, down the hall. So, Hardison made the decision for them, dropping down on the sofa and dragging Eliot down too.

There was a couple grunts (one or two curses), elbows and knees digging into tender places for a moment, before they ended up settled, Eliot leaning back against the arm of the couch, Hardison sitting between his legs and leaning against his chest. Hadn’t been what he’d been going for, but when Eliot wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulled him close, he found he didn’t much care. This would do just fine.

They were quiet for a long while after that. The apartment around them was dark—the only light coming from the kitchen and the window. The kitchen’s light stretched and faded out around them, melting into inky shadow in the corners, the back of the couch blocking and shadowing them. What light coming from the window mainly painted the ceiling in weak streaks of gold from the streetlamps outside and the occasional too-bright white of headlights, climbing up the wall before disappearing entirely as whatever car it was turned off their road.

Overall, the apartment had a faintly...unreal quality too it, and Hardison kind of wanted to blame it on the lights rather than the emotional crash both of them were definitely dealing with right now.

Sure, he’d needed to get Eliot out of his head—he knew the man too well to be comfortable leaving him alone to deal with what was essentially the tail end of a panic attack, pared and cut down until it was functional and could be worked around without compromising his ability to fight, to run—but Hardison had had a gun pointed at his head roughly seven hours ago. And…

Oh. God.

He’d had a gun pointed at his head. He’d seen the man’s finger inching towards the damn trigger. And he’d had no idea what the hell they were going to do because they hadn’t heard from Eliot in too long and Parker could get them out of so many goddamn places but this wasn’t one of them and-

Eliot’s hand clamped around the back of his neck, pulling him, somehow, closer than he’d been and back to the present, and maybe his fingers were curled tight enough to hurt in Eliot’s shirt, but he could breathe. He could breathe.

Hardison was okay. Parker was okay. Eliot had gotten them out, like he always did. And that was enough for today.

He groaned, shifting enough to press his face into Eliot’s chest, grumbling slightly at the rough, rusted out sound he’s pretty sure Eliot wanted to be a laugh (points for trying though). He feels Eliot press a kiss to the top of his head, and he has to shift slightly to free a hand to swat at him (Eliot still hadn’t let go of his other hand), but Eliot just laughs at him again—sounding a lot less...broken this time.

They don't talk. Not then—they’re both still too raw around the edges for that—but they do settle easier after that, pressed close there in the dark, watching the occasional streaks of light make their ways down the walls, taking comfort in just. Hearing the other breathe, for a little while.

(Parker joins them a couple hours later, sitting on the arm of couch behind Eliot’s head, one hand threaded through his hair, the other reaching over to curl in Hardison’s shirt at his shoulder. The breaths they both take after that are easy enough that maybe, just maybe, they’ll be able to get some sleep tonight.)

#leverage #alec hardison #eliot spencer #parker #violence tw #blood mention tw #guns tw #just in case #if you think there needs to be another tag or warning #let me know!#my writing #ff #long post #Anonymous

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wordydelights · 7 years

Text

first chapter of the first book i ever tried to write

When Galaxies Collide

11:39 AM, November 29th

As I tapped my no. 2 against the side of my desk, I could tell others around me were becoming annoyed. But, that didn't seem to bother me much. The ticking of each second passing by echoed throughout my eardrums. The day was going slower than normal.

It was torture.

I'd usually be scribbling something on the corner of my notebook by now, but the inspiration I needed wasn't present at the moment. I was just waiting for it to walk through the door.

11:43 AM

The classrooms' temperature caused my hands to numb and drift asleep.The dull environment, dry with boredom, painted the students' faces with clear disinterest. Blank sheets of paper sat on each desk, patiently awaiting to be written on, alas no one could find the strength to lift their fingers.

The teachers here refer to us as a lazy generation, concluding we only spend our time watching 'screens' all day and don't know how to socialize, on account of being caught up in our make-believe worlds. They also believe that the public school system is a well established institute for education...and our school's sports teams don't suck. So who's the real loser?

My yawning began to fog the glasses now resting on the tip of my nose. I gently removed the specs, carefully wiping them off with the knit sleeve of my sweater. I'd occasionally wear contacts but I was usually too lazy to deal with carefully shoving plastic underneath my eyelids.

I had sat in the back of the classroom, three rows to the left, giving me a perfect view of my fellow peers, the white board and the lovely scenery of the school's totally non-crappy parking lot, outside the window.

A faint sound began to tickle my ears. As it grew louder I was able to make out my name. Don't worry, I thought. Hearing your name being called is the sign of a healthy mind. Either that or I was becoming schizophrenic. But, unfortunately this wasn't a figment of my imagination, let alone a psychotic voice in my head.

"Jackson."

I snapped my head up towards the front of the classroom, like being resurrected with a sudden jolt. My eyes met the shiny forehead, wrinkled with distress of The Professor. He was a World History teacher at Oakwood High. No one seemed to refer to him by his real name, honestly, I think most of us had forgotten it.

The Professor had always made a huge deal about universities, how hard it is to get in and statistically most of us will end up at a dead-end community college with a degree in flipping burnt burgers. To make matters worse, he constantly bragged about his past employment at Harvard.

The big question he hadn't answered however was 'how he got from Harvard to a low budget public school in Forest Grove, Oregon.' Bigger question, 'how he was removed from Harvard's distinguished faculty?.'

Never once did he object to this sarcastic nickname which was used to describe his unhealthy obsession. As a matter-of-fact he took pride in it. Probably because it reminded him of the times he once had a bigger paycheck, respectful students and a school with an IQ average larger than 60. Or partly because he was an arrogant asshole, who enjoys dwelling on the past.

"Daydreaming again, I see," he said expressionless. His specialty.

"No s-s-ir," my voice cracked.

I heard snickers from multiple students around the room.

Damn you puberty.

"I was just looking for a bit of inspiration."

"Inspiration," he smirked. "How is that related to the lesson?"

My eyes darted across the whiteboard, searching for the title of today's topic, written in it's general bold letters.

The Age of Enlightenment.

"Well sir, during the Enlightenment period, inspiration was what all people were searching for."

"And have you found any inspiration?"

"Not yet, it hasn't seemed to arrive."

He squinted his eyes as if trying to read to me. Scanning my body language, then absorbing the information obtained. I knew I was about to be asked to explain to the class something complex, that I obviously don't know about the Enlightenment. It was his typical routine for making me look like an idiot, not like he had to try.

11:47 AM

As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, the words on the tip of his tongue, the door swung open. Inspiration had arrived.

"Hi sorry...you would not believe the hallway traffic."

She was on her usual time. Not too late to be counted absent, but late enough to piss of The Professor.

"Pass?" The tone in his voice was dripping with frustration.

She walked up with a certain confidence in her stride. Not the prideful, vain kind. The bold kind. Too bold. So bold it was a cover up for something dark lying within.

She pushed the hair out of her face, and flashed a smile, a fake, phony, I-hate-you smile, proceeding to hand over a crumpled up hall pass.

The Professor snatched the piece of paper out of her hand, quickly analyzed it and sighed,

"Just go sit down."

"Gladly," she'd snap back without missing a beat.

I watched as she made her way to her desk dropping the bag to the floor and whipping her classic black and white chucks up onto the empty seat in front of her, then continued to twist the stained silver ring on her finger.

Some days were better than others. She never truly disrupted class. She just threw on a show whenever she came in.

Never once did she acknowledge my presence this entire year. I doubt she even vaguely remembered me.

She had changed so much since the four-foot-three Serene Easton from elementary school.

No longer did she wear that burgundy ribbon in her hair, candy bracelets or fuzzy scrunchies on her wrists. She moved away one summer just as we were about to start the seventh grade. I don't know where or why, but I do know I bawled my eyes out for a month straight.

I just couldn't bare the thought of her not being there for me when I needed her most. I don't even really remember much of the time we spent together. It was mostly Halo dragging me along her wild goose chases, getting busted with Halo for tagging along those wild goose chases, and brief moments with Noel during those wild goose chases, probably only lasting half a second, that had been sown in my being.

I told her to write. She didn't. I told her to call. No calls received. I told her to send a damn email. No emails sent.

Her response to each of my requests was a half smile, followed by a nod and sincere look in her eyes. I was like a puppy being left at the local Humane Society, thinking, surely their owner will be back for them.

But, they never were.

Oddly enough, my parents thought it was good, healthy even, that the only friend I had was leaving. My mother was afraid I would become too dependent on Halo if our friendship sustained. And I'm fairly certain my father was becoming worried about my sexuality.

Being a young boy, who wasn't quite as athletically gifted as others and only able to maintain one friend who happened to be female, caused him to raise some suspicions. Also, my incriminating actions might have come into play. Such as, not being able to change in front of other boys or perhaps stumbling upon gay porn on their computer, but I swear, it was already there when I went to use the laptop.

Nevertheless, my family supported me through thick and thin, but at the same time, had awkward conversations about how they accept me for who I am and will always love me not matter what.

Despite my parents' 'words of wisdom,' I will never forget Halo's last words she said to me before she left.

"The story continues."

She said it cryptically, like it was my job to decode the message behind it. The mystery bouncing within the light of her eyes.

Halo had never found pleasure in saying goodbyes, as a result she would say things like 'see ya later' or 'until next time.' In her own words; goodbye is too permanent. But, this time, this saying was different. What did she mean by 'the story continues'? What was the story? Was it her life? Was I just a mere chapter or an adventure to move on from? Or was the story both of us? How we have future journeys lying ahead, just waiting to be ventured upon. Maybe her moving away was just an example of the plot thickening.

I might never realize what she truly meant, however, it gives me hope.

Lunch at Oakwood was pretty much what you would expect for your customary high school. Freshman sitting with freshman, sophomores with sophomores...yeah, you get the gist. Girls on one side, guys on the other, then a couple of mixed tables scattered across the sea of pubescent bodies.

It's a small school. Our last graduating class contained about 136 students. Out of a total population of 584.

Everyone had a place and if you didn't it's because you chose not to have one. That was just my theory at least. I'd always been that shy, quiet guy.

I had become a master of blending in, being overlooked by almost everyone was my speciality.

"Jackson, mah brotha from anotha motha!" Ravon announced as he approached the table. His feign, early 2000's, ghetto slang caused me to cringe. The buttons on the back pockets of his acid wash jeans scraped against the seat next to Aditi, as he began to sit down, creating a group of three. He advanced to unraveling his brown, paper, lunch bag, revealing his masterpiece of a PB&J.

"Hey," he pointed. "Check out that spicy chocolate mama."

Ravon drew Aditi and I's attention over towards Jasmine Baker, senior class president. We watched as she made her way over to her pretentious, intellectually gifted friends. Her hips swayed with each step followed by the sound of her high heeled boots clicking against the marble floor.

"Bow-chicka-wow-wow," Aditi exclaimed.

His thick Indian accent made it hard not to burst into laughter. I snorted.

Aditi was a foreign exchange student from India. He didn't know much English, so he would say words completely irrelevant to the topic, however, I was surprised to hear how much he had improved.

"M-m-mmm," Ravon drooled. "That's one stone cold fox."

I awkwardly shrugged, picking at the glutinous macaroni and cheese, now glued to the paper tray.

"Aw, hell nah."

Ravon stared at me with an almost how-dare-you expression slapped across his face.

"What?" I asked.

He moved closer to my face. So close, I could smell the potent peanut butter aroma permeating the air from his mouth."Did you just diss the chocolate mamas?"

"No, I just don't find Jasmine very appealing."

Which was true. I didn't find girls who covered up their insecurities with false confidence very attractive. Girls who lived for themselves instead were more my type.

I finally looked from my pathetic excuse for a meal and up at Ravon. His dark skin in piercing contrast with his coral polo shirt. He blinked twice. I couldn't tell if he was about explode into a full-fledged rant about how dissing the 'chocolate mamas' was like sucker punching his future love child Tyron. And nobody touches little Tyron. Or laugh it off, pat my back and put this insignificant feud behind us.

Ravon was an interesting character. For example, using words which were televised in the late 90's and dressing in similar fashion to a cast member from a Fresh Prince rerun.

The tension in the air was becoming too thick to breathe. Luckily Aditi broke the ice.

"Bay-gull," He exclaimed in his way of saying the word bagel. At least, so we think..

"Yes, Aditi," Ravon hesitated. "Bagel indeed."

There was something uneasy about the way he spoke, nonetheless, I disregarded it..

Out of the corner of my eye, I captured a glimpse of Halo eagerly walking towards the outdoor lunch patio. I guess I made it obvious as to what I was staring at, because I received unnecessary commentary to my vision.

"Hellooo," Ravon flirtatiously said, lifting both of his eyebrows. "Vanilla mama."

"You're obsession with comparing women to pieces of candy is becoming disturbing," I mumbled while burying my face into my palms. Through the cracks of my fingers, I spotted the back of Halo vanishing behind the corner of school, racing to the usual spot where her group of 'juvenile delinquents' sat. Gone, once again.

I spent the rest of the period listening to Ravon ramble about getting to second-base with a girl waiting in line at the mall. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I saw him there the other day groping a mannequin.

It was relatively easy pretending to pay attention to Ravon. All you had to do was nod and half smile occasionally. He was that type of person who lived in a false reality. Choosing not to believe the fact that the only people he had to speak to included someone who obviously couldn't care less and someone who didn't understand half of what he was saying.

The problem with me was that it became so hard to connect, to feel any emotion whatsoever. It's better when it's just me. My mind and I, we go well together. We agree about everything. It's really all I need. Friends come and go, leading to grief. Why waste all that energy on the expected? So yes, I'm not actually friends with Aditi or Ravon. They just happen to be people in this specific chapter of my life. By the time I'm thirty, I probably won't even remember them. Sad, but true.

I just prefer thinking realistically.

With a hop, skip and jump in my step, I was dumped on the side of the road, attempting to avoid slamming into the bright, red stop sign. I was possibly the only junior at Oakwood who still road the bus to school instead of driving their own 'set of wheels.' The stop was half a mile away from my house, which was far, but not too far to walk home. It happened to be very calm and reflective. I don't know why, but there is something about walking alone that just helps you forget all of the pesky problems in life. Cars passed by me leaving a gust of wind to be remembered by. Puddles were dispersed across the road, which wasn't quite unusual when living in Oregon. The trees were almost bare, only few Amber and ruby colored leaves attached to the claws of their branches. Every now and then I'd see someone I recognize from school, but I don't think I'd look as familiar to them as they do to me.

About a quarter of a mile away from my destination I'd pass a small white house. Its curtains closed, concealing secrets to the curious eye. It looked like your average suburban home. A welcome mat by the front door, wind chimes hanging from over its porch, and a lawn in slight need of a good mow. It definitely did not appear to be the type of home you'd expect Halo Easton to be living in.

I wasn't quite sure if she was home at the moment, there appeared to be no activity coming from within, except for the slight flickering of a light, most likely from a television screen, piercing through the closed blinds. Then again, Halo was the type of person that never seemed to be at home.

By the time I had arrived, my mother was in the front yard hauling what had the appearance of tacky couch from the 70's, from our family pickup truck. One end of the abomination was tilted against the driveway, the other leaning against the tailgate of the vehicle.

"Oh! Jackson, honey, could you come help me with this?"

Sweat poured from the top of her head, as she wiped her face with the white apron she normally used for cleaning.

I made my way over towards the hideous piece of furniture, it's yellowish piss coloring, velvet fabric, with brown and white stripes outlining it's unflattering frame.

"Mom, did you buy this?" I asked while trying to hide my horrified expression.

"No, sweetheart you know me better than that," She paused, catching her breath.

"I found it in of one of our neighbors front yards! Can you believe someone was just giving it away!?"

My mother was a hoarder. As hard as she wanted to admit it, she was. She liked collecting junk, adding to her insatiable collection of stuff she will most likely never use. I guess she thought she would sometime, in the near distant future, fix her junk up or put it to some sort of benefit, unfortunately she never did. So, now we had achieved a garage filled from bicycles missing wheels, to the largest world collection of disfigured beanie babies. Even though she was a bit crazy, I sort of admired her for it in a way. She was able to see a beauty, that no one else did, in the things she found. After all, I had to get my artistic side from somewhere.

"Ok, one, two, three, lift."

The nonexistent muscles I had in my arms, were straining. I was unprepared for the amount of weight I was now lifting. I felt my heart beating twice as fast, almost as if screaming, 'Shouldn't have skipped gym you weak bitch.'

Somehow we managed to tilt the 'couch from hell' rightside up. Mostly because I let it fall to the ground at the last second.

"Good, now help me move it into the garage."

I might've started screaming bloody murder, if my little sister Gracie hadn't opened the front door and shouted, "Daddy's home!"

Slowly, my father's blue minivan rolled up the driveway. Gracie, with a sheet of notebook paper covered with multicolored scribbles in her hands, ran towards the door of the car, excitedly tapping on its window.

My father calmly walked out, but I could tell by his constant glances over towards the new piece of furniture we now owned, which he now had to help move, was ready to burn mother's garage full of trinkets.

"Daddy look." Gracie held up her art, stained with a bit of 100% grape juicy juice.

"Aren't I just as good as Jackson? It's abstract. Just like the one drawing you guys really liked that he did, except mine has color!"

"It's beautiful," my father faintly smiled, but the reassurance in his voice wasn't very prominent.

I smirked at her jealousy of the talents I possessed. She always looked up to her big brother Landon, but he had been away at college for the past few months, so I guess I was her backup plan. However, she didn't hold the same sort of honor she had for me as she had for Landon. It was that 'middle child honor.' The type of honor that truly does look up to you, just doesn't like showing it. The type of honor that likes to bring up embarrassing moments that will haunt you for the rest of your life, steal your towel and clothes while taking a shower and eat the last bite of your favorite cereal.

Luckily, I had my revenge planned. When she really pisses me off I can finally tell her the truth about her unplanned conception.

"How was work dad?" I never usually acted this interested in my father's occupation, mostly because it involved unclogging the shit out of people's toilets, but I was trying to avoid carrying the monstrosity of a sofa to the garage.

"Eh," his common response. He wasn't the most emotional person, especially on days when he was in one of his 'moods.' This was one of those days.

He made his way towards mother, despite her stockpile-syndrome, you could tell he loved her more than life itself.

"Hey hon," he said, softly pecking her on the lips.

It was like her insanity was a part of him that he adored. The part that kept him young, helping him remember their early blossoming romance. They were complete opposites, yet each mirrored the other. Each bringing out the other's character.

As I see it, everything needs it's opposing pair. It wouldn't be whole without it.

What would the moon be without the sun, the light without darkness, bitter without sweet, grief without joy, love without hate? These forces balance each other out. My parents are like that.

My mother smiled, then began, "Hey! Oooo, do you think you could help me move thi-" mother began but was cut off.

"I'm already on it," my father laughed, lifting one side of the couch, clearly exhausted.

I started to walk into the house, the straps of my backpack now chaffing my shoulders. We had lived in this house for about 18 years. Apparently after mom found out she was pregnant once again, they figured it was best to start searching for a place other than the one bedroom condo they were already living in. They found our home thinking it would be a proper family home. Instead, it turned out to be infested with termites, gnawing away at the wooden beams supporting our ceilings. Of course, an exterminator was hired. After that slight bump in the road, a paint job and serious cleaning, it turned out to be the domicile we would spend the rest of our childhood in. All of our precious memories, which we held dear, lied within it's walls.

I raced up the stairway to my room. The house, unlike our garage, was rather neat. My Father and I had always shared a passion for order. I guess I wasn't quite as uptight as he was, although I did become slightly OCD about a backwards roll of toilet paper.

My bedroom was whitewashed with well. . .white. Colorless and bland.

It's not that I was a boring stick-in-the-mud, I just didn't want to ruin the elegance my room pertained. It was like an empty canvas, a blank sheet of paper. Having so much potential. Potential that could easily be destroyed.

My fear was screwing things up.

As an aspiring artist, you might find it odd how I'm exceptionally organized, rather dull and basic. Not all artists have to be these messy slobs, using vibrant colors, seeing things differently than others.

I saw things for the way they were.

I laid my backpack down by the side of my bed, it's zipper clanking against the metal frame. It was time for my daily procrastination. I rolled open the drawer to my drafting table. Its polished wooden frame, still held the freshly cut pine scent, regardless of how old it was. Delicately choosing a pencil from my collection. It needed to be ideal. It's lead not too stubby, so I didn't have to find the energy to choose a new tool, yet not too sharp so it wouldn't break during the process. I tried taking a few short breaths. Attempting to clear my mind.

I liked playing a game with myself. The first thought which popped into my head, I would draw. I counted to four. Not three. Not five. Four. It was the number in between, commonly overlooked as a number to count to.

Just like me.

One....Two....Three...Four.

The gears in my brain started turning, sorting through the files of my mind, seeking for the perfect thought. It scanned through the alphabet.

A...B...C...D....E...STOP!

Yes, E.

The word became clear, its letters floating about.

Emptiness.

Beginning is always the hardest part. It is the foundation for everything. All the work you do from that point on stands upon the structure you created.

The first thing that came to mind when picturing the word was someone hiding behind a mask. Disguising their pain.

I proceeded to sketch a young girl, probably around Gracie's age. Her hair, hiding half her face. Each strand, unkempt, and untamed. She was smiling, yet the crinkles near her eyes told another story. A vacant heart.

A label was printed across her forehead. Numbers, like an ID.

18, 5, 10, 5, 3, 20, 5, 4.

Each number representing a letter. Each letter forming a word. A word that was the root cause of all emptiness. Being rejected.

She could fool anyone who was gullible enough to believe her false sense of contentment. Only those who looked close enough were able to see the agony beneath her facade.

Later that evening, while shading the striking features of the girl's face, darkening her glassy, tear-filled eyes, I was called down for dinner. My creative flow now interrupted, I made my way downstairs. My family each in their traditional seats. We use to have a big fancy dinner table, for guests, but I guess after the first awkward dinner with the Peterson's, and the fact we rarely ever had guests over, we sold it and bought a table much more accustomed to the size of our family. We only had one extra seat, of course in the garage, which was for Landon when he returned from (insert school name here). I plopped into the last available chair, my nose meeting the delicious fragrance of chinese take-out.

Egg rolls, white rice with baby shrimp, teriyaki chicken and those oh-so-sweet stargoons. I guess mom was too lazy to cook tonight. Again.

But, I wasn't complaining.

It was at that moment when I realized just how starving I was. I had forgotten I didn't eat my lunch.

I commenced to quietly dip my egg roll into a small packet of 'duck sauce' or whatever the hell it was and continued to stuff my face with a bite far too large for my mouth.

"So, Jackson, Gracie, you're father and I have some news."

I raised my head, my cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk trying to store his precious supply of nuts. Haha, nuts.

Dad just sat idly by while my mother eagerly took his hand. He seemed clueless. As if he was a random passerby who had just won a lifetime supply of pastries for buying the millionth funnel cake.

"Landon's coming home for the weekend," she exclaimed.

Gracie enthusiastically shrieked like a mating dolphin from the top of her lungs.

"Not inside the house Grace," Dad grimaced.

"Jackson, honey, isn't that great?"

I guess the lack of emotion on my face and the fact I had said not a word might have given the impression I wasn't thrilled to be reuniting with my dear brother, who I had profoundly missed, or was taking his trip home for granted. No, it wasn't either of those things, I was only slightly busy attempting not to choke on the rather sizeable amount of egg roll I had just consumed. The lump in my throat felt as if it was the size of golf ball. The shells' sharp edges slowly slid down my throat.

Amazingly I was able to swallow the choking hazard.

"Yeah mom, that's awesome."

Lately my parents had been acting more attentive towards my needs, assuming I'm depressed or unhappy with my circumstances. I suppose they have noticed my increase in afternoon naps, deadpan smiles and most of my life being spent in my room.

Perhaps they thought bringing Landon back home for a little while, might help recover the 'old Jackson' whose absence had been accounted for.

Yes, I admit it. Landon leaving did make things difficult. But, it was my fault for getting so hung up on the situation. I knew he was leaving. I couldn't help but also feeling slight resentment towards Landon.

He left me. However, Landon wasn't to blame. This was a step he had to take in life. I never expected for him to stay home to tend to his emotional brothers' needs. It just gave me a taste of the truth. Even family will not always be there for you.

Although, I did begin acting unlike my common self around the time when Landon left, he wasn't the only factor that had come into play of my mysterious change in personality. I guess his disappearance was just the gateway to all of the crap I had been storing in my heart for years.

Think of it like Jenga, the more blocks you pile up, the more come tumbling down.

I was never the type of person to talk about their issues and receive perceptive insight, causing my life to magically become picture perfect, solving every single one of my problems, then rolling the credits with the Friends theme song.

Because life just wasn't that simple.

That night was probably like most. Laying in bed staring at my ceiling, weary yet unable to let loose and drift away. All that was left for me to do was think. Think about the inevitable fact that I would soon fall asleep, unfortunately I would have to spend the next few minutes, before that happens, and suffer. I guess this was mother nature's way of letting you reflect on your actions, those humiliating moments we regret, causing us the gut-wrenching feeling of condemnation.

But, there were no moments belonging to me I had to ponder. I could only ask myself, what the hell happened to her?

Halo was a mission impossible movie. There was always something exciting and adventurous just around the corner. Her motto once was there would be no rules without rebellion. She'd then emphasize the statement saying how technically she was enforcing the rules by breaking them. She was one of those people who would have an idea, not take a second longer to think about what had just entered her mind and do it. From what it seemed, her impulsiveness had not changed much or her thirst for an adrenaline rush. No, what had changed was the wholesome tone she use to have in her voice. Each word was now filled with no meaning and each action was driven from a burning desire to fill the void in her soul, only enlarging.

If only I could just find enough courage to talk to her.

But, what would I say?

"Hey, uh, remember me? Jackson Novak. We use to hang out when were like ten, and I've noticed you recently moved back into the neighborhood this past year. Sorry if you ever caught me stalkerishly staring at your house, I was just wondering if you were home and what you might've doing."

Oh yeah, she'd probably just fall right into my arms after that glorious soliloquy.

Actually she might just jackslap me in the face for even considering speaking to her. After all, she had made it very clear she either never wanted to talk to me again, or suffered a terrible case of amnesia, causing her to lose about four years worth of her memory.

In all fairness, we were young.

We have matured quite a bit since our last rendezvous. She definitely wasn't that flat chested little girl from the fifth grade anymore. So, maybe it's possible she didn't recognize me?

That's ridiculous, I hadn't changed that much. I was still rather freckled face, sustaining your basic non-aerobic physique, just a foot and a half taller and different pair of glasses. I couldn't have changed to a certain degree making me unrecognizable.

Yes, it had been about five years, I'll give her that, but wouldn't she find me the slightest bit familiar?

Maybe, her life just didn't have enough room for me at the moment. She was already busy with her other friends, she just hadn't found the words to say to me yet.

Or maybe, my special gift of blending into the crowd was becoming better than I intended.

"Yeah, that was it," I tried telling myself, sinking into denial. Even though I hadn't chosen a possible theory to which I agreed with.

It was sometimes easier to deceive yourself than accepting the facts.

But, what's the point? She's moved on.

I wanted to hate her. To hate her for planting seeds of hope. For making me wish she would look at me and smile, reminiscing on a moment we once shared. She left me in suspense, on the edge of my seat, eagerly waiting to see what her next move would be.

But, I didn't hate her. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't.

#the title is when galaxies collide #writeblr #writelr #YA #young adult #teen fiction #awkward #lit #literature #aspiring author #writers of tumblr

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podmusical · 4 years

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The Left Hand of Dankentness

Credits and Lyrics for Episode 9 of Our Dumb Universe

starring:

Announcer - James B Kennedy Feltina - Christina Pumariega Huphalumpagus - Rachel Flynn Beep - Kerry Ipema Sondra - Lauren Lim Jackson Dankent - Nathaniel Kent Valborg - Emily Gardner Xu Hall Pangla - Melissa Lusk Fuzzo - Jared Loftin Boop - Melissa Lusk Bloor - Carl Howell Null Ship - Jenni Putney Null Trooper - Fatt Booger Cuddle Cup Voice - Jenni Putney Kvold - Happy Anderson

written by Jonathan A. Goldberg music by Matt roi Berger

recorded, mixed and edited by Martin Fowler

__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/

JUMP, DUNK, AND WHALE!

FUZZO In the fields of Minnesota, August ’92 The greatest mall ever designed was set to open soon With a cinnabon, an ice rink and rainforest cafe Twas the peak of architecture both then and today But someone was up to something So made that he was jumping around! The ghost called Spring Heeled Jack Planned to tear this mall right back to the ground Spring Heeled Jack’d been reading Marx for a non-credited course And he got some big ideas he planned to test by force But little did he know, two heroes happened to be In attendance at the ribbon cutting ceremony Forward for the Utah Jazz, The Mail Man, also known as Karl Malone! And with his Orca Dan, Underwater main man Jacques Cousteu Oh you know they’re gonna Jump Dunk and Whale! As Spring Heeled Jack unveiled himself to assail The structure of the mall, our two heroes split the throng and prepared. Well Jacques and Karl shared a look that said let’s go And Jacques threw some ninja sea stars at that jumpy ghost And then Karl grabs a basketball from who know where He passes it to Dan before he takes to the air A perfect Ally Oop Dan’s pass a perfect swoop and a dunk Right on to Jackie’s head That’s when that ghosty said “i’m sunk!” Because they’re gonna Jump Dunk and Whale A dream team’s your means to prevail They brought it to the post to send that springy ghost to jail Yeah you gotta, Jump Dunk and Whale When you team up you just can’t fail Gotta double team your troubles, get your power doubled to prevail! Yeah you gotta, Jump Dunk and Whale When you team up you just can’t fail Gotta double team your troubles, get your power doubled to prevail! __/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/ A COMPLICATED PLAN VALBORG Everyone listen close, let’s have another go At heart this plan is simple-ly complicated Eventually we’ll warp fold deep into Null space But first we’ll make some major changes: PANGLA / FUZZO / HUPH / FELTINA / SONDRA Switching it up ship wide Slipping into disguise Pitch a tent with sting lights Circus ship we’ll look like Truth they’ll never surmise Catch the Null by surprise Oh oh oh oh! VALBORG That’s right and then part two we use a magic act Distract the Null from what we’re really doing Dankent and Sondra will set up a net field trap With lasers on a local moon While Huph performs and Kvold enjoys The net is shot and hits Disabling the power to the ship PANGLA / FUZZO / HUPH / FELTINA / SONDRA In the dark and chaos Power loss is causing Valborg will deposit Drugs into their water Fuzzo will spread Gossip Pass out the narcotics Ai Ai Ai Ai! VALBORG This plan has many parts and nothing must go wrong If we miss a single step, we can kiss our butts so long Every cog that’s in this clock, require laser focus and total calm ... VALBORG Once all the Null are drugged, we slip into phase 3 Bloor and Pangla sneak aboard the Null Treasure Ship We all will follow, one by one, we’ll say we need To find the loo and take a piss The Fartknocker we’ll find and board And speed out on our way! Alive a free to head straight for the Brain! ALL This plan has many parts and nothing must go wrong If we miss a single step, we can kiss our butts so long If we can pull it off, they’ll sing our name in song VALBORG So one more time, go: PANGLA / FUZZO / HUPH / FELTINA / SONDRA Slipping into disguise Circus ship we’ll look like Felt and Huph do magic Null are all distracted Laser net is set, shot Big ship is catch caught In the dark and chaos Valborg drugs their water Fuzzo spread gossip Hands out the narcotics Excuse to use the potty While their heads are foggy Hop on the Fartknocker Head off like a rocket! Ah ah ah ah ah! __/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/__/ HE’S GOING DOWN VALBORG Just take a deep breath Val / Keep it under control Things may seem darkest now, but - you never know Just need a moment here / just need an open look One well-placed hunting spear and his goose is cooked SONDRA The moment’s growing closer, please be still my beating heart Just need to figure out a plan to take these jerk apart Just need a moment and a moment’s all I hope to get If this guy’s as fearsome as everyone says he is VALBORG Everyone here’s SONDRA Counting on me FUZZO I’ll make the move FELTINA/HUPH Set us all free PANGLA I’ll blow him a kiss! Maybe he’s cute! BLOOR Bloor - Bloor Bloor Bloor Bloor Blooooor FELTINA/HUPH Just take a deep breath VALBORG Just take a moment, breathe FELTINA/HUPH If I don’t take him down, that means defeat VALBORG If I don’t take him down FUZZO That means that evil wins PANGLA If I don’t kiss him maybe he’ll be sad and throw a fit FELTINA/HUPH The moment’s growing closer, please be still our beating hearts SONDRA Just need to figure out a plan to take these jerks apart FUZZO Just need to jump him before he can even blink an eye ALL If I don’t make a move, my friends will die I’ll make my move / They count on me I’ll be the hero / I need to be He’s going down / I’ll set us free ...

ALL I made my move / I tried to breathe I met my match / We met defeat Is this the end? / Now we must wait and see Ah oh ah oh ah oh

#Lyrics #credits and lyrics #credits #fall of the house of sunshine #The Fall of the House of Sunshine #podcast #audiodrama #audio drama

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samanthasroberts · 6 years

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Alex Rodriguez is Major League Baseball’s last megastar, and that’s OK

David Lengel: A-Rods fame transcends baseball; plus, Prince Fielder retires, Gary Sheffield demands respect for Tim Tebow and the Mets manager Terry Collins is under fire

All the way to the bitter end, and it is bitter, the fans want A-Rod. On Tuesday night, with Alex Rodriguez bizarrely left out of the lineup by the Yankees manager, Joe Girardi, Boston Red Sox fans chanted his name at Fenway Park, letting Bombers brass know they made a mistake by sitting the slugger who is (for now) set to retire after one more big night in the Bronx, this coming Friday against Tampa Bay.

Can you blame the Yankees for sticking it to their man, even if he was, at least seemingly, provided with a graceful exit plan on Sunday? After all, were talking about player who tried to torch his employers, the league he played in and the union who helped guarantee most of his 10-year, $275m deal during a scorched-earth defense of his role in the Biogenesis PED scandal.

Except this shouldnt be about the Yankees settling scores, this is about pure entertainment. And with the clock running down on one of the most significant sporting careers this country has ever known, limiting the owner of 696 of the most controversial home runs in history to pinch-hit duty is the direct opposite of giving fans what they want.

Yes, they still want A-Rod, a player who cant hit like he used to, but can still light up talk radio switchboards for hours, rattle social media and fill countless pages with pixel after pixel. In an era where content is in demand like never before, A-Rod has been just that: walking, living, breathing, never-ending content. At the next Baseball Writers Association dinner, they should give A-Rod an award for enriching their lives with some of the most colorful, controversial and polarizing stories theyll ever scribble. He deserves it, because another A-Rod isnt going to walk into the sport anytime soon.

A-Rod is arguably, along with his ex-team-mate, Derek Jeter, the most recognizable name in modern baseball times, and not just to sports fans, to everybody. A-Rod has transcended the game in a way almost all ballplayers dont. In retirement, his place in mainstream gossip columns will continue, especially if he sticks with billionaire CEO and co-founder of 23andMe Anne Wojcicki, who was once married to Google co-founder Sergey Brin: know any other baseball players who have landed in Vanity Fair lately?

The NFL has their Tom Brady, Aaron Rodgers and until last season, Peyton Manning, while the NBA has their LeBron James and a host of strong second-tier stars. After A-Rod, baseball has nobody on or near that level of national, crossover stardom.

Think about all the game-changing talent that is around the league today: Mike Trout, Clayton Kershaw, Jake Arrieta, Jose Altuve, Kris Bryant: the list of standouts goes on for a very long time, but theres no one that moves the needle like A-Rod, who is known by 50% of all Americans six years or older according to Q-Scores. Bryce Harper, who did make a late-night appearance with Jimmy Fallon in May, and is by far the least vanilla young ballplayer around, is the next highest at 20% awareness.

Alex Rodriguez (@AROD) October 30, 2015

Had a blast on my first time on @fallontonight with @jimmyfallon. pic.twitter.com/Gi3HjYu3rR

Every circuit wants to market its stars, who are the one of the main reasons the Big Four leagues are the behemoths they are today. But in todays sports world, MLB operates well despite the fact that their players have lower national awareness than those from other major North American sports leagues.

The league may wish their national ratings for all-star games and the post-season were rising rather than falling, but in MLB today, all of that matters much less overall. Their digital service, 33% of which was just picked up by Disney, is valued at a staggering $3.5bn, while local television and radio perform well. Their biggest issue is finding a way to maintain the status quo when it comes to the billions of dollars in local revenues earned via cable bundling, where many fans who dont watch an inning of baseball have been subsidizing huge rights deals for years and years.

So really, the model of pushing stars to drive national awareness across Major League Baseball has more or less been on life support for many years, meaning that the days of grandiose ad campaigns, as rare as theyve been, probably went out with Jeter.

As for Rodriguez, well, based on ticket sales for Fridays game, which is being broadcast nationally on Fox, hes certain to go out with a bang, whether he swings and misses or hits yet another A-bomb. As always, A-Rod will make an impact, simply by showing up.

Video of the week

ICYMI: Manny Machado: three at bats, three home runs in three innings, single handedly wrecking the White Sox on a Sunday afternoon. Thats one heck of a third of a game for the Orioles slugger who is breaking out from his breakout seasons. Is he your MVP? He certainly deserves to be in the American League conversation.

Manny from Mercury.

Quote of the Week

Take your stupid baseball team and get out.

Documents obtained by AZCentral.com say thats what Maricopa County supervisor Andy Kunasek said to Diamondbacks president Derrick Hall during an April tirade. The county, which includes the city of Phoenix, has denied the D-Backs $65m in ballpark renovations in an ongoing dispute that could threaten Arizonas long-term future at Chase Field. Kunasek also told Hall to go back to fucking West Virginia.

Whos closer to victory: Donald Trump or the Cubs?

Well, you would like to think that in a week that Le Grande Orange alluded to a possible assassination threat to a would-be presidential-elect, that the Trumpster would be farther away from victory than ever before. However, we also know that Trump bounces back easier than one of those 25 rubber balls your kid makes you buy outside the pizza shop: the Dems should limit any embarrassing high-fives.

The Cubs? Well, whatever was eating at them in July, when they were, somewhat amazingly, just 12-16, is done and dusted. Chicago raced out to a 8-0 mark this month, and their July to August ERA dropped from 4.47 to 1.29, while their OPS popped by over 60 points during the same span. That makes the Cubbies easy winners this week.

How did the kids piss off Goose Gossage this week?

The St Louis Cardinals, down 4-0 on Monday night to the Cincinnati Reds, on the verge of a three-game losing streak, got yet another gift from God. After rallying from a 4-0 ninth inning deficit, Yadier Molina stepped to the plate with the bases loaded and brought the winning home run by any means necessary.

Yadier does it again.

Theres only one thing worse than a bases-loaded walk to end a ballgame a bases loaded hit by pitch. Molina didnt exactly run away from Ross Ohlendorfs offering, and so Goose may be thinking that is one bush league way to win. Then again, hes probably thinking what we most of us think when the Cardinals somehow find a way to rise from the dead, and thats not printable here.

Nine thoughts in order

1) Prince Fielder is retiring from baseball after a second neck surgery forced the Rangers DH to call it quits. Aside from the sad news that one of the games most prodigious sluggers is retiring, it now confirms that then Tigers president and general manager Dave Dombrowski made one heck of a deal when he shipped Fielder to Texas in exchange for Ian Kinsler. By the time Fielders deal runs out, he will have been paid $138m for 34 home runs and a .760 OPS over 289 games. The Tigers will have paid $62m for Kinsler up until 2018, which includes a $5m buyout of the final year of his deal, but doesnt count the $30m they kicked over to Texas to help pay Fielders deal. So for $92m total, Detroit have received an .794 OPS, in over 400 games and counting, with the second baseman currently enjoying his best season since 2008. Theres some relief for Texas however – its reported that some $36m of the remaining deal will be covered by insurance. Fielder retires with the same number of home runs as his father Cecil: 319.

2) Toronto Blue Jays starting center fielder Kevin Pillar is out with for at least two weeks with sprained thumb ligaments, and considering the way he routinely bounces around the Rogers Centre outfield walls and dives into its turf, its a real wonder how he wasnt injured sooner. Luckily, GM Ross Atkins, who is quietly patting his own back this week, has an everyday center fielder in Melvin Upton to replace him. Upton is enjoying something of a comeback season, but has been slow to get going in T Dot now hell get his chance to play every day and make that deal look even better.

3) Tim Tebow is going to try and play baseball, allegedly, and as usual, the media are tripping over themselves to cover whatever he does. Personally, I thought he deserved more of a chance in the NFL after guiding the Broncos to the playoffs in 2011, something a whopping 10,000 Denver fans agree with after signing a petition for his return. Baseball? Well, I was tempted to write that its never, ever, EVER going to happen. Then I saw this tweet from Gary Sheffield:

Gary Sheffield (@garysheffield) August 9, 2016

I spent time w @TimTebow in the cages recently, he’s a NATURAL. I absolutley believe in his ability to play in the bigs. Tim has IT #focused

If you read Sheffields recent piece in the Players Tribune, youd have to think twice about Tebow he demands that you do! So, as per Sheffs orders, Im keeping an open mind, for now.

4) On Tuesday some 15,000 Red Sox fans learned theyd be denied a David Ortiz bobblehead doll, just hours before their game with the Yankees.

Boston Red Sox (@RedSox) August 8, 2016

We’re back home tomorrow night and we’re going big with the #BigPapi bobblehead! Get yours: https://t.co/uQuufP0I67 pic.twitter.com/Y5CzCEb5g8

I thought the bobbleheads were an inaccurate portrayal of David, said Sam Kennedy said. To go further, I thought the facial features were racially insensitive. Sox brass later announced that fans in attendance would actually be eligible to receive a more politically correct doll with a significantly thicker neck once a new figurine is made.

5) Heres an admission: my fascination with Ichiro was such that I used to write emails about him to friends before every spring. Mostly they rambled on about certain stats on how he missed just 33 games over his first 11 seasons in Seattle, or that he would have almost definitely been MLBs all-time hit king had his career started off in North America.

The first Japanese player to play the field, Ichiro is without question one of the most intriguing players in the long history of the game, and his 3,000th hit is just the latest statistical wonder surrounding his game. Ironically, after all these years of racking up hit after hit, my fondest Ichiro memory remains his throwing out of Terrance Long in 2001.

Incredible Ichiro.

6) Last month Pete Rose sued John Dowd for a statutory rape allegation the criminal defense attorney and former federal prosecutor made last year. During a 13 July 2015 radio appearance, Dowd, who lead the 1989 investigation into Roses gambling, referenced Roses ex-associate, Michael Bertolini, who allegedly told him that he ran young girls for him down in spring training, ages 12 to 14. Rose said there was no truth to the statements, which took place before the MLB commissioner, Rob Manfred, elected to not take him off the sports ineligible list in December. Now Dowd is trying to have the case dismissed, a move Roses attorney, Martin Garbus calls a stall tactic. Like anything involving Rose, this latest saga is unlikely to end anytime soon.

7) Yasiel Puigs reputation in Dodgerland continues to spiral. This time the recently demoted Puig was seen drinking beer in a party bus with a bunch of young Triple-A Oklahoma players, some of which were under the legal drinking age, having as much fun as possible inside a vehicle parked in Iowa. Unfortunately for Puig, who is just 25, these completely normal acts, which included singing, profanity and inside jokes, he posted videos of the partying on social media and so now its a full-blown controversy. Management said theyd handle it internally, while Puig merchandise was removed from Dodger Stadium stores. A word of advice to Yasiel: the nail that sticks up will be hammered down.

8) Terry Collins is under more pressure than ever after a shaky week featuring what were, more or less, indefensible decisions. On Saturday, down a run in the ninth and two outs, he didnt pinch-run for the plodding Jay Bruce, who was then thrown out at home to end the game.

Jay Bruce might be faster than anybody on our team for all I know, said Collins. I know he is a good base runner.

Bruce is new to the team, but in the age of information, there is no excuse for Collins: he has to know his players.

Making matters worse, Collins didnt challenge the call at the plate.

Mets fans have been critical of several of Collins moves this season, never mind the fact that he manages a would-be play-off team that hasnt won consecutive games since 7 July. However, few managers have had to deal with the injury issues hes faced over two seasons, and after taking New York to the World Series last season, hes probably safe for the rest of the season.

9) And finally, Clayton Kershaw is still finding ways to contribute in LA, despite being sidelined with back issues until at least 27 August. On Sunday, he led a dugout prank on Alex Wood.

LasMayores (@LasMayores) August 8, 2016

Clayton Kershaw jugandole una broma a Alex Wood. #LasMayores #MLB https://t.co/KK5eI5UkFc

A full video of Claytons stacking seeds on to the back of Wood, narrated to perfection by Vin Scully, can be found here. Rather incredibly, the Dodgers have gone 23-14 without their ace in the rotation, pulling even even with their NL West rivals, the San Francisco Giants, if only for a day. The Dodgers bullpen has played a large role in that success they have the lowest batting average against in innings seven through nine in baseball history according to SI a remarkable turnaround considering the fits LAs relief core caused their fan base over ensuing seasons.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/01/alex-rodriguez-is-major-league-baseballs-last-megastar-and-thats-ok/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/12/01/alex-rodriguez-is-major-league-baseballs-last-megastar-and-thats-ok/

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