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#when I turned 18 I was kinda forced to buy a scratch off
quills-of-freedom · 1 year
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Short Story ~
No longer a mommy’s boy
Female bodied reader X Jean Kirstein
While in Trost, Jean visits his mom and you insist on tagging along, much to his dismay. But thankfully his mom isn’t home so he shows you around his childhood house…
Warnings: NSFW 18+ Smut. Slightly bratty reader.
Happy Birthday, Jean ~ !
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“…And this is my room.”
Jean ends the reluctant tour, briefly opening his bedroom door before hurrying to close it before you could really get a good look.
“Hold on.” You tease, pushing past him and walking right in.
“y/n! Come on, it’s bad enough you’re in my house! …it’s embarrassing.” His protests fall on deaf ears as you walk into the centre of the room and look around with eager interest.
You and Jean have kinda had a thing for a while now. You will both flirt like crazy but no one’s ever made a move. You’re always catching his eyes lingering on your form when he thinks you’re not looking. You’ve also noticed how he blushes when you brush across his skin or that one time you bent over in front of him and he hurried out of the room.
As your eyes scan his room - the citrus smell of his mom’s cleaning products stinging your nostrils - you can’t help but wonder how many frustration wanks he’d had in here on leave.
It was no secret he had the hots for Mikasa during cadets. And now, four years on, it seems to be you he’s had his eyes on.
He timidly walks by his desk, clearing his throat nervously, blocking any access to his drawings that were hidden in the small wooden box on the side. His body tenses when you sit on his bed, marvelling at your surroin. It was like he was regressing into that horny teenager back in Cadets.
Holy shit, she’s sitting on my bed…
“So I’m guessing you’ve never… You know, had anyone in here before?”
His face burns, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “No. Can we go now?”
“Aw… But I’m having fun.” You pout. You loved to tease him. Getting to your feet you walk towards him, your eyes flashing him a look he’d never seen before. But he loved it.
His jaw slackens as your fingers begin to pop the buttons of your shirt; the thought of him masturbating furiously over you in that very bed turning you onto another level. The look on his face is priceless, his skin now crimson as he averts his narrow eyes away from you and his voice begins to break. He’s definitely regressing.
“Y-y/n! Are you outta your mind?! What was in your lunch?!”
You press yourself against his now trembling body, your mouth so tantalisingly close to his.
“I want you, Jean Kirstein. It’s not very often we get alone time. So maybe we -”
He cuts you off by pushing his lips against yours, an instant groan vibrating him as the force of his kiss pushes you back. You both stumble across the room, kissing with haste and your hands roaming one another as he pushes his door closed and clicks the lock, his mouth now hurrying down your neck, his hair already a mess from your hands. Your back arches with a gasp as his starving mouth devours your flesh, making its way down to your breasts and ripping your shirt open with his paws, buttons flying across the room.
“I’ll buy you another one.” He groans into you with honesty; his teeth nipping your chest as his hand fumbles with your bra.
Your leg raises up to his waist, this tall man hunched over desperately to reach your chest, now your breasts were freed from their constrictions.
“Jesus, y/n…” He pants, not able to believe this was actually happening.
Wait. He wasn’t having some weird wet dream and you weren’t about to morph into his mom, was he? That was a horror be didn’t want to experience.
He paused, waiting.
“You okay?” You breathe.
Nah. This felt very real.
He hums in confirmation, continuing to ravish and devour you, now helping you remove his shirt - his muscular bare chest tensing as he then scooped you up with ease, still kissing you in quick succession. His breathing through his nose is heavy as he sits you down onto his desk, the wooden box he previously protected clunking to the floor in his haste.
He groans as you rub up against him like a cat in heat, your scent rolling off you as he trails kisses down your stomach before pulling your trousers and panties. He stands back, your pants still in his hands as he stares at your gorgeous, naked form. His head tilts slightly, eyes wide and lips parting as his chest heaves.
Shaking his head and snapping out of it, he throws your trousers down and with a smirk returns to you, his warm fingers massaging your slit, a loud moan of yearning leaving his throat.
The way his fingers felt, finally touching you in this way was beyond amazing, your head throwing back with your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip.
“That good, baby?” He asks in a breathy whisper, his finger then sliding inside your warm entrance.
“Yes…” You confirm with a whimper, your nails digging into his arms as he enjoys the squelching sounds you make from his movements. His warm mouth trails down, his teeth sinking into your inner thigh, your moan unintentional. He removes his finger and places it in his mouth, eyes rolling at how you taste.
“So sweet…” He gasps, returning his mouth to you but this time lapping his tongue up your entirety, making you shiver and quake on the desk, his attention now your clit.
You tug at his hair, your whines melodic to him, his warm tongue feels amazing his fingers re entering you and curling inside of your clenching pussy. The friction from his facial hair on your ass cheeks and the vibrations of his groans didn’t help in anchoring you to reality, you breathing becoming erratic and your thighs squeezing against his head.
Jeans fingers are deliciously long; strong too from all the ODM usage, his relentless pressing onto your magic internal areas almost unbearable - your coil tightening with great heat.
“Jean! Oh my god! You’re so good at that…” You sound surprised which he shrugs off. He’s got you now, so all he can do is show you what he’s got to offer. And boy, is it a lot as your cries get louder, your insides pulling his fingers in deeper as you unweave, your face flushed as you cum into Jean Kirstein"s mouth.
He can’t help but let his head swell (both of them really) knowing he’s just made a woman, you no less, orgasm. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, his throbbing dick needing some attention and friction. He removes his trousers, you eye up his long length that curves up at the top. This was going to feel so so good.
Lining up with your heat he shakes as he holds himself back.
“Are you ready…?” He mutters, stroking your now messed up hair.
You nod.
With one long push, he breaks through your walls and sheaths himself fully, your mouth falling open as you pull him forward and hang your chin over his muscular shoulder; the desk banging against the wall with his thrusts. He grunts loudly with each one, large hands on your thighs and squeezing tightly.
“Jesus…” His voice breaks. “Fuck… Y/n you feel amazing.”
You can’t reply.
Jean inside you feels too good. You just sorta squeak, his head bashing against your g spot.
“Ah~ Ah~~!” You squeal before he picks you up still inside of you and pushes you against his wardrobe, fucking you against it with ease as it clatters and bangs loudly.
“yes… Fuck!” He barks, latching his mouth onto your neck and sucking, intending to leave a nice big territorial mark on your skin. He decides the closet is too loud so he moves you to the bed, his feet still on the floor as he pushes your legs up to your chest, your arousal soaking his balls and groin as he pounds deeper and faster.
Your toes curl, your tits bounce and your eyes roll as he works you, his abs moving under his skin with each thrust of his hips. He places one foot on the bed, dipping into you and grazing your cervix, his groaning becoming more urgent.
“I’m not gonna last much longer…” He warns.
You can’t reply. As soon as he mutters that last syllable you’re back inside your own heaven.
The feel of you cuming around him is too much, a high pitched whine leaves him as he busts his big fat fuckin nut, filling you up ever so full.
Jean’s mom comes through the front door with her arms full of shopping bags. She’s elated as she sees her beloved sons shoes at the door.
Wait… And is that a pair of women’s -?
Her train of thought can’t finish as she hears what sounds like a stampede marching through the upper floor. She recognised that as Jeans wardrobe from the way it would shake as she polished the wood. Her face turns pink as she drops the groceries.
“That was amazing…” Jean whispered as you lay on his chest, those amazing fingers now drawing circles on your shoulder as he plants a kiss on your head. “We… Get to do that again, right? Like we’re together now?”
“Absolutely.” You smile.
You both bolt up when there’s a meek tapping at the door.
“Jeany…? I know you’re home. I’m making dinner. Would your… uh, girlfriend like some?” Her voice muffles through the door.
You can’t help but laugh as your now boyfriend hides his face in his hands, his teeth gritting together.
“Guess it’s already time to meet your mom.” You grin.
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nonobadcat · 3 years
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Yandere Mr. Compress X F! Reader
Rating: Explicit - for readers 18+ only 8 chapter story
Summary: Six months into your relationship with the "Incredible Mr. Compress", your future seems as bright as the stage lights under which he makes his name. However, your best friend, Harada Yumiko, has her doubts about this "perfect" stranger who seems to have magically appeared in your life. While he continues to shower you with increasingly serious affections, Yumiko's words make you start to ponder one thing: How much do you really know about Sako Atsuhiro?
TW: Rape, breeding/pregnancy kink, condom failure, unwanted pregnancy, discussions of abortion, stalking. A consensual relationship that devolves into non-con.
Dedicated to Miss_Mystery3
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Chapter 1 Excerpt:
"So then tell me, my friend..." Her eyes flashed. "When were you going to tell me about this new man in your life?"
You gulped and sunk back into your seat. Your eyes rolled to the floor. "Ummmm…. Eventually?"
She tapped the table hard enough to make her manicure click. "I had to find out from my driver that my best friend was dating some sort of actor." She laid her head upon her forehead and swooned like a grandmother confronted with a store-bought version of her best dish. "Do you know how that made me feel?"
You twirled your thumbs around each other. "Sorry… you've been so busy lately..."
She smacked the wooden veneer and sneered at you. “I demand details!” She pointed a finger at your nose and narrowed her eyes. “Where did you meet him?"
You cast a thumb over your shoulder. "At a little bar down the street."
She frowned. "A bar? Didn't anyone ever tell you that you'll never meet a good man at a bar."
You shrugged. "Well, he was performing and then he asked me out later." You scratched your cheek. "So it wasn't technically in the bar..."
She fanned herself. "I cannot believe I'm hearing this." She grasped you by the shoulders. "He sounds sketchy! Break up with him, now."
You laughed. “Yumi-chan, you don’t even know him!”
She crossed her arms and huffed. “Is he even cute?”
You licked your lips and a gooey smile appeared on your face. Your cheeks glowed with embarrassed heat. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your cell phone. The lock screen background was a picture of yourself and a handsome man. The two of you had sappy grins on your face. You were making two V-shaped hands just beside your jaw and pouting your lips. He flashed a single set of bunny ears behind your head. His cheek was leaned into your scalp and the other arm was wrapped around your shoulders. His face was a perfect heart with boyish piles of soft brown waves piled on his head. Chocolate brown eyes seemed nearly molten in the hazy light. Instead of looking at the camera, they were looking at you.
Yumiko looked utterly dumbfounded. She stared from you to the picture and back again. Then a sullen frown tugged the corners of her mouth down.
You giggled. “I know, right? He’s super hot.” You rocked from side to side, clasping your hands together. “I still don’t know what he sees in me but I feel stupid lucky to have him.”
She handed your phone back to you and rolled her eyes. “There’s a catch.” She waved her hand dismissively and gave you a wicked side-eye. “I mean, sure he’s hot and all but don’t the circumstances seem a little suspicious to you?”
You cocked your head. "What do you mean, Yumi-chan?"
“I mean you met this guy at a dive bar right?” she asked.
“It wasn’t a dive bar!” You turned your head and poked your index fingers into each other until they arched. Embarrassed eyes found their way to the floor as you shuffled your feet. Out of the corner of your mouth, you muttered: “It was an open mic night.”
“Oh gee, open mic night.” She rolled her eyes. “So much classier.”
You shrugged sheepishly. “Look, I know your ex-”
A dark cloud fell over her face. She gritted her teeth and growled. “Can you just not?”
You winced and waved your hands apologetically. “Sorry! Sorry!”
Your friend crossed her arms and stared down her nose at you. “...besides, we’re talking about your love life, not mine.”
Your lips fell into a frown and your eyes rolled to the side.  It wasn’t like you really wanted to talk about it. She was the one that brought it up all of a sudden.
“How much do you know about him anyway?”
Your eyes sparkled. You began to tick off your fingers "Well… he's blood type B; he used to be part of a circus act with his grandfather." You grinned into the palm of your hand and practically squealed. "Oh my gosh! The third time we went on a date he pulled a bouquet of red tulips out of a hat! How romantic is that?!"
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I mean, how much do you really know about him? About his family? His friends?
You paused, mouth drawing tight. “...that’s…” You forced a grin to hide the queasy feeling flopping around in your stomach. “I mean…” You flipped your hand back and force as an uneasy laugher cracked from your throat like a bull frog’s croak. “Well… you know I wanted to take things kinda slow-”
“Are you having sex with him?”
Your fake smile froze on your face.
She groaned. “Oh, honey... If you’re doing the deed he isn’t taking it slow.” She narrowed her brows. “If the guy gets the milk without buying the cow-”
You gripped your upper arm and pursed your lips. “Yumiko,” you whined. “That’s super sexist!” You prodded your fingers. “Besides, the sex is fine with me. The part I wish he’d slow down is how serious he is about us.”
“What do you mean?”
You frowned and leveled her with a serious stare. “He told me he loved me after only three dates.”
Yumiko set her mimosa down and sat up straight. “That’s a bit fast.”
You nodded and ran your hand through your hair. “I told him it was too much-”
Yumiko cut you off. “And let me guess? He was all like…” She threw her voice into a fake deep murmur which made your IQ drop by several points. “...but baby because I love you I just wanna try anal once. Plleeeeeaassssseeeee.” Then she scoffed and took a large gulp of her drunk. With a dark glower, she snarled: “Men really are animals after all.”
Your eyes went wide and you waved your hands frantically. “Oh no! Nothing like that!” You folded your hands into your lap and squirmed in the chair. Your thumbs danced around each other like two cats in a fight. A warmth filled your cheeks as you bit your lip. “Actually, he was super understanding. He said it was in his nature to live fast but that he would absolutely respect my feelings on the matter.”
Yumiko’s jaw dropped. “You’re not serious?!” She slumped into her hand and groaned. “You actually believed him?! No guy is really that nice!”
Read the rest at Archive of Our Own
@awkward-confused @raygard-elvets @somechick30003 @thicchaco @shigashigashig @teachillvibes
@sadlynikki @the-midnight-slasher-thot @questylousqueer @lynaminroll @crackheadwithtoes @crispyathletepurseduck @shadyfarmcookiefish @bouncing-bunnie @serenesong @kirishimaisthatbitch @oikawascakee @brialoveskbtbb @lisajamie99 @lilypadofthelake @softdumpling @neutralchaosintheworld @asianchubs @lovely92sworld @feral-creep @arie1107 @razormoon
@serenesong @edensblog101703 @all4one @wifeofhandvillain @fallen-baron
@rare-yanderes -though Idk if this is rare enough for you
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inevitable love (Yandere!Taehyung x SmolBaby!Reader)
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You obviously couldn’t take care of yourself, so Kim Taehyung took matters in his own hands. Literally.
Warning: Harassment, loads of capitalism (kinda ironic that I hate capitalism, considering I’m an Econ student sigh), big dog chase idrk, y/n complains a lot lmao also she’s textbook smart but lowkey dumb,,, like me, I'm literally y/n anywaYS 
CHAPTER ONE (Honestly, its more of a prologue)
P.S Sorry, this one's mostly focused on Y/N, I promise Taehyung will make it in the next chap! 
Word Count: 1.4k
This was ridiculous. You had graduated from one of the finest business schools in the world, yet, here you were, sitting in your shabby studio apartment, listening to another rejection after the countless job interviews while watching the paint peel off the walls. You never really thought life would lead to this, you sitting here on your mattress, eating (probably uncooked) ramen, and crossing another job opportunity. The ramen wasn’t that bad, there were no complaints about it from your side anyways, because you couldn’t cook for shit and any food other than premade food was a waste in this household. You still have nightmares about the incident when you accidentally forgot to take off the plastic packaging off the sliced cheese before making a cheese sandwich in the microwave. Only to watch the microwave - and the cheese – explode in front your eyes. The poor baby.
Glancing at your watch, you realize that you have to head downtown to your job – which was paid under minimum wage, but it did make you better off than the homeless, and the jobless. You could still afford at least one meal a day (Was cup ramen considered a meal?) and the chef at the diner would sneakily give you food, sigh, he was so nice. Sometimes, you look back, and think where things went wrong. You were basically a child genius, always a couple classes ahead of your peers, you got almost got a perfect score on the SAT at the first try (it was a 1560!), you got your bachelor’s degree at the age of 18, instead of the usual 22. You look back and see how you used to think that you could afford a luxurious penthouse apartment in Manhattan and pay off your student loans within a year, while working in one of the best companies in world.
You did have the textbook knowledge, but who was there to teach you about the practical world? The real world? The textbooks didn’t teach you how to pay your water and electricity bills, they didn’t teach you how to hold your tears back when the landlord puts a suggestive hand on your waist, they didn’t teach you how to accept countless rejections, or how to use coupons while grocery shopping, or how to ignore the everyday catcalls, or how to walk through the streets at night. They didn’t teach you how to cope with the fact that your father died but you didn’t have enough money for a flight back to your hometown, they didn’t teach you how to not shout at your mother who got a new family, they didn’t teach you the reality.
So, here you were, two years later, serving disgusting men who harassed you, while wearing a skirt that was too short for your liking and heels that made your feet ache every single day. Somehow, it was worse today. Your hair wouldn’t co-operate, your mascara had officially dried out and no amount of contact solution could revive it from its flaky texture, your manager basically manipulated you to wear red lipstick, and these goddamn heels won’t stop hurting your feet.
At this point, I’m just going to die from the chronic feet pain, you thought.
It was just an endless day of serving, picking up dirty dishes, and of course, ignoring the occasional disgusting words of “endearment” from your customers. You were just picking up the mess of ketchup left by a couple of rowdy boys who sat here 15 minutes earlier, repeatedly asking for your number. Interesting enough, despite all the catcalling, you can only recall four people asking for your number.
The first one had been a wannabe bike rider, he was tall, around 6’4 – give or take – and quite chunky with a full curly beard down to his chest. Despite knowing some people who would dig this vibe, you personally didn’t love the entire ensemble. In fact, you cringed whenever you saw these people perform their tricks on the streets (You cringed even more when you saw them fall and smash their head open. Yikes).
You remember, it was your third day at the newly acquired job, and while you weren’t all that ecstatic to start working here (You were already looking for other, more well paid jobs with more benefits), you still respected the job requirement and went up to the customer and asked, “What would you like to order, sir?” in your sweetest voice possible.
“Well, what’s on the special menu?”
Special menu? You weren’t informed about any special menu, maybe your manager forgot to tell you?
“I’m sorry, I’m quite new here, I’ll go confirm this special menu with my manager,” and just as you tried to go to your manager – who by the way had been keeping an eye on you since you got here, you could say she wasn’t exactly fond of you – scary biker dude grabbed your wrist, a little too tight to be called comfortable, and you couldn’t help but wince.
“Oh sweetheart, you’re the first and only item on the special menu. And I’d like to order that, with a side of Vanilla milkshake,”
Okay, crinnngggeee.
And then, as impossible as it seemed, you were forced to smile and laugh it off, even if it disgusted you to the core. And then, you were manipulated to hand over your phone number.
Just go with the flow, Y/N, just go with the flow. Block it later, no worries.
He was known to be a usual customer, but surprisingly, he didn’t actually ever come to the diner after that, nor did he call you. Now that you notice, no one you gave your number to, actually did call you. Whether it was the biker, or the druggie, or the 50-year-old man who promised to buy you a yacht. Eh, he was so old, he probably died on his way home. So, you never knew whether to take it as an insult, or a blessing.
Well, this day was almost over until 5 minutes before closing down, a bunch of people, who were probably high, because of the unmistakable scent of weed coming from them – came and demanded to be served. Of course, the manager could score any penny she could, so of course, you were forced to work overtime again. Without getting paid.
Finally, a little after 1am, you could take off these horrid heels and slip into the much comfier sketchers. Sure, you had glued them a couple of times, and sure, they kept on breaking because you’ve had them since high school, but it’s okay. You’ll live.
You were halfway down the route to your house, as you tried to rub your fingers together and somehow magically take away the freezing wind this cold night brought. As you walked, you attempted to feel your phone in your back pocket – annddd just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse. You’d probably left it back in your locker or your apron’s pocket and for a second you contemplated whether it would be worth it to go all the way back at 2am to get you phone. You almost decided against it, but remembered that you would get the confirmation call from the job interview you gave on Thursday, anytime tomorrow. And so, you decided to go back. Well, this was one of the worst decisions of your life. Scratch that, it was the worst decision of your life.
You reached the diner in approximately 10 minutes, but obviously, everything was locked and there was no way you’d sneak in there because, phew, if you got caught you’d lose the only job you have. Just as you turned back, you saw the biggest fucking dog you’ve ever seen. You didn’t know much about dogs, except for the fact that you’re shitless scared of the big, scary ones – and this was definitely a big, scary one. His fur was coated with black, brown and red spots, about half your height, and had teeth that could tear a human in mere seconds.
You didn’t really know whether to run or gently walk away, making it think you weren’t a threat – you took a couple slow steps back while looking at it in the eye, but you’re a dumbass and suddenly decided to run. Somehow along the run you lost the dog. And one of your shoes. And your apartment keys. And your bag which contained this week’s paycheck.
Well, you were fucked.
A/N: Please do give feedback! Also, tell me if you want to be on the taglist for this!
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johnismyreason · 4 years
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Play that little game // J Cody x Reader
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First J Cody smut imagine ! This is pretty long, but I hope you’ll enjoy it. 
Request from @enjoy-the-destruction : Can I request a hell smutty J Cody fic where he like finds the reader's vibrator (that he doesn't know about) and doesn't tell them until he's going down on them and decides to surprise them by using it on them.
Words: 3.9k (oops)
Warnings: SMUT, male masturbation, fem receiving, fingering, vibrator, dom kink (kinda). YOU MUST BE +18 TO READ IT. 
Masterlist
Requests are still open and feed backs are always welcome ! :)
J and you have been together for a while now. Almost two years actually. Everything is going more than well. It’s the first that you feel this comfortable in a relationship. Your previous boyfriends were nice but, every time something was missing. Maybe you needed a little danger, like with J. You are so comfortable with him, you gave him the keys of your apartment. “It’s your home too now” you told him. J doesn’t show a lot his emotion usually, but this time you saw that he was truly happy. He kissed you again and again, more passionately each time. “Let the neighbors know daddy's home.” he joked, leading you to your bedroom as you laughed at his goofiness.
Today, J was out to clarify some business he has with his partners, and because Smurf asked him to fill some tasks. It’s around 4:30 in the afternoon when J drives back to your apartment to see you. He hasn’t seen you for a couple of days. He pulls to parking area at the bottom of your building, but doesn’t see your car. He takes the stairs to your flat and opens the door.
“Y/N ?” he calls, but the silence indicates him no one was home. J takes off his jacket and places it on the hanger next to the front door.
He started to wander in your apartment. It’s the first time he really pays attention to your  decoration and how you arranged every room. It understands why he feels so much at home, it’s cozy, smells nice like you, and has a good light. Everything is tidy but without being too manic. He goes in the kitchen and sees a plate of your famous cookies. He grabs one and bites into it. He exhales a moan of pleasure, always surprised of how delicious your cookies are. He thanks you internally.
He continues his little trail in your apartment and arrives in your bedroom. His favourite room. The bed is made, nothing lies around, the air is fresh. J opens your dressing, and slides his fingers on your clothes. He takes a dress out that was hanging. You never wore this one. It was simple, but very pretty. Perfect for a date night. He imagines you wearing it and wonders why you never put it on, since you’d look absolutely stunning. Actually you could wear a plastic bag, and you will still be the most gorgeous woman he ever saw, he thought. J puts back your dress in your dressing, noticing himself to remind you to wear it on your next date.
J is about to close the doors when a box, hidden in the upper right corner catches his eyes. He places the cookie between his teeth to reach with both of his hands the intriguing box. It isn’t big or small and doesn’t have any description on it. He puts the box on your bed and bites on his cookie, before opening it. He gulps when he sees what’s in it.
“Holy shit” he mutters. J takes the object in his hand, dropping the cookie on the floor. It’s a clitorial vibrator. But not any vibrator. It’s the one every girl is talking about. He just didn’t know his girl would own one. “What a dirty little girl” he smirks. He imagines you spread on the bed, legs moving from the pleasure, moaning and eyes shut. He knows exactly the face you make when he makes you come, but wonders if you have the same when it’s the vibrator. He suddenly feels insecure. Why would you buy that ? Was he not enough ? Were you faking ? He shakes those ideas away. There is no chance you’re faking it. Not when you scream the way you do when your orgasm hits you. He actually knows why you bought it. It’s for all of the nights where he can’t be with you, when he has a job with his uncles. You must feel lonely and terribly nervous, so you need a little distraction. J wonders then if you moan his name when you use your little toy. All of those thoughts give him a semi.
J feels his phone buzz in his jeans back pocket removing him from his thoughts.
Y/N ❤️ is calling
J coughs a little laugh “speaking about the devil…” He mumbles before picking up the phone. “Hi, love”
“Hi, baby !” you respond with a cheerful voice. You’re always happy to hear or talk to him. “What are you doing ?”
“Oh just… chilling at your place” he answers analysing the vibrator in his hand.
“You’re at my place ?” you are surprised he’s there on his own. Usually you’re with him.
“Yeah, is that alright ?”
“Yeah, yeah sure ! I’m happy you spend time there on your own. Does it feel like home ?”
“It sure does !” he laughs a little. “Where are you baby ?”
“I just left the office” you say relieved your day was finally over.
“Great ! Do you want to go on a date with me tonight ?” J definitely has plans for you and that toy of yours, for tonight.
“Oh no tonight I can’t. Remember, I told you I’m out with the girls. Sam finally quit her lame ass job, we’re gonna celebrate !” you chuckle. “Tomorrow night ?”
“Oh yeah I forgot sorry. Yeah tomorrow night is perfect. I’ll stay at your place tonight, you’re okay with that ? Don’t feel forced to come home earlier, huh ?”
“Oh my god, yes please stay ! I’ll see you when I come home… a tiny bit drunk” you chuckle.
“Alright, baby. See you tonight then. Have fun with your friends and be safe.”
“I will ! I love you, bye !”. J just had time to tell you the same words before you hung up. He slides back his phone in his pocket before putting the box in its place.
He walks back in the living room and seats on the sofa to watch TV, but it feels weird without you cuddled up in his arms. He doesn’t really pay attention to what’s on the screen, still in shock of your dirty little secret. He starts to be hungry and decides to order a pizza. In the meantime, J decided to finish some homework for college. Only you knew he was attending classes. You were proud of him going to college because you know how smart J is, but also because you were the only one he truly trusts. He tries to focus on his papers but couldn’t find the energy. He’s picturing you playing with your pussy, fingers holding tight the sheets, your pretty mouth in the shape of an O escaping the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, your moans. Gosh, that dick won’t calm down, he thought. Thank god, the delivery guy knocked on the door. J pays for his pizza and went back on the sofa to watch TV. A double distraction should be enough to keep him from the naughty thought he’s having. It worked. Until he feels tired and goes to bed. He’s lying where you give yourself pleasure. The pillows smell like a mix of your shampoo and your perfume. He slides his hand under the pillows and his fingers meet your silk pajamas that smell like your body lotion. You’re everywhere. He turns again and again in the bed desperately trying to fall asleep, but he seems to never find a good position. He thinks of something, though. Something that could relax him.
He slowly moves his right hand south and palm his shaft through his shorts. Is he really going to do this ? If you do it on your own why can’t he ? So J slides his hand in and takes out his penis. He starts his motions slow to gradually go faster. His chest panting and his teeth biting his lower lips, the thought of you intoxicates him. Flashes of memories of sex session he has, pops under his eyelids help him to reach his peak of pleasure. How can you do this to him when you’re not even here ? He thrusts his hips and strokes his dick a few times more before finally cuming in a low grunt. Fuck, Y/N, he exhales, as if you were the one giving him a hand. He gets out of the bed to go clean himself in the bathroom. “I can’t wait to make you come, angel” he murmurs to himself when he comes back in the bed. Finally relaxed, J can sleep. He is so tired, he doesn’t hear you coming home at 2 in the morning. You already regret coming back so late, knowing that tomorrow will be so tiring at your job.
The next morning, J is up before you. You’re woken up by the smell of breakfast and a little hungover. You grunt trying to figure out on what planet you are. You finally manage to rise from the bed and drag you to the kitchen. J chuckles when he sees you arriving, hair all messed up.
“Hello sunshine” he says not too loud because he know your head must be bangging. He walks around the central islot, a pan with pancakes in his hand and a spatula in the other, and kissed you on the cheek.
“Is it Mars, here ? I think I travelled in space last night…” you scratch your head and try to rearrange your hair. J giggles and leads you to your seat. He then serves you the pancakes and hot coffee. “Here, eat and drink”
“No, no more drinking” you beg, your elbows on the table as your hands support your head.
“I swear this drink will do you good” he kissed the top of your head and sits next to you. You grunt and sip on your coffee. It does feel good. “So… I guess last night was good ?” he smiles.
“To good... “ you sigh “Gosh, I should have never drank so much…” you complain.
“You always say that, Y/N” he responds making fun of you.
“But it’s so much fun !” you laugh. “And you ? What did you do ?” you ask taking another sip.
“Me ?” he panics a little. “Oh uhm, nothing much. Ordered a pizza and watched TV.” And casually masturbate on your bed, he thinks for himself. “Is it still good for tonight ? You know, our date ?” he asks shyly, like it was the first time he asks you on a date. It makes you giggle. “Yeah of course ! What time ? I’ll leave from work earlier today.”
“Great, I’ll pick you up at 7, ok ?” You nod, excited to go out with your boyfriend. “I gotta go” he rises from his chair gobbling up the last remnants of his pancake. He kisses you tenderly while putting on his jacket. “See you tonight !” you say as he walks towards the exit, but stops before reaching the door.
“Oh” he turns around a finger on his lips “Wear the dress I put on your chair desk for tonight. Would you do that for me ?” he winks at you, sending you shivers. You nod without saying anything. “Thank you, doll” he smirks and leaves. When the door closes you run to your bedroom to see which dress he chose for you. It’s the first he asks you specifically to wear something. Usually you ask him which dress he prefers between two choices, or the color of your lipstick, your hair up or down,... So him choosing himself your dress is new. You love it, though. And you love it even more when you see his choice. It’s the dress you bought almost a year ago, at the end of summer. You never wore it because it was too cool outside. But since summer is slowly coming back and the weather warmer, you can finally wear it. You leave the dress on the chair and go to the bathroom to prepare yourself for your day. You take two pills to help you get over your hangover, and leave for work.
The day pass and you finally go home to get prepared for you night with J. You thought about it all day, not over the fact he chose your outfit. It’s a small gesture, but it meant a lot to you. You throw your shoes away when you enter your apartment and go directly to your bedroom. You play some music that matches your happy mood and get undressed to take a shower. Once cleaned and relaxed, you go back to your room to choose some nice lingerie. You know how those date nights end: you, back arched, moaning and screaming J’s name. You end up choosing a lacy red wine set. You admire your body in the mirror before slide in the dress. You keep your makeup simple and natural with a touch of color on your lips. Just when you finish fixing your hair you hear J entering your apartment calling your name.
“Y/N, I’m home !” gosh you love hearing this sentence.
“Bedroom !” you respond. He enters a few seconds later. You smooth the dress he chose and turn to him. He freezes, mesmerized by you. “So ? Do you like it ?” you smile, a little insecure.
“Why the fuck didn't you wear that dress earlier ? You look magnificent, love !” he gets closer to you while admiring you from top to bottom. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you lovingly. The heat rises between you two, and it takes all of J’s strength to back away from throwing you on the bed and start right now what has been in his mind since yesterday afternoon.
“Let’s go, baby. We’re gonna be late” he takes your hand in his and lead you outside to get in the car.
J doesn’t really like listen to the radio when you both are driving, or even when he’s alone. He likes listening to you telling how was your day, the last book you read or anything else, as long as he can hear your voice. Silences are comfortable. In these moments, J lays his hand on your thigh, caressing it with his thumb. Sometimes you take his hand in yours and place it on your mouth so you can smell it and feel his skin your lips. This time, he lets you talk about your night with your friends and how fucking hard it was to keep your eyes open at work.
You arrive at the restaurant. You never been here before.The inside is very romantic with soft lights and candles on tables. The waiter leads you to your table and J helps you sitting down.
“So first you choose my dress, then you bring me to this new restaurant, tell me what’s going on J Cody” you joke.
“Nothing, I just want to please my girl” he laughs. My girl. You always lose it when he calls you that, and he knows it. You’re his and he’s yours. You nod trying to hide your stupid smile. Dinner was delicious, now it was time to head back to your place. J teases you all the way home, squeezing and caressing your thigh, complimenting you “You look so fucking pretty, baby.” You giggle and blush, but you make sure to tease him back, by slipping your fingers on your collar bone, your chest and close to your already wet pussy. You barely pass your door and J immediately grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer to him so he can finally kiss you properly. His lips are moving fast, his hands all over your body. You let out a moan and he takes it as an opportunity to slip his tongue to play with yours. Your legs are already shaking from the pleasure J gives, you don’t know how you’re gonna last the whole night.
He leads you to your bedroom but nevers breaks the touches and kisses. He makes you two fall smoothly on the bed, that’s when he slides one of his hand underneath your dress to feel your demanding pussy. “So fucking wet already” you moan at his words and touch wanting more. “You’ve been driving me insane the whole night with your beauty and now I finally get to do whatever the fuck I want with you” you whimper some more arching your back as he pushes your panties to the side. However his doesn’t quite play with your clit. Instead he just ghosts it, making you pout and weep in despair. “J p-please…”
He chuckles mischievously “what do you want babygirl ?” you whimper and wriggle under his body so that your bodies connect even more. “use your words” he orders
“your fingers… on my pussy…” you manage to say between breaths. He executes you request, finally placing lighty his digit your pulsating clit. He slowly press it before drawing circles more and more faster. “Like that love ?” you nod ferociously “you like that mmh ? when I play with your clit with my expert fingers ?” he whispers in your ear and you moan loudly confirming his question. “You want them inside of you baby ?”
“Y-yes, please J, please” you begin to thrust your hips but he stops you forcing you to stay still with his other hand. “Don’t. Move.” he grunts. He stops touching your clit and removes his hand from your pussy.
“W-what are you doing ? I won’t move I-” he shushes you with a kiss
“Shhh… I know, I know baby. You’re a good girl. I have a surprise for you I need to grab it alright ? Close your eyes for me huh ?” he gets up and gets out of bed
“A surprise ?” you say excited like a child and confused as you do as he says. You lay back on the bed waiting for him to come back. Your heart is beating fast thinking of what J has in store for you. The man is so unpredictable, the surprise can be anything. He comes back at the bottom of the bed.
“Bend and spread your legs for me love” you do as he says even if your legs are shaking they can barely support themselves. WIthin a second you feel something vibrating on your clit earning from you a loud gasp, your eyes widening. You knew exactly what that vibration is. You rise on your elbows only to see J on his knee, holding your new clitorial vibrator and a machivielous smirk on his face.
“What the fuck, J ? Wh-where did you find that ?” you ask trying to sound serious and put together. It wasn’t an easy task since the vibrations of the toy were making you feel so good.
“I found it yesterday when I was exploring your apartment. I haven't stopped thinking about it since then and how you’d look when you use it to get you off. I wanted to see your face when your orgasm hits. So I’ve decided to play a little with all my toys: this one and you.” He accentuates the vibrations on the last word. You are caught in a spiral of embarrassment and pure pleasure. You hide your face in your hands.
“No, no, no babygirl…” he takes off your hands of your face and place a kiss in your palms “I want to see you. Don’t be embarrassed, love. It’s just me.” he trails kisses on your inner thigh until his lips are just millimeters above your hot core. You could feel his breath tickling your entrance. You moan leaving behind you any trace of shame. Yes, it’s just J.
“J I- fuck… I want your tongue” you cry.
“Yeah ? Where do you want it ? Here ?” he licks the zone just underneath the toy. “Or here ?” J fucks you with his tongue and you grab his hair. Both options are amazing but you prefer the first.
“Under the vibrator” you expire. He starts back his lickings, sucking on your skin. You can’t stop moaning and gasping profanities and his name, as if you were warding off a curse. Your free hand flies on your nipple to give an extra sensation.
“I think I’m gonna try something baby, tell me if it’s too much” he tells you before you feel two fingers entering you. You stop breathing and no sound can come out of your open mouth. It is too much. But fuck it feels so good. “You alright love ?” he worries, not hearing you anymore.
“Y-y-yeah… mmh J… fuck yes ! Don’t stop, please, fuck” you let out all the words that were previously stuck in your throat. He moans and chuckles against your pussy giving you an extra vibration.
“Do you like all of this honey ? mhm ? The toy, my fingers, my tongue” you whimper in affirmation. “You’re such a little slut. Fuck I love it.”  
He works steadily on all the zones he’s giving you pleasure. He knows you by heart and that’s thank to you and him being vocal during sex. You always told each other what makes and doesn’t make you feel good. With time you both have learnt your lessons and attacked immediately each others different sensitive spots. When J masturbates you, he knows you like slow and steady at the beginning, and rough and fast by the end to reach your orgasm. He knows every reaction of your body, especially the one that tells him you’re close.
“J… I’m-” you still try to remind him
“I know, I know baby, I feel you” that’s when he starts to work his fingers faster and sets the vibrator on a higher level. You push his face even closer on your pussy and grind against it.
“Cum for me Y/N. Cum for me on my fingers, on my tongue and that little toy of yours. Show how much you love me. Cum. Now.” the wave of your orgasm hits you like a hurricane in which you drown. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you try not to close your legs so you don’t crush his head. You scream again and again his name and curses as tears fill your eyes. He slowly stops everything to let you come to your senses. Your chest is panting fast like you just run a marathon. J leaves the toy on the side and checks on you to see if everything was okay. You open your eyes to see him suck the fingers he used on you. He then leans and trails a line of kisses from your tummy, to your sensitive nipple and your neck.
“How are you feeling ?” he whispers gently. How the hell does he do this ? Fucking you so hard you feel like you’re dying and then talking to you with the softest voice ever. “Was it too much ? Did I cross a line ?” he asks concerned. You take his face in your shaking hands, your fingers still clenched from holding the sheets so tight, and kiss him.
“I’m fine J. More than fine. I’m a little overwhelmed, but I’m alright. You didn’t cross a line.” you reassure him. He draws the sweetest smile and gives you back your kiss.
“Come on, let me clean you up”
“uh-uh” you stop him. “We’re not done yet” he frowns his brows with a wondering look. “Give me five minutes and we’re back at it.”
“But-” he tries to says something but you cut him.
“I still prefer your cock over this toy” you smirk. He smiles widely before kissing you.
“You’ll be the death of me Y/N”  
295 notes · View notes
wistfulcynic · 4 years
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And Beginnings (Their Way By Moonlight, epilogue)
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SUMMARY: A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time Emma is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from Henry and anyone else who might  help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Killian have the ability to share their dreams, and are working together in secret to find a way to break the curse and free everyone from a new and dangerous foe.
Rating: M
(chapter 18 on tumblr)
AO3 
-
And Beginnings: 
The next morning found Henry and Killian in the bookstore, their heads together over a stack of papers on the desk by the register, their attention laser-focused. 
“How about this one?” suggested Henry. 
Killian frowned. “Too small.” 
“It’s got two bedrooms! How much space do you think we need?” 
“Well, er—” Killian forced himself not to scratch behind his ear. “—um, we might want more. Someday.” 
Henry stared at him. “What for?” 
Killian scrambled for something to distract him. “What do you think of this one, lad? It’s a handsome dwelling, aye?” 
“Hmmm.” Henry peered at the listing. “It’s kinda far away.” 
“This is Storybrooke, nothing is ever that far away.” 
“Yeah, fair. But this one’s like halfway into the forest. And you know you’d prefer to live near the water.” 
“Ideally I would, but you can’t have everything.” 
They were so engrossed in poring over the real estate listings that they didn’t hear the door opening, or the person who opened it approaching them until she spoke. 
“How about this one?” 
Killian and Henry started in unison and looked up, surprise on both their faces. On Killian’s it twisted immediately into apprehension, but on Henry’s it bloomed into delight. 
“Belle!” he cried, jumping to his feet and throwing his arms around her. “I didn’t get to talk to you yesterday. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Henry.” Belle smiled and hugged him back. “Glad the curse is broken.” 
“Are you sure?” Henry looked earnestly at her. “Now that you remember—well…” 
“That Rumple is gone.” Belle nodded, a look of wistful sadness in her eyes. “Yeah. But I remember other things too. Like how in the Enchanted Forest Neal wanted to try a dangerous spell to bring Rumple back, but I convinced him not to. Rumple died a hero and that’s how I want to remember him. I’ve made my peace with it.” 
“And what about now?” Killian asked hesitantly. “What will you do?” 
“Well.” Belle turned to him, shoulders thrown back and face hard. “I seem to remember you offered me a job. Is that still on the table?” 
Killian’s tense shoulders relaxed, just a fraction. “Aye, of course it is, if you still want it. But are you sure you don’t want to go back to the library?” 
Belle shook her head. “Little John actually wants to stay on as the librarian. He got really into it during the curse and… well, let’s just say he’s made the library his own. He says that as long as he doesn’t have to sleep inside anymore he’s okay with spending eight hours a day with his books.” She chuckled. “I didn’t want to take that from him. Besides—” Her expression turned defiant. “I happen to love this store. I want to work here.” 
Killian relaxed still further and offered her a hesitant smile. “I want that too, lass. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d need your help. This town won’t be needing perhaps quite so many books of magic anymore, but some lighter material would surely draw them in. I would greatly value your input on what to focus on for that.” 
Belle nodded. “Good, then we’re agreed. I can start right away.” She held out her hand and he shook it, holding on rather longer than necessary as he tried to find the words to express what he badly wanted her to understand. 
“Belle, I’m—” he realised he was still holding her hand and dropped it abruptly. “I’m sorry. For, er—” 
“Trying to kill me?” 
“Aye, that—” 
“Twice.” 
“Yes.” He could feel a hot flush spreading across his cheekbones. “I understand if you don’t forgive me, but please know that I am truly and deeply sorry for it.” 
“I don’t forgive you.”
Killian nodded, forcing an understanding smile even as his stomach sank in disappointment. “Of course, that’s—” 
“I don’t forgive you yet,” Belle amended. “But if you give me a raise and let me order the full complement of Georgette Heyer novels, well, I might consider it.” 
Killian’s mouth quirked in appreciation. She drove a hard bargain. “Twenty-five cents more an hour and would you consider Daphne du Maurier as an alterna—” 
“A dollar more and Georgette Heyer.” Belle crossed her arms firmly across her chest. 
“Fifty cents and Daphne du Maurier.” 
“Seventy-five cents and Daphne du Maurier, plus Georgette Heyer.” 
“Done.” 
They shook hands again and the smile Belle gave him was genuine. Killian felt the knot of guilty tension in his chest begin to loosen as he returned it. “I’ll go get the catalogs,” she said. “And—would you like a cup of tea?” 
“I’d love one.” 
As Belle retreated to the office upstairs, Henry turned to Killian with a frown. “That wasn’t a very good deal you struck,” he said. “You gave her the books she wanted and almost all the money.” 
“A good deal is one that brings you something of greater value than what you give up,” Killian replied. “And this one did precisely that.” 
“If you say so,” said Henry dubiously. “But hey, at least she found our house.” 
“She what?” 
Henry held up the listing Belle had indicated. “Look at it, it’s perfect.” 
Killian glanced at the small picture then did a double-take, snatched the paper from Henry’s hand and read it closely. “This is it, lad.” He put his hand on Henry’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “This is the one.” 
~
“Killian, where are we going?” Emma frowned as the truck turned a corner into a neighbourhood she couldn’t recall ever visiting before. She’d never really had a reason to, and she doubted Killian had either. 
“I told you.” 
“No, you said ‘It’s a surprise, love.’ Which is not helpful.” She scowled at him but he, infuriatingly, kept his eyes firmly on the road. 
“It is a surprise, though, and it would cease to be one if I told you what it was,” he pointed out, in that I-am-eminently-reasonable tone of voice that always seemed to get her dander up. 
“But why does it have to be a surprise,” she pressed, “why can’t—” 
“We’re here.” Killian interrupted loudly as he pulled the truck up to the curb.
Emma looked out the window. “Where?” There was nothing here but houses, and he’d parked in front of a tall, Victorian-style one painted a soft slate blue with white trim. A lovely house, in fact. But not one she recognised. 
Killian got out of the truck and hurried to her door, opening it with an exaggerated flourish that had her attempting to hide her grin behind a dramatic eye-roll, her irritation with him slipping away as though it had never been. 
“You’re so cheesy.” 
“Aye, love.” He offered her his arm and she threaded hers through it, letting him help her out of the truck. Arm in arm they walked through the gate in the white picket fence and up the steps onto the porch. 
Emma looked around, still confused. “Who lives here?” 
“Well, that is the question.” Killian removed a set of keys from his jacket pocket and unlocked the front door. “If you like it, perhaps we will.” 
He ushered a sputtering Emma through the door and stood back as she turned in a slow circle, taking in the high ceilings and hardwood floors, the tall windows with their view of the sea. 
“Well, love? What do you think?” 
“You really want to live here?” 
“Well, aye, if you do. We can’t stay in the apartment forever, it’s a squeeze a—” he was going to say ‘as it is,’ but stopped himself “—and a boy Henry’s age should really have his own room with actual walls. As should we.” 
“True.” 
“But if you don’t care for this house, there are others we could look at. I just—well, Henry and I—we thought you’d like this one.” 
“I do.” Emma turned to him, a bright smile on her lips and tears in her eyes. “I love it. It’s exactly the sort of house I—” she broke off with a small shake of her head. 
Killian drew her close, wiping her tears away with his thumb. “You what, love?” 
“The sort of house I dreamed of having when I was a kid,” she whispered. 
He  nodded. “Aye. It’s very different in style to the houses I knew as a lad, but in an odd way the feeling is the same. It’s what I wanted too. What we had, in part, before my mother died.” 
Emma snuggled against him with a little sigh, one arm squeezing tight around his waist as the hand of other came to rest lightly on her lower belly. Killian had always been skeptical of the notion of soulmates, and truthfully so was she. It seemed ridiculous, and so limiting, the idea that there was one person in all the universe and one person only that you were meant to be with. Yet the way she and Killian fit together, the similarities that bonded them and the differences that balanced them, and the sheer absurd improbability of the fact that they had even met—it was enough to challenge even the fiercest skepticism. 
But it didn’t matter. They had found each other, whatever the hows and the whys of it, and she knew that neither would ever again let the other go. This house was just the next step in the life they had fought so hard for, the one they deserved. The life she wanted so much and was no longer afraid to live. 
“Let’s do it,” she said. 
“Hmmm?” 
“Let’s buy the house. I love it. Let’s live here. I love you.” 
The smile that broke across his face was so full of happiness, her heart soared to see it. “I love you too,” he said, laughing as he scooped her up and twirled her around, kissing her breathless the moment he set her on her feet again. “I’ll call the realtor right now.”  
~
Two weeks later…
It was almost a normal morning in Storybrooke. The new normal, a post-curse normal, the normal of erstwhile fairy tale characters living quiet lives in a small town on the coast of Maine. Prince Charming kissed Snow White goodbye before setting out for another day as the town’s acting sheriff. Snow sat a moment longer at the dining table to finish reading her newspaper, satisfied to find that nothing remarkable had occurred overnight, then headed to the mayor’s office—which was now purged all traces of its previous occupant and no longer featured anything of any shade of green. On her way there she met Grumpy—still her favourite of the seven dwarves despite his penchant for shouting—and the Merry Men as they trouped into town from their camp in the woods. Robin Hood himself she knew would join them after he finished his breakfast at Granny’s Diner with the Evil Queen. 
The Evil Queen who was at that moment lingering over her own goodbye kiss with Robin under the arch at the diner’s entrance, a faint flush brightening her cheeks when they finally broke apart. She watched as he strode away to greet his Merry Men then turned down a different street, to make yet another attempt at reconciling with her sister. Arriving at the loft apartment she was doing her best to share, she found the Wicked Witch of the West—for who else could be the Evil Queen’s secret half-sister?—seated at the table poking viciously at a bowl of corn flakes with a spoon. 
On the other side of town Rumplestiltskin’s son dropped his own son off at school then took the long way back to the pawn shop, passing by the bookstore in time to glimpse Belle through the window as she flipped the sign to announce that they were OPEN.
So far, so very nearly normal. 
When Charming arrived at the sheriff’s station he sighed as he looked around the quiet space, rather depressed at the prospect of another solitary day and wondering if Emma might consider hiring a second deputy. 
Snow assured Grumpy that she would let Emma know right away about the ‘excessively barking’ dog and that everything the combined power of the mayor’s office and the sheriff’s might do to deal with the situation would be done.
 Belle hummed as she rearranged the bookshelves to accommodate the new Georgette Heyer novels that had arrived the day before, a satisfied smile teasing the corners of her mouth as she imagined Killian’s reaction to them. 
“Any word from our dear Saviour and her very obedient lap-pirate?” the Wicked Witch sneered as the Evil Queen took a seat next to her and poured herself a cup of tea from the still-warm pot. 
“No,” she replied calmly. “And I don’t expect one either. I don’t even think they took their phones with them.” 
Some hours later dawn broke over the horizon of a distant land, a tiny green island set in a shimmering sea. It broke softly at first, gentle, hazy sunlight that gilded the surface of the turquoise water and warmed the sand ground soft and fine over countless years by the very waves now lapping at its edges. It shone on the palm trees bent heavy with coconuts and swaying in the salty breeze and woke the birds that nestled among them, gaining strength and heat as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The bright beams of it danced playfully up a path of rough-hewn boards leading from the beach and onto the porch of a ramshackle hut, slipping in through a window whose shutter was flung wide to welcome it and alighting finally upon a bed.
It was a narrow bed by necessity; the hut boasted only one room and though its other furnishings were sparse—a wooden table and chairs in one corner and a woven hammock strung across the other—there was simply no space in it for undue extravagance. Yet the bed made a good show of luxury, wrapped as it was in smooth white sheets and piled with pillows, swathed in gauzy curtains of mosquito netting draped over its four tall posts, both for elegant effect and the comfort and peace of its two still slumbering occupants: Emma the Swan Princess, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, and her husband Killian Jones, better known to most as the pirate Captain Hook. 
They lay in a hopeless tangle of bare limbs and twisted sheets, twined around each other despite the muggy warmth of the early morning and the promise of heat to come. Should anyone happen to observe them, that person might remark on how impossible it seemed to achieve such a muddle, unless they had simply collapsed into it after a particularly energetic round of desert island sex, too worn out to unravel themselves before sleep overcame them. 
That person would not be mistaken. 
But there was no one to observe them, not for hundreds of miles—solitude being the primary appeal of honeymooning in an uninhabited place—and the truth of the matter was that they were making the very most of this rare circumstance and had barely put on clothes since their arrival on the island three days before. 
“Not sure why we even bothered to pack,” Emma had remarked the previous afternoon, and Killian had hummed his agreement against the sun-warmed skin of her thigh.
It was the sense of a day beginning that woke Killian as much as the dawn light did, but he knew that Emma would be sound asleep for a good few hours yet and so he made no move to rise. Instead, he lay still and just enjoyed the moment—the breeze and the birdsong, cool sheets and plump pillows and the softness of Emma’s skin, the scent of sunshine that still clung to it, the slight roughness left by dried saltwater in her hair. He dragged his nose across her cheek, breathing in deeply then out again on a soft sigh that ruffled the fine strands at her temple, a sigh of sheer contentment. Never before had he felt so relaxed, so peaceful or so happy.  
He was of course not foolish enough to believe that this happy could truly be ever after; it never really was, even in the fairy tales. There would still be struggle and conflict, challenges to face and disagreements over how to face them, bad moods and spats and tears and anger, sadness and even heartbreak. That was simply life, and life was something Killian Jones knew better than perhaps any other mortal in existence. For far too long he had known only the very worst of what that life could bring—bitter loss and hollow vengeance, loneliness and despair—and never believed he deserved anything better. Even now a part of him still struggled to grasp that what he had now was real, still waited for it all to be snatched away. Until Emma’s smile and the softness she reserved for him alone reassured him that this was his life and he did deserve it, the happiness of belonging and of family and of love. 
True love, the one fairy tale notion in which he wholeheartedly believed. 
Day broke fully as the sun crested the horizon and set out upon its arcing path across the sky. Killian ignored it. Even the scrupulously punctual naval officer that still dwelt within him blithely took no heed of the hours that passed as he drifted in and out of a gentle doze until finally Emma began to stir and stretch and mumble nonsense words as she slowly came awake. 
He nuzzled her nose with his and when her eyes fluttered open kissed her softly on the lips. She smiled into the kiss and twined her arms around his neck, her fingertips playing through his hair. 
“Morning,” she murmured when they broke apart. “I’m starving.” 
“Are you indeed,” he growled. “You do wear a man out, Swan, with your insatiable demands.” 
“Starving for food, I meant.”
“Mmm, are you sure about that?” 
The table in the corner began to shimmer faintly and food appeared on it, fresh pineapple and mango and rambutan, warm firi firi and cool iced coffee. By the magic of the local god—a friend of a friend of Ariel’s—the table, the hut, the island itself all had the power to sense the earnest wishes of those in residence there and grant them. 
“Yep,” said Emma, only a little smugly. “Pretty sure.” 
“It’s probably for the best,” observed Killian, sweeping the table with his own hungry gaze. “You just about wore me out last night.” 
“Breakfast first,” decreed Emma, “and then a swim. And then—” she let her fingertips dance down his chest and belly to drum a rhythmless beat on his lower abdomen. “—then we’ll see how worn out you actually are, old man.” 
It wasn’t until hours later, after they had eaten and been for a swim, as they were relaxing on the beach with the fierce rays of the tropical sun filtered through a shield of the island’s magic, that she told him. 
“So,” she said, attempting and wholly failing to appear casual. “Um.” 
Killian hid his smile. 
“Yes?” he asked, rolling over on his side to look at her. 
She sat up and curled her legs beneath her, her fingers tracing nervously through the sand. “I, ah, have something to tell you.” 
“Okay.” 
“Um.” 
He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing his face to remain impassive. “What is it, love?” 
“Uh.” Emma flushed, and not from the heat. “I, ah. I’m—” 
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and he nodded encouragingly. “You’re what?” he prompted, every muscle held tense in anticipation. 
“I’m, ah—” 
Come on, Swan, he urged her in his head. You can do it. 
She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant,” she burst out, and he let his smile spread wide across his face, fuelled by the explosion of pure joy in his chest. Emma didn’t notice; now that the dam was broken words were flooding out of her. “I’m about six weeks along, so it must have happened really soon after I got my memories back. What with the curse and all I just forgot about getting my IUD replaced. I went to see Dr Whale, which, ugh, but he confirmed the pregnancy and when we get home we’ll have to go for a scan, I don’t know if you know but they do this thing with like… a thing—” 
“An ultrasound, aye.” He had been in this realm more than long enough to be aware of such things but Emma barrelled on, hardly hearing him. 
“—and Killian you will love this technology, it actually lets you see the baby and then they give you a picture to take home afterwards. I had one with Henry—I mean kind of, it was a lot, well, blurrier back then, and of course I—well, it was different with Henry.” She frowned, squirming slightly. “I feel so bad about that, and honestly I’m a bit worried about how he’ll react to a baby brother or sister, but I—I can’t help it, babe, I’m so excited for this baby and—hey!” 
Her stream of words dissolved into laughter as he took her by the wrist and tugged her down, rolling until she was sprawled on top of him. “I’m excited too, darling,” he said, brushing her sandy hair back from her face. “And Henry will be as well. It’s brilliant news.” 
Her eyes narrowed in a suspicious frown. “You don’t seem very surprised.” 
“Don’t I?”
“You already knew!” she cried accusingly, slapping him in the chest. 
His already foolish grin widened still further. “I suspected.” 
“How? How could you possibly?” 
Killian slid his fingers into the damp tangle of her hair, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “Emma, I am intimately acquainted with every inch of your body, and I notice when it changes.” 
“Are you saying my boobs are bigger?” 
He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Aye, among other things.”  
“Other things are bigger?” 
“No, other things have changed,” he soothed, stroking his wrist over the curve of her hip. “You’ve started taking naps in the afternoon and the smell of peanut butter makes you turn green. Your belly is softer. And you’re glowing.” 
She melted into his touch. “That’s just because I’m happy.” 
“Aye, love. Me too.” 
Emma sank her own fingers into his hair and kissed him, deep and intense with love. He gave a little moan in the back of his throat as he tightened his arms around her and she echoed it, rolling her hips against his hardening cock. 
“We’re too sandy,” she said against his lips. “I wish—” 
The air above them shimmered with magic and cool rain began to fall from the clear blue sky, straight and heavy as a shower. They laughed, scrambling to their feet and rinsing themselves off, lingering over the contours of each other’s skin until Emma deemed them sufficiently clean and grabbed his hand, pulling him back up the path and into the hut. 
They tumbled together onto the bed, rolling until she was atop him again, flushed and frantic as she writhed against him. “Killian, I—I want—” 
“Take it,” he growled. “Whatever you need. Your heart’s desire, Swan, that’s all I ever want to give you.” 
“You do,” she said, her hand on his cheek, her eyes intense on his. “You make me so happy, Killian. So happy.” 
“I love you,” he choked as she shifted her hips and took him inside her, grinding down hard and arching her back in that way he loved, taking him deep and squeezing him tight. “Emma—gods—I—” 
He gripped her thigh as she rode him, her head flung back so far the ends of her hair brushed his legs. She was glorious, his princess, his treasure, his love, and he needed her to come, now. 
“Please,” he gasped, pressing his stump against her clit. “Please, Emma—” 
She leaned forward, raking her nails across his chest and grinding herself against his wrist. “Harder,” she demanded as he felt her begin to flutter around him. “Harde-oh!” 
He flipped them over and thrust hard, deeper each time as she shuddered in release beneath him. He held out for as long as he could, determined to draw out her pleasure, until she grabbed him by the hair and kissed him and then with a choking groan he came deep within her. 
She held him until he caught his breath then followed when he rolled away, curling herself against his chest with a happy, sated sigh. Killian laid his hand flat against her belly, imagining his child in there beneath it, barely the size of a pea now but growing every day. He caught his breath, suddenly overwhelmed by the wonder of it all. It was one thing to suspect his wife was pregnant, quite another to hear it confirmed. Now it felt real.  
Emma placed her hand over his, twining their fingers together. “What are you thinking?” she asked. 
“Just thinking what our child will be like.” 
“Mmmm. Well, she’ll have dark hair.” 
“Or he’ll have blonde. Green eyes, of course.” 
“Oh of course. Or, you know, blue.” 
He chuckled. “Well that seems to have covered all available options.” 
“Do you care? What the baby looks like or if it’s a boy or a girl?” 
“Of course not. I love it so much already I won’t even mind if it looks like your father.” 
She sputtered, half indignant half amused, and he laughed and cuddled her closer. “Our child, Emma,” he said earnestly. “You and me in one person, a whole new person who will be us but also unique. It’s—I can’t even tell you how much I—” He shook his head helplessly, lost, for once, for words. 
She laid her hand on his cheek and leaned up to kiss him, softly and with complete understanding. 
“I know,” she whispered. “Me too.” 
~
…and another seven and a half months after that.
Emma began to groan before she even opened her eyes. Opening them felt like a chore anyway these days, much like getting out of bed, which was no longer something she could easily accomplish on her own. Instead she had to be hoisted—and yes, the word was hoisted despite Killian’s protests. If she got any bigger he would need actual slings and pulleys to extract her from the bed, she told him grumpily, scowling as he struggled not to laugh. 
She was still thrilled about the baby, beyond excited to meet their child, but she was seriously fucking fed up with being pregnant. 
Killian wanted her to take maternity leave, the one point on which he and her dad agreed one hundred percent, but as tempting as the idea was some mornings Emma knew she wouldn’t be able to spend weeks just sitting around at home or even in the bookstore with Killian, with nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs. 
“You could read,” Killian had said the week before, during a family meal at Granny’s. 
“Or knit?” Snow suggested. 
“Knit? Mom, have you met me?” 
“You could do that criminal justice course online,” said David. “One of us really ought to.” Ought to be actually qualified to do our jobs, he meant, but Emma was skeptical that a Land Without Magic certificate course would be that useful in training them for the kinds of things they faced daily in Storybrooke. 
“I’m not sure it’s really worth the trouble unless there’s an official procedure for dealing with magic-less ex-witches,” she pointed out. 
Zelena was still a problem. She was on house arrest, living with Regina in her new place—the old one holding a few too many unpleasant memories of her life under the curse and the loft uncomfortably small for the two of them plus Robin and his son, who now spent most nights there. Regina was trying hard, even her loudest detractors had to admit, doing her best to build a relationship with her sister while also gradually making amends for her own actions as the Evil Queen. It wasn’t an easy path, for either of them, but Regina was showing what Emma felt was pretty impressive determination and with Robin firmly behind her was happier than she had ever been. 
But Zelena…Emma still wasn’t sure what to make of her. She still sneered and sniped at everyone she met, grumbled constantly and made herself generally unpleasant while refusing flat-out to explain anything about how her curse had worked or how she’d managed to get her hands on the subtle knife, or who the knife-bearer was she’d stolen it from. She had entirely eclipsed Regina as the most hated person in town, even according to Leroy. And yet. Three days earlier when Emma was doing paperwork at the station Regina had appeared with a wry expression on her face and a small gift bag in her hand. 
“What’s this?” Emma asked, nonplussed when Regina handed the bag to her. 
“You’d probably better look for yourself,” Regina replied. “I—don’t really know how to explain it.” 
Emma peeked inside the bag and her jaw dropped. Slowly she withdrew a yellow cotton baby onesie, just a standard one you could buy from any store, but it had been embroidered all over with tiny white swans and silver hooks, clearly by hand. 
“Um,” she said. “Regina, I don’t—” 
“Oh, it’s not from me,” Regina drawled. “It’s from Zelena. It seems she’s taken up embroidery.” 
“Oh.” Emma gaped at the onesie, completely at a loss. It was strangely beautiful, and maybe it was just her crazy pregnancy hormones at work but she was genuinely touched by the gesture. “Thank you. Tell her I said thank you.” 
“She’s trying, you know,” said Regina. “It may not seem like it but she is.” 
“I know.” 
“And we didn’t know if you were having a shower or anything, so…” 
“Oh. Yeah. I’m not. I mean, Mom wants me to have one, but I just—” she shrugged. Parties weren’t really her thing, especially ones that seemed to involve ‘cakes’ made of diapers like the ones Snow kept trying to show her on Pinterest. 
Regina nodded. “I understand.” 
“Honestly, though, this is incredible.” Emma ran her thumb over one of the hooks, marvelling at how its elegant curve matched that of the swans’ necks. “I really am grateful, and please tell Zelena I said so.” 
Regina smiled. “I will.” 
So Zelena was a problem Emma wasn’t quite comfortable leaving in other people’s hands, and lacking anything she really wanted to do to fill her time she had determined to keep working and save her leave for when the baby was actually here. But no maternity leave meant she still had to go to work, and that meant getting out of bed. Hence the groaning. 
She felt Killian shift behind her a second before his warm hand slid over her hip, gripping it gently as he began to massage her lower back with his thumb and wrist. “Morning, love,” he said. “What aches today?”
“Everything,” grumbled Emma. “That feels so good though, don’t stop.” 
“Ah,” he teased. “How fondly I recall the days when you used to say that to me in rather different circumstances.” 
“Which is how I ended up like this,” she retorted, though his sleep-roughened voice made her skin tingle. “A back massage is really the least you can do.” 
He leaned closer and nuzzled her neck as his thumb soothed a particularly sore knot near her spine. “Anything you require, my love, as you know,” he said. 
“I know.” She sighed and stretched her legs as far as they could go, pointing her toes and arching her back. “Could you do my shoulders next?” 
“Of course.” 
Twenty minutes later she was marginally less achy and more relaxed, sitting up in bed sipping the coffee Killian had made for her and trying to pretend there was caffeine in it. He was cooking breakfast now, bacon from the mouthwatering smell of it, and in another few minutes he’d be back to hoist her out of bed and help her down the steep stairs, but for now she could sit and relax and—
“Da-ad!” Henry shouted from his bedroom down the hall. “Have you seen my Star Wars t-shirt?” 
“Which Star Wars t-shirt, exactly?” Killian called from the kitchen. “You own at least five.” 
Emma sighed, a short, irritated huff through her nose. How many times did she have to tell them not to shout across the house? 
“The blue one with the silver letters,” Henry yelled in reply. 
“I don’t think I’ve seen that one for a while.” 
“It’s not in my dresser, or in my closet, or—” 
“Have you checked under your bed?” Killian’s voice was much closer now and she could hear his footsteps on the stairs.
She could almost hear Henry’s eye roll. “Why would it be—oh. Found it!” 
“Do not put that on if it’s been buried under your bed for the gods only know how long.” Killian had arrived at Henry’s door but their conversation was still perfectly audible from all the way down the hall. Emma wondered if it was wrong to hope the baby was a girl so she’d have some respite from men in her house. 
“But I want to wear it today!” Henry whined. 
“Well, you can’t. Wear a different one, you’ve plenty to choose from.” 
“I want this one!” 
“Then you should have checked it was clean last night and not ten minutes before you have to leave for school. Now give it to me, and I’ll put it in the laundry. You can wear it tomorrow.” 
There was a long pause and Emma held her breath as she waited to hear Henry’s reply. Some day, she knew, Killian’s pirate captain voice would lose its battle for dominance with Henry’s teenage hormones, but apparently today was not that day. 
“Fine,” Henry grumbled. “I’ll wear the black one.” 
“No one will know the difference, I’m sure.” Killian didn’t even attempt to hide the amusement in his tone. 
“I will,” Henry retorted. 
A moment later Killian appeared in the doorway of their bedroom, the t-shirt draped over his shoulder. “Ready to get up, love?” 
“As I’ll ever be.” Emma drained the rest of her coffee and set the cup on the bedside table, then held out her hands. Killian grasped them firmly with his hand and prosthetic and balanced her as she struggled to her feet, wrapping his arms comfortingly around her when she was finally upright. She sighed against his shoulder—the one not occupied by a teenage boy’s dirty t-shirt—and leaned heavily into the comfort of his embrace. 
“I hate this,” she whined. 
“I know, love,” he said soothingly, rubbing gentle circles on her belly. “Only a month to go.” 
“I remember when that seemed like a short time.” 
“I wish you’d start your leave now,” he tried, for the hundredth or possibly millionth time. “You could sleep in—” 
“Killian, we’ve been over this.” 
“—I could reduce my hours at the bookstore. We could finish up the baby’s room and I could rub your feet—” 
“You do that anyway.” 
“I could do it for longer.” 
It wasn’t that the idea wasn’t tempting. She knew how badly he wanted her not to overtax herself, that he was worried about her taking unnecessary risks at work—despite the fact that she worked with her father who was if anything more overprotective than Killian. But still… “No. I’m not ready yet,” she said firmly. “I can’t sit at home doing nothing for that long. Once the baby comes I’ll take the leave, I promise, but until then—” 
“Two weeks before your due date,” he wheedled. 
“That’s still too long.” 
“One week then. Indulge me, Swan, you know I can’t help worrying about you.” 
Emma sighed. “All right, a week before.” She almost took the words back when she caught the triumphant glint in his eye and realised she’d been had.  
She gave an annoyed huff and he laughed. 
“Pirate,” she hissed. 
“Yo ho ho, my love.” 
~
When she got to the station David was already there, sipping a cup of coffee that looked delightfully caffeinated. Emma whimpered longingly at it, but he gave her his very finest stern dad look and handed her another steaming mug. 
“Regular?” she said hopefully. 
“Decaf.” 
“I hate you.” 
“I love you. And my unborn grandchild.” 
He followed her into her office, hovering behind her as she slowly lowered herself into her chair. His overprotectiveness was seriously annoying but also she kind of loved it. It was just such a dad thing to do. She leaned back in her chair, resting her feet on the stack of books beneath her desk with a relieved sigh.
“Speaking of the unborn, how’s Mom doing?” she asked, sipping the coffee. Nowhere near as good as Killian’s but still not bad. For decaf. 
“Good,” said David, grinning happily. “She was up at five this morning cleaning the kitchen. She says she’s got more energy than she knows what to do with.” Snow was nearing the end of her first trimester, still in the ‘glowing’ stage. Emma reminded herself that it was unhealthy to hate both her parents. 
“She could shoot some in my direction,” she grumbled. 
“I’m sure she would if she could,” said David sympathetically. “You know, if you wanted to start your leave—”  
“I don’t.” She glared at him over the rim of her cup and deliberately changed the subject. “Anything going on this morning I should know about?” 
David’s expression said plainly that he didn’t consider the subject changed in the slightest and they had a short, silent battle of wills before he answered her question. “Leroy up to his old tricks, but otherwise no reports.” 
“Good,” said Emma, settling deeper into her chair. “That’s good. Let’s hope it stays that way. I could use a quiet one.” 
The phone began to ring, ominously she thought, right as she finished speaking. Emma let her eyes fall shut, just for a moment, then braced herself and picked up the receiver. 
“Sheriff Jones. Yes. I—what? Whoa, wait, back up. Did you say an ice wall?” She widened her eyes at David, who nodded and grabbed his jacket. “Okay. We’ll be right there.” 
-
@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @katie-dub​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​ @teamhook​​ @stahlop​​​​ @mariakov81​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​ @thejollyroger-writer​​ @jennjenn615​​ @tiganasummertree​​ @lfh1226-linda​​ @winterbaby89​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​
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angelicthor · 5 years
Text
billion dollar man - part 2
pairing: tony stark x reader
summary:  after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.
warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship
masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist
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You were completely stunned by the man in front of you, Tony fucking Stark; The most infamous billionaire playboy there ever was. Stark had inherited his company from his father, it was originally weapons manufacturing and Tony had transformed it from a million-dollar company to the biggest weapons corporation in the world, but he had since abandoned that line of work after he was held hostage by terrorists in Afghanistan.
The entire event had been covered by every news station in America, there wasn’t a day that went by without every channel providing an update on the situation, although most had given up hope for him after a few days. But against all odds, Stark had actually managed to survive and escape, his perspective entirely changed from the experience, vowing to never create weapons again after seeing what they were used for. Instead he focused his entire company into clean energy and honestly, the man had created some revolutionary stuff.
You had always considered the entire change of heart to be quite noble, it takes a big man to admit when he’s wrong and Stark had been very wrong. Not only that but the whole world was against him when he did it, stocks were dropping from his company, high-level employees threatened to walk and, according to Babble Babe, he lost a good number of friends over the whole fiasco. And yet, he stuck by his beliefs and actually made it work. You admired his integrity.
His business, however, didn’t make nearly as many headlines as the man himself and he happened to by Babble Babe’s favourite topic. You could guarantee that after every event New York had, the next day Tony Stark was involved in some scandal or another, he was an infamous womanizer who was forever been photographed with a different woman – or two or three – on his arm every time he was seen. Which led you to the question: why the hell was he doing this?
Your nerves amplified, your mouth drying as you released you were on a date with none other than the notorious billionaire himself – what the hell were you going to do? In you star-struck daze, you completely forgot why you were here, needing to impress him in order to solidify your arrangement.
Realising you were just standing there shamelessly gawking at the man in front of you, you hurriedly took your seat across from him, cheeks burning at the smirk that pulled at his lips and the way his eyes roamed over you appreciatively. 
“You were right: I definitely know who you are,” You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief at the situation you were in.
The chuckle that left his mouth was warm, washing over you like a calming wave, “And I was certainly right about wanting to see you in person – gotta tell you darlin’, I am not disappointed.”
You formally introduced yourselves to each other, making mindless small talk whilst the waiter took your orders, after your food was sent off for Tony leant back in his chair, regarding you with an inquiring gaze. Squirming under the intensity residing in his twinkling brown eyes, you finally relented with a sigh, “What is it?”
He seemed amused by your candour and you became sure it was something he wasn’t used to, people in his world sugar-coated everything to the point of it being nonsensical and you just didn’t have it within you to do that; you were blunt and you appreciated people returning said bluntness. You began to wonder if this was going to work at all.
“Are you always so direct?” He arched an eyebrow at you, humour evident in his tone.
“Pretty much, yeah – I like knowing where I stand with people and I make sure people know where they stand with me; I hate playing the guessing game, it’s pointless and tiring and is a complete waste of time, is it gonna be a problem?” Your brows furrowed with concern, sure you’d been talking with a few other potential ‘daddies’ on the site but Tony had been your first choice, even before you found out who he was. You didn’t want your chances to fly away just because you spoke your mind unapologetically.
“Actually no, if anything, my opinion of you just went up. I hate people pander over me, there aren’t enough people in my life who appreciate a direct answer. I was just wondering if you wanted to address the elephant in the room, you know, the fact that this is pretty much an interview for me to become your sugar daddy,” He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively and you couldn’t stop the boisterous laugh that burst from your lips at the gesture.
“Sure thing, where do you want to start?” You questioned him playfully, your lips curled in a smirk, on that he mirrored immediately and the atmosphere between the two of you shifted, electricity filling the air between you.
The static ambience between the two of you dimmed when the waiter brought your food over, the both of you thanking them before they were on their way, leaving you two to eat and discuss what exactly was wanted and expected from the arrangement.
“So, why exactly do you want a sugar daddy? I’m pretty sure it isn’t for the sex, a girl with your face wouldn’t struggle in that department,” You shook your head at his humour, you could see where he got his reputation from.
“I need one for the sugar part, a pretty face may get you laid but it sure as hell doesn’t pay your bills, of which mine are piling. Plus, this jig pays a pretty penny, I figured I could save enough doing this to buy a share of law-firm, become a partner somewhere ya know? Finally get to do the job I worked my ass off for in college instead of being stuck waiting tables for the rest of my life,” You sighed out, disappointed with the way your life had turned out, how the hard work you’d put into your education and career weren’t paying off because you didn’t have the funds to get you through the door.
Tony nodded in understanding, mulling over your words before he spoke: “So this isn’t a permanent thing? You aren’t going to bounce from one rich pa to pop until you get yourself a hefty retirement fund? You have plans for afterward?”
“Yeah, this isn’t how I wanted to do it but I’m getting kinda desperate. Why, did you want a professional?” You joked with him, pondering where his line of enquiry was leading.
“No, no, you’re actually exactly what I was looking for,” You arched an eyebrow in question to him, shooting him a dubious look, waiting for him to continue, “Look, I’m gonna be straight with you here. The board of Stark Industries is threatening to have me removed as CEO if I don’t show signs of stability, the risks I took remodelling it still don’t sit well with a lot of them and with my frankly reckless social life, they’re beginning to think I’m not capable to run the company. So, I need a fake significant other and to keep my image free of scandals until this all clears over; the only problem is I’m terrible at relationships – they just aren’t for me, but this, this I can do.”
The playfulness that had surrounded him all night suddenly vanished as he spoke about his company problems, the business he had spent so long on, what his father had passed down to him was being taken away from him. You couldn’t imagine how hard that must be for him, to have everything he’s worked so hard on be taken away from him because of the narrow-minded opinions of a select few, you couldn’t help but feel for him, he certainly didn’t deserve this. There was something you still didn’t understand though.
“But why get a sugar baby? You’re you; you could get a date anywhere any time – hell you normally have about three, why bother going through all of this?”
Letting out a deep sigh, he shook his head, trying to figure out how to phrase this without sounding like a complete tool: “The girls I normally date are… nice, sure. But to spend more than 24 hours with them would be mind-numbing in ways you don’t understand, to say that they aren’t of any substance is a major understatement. If this whole fake-relationship is going to work I’m going to need someone I can spend long periods of times with without wanting to stick a screwdriver in my eye.”
You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped at his exaggerated annoyance, watching him pull the most ridiculous expressions at the thought of being forced to spend prolonged time with his usual type. “So, they’re more of a one night only kind of arrangement then?”
Tony smirked at your words, sipping on the whiskey in his glass before responding, “Sure, but that’s not the only problem. I couldn’t trust those girls with what I’m asking you for here, they’d obviously have to know it was fake because I do not want to real relationship and the moment they found out they’d sell me out to the nearest gossip magazine. What I need is trust and a mutual understanding, I need-”
“You need someone who is willing to scratch your back if you scratch theirs - with discretion of course,” You interrupted him, finally understanding why the infamous Tony Stark was going to so much trouble for a date.
“Exactly, and with you wanting a career after this, I can assume you want to be as scandal-free as possible to make the best impression on your first day. We can part ways after this with a hearty handshake and no hard feelings.”
You mulled over his words; this was too perfect to be true. You’d get to live stress-free over your bills, get to taste the high-life that New York had to over, Tony wasn’t a creepy old-guy who just wanted to fuck and run back to his high-school sweetheart, you could save enough money to actual buy a partnership into a law firm, and retain your professionalism once it was over, no one would even know it happened. You honestly couldn’t believe your luck but you sure as hell weren’t going to sit back and watch your golden opportunity pass you by.
“It sounds like a good deal to me Tony, that is if I passed the interview of course,” Your voice took on a sultry tone towards the end, looking up at him through your lashes and watching as his notorious lady-killer smirk donned his face. You understood why he could get as many women to jump between the sheets with him as he did; that smirk was a dangerous thing.
Leaning across the small table, he leaned on his hands that were clasped in front of his face, his eyes showing a mischievous glint, “Well, there are a few more things I need to see before I can wholly agree to this arrangement, that is if you are still interested?”
“I’m still very much interested Mr. Stark,” your voice dripped with allure, you knew what he was getting at and you were more than willing to play along.
The waiter once again came over, noticing your empty plates, and asked if either of you would care to look at the dessert menu, you both declined choosing instead to have one more drink before you headed home.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
You kinked a brow at him, nodding at him as you sipped at the wine in your glass, “Yeah, why do you want to meet up again? Do you have another interview arranged Mr. Stark?”
Tony shook his head at your teasing tone, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes gleamed with mirth. “Oh, you are going to be trouble in all the best ways,” You couldn’t help the playful eyeroll that occurred as he appreciatively let his gaze ravish your body, nibbling at his lip as he did, “But yes, two really – I need to see how you do in a more… intense environment, you know people coming up to us and talking about the regular bullshit of the day. I need to know you can keep up appearances so to speak, we’re going to have to do a lot of these if we go ahead. There’s a charity dinner tomorrow evening at the plaza, all the usual crowd will be there, seems like a perfect opportunity.”
You nodded your head in agreement, understanding why he needed to do this, you couldn’t just take any company to these events and you only hopped that you could pull it off – God knows you had no idea what to actual do at such formal events.
“I’m guessing you’re wearing the nicest thing you own right now?” Your back straightened as for the first time since you’d walked in, you felt you were being scrutinised by Tony Stark. “It’s not a judgement sugar – well maybe a little – I only asked so I can have some options brought over to your apartment tomorrow morning, I think I have a pretty good eye if I do say so myself.”
You laughed at him, somehow not doubting his words, Tony was a man of taste and you were certain whatever would be delivered to you would be classy and elegant.
“So, what’s part two of the interview Mr. Stark?” You looked up at him through your lashes, a small smirk on your face, knowing what he was going to say. He was paying for it after all…
Leaning back in his chair, Tony regarded you for a moment before a dark chuckle left his lips, “The second interview is of a more physical nature.”
“Got any outfit requirements for that particular stage of the interview Mr. Stark?” You couldn’t help but tease him, not knowing how exactly he was bringing out this side of you but going with it regardless.
“Oh, I do like you, I definitely made the right choice here,” He murmured, trademark smirk stretching across his lips, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes linger on the sight of them. Noticing your empty glass of wine and throwing a few more bills on the table as a tip, Tony stood, offering you his hand and leading you out of the restaurant, ignoring the hushed whispers as you were seen leaving with him, “Come on, I’ll have my driver take you home.”
Pulling you through the bustling pedestrians on the street, Tony lead you to the sleek black car parked directly outside the restaurant, the man standing outside the vehicle opening the back door for you as you and Tony approached.
“Happy, this is Y/N – Y/N this is Happy, my driver and personal security. If all goes well, you two will be seeing a lot of each other,” Tony introduced you to each other and Happy held out his hand for you to take, a warm smile on his face, he sure seemed to live up to his name.
“Nice to meet you Miss,” He nodded his head in greeting.
“Oh, no please call me Y/N, I insist.”
“Hap, we’re taking Y/N home to Brooklyn,” Tony gestured for you to get into the car as he gave Happy your address before joining you, the door shutting behind him as Happy jogged to the driver’s seat.
The car pulled away, heading into the busy New York traffic and you began to think about what tomorrow would bring. The feeling of Tony’s hand on your bare thigh brought you out of your thoughts, the simple touch sending a jolt of electricity through you that you couldn’t decipher.
Turning your head, your eyes lock with Tony’s who was already watching you. Now that you were much closer to him, you could see the little details of his features that had gone unnoticed before; the lines around his eyes that were a small indicator of his age, the different shades of brown that made up the colour of his eyes, the way his lower lashes seemed so damn prominent, the small sprinkling of silver hair in his perfectly groomed beard.
Once again, you found your gaze lingering on his lips, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and taste them. But you shook the thought from your head, now wasn’t the time.
“I’ll have your dresses brought over in the morning, probably some shoes too – You know what I’ll just get you a whole outfit, you’re going to want to accessorise right?”
“Wait – dresses, as in plural? How many do I need?” You were kind of shocked that he was so willing to buy you so much even though it wasn’t exactly official yet. Hell, he’d just bought you dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in New York without even batting an eye, it was a concept you really weren’t familiar with, being so unconcerned with money.
Tony merely arched a brow at you, “Well yeah, it’s nice to have options. Just make sure you’re ready by 7:30, I’ll send Happy to come pick you up.”
You felt the car come to a stop and realised you were outside your apartment building, “Yeah ok, ready by 7:30 - I can do that.”
Happy walked over to open your door for you but before you could leave, Tony was pulling a card out of the inside pocket of his jacket, handing it over to you before telling you to ring if there was anything else you needed. Turning the card over in your fingers, you saw the logo of Stark industries imprinted into the black card, the gold letters catching in the low light of the car, a phone number visible under them.
“I will. I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then Mr. Stark.” You had no idea why you did it, but you couldn’t stop yourself, leaning towards him to press a lingering kiss against his cheek.
You heard the deep chuckle that Tony emitted as you left the car, bidding Happy goodbye as he walked you to your building door, making sure everything was ok before going back to the car.
You entered your apartment with a sigh, kicking off your heels at the door before a disbelieving laugh bubbled from your throat. You had just had dinner with Tony Stark. Tony Stark wanted to be your sugar daddy. You were going to one of the high-class events at the Plaza tomorrow with Tony Stark.
How the hell had this happened?
Your whirring thoughts were broken by the ding of your phone, an alert coming through from Babble Babe, you rolled your eyes at the notification on your phone before opening the app.
Spotted: Tony Stark and new girl leaving one of NYC’s hottest restaurants. Where do we place the bets on how long this one lasts? Good luck new girl, dating a Stark is a dangerous game to play xoxo
The photo of you was of your back – Thank God – but you were amazed at how damn fast this trashy gossip site worked. God knows how they would react tomorrow. Pushing the feeling of dread aside, you stripped out of your dress and fell into the welcoming warmth of your bed, your final thoughts of the public appearance you and Tony were going to be making tomorrow.
a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications
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invisibletinkerer · 5 years
Text
Fic: 30 Seconds Later (chapter 18)
Chapter 1 – Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 – Chapter 4 – Chapter 5 – Chapter 6 – Chapter 7 – Chapter 8 – Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19
Length: ~6000 words
AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/13715520/chapters/50183618
If it hadn’t been for those cracked ribs that made moving around more annoying than usual, Dipper might have been pacing the living room right now. As it was, he was seated in his grunkle’s TV chair with a stack of books and notebooks around him, chewing on the end of a battered ballpoint pen.
Grunkle Stan and uncle Ford should have been back hours ago, and yes, Stan had called Soos and said they’d be late, but that was also hours ago, and Soos hadn’t even thought to ask what had happened, and sure, Dipper could technically just pick up his phone and call right now and ask what took them so long, but if it was nothing grunkle Stan would just laugh at him and if it was something maybe no one would answer, or—
It was really, really hard not to think about Bill.
“You okay, dood?”
Dipper started, biting down on the pen, then winced from the jolt of pain from his ribs. He hadn’t even noticed Soos coming in.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He dropped the pen and tried to smile.
“Hmm.” Soos said. “That’s what you want me to believe.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I can’t think of anything more to do today. Still waiting for those cement guys to come fix the foundation tomorrow, but otherwise we’d be ready to open up the Mystery Shack again.” He paused. “Once Mr Pines has gotten things sorted out with his brother, I suppose.”
“Are you going home?” For some reason, the thought made Dipper uncomfortable. It was nice to at least have Soos tinkering around the house when grunkle Stan was away and Dipper himself couldn’t go anywhere.
“Nah. Think I’ll stay and wait for Mr Pines.”
“Oh, good. I mean, sure.”
Soos put a couple of books down on Dipper’s lap so he could sit on the dinosaur skull, then turned on the TV to some local news station. “So, tomorrow is the finale of Ducktective, huh?” he said conversationally.
“Yes!” Mabel shouted from the kitchen before Dipper could reply. “It’s finally time to find out who’s been outsmarting Ducktective all through the season! I think it’s that suspicious-looking cat – either that or it’s Ducktective’s own secret twin brother.”
“I have questions about the dog, though.”
“Look at this!” Mabel came rushing from the kitchen and twirled, showing off the duck portrait on her new sweater. “I finished my Ducktective sweater, and these hats, too. Now we can all be Ducktectives!”
Mabel, of course, would always be Mabel. Today she’d been so relentlessly enthusiastic that Dipper simply had to admire it. If she were worrying about anything, she definitely didn’t show it.
And really, Dipper hadn’t had a bad day himself. It had even been nice to spend some time indoors for a change. And completely regardless of any bad dreams or worries about demonic possession, he’d gotten a promise from the actual author of the Journals to play DDD with him later—just thinking about it made him giddy. Except that was assuming Stan and Ford would come back okay. And that he wouldn’t go back on the promise because he was— Well, Ford being too skittish and paranoid and tired to play games wasn’t totally unrealistic. Especially if something had happened.
Dipper realized to his own dismay that he was already chewing on another pen.
At first, when he’d thought grunkle Stan and uncle Ford would be back soon-ish, he’d spent a lot of time making DDD characters. First he made fantasy versions of himself and Ford, then he kept going with other people too just because he could. After adding Mabel, Stan, Soos, Wendy, Grenda and Candy, and even Li’l Gideon for good measure, he went on to make up game stats for Gravity Falls gnomes, and finally, with some input from Mabel, unicorns. Then, while Mabel biked down to town to buy more craft supplies and snacks, he’d spent some time catching up on the mystery novels he’d brought from home but hadn’t had time to read before. He’d wanted to take a look at uncle Ford’s other two journals, but Mabel told him Ford had put all three of them away in a locked cabinet, so that was out. He’d have to ask Ford about it once they came back. Which they still hadn’t.
“Can I be Ducktective?” Soos asked, bringing Dipper back to the present.
Mabel promptly put one of the hats on Soos’ head. “Of course you can! Dipper, you want one too?”
Dipper shook his head. “Maybe tomorrow.” He was not in a Ducktective mood.
“Okay.” Mabel pushed a book aside and squeezed herself down on the chair next to Dipper. “But stop worrying, bro-bro.” She might have been reading his mind. “Grunkle Stan and uncle Ford are fine. Grunkle Stan can punch out bears, zombies, gremloblins…” She counted on her fingers.
Dipper grimaced. “I know, but...”
Mabel pressed her shoulder against Dipper’s in lieu of a hug. “It’ll be fine,” she said, softer.
“Hey, doods,” Soos interrupted, pointing at the TV. “I think someone died.”
Both twins tensed for a moment, focusing on the screen.
No, of course it wasn’t about Stan.
“Heh.” Dipper released the breath he’d caught in his throat. “That old mayor… Yeah.”
“Mayor Befufflefumpter was an old and esteemed man,” Soos said solemnly, removing his Ducktective hat in respect.
“He did look kinda dying back at the Northwest party,” Mabel said with a small grin that turned into a grimace. “I mean, more than the rest of us.”
Dipper nodded. “And that was… was that just three days ago?”
“Yeah. Feels like longer.” Mabel frowned. “But at least grunkle Stan isn’t that old! I think.”
“No, he’s got to be—”
Dipper completely forgot what he was about to say when the front door to their left flew open with a bang.
For a moment, Stanford was silhouetted against the low-hanging sun, coat billowing around him and clutching Stan’s duffelbag his arms. The next moment he was gone down the hallway without a word, slamming the door shut behind him again.
No one moved for several moments.
“Where’s Mr Pines?” Soos asked slowly.
Dipper shivered. Uncle Ford, alone, rushing by without a word and without— This was too familiar. Too much like the worst case scenarios he’d been trying not to think about. He licked his lips. “Did anyone see if uncle Ford was…?” The words got stuck in his throat.
“I couldn’t see,” Mabel said quietly. Soos shook his head, too. And if they hadn’t seen his eyes either, then Dipper had to assume the worst.
His hand found Mabel’s, holding it tight. “We need to find out.” He forced himself to slip out of the chair, not sure if he was pulling Mabel along or she was pulling him.
“I’ll protect you!” Soos promised, getting in front of them. “But, uh, where did he go?”
“Maybe to the museum?” Mabel suggested, warily starting to move down the hallway Ford had disappeared into.
Dipper nodded. That was as good a guess as any. He could also have gone to Stan’s workshop, or to the bathroom, or—well, to Ford’s warded study. But if it was Bill, he wouldn’t be able to enter that room, and if it wasn’t Bill, why would he have come alone and ran off without showing his eyes? It was up to the three of them to find him and stop him from whatever he was doing and find out what had happened to—
A new sound behind them made them all jump. Dipper’s heart had already been trying to beat its way out of his chest, and now it seemed to stop completely. Somehow he’d turned around, instinctively clinging to Mabel, and with Soos’ arm lodged between them and the new threat, when he realized what the sound had been. The front door had opened again, less violently this time, and someone else was standing in the doorframe.
“Grunkle Stan!” He and Mabel both ducked under Soos’ arm and threw themselves at him.
“Whoa,” Stan said, awkwardly returning the hug. “Kids, take it easy, I’m—”
“Mr Pines!” Soos threw his arms up. “You’re okay!”
“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Stan pushed the twins away a bit from himself, then cleared his throat. “Did Ford— I mean, he did get in here, didn’t he? Where did he go?”
Dipper and Mabel pointed down the hall. “He ran past without even looking at us!” Mabel said.
“And we couldn’t see his eyes,” Dipper added.
Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, looking tired. “Of course. He couldn’t have—” He chuckled slightly. “That’s why you look so spooked?”
Dipper and Mabel glanced at each other, then spoke at the same time.
“You’re saying he’s not—”
“Does that mean he’s—”
“Why did you—”
Stan waved them to silence. The way he seemed more exasperated than alarmed about this was strangely reassuring. “That was Ford, kids.”
“Are you sure?” Dipper’s shoulders might be relaxing a bit, but he still couldn’t help having some doubts.
“Uh-huh.” Stan finally entered the house and closed the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he scratched the side of his head. “He was pretty distracted – probably didn’t even realize he was scaring you. I bet he went straight for the barrier.”
Dipper could still feel his heart beating too fast, but Stan wouldn’t lie about that. Probably. And if Ford was inside the barrier, then all would be fine.
“See?” Mabel said, maybe to Dipper and maybe to herself. “Everything’s fine.” She started to smile, but then she stopped and stared at Stan. “Wait. Grunkle Stan, you’re bleeding.”
Dipper took a closer look at Stan, and Mabel was right. There was a large matted red-brown stain in his grey hair, like he’d hit his head a while ago. Besides, he realized, Stan’s hawaii shirt was torn at the shoulder and there were several ugly, new-looking bruises on his exposed arms and legs. It looked like he’d been fighting, and without having seen the other guy Dipper wasn’t sure if he’d won or not. Unless the other guy was Ford, and then—
Stan hmphed and picked up his fez from the coat hanger, putting it on his head and hiding the blood. “I knew nothing good could come from leaving the fez at home.”
Mabel took Stan’s arm – putting a hand over a large red bruise – and cradled it. “Did you get into a fight?” she asked. “With uncle Ford? Is that—Is that why you didn’t come back together?”
“What? No, sweetie, we—” Stan stopped with a sigh. “Heck, that’s what it looks like, isn’t it? No, really, Ford is not possessed and we didn’t fight. We actually got along pretty great.” He smiled tiredly.
“But something happened.” Dipper crossed his arms.
Stan shrugged. “Yeah. Most importantly, the demon didn’t destroy the world, the rift is sealed in a superglued briefcase and—” He flashed a grin “—Ford and I still make a pretty good team.” He pulled his arm back from Mabel. “Come on, let’s go see how he’s doing.”
 * * *
Ford locked the door behind him on sheer panicked fumes, the need to hide the rift away overriding all other concerns. There were too many unlocked doors in this house. The front door was unlocked – he didn’t even have the key to the front door. Was it ever locked or could anyone just go inside? What was Stanley thinking?
The liquor cabinet was the only additional lockable space in the room. He had to take the journals out to make the sealed briefcase fit inside, and after relocking the cabinet he ended up sitting on the floor before it, clutching three hand-bound volumes of his own hubris close to his stinging chest.
Trying to breathe. Trying to think.
The light from the stained-glass window above the couch taunted him. He’d boarded that window up – 30 years ago – for a reason. It wasn’t safe.
Someone pulled at the door, and Ford flinched. But it was locked, and no one entered.
“Stanford?”
“Stanley.” Ford let his forehead fall forward against the books he was holding. There were goosebumps running up and down his arms, but at least his voice wasn’t shaking. “Did he follow you?”
“Who?” Dipper’s voice interrupted, and Ford realized with a start that Stanley wasn’t alone. There was a family there, and it wasn’t that he minded their presence necessarily, but their very existence reminded him again of how little control he had of anything. It wasn’t his house. It wasn’t his family. As much as he’d managed to slip back into some kind of comfort zone with Stanley – he wasn’t even sure the 60-year-old man could count as his twin. Nevertheless, the threat to the world was still his responsibility.
“He didn’t follow,” Stanley said. “And if he had, it would have been because he was concerned that you took off like a loon, not because he would actually rob us.”
“How can you be so sure?” Dan hadn’t tried anything, no, but— “He was in contact with Bill!”
“For one dream. He was gonna laugh it off! And then you practically screamed at him that something suspicious is going on!”
Ford snapped his jaws shut at Stanley’s exasperated tone. There was some sense in his brother’s point of view, but only if Dan really had been harmless. But if Ford was right, his reaction had been the only reasonable one. “You can’t know that he would have laughed it off. And even if he would, Bill might contact him again. Or anyone else. Do you understand what that means?”
“Yeah.” Stanley’s voice softened. “Can I—Can we come in?”
Ford stiffened automatically. “Why?”
Because—” Stanley seemed to hesitate. “Please,” he said finally.
Ford couldn’t help a weak smile at that. “You used to hate that word.”
“Still do. But, you know. Could you open the door? Please.”
If Stanley was doing Bill’s bidding, he this would be exactly the kind of manipulation that—
No.
No, Stanley wouldn’t. And Ford knew that perfectly well, especially after everything that had happened today. There was no good reason not to open the door. It was just Stanley and his family. They’d probably go away if he told them to, but that would leave him alone to stew in his own thoughts again, and—did he want that?
He’d been so used to being alone. But everything was different now. He was safe from Bill’s reach in this room. The children had fought for him. And Stanley was—Stanley was back at his side, despite everything, and today they’d been a team again.
He should let them in.
Ford shook his head, squeezed the journals one last time before hiding them under the pile of blankets on the floor next to the couch, then going to open the door.
Stanley was leaning against the doorframe on the other side. He was wearing their father’s fez again, but his expression was one their father would never wear. “Thanks,” he said.
Behind him were Mabel, Dipper and Soos, looking at him with varying degrees of relief. Ford could see all of their eyes, all of them human, though of course that didn’t have to mean anything when Bill could manipulate without possessing. Still. They wouldn’t.
His old twin went past him with a pat on his arm and went to sit on the couch, followed by the others. Ford remained standing, even when Stanley beckoned for him to sit down. No. He needed to explain himself, first.
“Listen, Stanley,” he said, closing the door behind them. “All I’m saying is that you can’t be sure that he was harmless. It would have been easy for him, and he obviously didn’t understand the stakes. You’re not a mind reader – you don’t know how tempted he was to try!”
“True,” Stanley admitted with a small shrug.
“And even if there was no harm done, we shouldn’t have risked accepting that ride.” He gestured with both hands for emphasis. “Anyone could be manipulated by Bill, enough to—”
“Enough to break and enter into an old tourist trap for no reason?” Stanley shook his head. “Because most people wouldn’t. And—” He leaned forward, “—if someone does, we’ll deal with it.”
“But we don’t—”
“Anyway, you scared the kids half to death when you rushed through the door just now,” Stanley interrupted, straightening his back. “They were convinced you were Bill until I showed up.”
Ford blinked, thrown by the sudden information. “Oh.” He’d been focused on getting the rift out of danger – had there been people in the living room? Had they seen him? “I didn’t mean to—I mean—That’s unfortunate.”
“It’s fine, uncle Ford,” Dipper said. He was, indeed, looking rather warily at Ford, but he also had a wry look like he was ashamed of being scared. Like there was no reason to be afraid, when in fact there was every reason.
“No, I—” Ford ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll try to do better.” It could have been Bill. He needed to make sure it was clear that it wasn’t, next time. Alternatively, just stay in this room. That would be the safer option.
“Hey,” Mabel said. “Can you tell us now what happened to you guys today?”
“Well.” Stanley glanced her, then at Ford. “We ran into Manly Dan on the way back. Turns out he’d just had some kinda dream about Ford’s demon friend.”
Ford flinched. “Don’t call him that.”
“What? Manly Dan?”
Stanley was being flippant, playing stupid, and that was so achingly familiar that Ford had a weird urge to grab the old man before him and give him a noogie. He didn’t. Instead he said, back straight and both hands behind his back, “Bill is not my friend.”
“I know that, Poindexter.”
“But,” Dipper said, “Manly Dan didn’t attack you, right?” His eyes went from Stanley’s obvious bruises to Ford’s tattered clothing and badly hidden bandages.
“Nah, that was something else. Had a run-in with some local weirdness.” To Ford’s great relief, Stanley seemed ready to leave it at that, though the children didn’t appreciate it as much.
“Hey! You promised no more secrets!”
Stanley looked at Ford, raising his eyebrows as if asking permission.
Ford took a deep breath. “Not now,” he said. “Perhaps later.” Perhaps when his mind wasn’t reeling quite so much. Seating himself carefully on Stanley’s other side, he changed the subject to the most important facts. “In any case, I sealed the rift in a sturdier container that will make it more difficult to break. It still exists, and is still a danger if stolen, but it’s—safer than before.”
He swallowed down another unhelpful measure of fear. “But the fact remains that Bill wants it. And you would do well to remember that he could appear in anyone’s dream, trying to deceive or tempt.” He paused, looking at the Dipper, Mabel and Soos. “Have any of you had any strange dreams, or—”
“It’s been my policy since preschool never to listen to the advice of a triangle,” Soos said solemnly. Ford glared at him. This was no joking matter, and it was especially concerning that the young man seemed completely sincere.
Dipper grimaced. “I have bad dreams about Bill all the time,” he admitted, looking very small. Ford lifted a hand to console him, but put it down again. He had no idea how to even start. The boy might even have mundane nightmares about Bill, some of which were now Ford’s fault.
“We all know about Bill.” Mabel said confidently, putting an arm around Dipper’s shoulders. “We’re not going to listen to him, especially not in a dream.”
“Yes.” Ford found himself relaxing slightly. “I know you won’t.” He did know that – and the fact that he was sure about it made it slightly easier to breathe. “But it’s not just you. You see, even if Dan Corduroy didn’t decide to rob us, Bill could—Bill could appear in anyone’s dreams. And if he decides to work on tricking someone—” He stopped, unable to bring himself to say ‘like he worked on me’.
The kids looked reasonably worried at that, but Stanley crossed his arms. “Yeah,�� he said. “But hey. It still has to be someone willing to do a robbery, and I’m the closest this town’s got to a professional burglar.” Ford raised his eyebrows at that, making Stanley grin. “And even thirty years ago,” he continued, “I would’ve been kinda put off by the idea of stealing an unopenable briefcase just because some triangular guy in a dream told me to.”
Ford nodded slowly. “That might be true, but—” He hesitated. It might be true for Stanley, but he knew from experience that he couldn’t have said the same for himself. “Someone else may welcome the challenge. Or be convinced that the briefcase contains something they desperately need. Or—I don’t know—have a particular grudge against you and your Mystery Hut!”
“Mystery Shack,” Stanley corrected, completely missing the point. He added, “If it happens, we’ll handle it. I promise you that.”
“There’d be no need to handle it if you’d used the—” Ford mumbled between his teeth, but Stanley heard and interrupted him.
“Don’t.” The word hung in the air for a moment until Ford relented with a sigh, leaning back and turning his eyes to the ceiling.
Stanley gave him a pat on the shoulder.
“Just—” Ford took a deep breath. “Just be careful. We don’t know who Bill might try to manipulate.”
“Yes, young-Mr-Pines, Sir!” Soos said with a clumsy salute, still looking completely serious. Ford tried not to scowl. The young man whose relationship to Stanley still hadn’t been properly explained to him seemed simple, but might easily be the weakest link in their defenses.
Dipper chose this moment to square his shoulders and straighten his back. “Uncle Ford!” he said. “Do you want to play Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons with me?”
Ford blinked as he switched gears, as he admitted to himself that yes, he wanted to. The very mention of the game made the corners of his mouth want to curl into a smile, and after a moment he gave in to it. He’d been looking forward to it. He was still alive, still somewhat sane, and—this place was as safe as it was going to be. There was still danger, and playing a game was selfish and irresponsible in the face of that, but—
But he wanted more than anything to allow himself to get lost in a harmless, nostalgic fantasy world with neat statistical values. And he could. “I would love to.”
Stanley whistled. “There’s hope for you yet, ya big nerd,” he said fondly.
Dipper made a little excited jump in the couch, marred by small wince and touching his ribs, but his smile didn’t falter. “I’ll go get the books!” He hurriedly left the room, returning quickly with a set of rulebooks, character sheets, graph paper, DM screens, dice and other game pieces that he set down in Ford’s lap.
“Look, here, I made a bunch of characters that are kind of based on us, and some monsters here, and I’ve been thinking about what kind of dungeon we should play, and I was hoping you could be the DM, but—”
Ford flipped through the core rulebook while listening to Dipper’s thoughts about the game. Dipper might be a child, but he certainly knew his way around Dungeons, Dungeons and more Dungeons. There was something so normal about his excitement, about the idea of running a dungeon for him, something that felt like a breeze of fresh air across Ford’s murky mind.
It was okay. Bill could not and would not reach him right now.
Soos departed for wherever it was he lived before long, and Stanley said something about food and disappeared for the kitchen. Mabel was on her way to leave the room, too, but Dipper just looked silently at her – and then she stayed, settling by the desk and starting to draw some kind of bird on a piece of paper.
Something clenched inside Ford when he realized that Dipper’s rulebook didn’t actually have the same rules he knew. Even DDD was different from his game. He pushed the stinging feeling away – he could handle this – this was what he had to work with if he wanted to play with Dipper. The new rules mostly made sense and were in some ways actually more efficient than the ones Ford knew. In fact, if he’d stopped to think about it, using his mind for something as completely frivolous as memorizing new game mechanics was like a palate cleanser. An easy and thoroughly accomplishable task, for once. He was still tired, and hurt, but all of that was shuffled off to the back of his mind as he started to focus on the fantasy.
Dipper assured him that he knew the rule book well enough that Ford could always ask him about the specifics, so it took no more than ten or fifteen minutes for Ford to feel confident enough to run a basic dungeon. The boy had been making characters, so he already had a halfling ranger ready for himself, and an elven wizard NPC that he’d made for Ford. In fact, he had made a whole stack of character sheets, but one PC and one NPC for support was enough to run a simple adventure. This would be a test run.
Stanley interrupted them with “food for the nerds” – some macaroni and cheese for the children and another canned soup for Ford – but after eating, they were ready to start. Ford sat down straight-backed on the floor, closed his eyes for a moment and tried to recall how to set a scene. The traditional taverna. Rowdy NPCs imparting information. A kidnapped princess and directions to the evil mage’s lair.
Ford had expected himself to be rusty at first, but somehow, the game flowed.
Dipper was a bright player, using his character’s abilities to the best effect, and always willing to be thorough in his exploration. He did indeed have a good grasp of the minutiae of the rules, but he avoided exploiting them in ways that didn’t make sense. It was a joy to see him think and fight his way past the monsters and traps, and Ford could keep his wizard NPC mostly to support spells, discussion of worldbuilding details, and kindly mentor advise.
When Dipper at one point was stumped by a trap, his sister unexpectedly appeared from the sidelines and pointed out a solution Ford hadn’t even thought about.
“I didn’t think you wanted to play!” Dipper said, surprised.
“Nah, I’m not playing, just helping you out!” she said. “By the way,” she added, “You should try to use that magic mirror you found upside down. See what happens!”
Clever. Judging by Dipper’s frown that variation wasn’t in the rulebook, but Ford could see how it would make a difference. And even more interestingly – in order to have made such an observation, she must have been following the game rather closely for a while.
Dipper didn’t seem to mind his sister’s input as they went on. On the contrary, they made a good team. If DDD had even existed when Stanford and Stanley were their age, Ford could easily imagine Stanley refusing to play but then jumping in like this – a painful thought in all its warmth. The game had been published only after Stanley had been gone. And he seriously doubted—well, the present-day Stanley would surely not even consider it.
In any case, Mabel was creative, and Ford saw no reason why she shouldn’t be a player.
The short dungeon he’d set out to run for Dipper was almost over, but Ford felt inspired to continue, so he turned to the girl and asked her if she wanted to be the princess.
“Wasn’t the princess kidnapped?”
“She might have already escaped. If you want to play her, that is.”
“Well…” She frowned. “I don’t want to do any math homework! I’m just here to help Dipper’s character out of trouble. Or into trouble!”
“Then do that as your own character,” Ford encouraged her. “I’m sure Dipper can handle all your dice rolls and calculations”
“Yes, of course!” Dipper agreed. “Come on, Mabel! I have a character here for you and everything!” He pulled out a halfling bard from the pile of character sheets. “I didn’t know she was a princess, but I suppose—”
Mabel pursed her mouth. “Can I have purple hair and gemstones in my eyes?”
“Uh.” That sounded painful. “You can, if you want to.”
“Okay!”
Ford told her that the princess had been able to escape on her own, but she’d overheard the evil mage talking about his plans to lure adventurers into a trap and use their brains for a nefarious potion to give himself the power to conquer the world. She was now running through the dungeon when she stumbled upon Dipper’s character.
Mabel obviously had the ability to get massively in character if she wanted to. She told the story of the mage’s evil plan in a lot more detail than Ford had, gesturing wildly for emphasis. “This means we gotta stop that evil wizard guy and save all the people he’s already captured!” She physically pulled at Dipper’s vest. “Come on, we have to hurry before he eats their brains!”
Ford improvised a second dungeon on top of the first one, this one being the mage’s actual castle. The enemies here were stronger and the layout more convoluted, but with Mabel as an active player, the adventurer party was also stronger and more unpredictable.
The first time he made a zombie come lumbering towards them, Dipper immediately took on a fighting stance, but Mabel looked excited.
“I’m a princess bard, right? So I’ll sing at it! If it doesn’t work, you two will have to sing with me!”
Ford raised his eyebrows. He’d seen real life zombies defeated by song, but in the context of the game, he’d never heard of it. “Are there any zombie-defeating bard songs in this version of the game?” he asked Dipper. “Or should we—”
“We’ll make one up,” Dipper decided. “What do you call it, Mabel?”
“The Song of Triple Rainbow Light,” she replied with a zombie-killing grin.
Ford and Dipper quickly agreed on some spell stats and added it to her character sheet while Mabel described colorfully how it looked and sounded. Rolling the die, the song didn’t defeat the zombie on its own, but it weakened it enough that Dipper could vanquish it the next round. The kids hi-fived.
“Way easier than real zombies,” Dipper said, but before Ford could think to ask him about it, Mabel pulled their adventuring party along, wanting to know what was ahead.
What was ahead was the literal dungeon, a row of prison cells. The first one was ominously empty.
Ford looked up for a moment, and Stanley unexpectedly met his eyes from the couch. How long had he been sitting there? A small shiver ran over Ford as he realized that he was so caught up in the game that he hadn’t even noticed his brother’s presence. And if he didn’t notice what was going on around him, how could he be ready if—
“Hey, Ford?” Stanley said.
“Yes?”
“Think there’s any other prisoners in any of those cells?”
Ford blinked. Had Stanley been paying attention? “Well, the players haven’t checked yet, so—” He’d been thinking about adding a cleric to the party before the confrontation with the evil mage, but it wasn’t absolutely necessary. “Why do you ask?”
Stanley’s eyes flicked to the side. “No reason.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Only. Maybe there’s some big strong fighter type who ended up in wizard jail through no fault of his own and would be willing to help a couple of kids out with the monster punching business. And gathering pretend treasure. Hypothetically.”
Ford stared at him.
“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper squeaked. “Are you going to join us?”
“Yeah, well, can’t let you pipsqueaks have all the fun without me, can I?” He grimaced. “And you can stop staring, Sixer. This doesn’t mean I’m a nerd, just that I’m willing to try it out. Ok?”
Ford might possibly have been literally beaming. “Of course,” he said weakly. There was something suspiciously like real happiness surging through him, and he didn’t know what to do with it. “Dipper, you had a fighter character based on Stanley ready, didn’t you?”
Adding Stanley to the party made it easier for the adventurers to take on multiple enemies at once, which was good, because Stanley tended to favor a brute force solution to every situation, being loud and boisterous and more than a little bit reckless. Sometimes it didn’t work, but Ford was rather certain he chose to play this way on purpose. At one point he ended up in a trap and made the kids laugh with his daring playing-with-death slapstick antics.
It was fun.
It took all of his focus away from everything else to the point where he didn’t even remember to question it, and it was fun.
The final confrontation with the evil mage became tense – a few unfortunate dice rolls disabled Mabel’s and Ford’s characters and severely wounded Dipper’s – and Ford was already thinking of ways to salvage this in case it ended in a TPK. At that point Stanley announced that he’d put his character’s every point into an insanely risky move that would involve channeling power that he really wasn’t made to channel. The chances of succes would be abysmal, but if successful, Ford conceded it might be their only chance to take the mage down once and for all before the whole party was vanquished.
Afterwards, Ford suspected Stanley might have cheated on the die roll. It didn’t matter. He saw it roll, and he saw it land on a perfect natural 38, saving the day and the game, and all he could do was laugh.
It was hours past midnight when they stopped playing, but for once Ford was just comfortably tired rather than exhausted. The kids were yawning but happy. Stanley decided without objections from anyone to bring a few raggedy old mattresses and bedclothes down and let all of them sleep right here in Ford’s room.
Ford fell asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes, and slept until noon. If he dreamt, he had no memories of it.
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marshmallowatheart · 5 years
Text
To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before (Part 29)
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)
"You ready to go?" Logan asks, his voice soft and his eyes focused as he stretches out his hand, open palm, waiting for her to close the gap between them.
She takes his hand, half nod and she's about to give him a quite yeah when Heather squishes herself between them, brightly suggesting that they all end the night with one final ride; the Ferris wheel.
Heather's wide eyes and pearly white smile throw not-so-subtle hints at her big sister. Veronica sends Logan an awkward smile as she pretends to have no clue about what that's all about.
Naturally, Heather's excitement hits one of many soft spots Logan has for the Mars clan and he indulges her, dragging the crew along.
Veronica stuffs her hands in her jacket pockets, Logan's striding ahead to buy tickets for those who don't have unlimited passes and she finds her hands feeling rather cold without Logan's natural heat to keep her warm.
She knows what Heather is doing; she's trying to create this romantic and magical moment that falls somewhere between the twinkling lights that illuminate through the dark, the cold air that forces snuggles in the tight knit space as they circle the air and ponder about how beautiful things look from high up above.
Veronica supposes if they were a normal couple it wouldn't be such a bad opportunity to profess true love and share a kiss from the top of the Ferris wheel but it's not as simple as that and Veronica doesn't know how to explain it all to Heather.
She needs time because this isn't as easy as a girl admitting she loves a boy that she's dating. It's a girl admitting that she loves a boy who might still be in love with someone else and she's scared of how this is going to change things between them despite the reassurance she's had.
She knows Heather is going to be disappointed in her when she hops off the ride and she says that she couldn't do it - she could lie but she's lied enough and it's haunting her in ways she didn't think about when this all started.
She notices Heather clinging to Ophelia, hands hooked around each other while the boys chatter beside them.
She's taken to a time when she'd laughed the night away with Lilly's arm hooked on hers, clear of any vindication.
Heather gives an awkwardly pained smile when Ryan speaks and Veronica feels her heart ache because she remembers all too well how she'd tightened her smile, held back her tears and congratulated her best friend for dating the boy that she liked. It broke her heart but it was okay because the sound of her best friend's happiness was louder than the sound of her heart breaking - until it wasn't, until her best friend was gone and she could hear the sound of her crying heart way too loud and way too clear.
The line is short - people are leaving so it doesn't take long for them to get seated. Logan comes to stand beside her, his hand going to her waist as he brings her closer to him and it's ridiculous how a small act from him makes her heart beat a little faster.
He gives her a small smile and she thinks maybe he has nerves of his own because he shoves his hands away in his pocket. She wants to complain that it's not that she minded his hand on her side but it's just that she liked it maybe a bit too much. She stays silent - her hands still in her own pockets as she sees Ophelia push Heather to go ahead with Ryan who's already seated in the ride.
Ophelia smiles, giving Heather a sly thumbs up, Heather looks confused and panicked like she wants to object and trade places. It's too late because the attendant is moving to seat the next pair and Veronica catches Ophelia's look; she doesn't look like she's sad or pained or faking happy as she hops onto the seat next to Darrell. It makes her wonder what exactly made Heather think she shared the same crush as her best friend.
Wallace gets into the next seat wearing his boyish grin with Georgia beside him. Veronica softly smiles because she's grateful that Wallace is a person in her life, that he's her best friend and a person that she can wholeheartedly trust. She's never really had a person like him in her life before. She may have regrets about her past but she doesn't actually want to regret anything leading up to her cutting him down from that flagpole.
Logan's hand is back on her waist, urging her forward and she realizes then that they're up next. She gives an apologetic smile to the attendant, moves along and settles herself as Logan comes in after her.
"You okay?" He asks, they're not exactly moving yet - just the light jolt so the next couple can be seated - and she silently nods her head.
The ride starts slowly, not picking up much speed after the initial momentum. The air is chilled against her skin and her blonde waves fly back like she's a heroine in a movie that the boy would inevitably fall in love with.
It's dark - obviously because it's night time - but there's calmness in the dark that simply doesn't exist during the day.
"Hey, Logan?" She says, breath hitching as she looks at the people walking, rides spinning and how the colours wisp into blurry brightness.
"Hmm?" He hums, hands casually flung over the metal bar as his eyes redirect to her.
She half turns her head to him. Leaning on her shoulder, hair flying back and her eyes soft as she looks at him. "Thank you," she lets out, airy but just loud enough for him to hear.
"For what?" He wants to know, shifting his position to get closer to her.
She doesn't really know how to explain why she's saying thank you because it's a combination of things that could send her on a monologue that's longer than this ride. So she offers him a half smile and repeats the words he'd said to her the night before, "For caring about me."
She's not sure if those words are enough to describe all that she's thankful for but it's all she has for now.
"Always, Mars," he grins, playfully bumping her shoulder. He wants to say he's never stopped caring but he doesn't have any right to so he's made silent promises to remedy that fact. All he cares about is her and he hopes that she can see that.
She cracks a smile, leaning into him as they enjoy the ride - it's not so much romantic as it is calming and she knows that there's no one else she'd rather be next to right now than him.
--vm--
Backup leaps up to them when they come home, he's wagging his tail and nuzzling his face in their hands. Heather's overjoyed by the welcome, Veronica scratches his ears and coos at what a good boy he is, Logan smiles and is surprised when the dog welcomes him so warmly especially when Heather and Veronica are barely a few feet away. Logan pats him, mimicking Veronica's actions, he scratches Backups ears and coos that Backup is the good boy.
Keith has the TV on and pizza boxes sprawled on the coffee table. He's clad in his Sheriff's uniform, standing behind the sofa as he gets ready to leave for the night shift.
"You got pizza without us," Heather gasps, fully offended and runs to pick a slice.
"Wash your hands first," Veronica calls, warningly and her sister halts in position before running to the kitchen.
"I assumed you'd stuff yourself with corn dogs and fries," Keith dryly remarks, knowing full well just how much they liked eating at the carnival.
"Pizza is the dessert of all foods. There's always space," Heather argues as she bites into the now barely room temperature pizza slice.
Keith chuckles, lightly shaking his head. "I need to get to work. You kids have fun. And Logan, by eleven Veronica will be shaking your hand at the door as you head out," he warns, brows arched with a pointed look.
"Yes, sir," Logan salutes.
"Stay safe, daddy-O-7," Veronica chirps.
"Always am," he assures, dropping a kiss on Veronica's head.
"Bye, daddy," Heather says, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Have a good day at work."
"Thanks, kiddo," he lightly ruffles Heather's hair. "Don't forget no boyfriends in the house past 11," he aims at Veronica. "No matter how much you like 'em," he says to both Heather and Backup.
Backup wags his tail happily while Heather hums in acknowledgement of his words. Keith bops the little Mars on her nose and she chuckles lightly as he leaves.
--vm--
They're watching Easy Rider because it's one of Logan's favourites and Veronica kinda likes the way he grins when he notices that they're showing it on TV.
He's giving her tidbits about the movie, off-screen accords and quoting his favourite lines as they're being said and she's not sure why she's surprised but he's even more of a dork than she'd thought and she kinda falls a little bit more in love with him.
Heather's asleep half way into the movie; lightly snoring, exhausted into the pile of cushions that she'll deny in the morning.
It's only when the movie is over that they take her into her room, Logan carries her and Veronica tucks her in.
She thanks him, again, this time mostly for helping get Heather to bed. They're in the kitchen, he's sipping on water - leaning on the counter like he belongs there. She's across him, leaning and she can't help but wonder what he thinks of her leaning. Is her leaning as thought worthy as his leaning? Because she still has memories from the first time he was in her kitchen.
She bites her lip, tilting her head and she watches him as he talks. He's all soft smiles and warm hands and adoring eyes and how could she not have seen that nobody's ever looked at her the way he looks at her?
It's not enough that she wants him, she needs to tell him, needs him to know about her all consuming feelings for him and that this contractual agreement is so much more than keeping boys in check for her and she knows that she's more than just a means to make Lilly jealous but she wonders if his feelings for her has surpassed the need to make Lilly jealous.
She wonders if he knows how he's looking at her and how his hands feel against her skin - igniting warmth and shivers and happy little dancing butterflies.
She's got nerves riding through her veins and her heart trashes against her chest like there's a volcano in her that's waiting to erupt, she wonder if he notices how badly she wants to leap in his arms.
"Veronica?"
Her eyes snap to his and her thought fades to black. She's biting her lips and maybe it's night courage but she feels brave because he's here, he's looking at her, and he's saying her name in warm whispers that makes her name feel like the holy grail.
She kisses him, her hands riding up his neck and her body pressing up against his. He's leaning so deeply into her, hands tightly wound on her waist - he doesn't want to let go.
She pushes into him, tilting her head so she can feel more of him. She wants him to feel all of her. She wants him to know that this is real.
When their lips break apart, she pulls closer to him, out of breath, his eyes dipping down and focusing on her and hers flickering up to meet his.
He sees it all in her eyes but he's afraid that her words may betray the moment they're in so he doesn't wait for her to question or excuse this kiss - he doesn't see any possible reason she could give except that this is as real to her as it's been for him.
He's kissing her again, hard and long, wanting her to realize just how much he wants her. He's holding her so tightly against him - so afraid to let go and have this moment disappear because the truth is that he could live forever standing by Veronica's counter kissing her like it's the end of time.
His forehead leans on hers and she's chuckling, he hopes it's a good sign - a sign that she gets that this goes beyond everything they've excused it to be.
"Veronica?" He breaths out, his eyes try to focus on hers but her lips are so pulp and pursed so close to his. He wants to just kiss her again but he needs words. She's trying to catch her breath, so focused on his lips, he can feel her want for him as she inches closer, tiptoeing and leaning into him. Her eyes flicker to his when he says her name and he's holding her steady against him and he just wants her to say one word. "This is real, right?"
She's so close to him, nose lightly grazing his, lips close enough to kiss. "Do you want it to be?"
He responds by tightening his hold on her and dipping his head down to kiss her. He whispers against her lips, "I more than want."
Her lips break into a smile, a light chuckle of escapes her mouth and he's grinning, open mouthed and bright eyed as he stares at her.
"I do too," she admits, softly. "I like you, Logan Echolls and not in a fake way."
He chuckles, so relieved and happy. He didn't know it was possible for his heart to feel this full. "I'm in love with you, Veronica Mars."
"You're what?" She's smiling impossibly wide and she's sure she has heart shapes in her eyes but it doesn't really matter because Logan loves her and for once in her life she might actually be letting happiness in instead of locking the door on it.
He's smiling and leaning and letting her find the truth of his words in his kiss. She's the only one he wants, she's been the only one for a long time now.
She's sinking into him, she's feeling things she's never felt before all at once and she's lost in the feeling of his hands behind her neck, lightly tugging on her hair while his tongue slips passed her lips.
He grins, kissing her check and her temple and she's arching into him, wanting everything he's giving her.
"I should go now," he says, reluctant but necessary. He's feeling too much right now in the brick of the night with the girl that he loves finally in his arms, kissing him with just as much passion and want as he has for her.
It's almost eleven, he knows without a doubt that her father is going to call and check if he's gone or not and he really doesn't want to get carried away with Veronica.
She nods, still holding onto him. "So how do we do this? What do you put in a contract - "
He chuckles, shaking his head, dipping down and giving her a light kiss. "You gotta trust," he whispers.
Her eyes close as he kisses her forehead. "So are you picking me up for school tomorrow?"
"Yeah," he lets out through a light chuckle.
"You're not contractually obligated anymore," she points out, biting her lip, a bit teasing and a little bit insecure. She's not sure how to actually do relationships.
He shrugs, still smiling and staring at her with adoration. "I like being the first one that sees you in the morning."
She's chuckling, face burying in his chest and he holds her, breathing in the scent of her mixed with the scent of carnival chaos - they stay like that for a few minutes before he leaves and Logan realizes just how dangerous it is to kiss Veronica Mars for real.
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thelastspeecher · 5 years
Note
Number 1; Wolf AU!
Day 01   Day 02   Day 03   Day 04   Day 05   Day 06   Day 07   Day 08Day 09   Day 10   Day 11   Day 12   Day 13   Day 14   Day 15   Day 16Day 17   Day 18   Day 19   Day 20   Day 21   Day 22   Day 23   Day 24Day 25   Day 26   Day 27   Day 28   Day 29   Day 30
1. Corn maze
All right, here it is.  The ficlet that I’m counting as my second day of NaNoWriMo.  It takes place when Stan and Angie’s first set of children (the triplets Molly, Danny, and Daisy) are about three, and during their first family trip to the McGucket farm.  Ma and Pa McGucket are still decidedly lukewarm about Stan, but starting to get warmer in their opinion of him.
Word count: 1421
Send me a number for a fall-themed prompt!
              Stanlooked in the rearview mirror.  Thetriplets were fast asleep, snoring softly in their car seats.  Each one was wearing color-coded clothes, ahabit left over from when they were near-identical infants.
              “They’resleeping, Ang.”
              “Shoot.”  Angie turned around in her seat to look atthe triplets.  “Of course they fellasleep right when we got here.”
              “Wherever‘here’ is,” Stan muttered, eyeing the white farmhouse they had parked outsideof.  Angie scowled at him.
              “It’s theplace I grew up, Stanley.  You need to becareful ‘bout how you talk.  My folksalready aren’t that fond of you.  Don’tgive ‘em more reason to give ya the cold shoulder.”
              “Whowoulda thought that knocking you up with triplets after dating you for only ayear and a half wouldn’t improve your parents’ opinion of me?”
              “And theydidn’t like ya much before then, either.”
              “I know.”  Stan sighed. “They tolerate me more when the girls are around, though.”
              “Duh.  Yer an excellent father.”  Angie leaned over and kissed Stan on thecheek.  “My parents can tell.”  Stan grinned at her.
              “Yeah?”
              “Yeah.”
              “Mama?” asmall voice called from the backseat. Angie looked over at the speaker, Molly.
              “Yes,sweetie?”
              “Are wethere yet?”
              “You betcha.  Why don’t ya wake up yer sisters, and we’llgo inside and say hi to Grannie and Grampie.”
—– 
              Mollygiggled loudly, excited about riding on Stan’s shoulders.  Stan strode through the fairgroundscheerfully, whistling.  Angie’s parentshad told them there was a local harvest festival happening, and, naturally, thetriplets insisted on going.  Molly tuggedat Stan’s hair exuberantly.
              “Ouch!  Careful there, Little Six,” Stan saidgently.  He patted Molly’s leg.  “You’re a lot stronger than you think,remember?”
              “Oh.  Yeah.” Molly giggled again.
              “D’aw,aren’t ya just the cutest lil thing,” Ma McGucket gushed at Daisy.  She had insisted on carrying Daisy as they walkedthrough the festival.  “Love my adorable granddaughters.  First triplets in McGucket fam’ly history.”
              “Careful,Sally,” Pa McGucket said.  He smiled downat Danny, who was holding his hand.  “Don’tgive ‘em big heads.  They already got bignoses.”
              “Adorable noses,” Ma McGucket saidfirmly.  Stan caught Angie’s eyes.
              “Make them stop,” he mouthedsilently.  Angie nodded.
              “Ma, Pa,why don’t ya take the girls into the maze?” she suggested.  Her parents beamed.
              “What asplendid idea, junebug,” Pa McGucket said. He let go of Danny’s hand to hold out his arms.  Stan reluctantly removed Molly from his shouldersand placed her in Pa McGucket’s waiting embrace.  “Hey there, sugar-cube.”  Molly responded by grabbing Pa McGucket’snose.  Pa McGucket chuckled.  “Yep, that’s my nose.”
              “Nose,”Molly said solemnly.
              “Allright, you three cuties are goin’ to come with me ‘n Grampie through the cornmaze, okay?” Ma McGucket said to the triplets. Danny’s face scrunched up.
              “But Mamaand Daddy-”
              “We’ll bewaitin’ right outside the maze, baby, don’t worry,” Angie said soothingly.  She kissed the top of Danny’s head.  “Go have some fun with yer grandparents.  We’ll be right here.”
              “Can westill smell you when we can’t see you?” Danny whimpered.  Angie smiled.
              “Of course.”  Angie’s parents shared an odd look.
              “Smellyou?” Ma McGucket prompted.  Angie waveda hand airily.
              “Just alil inside joke, don’t worry ‘bout it.”
              “If yasay so,” Ma McGucket said.  She nuzzledDaisy’s ear.  “Let’s go, honey-buns.”
—– 
              Stan kickeda clump of dirt.
              “When Iasked you to make them stop, I didn’t mean take the kids away,” Stan mutteredangrily.  “I hate being away from the girlson my days off.  Even more than you do.”
              “Let’snot make this a competition, darlin’,” Angie said.  She scratched behind her ear in a distinctlydog-like manner.  “And I asked ‘em totake the girls in the maze ‘cause it seemed like you could use a break from myparents.  They’ve been more overbearin’than I expected.”  Angie smiled apologetically.  “Sorry, honey.”
              “It’sfine,” Stan mumbled.  “You can’t controlwhat your parents do.  I’m used to parentsof girlfriends not liking me anyways.  Carla’sparents didn’t have as many guns as your folks, though.”
              “They won’tuse the guns on you.”
              “You sureabout that?  Lute was pretty pissed thelast time I saw him.”
              “I wasspeakin’ ‘bout my parents, not my brothers.”
              “So you’resaying Lute might shoot me,” Stan said. Angie paused.  The silence was fartoo long for Stan’s comfort.
              “Maybe.”
              “…Great.”
              “Notlethally, though.  And not in a way thatwould take much time to recover from.  Agraze wound, most likely.”
              “This isgetting an uncomfortable amount of detail,” Stan said.  Angie chuckled.  “But you’re sure your parents won’t shoot me?”
              “Correct.  They will not shoot you,” Angie confirmed.
              “Good.”  Stan took a seat on the bench next toAngie.  He put his arm around her.  She leaned against his shoulder with asatisfied sigh.  “It is kinda nice to sitoutside in relative quiet.  I forgot whatit sounded like.”  Angie let out a barkof laughter.
              “Trueenough.”  She sat straighter, staring intentlyat the entrance to the maze.  “They’recomin’ back.”
              “They weregone for like, ten minutes,” Stan said.  “Howare they back already?  The girls didn’tget that upset about being apart fromus so fast, did they?”  Angie sniffed theair.  Her face paled.
              “I smellMa, Pa, Danny, ‘n Daisy.  But notMolly.  Molly’s not with ‘em.”
              “What?!”  Stan jumped to his feet.  “Angie, they don’t have Molly?  Molly’s not-”
              “Relax, I’msure it’s fine.”  Angie’s reassurance wasundercut by the clear strain in her voice. Her parents emerged from the maze, each holding one of thetriplets.  Angie stood up.  “Ma, Pa?”
              “Banjey,Molly ran off,” Pa McGucket said.  Angiecovered her mouth.  “She’s stillsomewhere in the maze.  There’s only theone entrance.  But we felt we should comeback and explain the sit’ation before we went to search fer her.”
              “No needto go look,” Stan said.  “I’m on it.”  He rushed into the maze.  He had only made two turns when he came upagainst a dead end.  “Shit.”  There were footsteps behind him.
              “Stan.”  Stan turned around.  It was Angie. She crossed her arms.  “Ya won’tbe findin’ Miss Molly by rushin’ in blind.”
              “Right.”  Stan tried to slow down his heartrate.  “How do we find her?”
              “With mybig ole sniffer,” Angie said confidently, tapping her nose.  “I can already catch a faint whiff ofher.  She’s not too far away.”  Stan grinned.
              “Told youwe should take your werewolf powers on the road.  Could be used to win a lot of bets.”  Angie rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
              “I’llsettle fer usin’ it to find our oldest child fer now.”
—– 
              “She’sjust ‘round here,” Angie said.  She andStan turned a corner.  “There she is!”  Molly was sitting on the ground, chewing on acorn cob she must have pulled off one of the many stalks surrounding her.  “Molly, no!” Angie rushed over.  Molly lookedup.  She beamed, corn kernels in herteeth.
              “Mama!”
              “MissMolly, this is field corn, not sweet corn,” Angie said, taking the corn cobfrom her daughter.  “Field corn is fordeer, sweet corn is for humans.”
              “I nothuman,” Molly chirped.  “I werewolf.”
              “Well, sweetcorn is for werewolves, too, then,” Angie amended.  “But field corn is very much not.”  Angie tossed the ear of corn into thestalks.  Molly sniffed.
              “Don’tcry, Little Six,” Stan said quickly, joining Angie by Molly.  “I’ll buy you some roasted corn when we getoutta here, okay?  It’s the good kind of corn,and it’s covered in butter, so it’s extra tasty.”  Stan ruffled Molly’s hair.  “Does that sound all right?”  After a moment, Molly nodded.  “Good.” Angie picked Molly up.
              “Let’sget you out of this maze, huh?” Angie cooed at Molly.  Molly nodded eagerly.  Angie looked around.  “Um…hmm. How are we goin’ to get out of here?”
              “Ithought you solved it.”
              “No, Ijust tracked Molly down by smell.  I can’ttrack the opening down by smell.  It doesn’thave a distinct scent.  And I was sofocused on tracking, I didn’t pay attention to the route we took to gethere.  Did you?”
              “Uh,no.  I was just following you blindly,mostly,” Stan mumbled.  “It’s okay, I cansolve this problem easy.”  He kicked anearby stalk of corn, breaking it down.  “Thistime, follow me.  I’ll get us outta herethe only way I know how.  Brute force.”  Angie grinned.
              “Lead theway, darlin’.”
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lifeofbouyd · 6 years
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Telephone Love
Text: Feb 2008
Text join to 1876444chat to join Jamaica’s hottest chat groups and meet new people. Only $10 per text.
I sat and read that message in class a few times before replying. I thought to myself if all the things that could possibly happen in a group and my imagination ran wild.
Teacher: Mr. Smith, I do hope you’re not there texting again. I’ll take your phone this time if I catch you.
She had warned me several before but I didn’t give a shit. She couldn’t take my phone even if she wanted to. I sat there trying to decide if I should join or not.
Text:
Text join to 1876444chat to become a member of Jamaica’s number 1 chat room. You could meet your partner today. Only $10 per text.
That text was even more convincing than the first. Meeting my partner sounded worth my $10.
Teacher: Mr. Smith, could you please come up here and demonstrate how to persuade someone into buying your product by using this pen. You better be able to do it or I’m failing you.
Me: Sure. Good morning class, today I want to introduce to you our latest state of the art pen that is designed to blow the mind of pen users around the world. We bring you the future today. This pen comes with...
Teacher: Mr. Smith, please have a seat. Class I hope you’re all paying attention. Mr. Smith spends most his time texting and talking however he’s able to remember everything he’s taught.
She gave us a pop quiz shortly after and most the class failed. I had forgotten about the chat room as I was more focused on passing business management. A few days later I heard some people talking about it, saying they had met new people from the chat group. Instantly I signed up. I joined several groups but there was none like Church Sex. It was the most outlaw x rated group. Most the members were interested in sucking each other and having group sex which was brand new gossip for me. They shared vivid sex stories that made every girl I forwarded it to wet. I became obsessed with the group within a few days within a few days and my fan base sky rocketed. Every girl wanted to meet “Sex God Anthony”. I had described my self as a 18 year old with well built body, perfect body and a sledge hammer of a dick. I had stolen that description from a Hot Coffee Magazine I had stolen from uncle. The name grew quickly and every group I joined girls wanted to come meet me and get the dick they’ve heard so much about. I was chat room famous.
Text: Mar 2008
Hi, I’m sexy T from Kingston. I’m 18, live alone and have a big butt. Can someone welcome me plz?
By the time I saw that message she was welcomed by at least 70 people. But her message just stood out. It sounded as if she wanted someone. Bragging about her butt and living alone. I imagined what she looked like and I sure as hell pictured slapping that ass. I welcomed her and told her I’d like to slap that ass. To my surprise she replied with her number encrypted.
Text:
Hey Sex God, message me ggptdwm.
Only a true texaholic could figure out what that meant. We texted for days until we started calling each other. Before I knew it we were together. We spent every night on the phone. Shit got so intense we even started having phone sex. There were nights when she’d scream in my ears while she drowned her fingers in cum. Even though we didn’t know each other then we had something real. I felt way better than a face to face relationship. We talked everyday and we shared our dreams. It made me feel like I had being missing out all my life. I had dated countless girls before her but there was just something about this telephone love. I couldn’t get enough. We decided it was time we met for real. All this telephone talk made us eager to strip each other naked. I hitched a city bus early one Saturday morning to go see the girl if my dreams. I was a long drive but she was sure as hell worth the journey. I had imagined what she’d look like so many times I had created the perfect character in my mind. I stood in the park waiting to meet her but gave her a wrong dress code. This was due to meeting a fake a few weeks back. Girl said she was Cinderella but when I got there she was Fiona in the Ogre state 🤦‍♂️. A great disappointment and I couldn’t afford another surprise like that. But to my surprise she was beautiful. She looked even better than I had imagined and that ass. Damn, she was blessed. I took her to KFC then headed back to the park where we spent hours talking and laughing. She was a brilliant girl, with her future all figured out. Of all the things she wanted, she wanted me to live up to my name the most. I had created vivid sex images in her mind and she now wanted to feel me in reality.
Sext T: I’m horny.
Me: 😏
Sexy T: I know where we can go but you gotta keep on the look out.
Me: Ok
She pulled me around a corner across the street where there was an abandoned building. There were used condoms all over the place. It looked like a regular fuck spot for teens. We started kissing and kinda melted away in each other’s arms as we had been dying to do this for for months. I got so hard it started jumping in my pants. I think she had planned for it because she had nothing on but a mini skirt and a tube tube top. She took my dick out and rubbed it on her mesh underwear which made her soaking wet. She put me to sit on an old chair which seemed to have to hell and back while she pulled her skirt up. She quickly rolled the condom as if she was in a rush. I sat there staring at her body with a million thoughts in my head. What if I can’t please her, what if I cum too quickly? Her body was amazing, my anxiety level was through the roof so looking at it I had approximately 5 minutes if not less before exploding. She sat on it reverse cowgirl and slowly moved her waist. It felt warm, moist and tight. I could feel every inch of her through the condom as if I wasn’t wearing any. She felt so good all I wanted to do was cum but she kept telling me not to. I couldn’t help myself as she felt so damn good. I had to push her off a few times not to cum. She then turned around sitting on it and looking straight in my eyes while she rides my pole. She pushed her nipples in my mouth and started riding faster and faster, squeezing my head between her tits as if she wanted to kill me. I kept thinking about world war 2 which helped me keep my composure for a while but the moment she started kissing me and riding my dick all hell broke loose. She started vibrating and the chair collapsed. We both came in perfect finesse. She would have been flooded out if it wasn’t for the condom. I wanted to fuck her again but we had to run like thieves because there were cops coming in. They were after some chicks on the other side. It was practically dark anyway so I had to head home before I got stuck. I couldn’t help but laughing on my way home. I had scored big on the charts and pulled off being 18. I guess experience had a lot to do with it.
Text: April 2008
So I met sex god today :) I think I’m in love. Nigga got bandy legs and nice dick.
Instantly I received several encrypted contacts requesting personal messages. Sexy T had made my name even bigger. Every girl wanted to meet me; at one point I had to be sharing them with my bro. I met this chick Natasha who was willing to pay to meet me. With not a second thought I arranged everything for her to come and spend a weekend with me. She did say she was pretty but I didn’t expect her to be that pretty. I was shocked out my life when I picked her up at the bus station. She was all that she said she would be and so was the other chick waiting there. I had 2 girls lined up that weekend so I had to give my bro 1. Celine was really nice but u was more interested in Natasha as she was willing to pay and she was the prettiest. We took them home with intentions of a wild, unforgettable weekend and to my surprise they both bought the sex god act. As soon as we got home Natasha demanded what she came for; claiming she wanted to see if sex god was as good as his street credit. To my surprise, she stripped butt naked and pushed Celine out the room. I kept laughing to myself, this girl was really serious about getting dick. She pulled me close and started sucking on my lips. She stuck her hands in my shorts and flicked my dick out; rubbing it against her leg while she vibrated. I nibbled on her tits like a baby on a nipple bottle; this made her drooling wet. I planted slow wet kisses along her sides while playing clit. She moved as is she was Demond possessed; her legs shaking, back arching up, vibrating like a ringing phone. I kept rubbing the of my snake on her jumping clit causing her to cum several times before I even entered her. I made her beg me to cool her down with the pink headed hose before I slipped my rubber on. I kept slapping her pussy with my hard dick which made her even more anxious. I then held her waist and rubbed her clit with my thumb while I slowly forced my way in. She grabbed my by the neck and pulled me to her the moment the head slid in. Her eyes rolled back and her body trembled every stroke I stroked her. I went slow and deep causing tears to flow down her cheeks while she decorated my back with scratch marks. I asked her several times if she wanted me to stop but she just kept saying I should shut up. I raised her legs to my shoulder I tried going balls deep but she kept pushing me out. “Año charity punny did, not a bc” 😂 I couldn’t help but laugh. We switched positions until she begged me to stop. We had been having sex for more than an hour and I hadn’t even cum yet. She had cum until she was weak; staring at me through one eye with a smile on her face.
Natasha: Thanks. I needed that. I think you might have to move with me to Kingston.
I just sat there smiling at her and laughing in my mind. I had pulled it off again, object bingo. All hell broke loose when Celine realized that my bro wasn’t sex god. He had already knocked her out the park but Natasha went bragging in the group.
Text: May 2008
I’m currently at Sex Gods house, we just had great sex and Celine is also here with his bro. Hands off bitches I call dibs on Sex God.
The group became a text shooting range. Words fired like AK shots. Who should suck what and shut what. Who’s gonna kill who and who can’t go where. Sexy T was furious as I told her I wouldn’t fuck anyone else from the group. The group remained a shooting range throughout the weekend but that didn’t stop our fun. The weekend turned out way better than we predicted. It was hard to believe we had met these girls for the first as we were all over the place. Sexy T wanted to link up about two weeks after and I turned the offer down as she had promised to punch me in the face. Weeks on weeks she asked and I declined. Eventually she sent this message:
Text: October 2008
Remember, life is short and my knife point is long. The next time I see you it’s gonna be a blood bath. Think you can fuck me and diss me. Mi man a dan.
I didn’t really pay much attention to her message as I thought she was just yapping away, regular girl talk. I went to Kingston that December to get some stuff for school. I heard someone call my name several times but I didn’t pay attention as very few people knew me as Anthony. (((Batty man sex god!!!))) That’s when it hit me, someone was really calling my name. By the time I turned around I had to dodge wild punches. It was Sexy T trying to hit my face in. The more I dodge the more she threw punches. I begged her to stop but she just kept yelling that I was gonna feel her wrath. She pulled a kitchen bitch (long knife) from her bag and that’s when I realized shit got real. This chick really wanna kill me. I ain’t no fool neither am I a coward but I sure as hell was no bulletproof. The fight became a hot pursuit and just like Bolt I had outdone myself. Call me whatever you like but I didn’t plan to die that day; I had too much to live for, so much to see, so much to do. I wasn’t even 15 yet. Like a bitch I ran for my happy life and I don’t regret it. I lived to flirt another day. By the time they got to the bus park my bus was already driving out. I didn’t even get what I went for 🤦‍♂️. Chick had me running like a bitch and I ain’t the kinda nigga to run from a fight.
Text: December 2008
So I almost killed Sex God today. Had him running through downtown like a bitch. Be warned, the next time you won’t be so lucky.
Right then I realized the importance of my life. This chick had fallen for the late night convos and 1 sex in an abandoned building. I’m not gonna say I didn’t feel anything for her but I sure wouldn’t kill anyone for her. She texted me several times after that trying to fix us but I didn’t reply, I was more concerned about staying alive than fucking her again. I had forgotten about her and thought she did the same but she was a different girl when I saw her again in 2009. I went on a beach trip that August with intentions of getting new chicks. I was in the changing room when she walked in. I thought that was the end. In my mind, she came to kill me. We both froze when our eyes made 4. We stood still for a few seconds before making any sudden movements.
Sexy T: You haven’t returned my calls. Is there a reason why.
We stood there for a while talking but barely exchanged words as if we were having a western standoff. The wrong words could start a war. She claimed she was sorry and she wanted to make up for it. I didn’t trust her one bit but shit turned around. We actually had a good time and I got to know her better and even fucked her again. During all this she left out the most important detail; she came with her boyfriend 🤦‍♂️. Another drama, another day, same Bouyd. Shit escalated from 0-100 real quick. Nigga wanted to fight; for the same girl he brought that I fucked in the changing room. I realized he was paranoid, delusional in the head. How can you fight over that? I sure wouldn’t. He got angrier by the minute even though I tried walking him out. He was determined to defend his stripe but he ended up on the bitter end of my right fist. 1 solid right to ear drum had him walking confused for a while. Again I deflowered her in the changing room before leaving. I just couldn’t have enough. Eventually we went back to hating each other after that. I guess good sex doesn’t fix everything or maybe it was only good to me lol. Whatever it was I know we connected somehow and today I don’t regret a thing.
From this I had learnt two valuable lessons. Don’t fuck her good if you don’t plan to keep her and secondly; a girl will fuck you just got fuck sakes while being deeply in love with someone else. Since then, if it comes I accept it and if it wants to leave I let it. At the end of the day, what’s yours will always be yours. The less you expect, the less disappointment you face.
Stay tuned. It only gets better.
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thesportssoundoff · 6 years
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“Main card a dime, prelims are fine”The UFC On FOX Preview
Joey
December 10th
Fights: 12
Debuts: 2 (Pietro Menga, Julian Marquez)
Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: 6 (Justin Scoggins OUT, Pietro Menga IN vs Tim Elliott/Antonio Rogerio Noguiera OUT, Jan Blachowicz IN vs Jared Cannonier/Sultian Aliev vs Nordine Taleb cancelled due to Aliev injury/Danny Roberts vs Sheldon Wescott cancelled due to Westcott injury; Roberts vs Taleb put together in its place, Vitor Miranda OUT, Darren Stewart IN vs Julian Marquez)
Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC):  10 (Robbie Lawler, Rafael Dos Anjos, Mike Perry, Glover Teixeira, Misha Cirkunov, Ricardo Lamas, Santiago Ponzinibbio,Jan Blachowicz, Tim Elliott, Erick Silva)
Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC:  3 (Jordan Mein, Oluwale Bamgbose, Darren Stewart)
Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC:  5 (Rafael Dos Anjos, Santiago Ponzinibbio, Ricardo Lamas, Mike Perry, Chad Laprise)
Stat Monitor for 2017:
Debuting Fighters (Current number: 44-38)- Pietro Menga, Julian Marquez
Short Notice Fighters (Current number: 24-36-1)- Pietro Menga, Darren Stewart, Jan Blachowicz, Josh Emmett
Second Fight (Current number: 32-39)- Galore Bofando
Cage Corrosion (18-15-1)- John Makdessi
Twelve Precarious Ponderings
1- #1 contender fights are basically suggestions. When I was studying to be a paralegal, they had an entire course (or what felt like it) on the term "reasonable expectations." #1 contender fights bend, twist and split the concept of a reasonable expectation. In boxing or kickboxing or MMA, the concept of the #1 contender is flexible since there's nothing binding to them. You can win an interim title and then never fight the champion OR you could win a #1 contender fight, become the mandatory challenger and then never get the fight. Or you could win the title fight and then move on with your life, we're talking about a reasonable expectation. Should the winner of this fight between RDA and Lawler have a reasonable expectation of a title show? Well.....
We can begin by setting the stage a bit. Who IS here and who ISN'T here as it pertains to the champion. Scratch our GSP and Nate Diaz, neither guy is getting this fight. Tyron Woodley is out for the foreseeable future with a shoulder injury. Before that point, Woodley bleeted about money fights and not thinking either fight did anything for him or so on so forth until death do us part. For one half of the equation, I can see the argument. Woodley beat Lawler and left no doubt----so hey! It might be fair to say "Look I beat Lawler and since then he's beaten two blown up 155ers (even if RDA is legit at 170 lbs), what else can I do?" It's not a knock to say that. It may be rude and unfair---but it's also kinda factual, am I right? Woodley doesn't GET anything from that fight. What's more, it could be genuinely argued that from a business standpoint, that fight is a hard sell unless Lawler KOs RDA in a fashion by which nobody expects.
For RDA though, it's a different situation. Dos Anjos is a fresh face at 170 lbs. He is a former champion at a different weight class. A win over Lawler establishes him as a genuine force at 170 lbs and RDA fights frequently (June to September to December) so it's not like Woodley would be in for a long wait. Dos Anjos would be beyond credible as a challenger and he'd be new to the picture. Also it's not RDA's fault that Woodley isn't a draw. One of the things that the UFC/MMA has stolen from its TRUE business model; the art of pro wrestling is that the heat is always on the B Side for not upping the numbers. When a Hogan feud didn't work or draw, the onus turned to whoever he was facing. When Mr. Perfect vs Hulk Hogan did poorly, they didn't blame Hogan (and why would they I suppose?) and it fell on Perfect. The Miz was punished for Rock/Cena vs Miz/R-Truth not doing big numbers. It's easiest to blame the #2 guy because why not? It's not RDA's problem that Woodley can't draw but if he wins, he's earned it. Why wouldn't he be the #1 contender? Woodley denying RDA would be foolish and incomprehensibly bad when he should be trying to get some positive publicity.
Then there are the three outsiders who could steal the title shot. Kamaru Usman is one, Colby Covington is another and Darren Till is the last. Usman PROBABLY is far off from a title fight for various reasons; some his fault and some not his fault. Darren Till would be an interesting story but one win over Cerrone probably isn't enough. Colby Covington, unfortunately, is the winner of this fights biggest threat. He has the big name win over Maia and he built an angle for himself, as tawdry as it may be. Covington's attitude attracts attention and while it's primarily the wrong kind, this is the fight business and not the "Do the right thing" business. Even so it feels like Usman vs Covington is in the works so why would Covington jump the line at this point? Wonderboy vs Woodley III needs to be a total non-starter.
So what, pray tell, is our reasonable expectation here as it pertains to a title fight for the winner? I'm not betting on it. Woodley is far, far, far away from being healthy and I can totally see him throwing a stink at whoever the winner is. As much as people might not wanna hear this, it's almost as likely that the UFC strikes while the iron is hot and rolls with Covington as it is that the winner of this fight gets a title shot. What's more, given that the UFC needs to fill up February soon-ish, why would they rush to conclusions anyways when you could probably get Lawler or RDA to fight again soon anyways?
2- Keep a VERY close eye on Lawler in rounds 2-5. Robbie's reputation in five round fights can be summed up as such; when it's going well, he's engaged for twenty five minutes with the occasional pauses in action. When he's just not firing, rounds 2, 3 and 4 are rounds where he seems incapable of turning up the jets and going.
Against Hendricks 1 and Rory-- He was always in the fight, laughing during exchanges and being a generally all around wild human being.
Against Condit, Hendricks 2 and Matt Brown-  He came out fast and firing early----and then slowed. Now he did score a big knockdown in the second round vs Condit so in that fight it was more about him just being mentally asleep for the middle portion of the fight. Now 5th round Lawler is a thing because he takes those rounds off BUT rallying vs a tremendously durable guy in RDA might be a tough ask.
3- I hope RDA understands that Lawler is hard to take down and even harder to keep down so his usual technical leg kicks into the clinch aren't going to work this time.
4- Dana White talked about Frankie Edgar as the #1 contender and he left the door open that Holloway COULD fight before Edgar is ready to fight again. That combined with Ricardo Lamas staying n the co-main spot despite a more attractive fight in Ponz-Perry, leads me to believe that there's a slight chance Lamas could sneak his way into a title fight with Holloway soon.
5- Does the fact that Ricardo Lamas' last three wins all lost their next fight make it harder to buy into him as a top 5 featherweight?*
So @theanticool corrected me and pointed out that Diego Sanchez beat Jim Miller (which I forgot about) and Oliveira beat Will Brooks. I’ll leave this here because I like laughing at my dumbness but will instead rephrase point five: Does the fact that Lamas’ top wins recently have all basically flamed out make it harder to make the argument that he’s a top 5 featherweight?
6- So much of what makes Mike Perry work is his aggressive approach backed by his one hitter quitter-esque power and sterling chin. Perry lives to create 50/50 exchanges where he believes his one will trump your two or three. He isn't entirely out of his element on the ground but it's clear what his gameplan is. His secret weapon are knees, be it in the clinch or out of the plum set up. Mike Perry is not the walking gimmick some people believe he is---but Santiago Ponzinibbio is one of those fighters who is always different in his approach going into each fight. Against Gunnar Nelson, he had a good idea how to attack Nelson even if it meant eating fire on the way in. Against guys Nordine Taleb and Zack Cummings, Ponz just outworked them with pressure, volume, versatility and power. Ponzinibbio can still be hurt by strikes and he isn't always the most intelligent survivor (the two times I remember him being most hurt, he just seemed to throw caution to the wind and fire back despite having no base of support on the feet) BUT he's one of those guys who doesn't need much to get going on offense. His footwork, movement and ability to turn the pressure on and off at a moment's notice makes him a serious threat for Perry who has struggled with those kinds of guys in the past. If this gets into a firefight in the pocket though, I think we'll ALL be winners.
7- So what do we make of Misha Cirkunov? Cirkunov is 4-1 in the UFC and he just turned 30 in a division devoid of youth. He is a prized commodity for sure and his last fight went by so quickly that it's hard to even know what went wrong. It seems everyone not named OSP falls victim to the Volkan Oezdemir dim mak. At the same time, Misha Cirkunov has one win over someone still in the UFC and he's so rigid and stiff on the feet that it's fair to wonder just how high is upside really is. He and Glover Teix is a great match up that'll test what Glover has left and whether Misha can beat a top 10 LHW. This division really needs Misha Cirkunov to be everything people think he can be.
8- Speaking of LHWs, Jared Cannonier gets a chance (again) to join the big boy lunch table when he draws Jan Blachowicz as the prelim fight headliner. Cannonier since dropping to 205 lbs has gone a tidy 2-1 with  the loss being a fight where Glover Teixeira simply had too much for him in the grappling department despite Cannonier occasionally landing hard shots on the feet. Cannonier was expected to get a big name in Antonio Rogerio Noguiera but instead draws a tougher test in Jan Blachowicz. Jan's coming off his first UFC win in about 9 years and 28 fights but he showcased a lot of the stuff that made him such a highly regarded LHW to begin with. It's worth pointing out that Blachowicz has only lost to ranked opposition (Gus, Manuwa and Cummins) so if Cannonier wants to take a step up, this is the right opponent to try it against.
9- The Dana White Tuesday Night Contender Series has delivered onto us some dandy fighters, would you not agree? Thus far, fighters who have competed on DWTCS in the UFC are 4-3 thus far BUT there are some caveats inside those numbers. Two of those fighters were short notice additions who were NOT offered contracts during the show (Mike Santiago and Azunna Anwanyu) and another one was Allen Crowder who was signed by virtue of just being big. On the other hand, Benito Lopez, Alex Perez, Karl Roberson and Sean O'Malley have all had exciting fights and wins in the organization. Julian Marquez will be the latest DWTCS guy to take to the cage and I'm....torn. I discovered Marquez while watching him fight in Combates Americas vs Matt Hammil. At the time a typo had me thinking he was older than he really was, like 10 years older. At just 27 years old, Marquez is already an interesting name and I think he can be something although he was very adamant that cutting to 185 lbs was really hard for him on the Contender Series so I can't imagine that being a cut he'll want to take more often. He takes on short notice Brit Darren Stewart at 185 lbs.
10- Is it a lock that Darren Till winds up facing the winner of Ponz vs Perry?
11- Danny Roberts has a 3-1 UFC record but it hasn't been easy outside of his debut vs Nathan Coy. Roberts is one of those guys who is winning until he loses and losing until he wins. Vs Mike Perry, Roberts won a ton of exchanges---except for three. The one that dropped him in the first round, dropped him in the 2nd round and then finished him in the third. He was getting lit up by Bobby Nash before he iced and finished Nash in the third. Roberts has that sort of talent where he's always in a fight no matter what the odds or the scorecards say.
12- Aye leggo Pietro Menga! New flyweight on the block!
Must Wins
1- Glover Teixeira
Once upon a time, Glover was in the position of needing a must win to really save his spot in the division. He rallied from that with three straight finishes over OSP, Patrick Cummins and Rashad Evans. NOW he's back in the same spot after a 1-2 run since that Evans finish. He was blasted by Rumble, beat Cannonier while looking shaky on the feet and then got beat up and battered by Gus. Glover is an old man in an old division which means that so long as you don't lose it all overnight, you've got a chance to be relevant. Still at this point you're left wondering just how relevant Glover can be. He's lost to the elite of the elites (Jones, Davis, the aforementioned Rumble and Gus) but a loss to Misha Cirkunov would officially close the door on him. This is a must win for both dudes if ya think about it.
2- Santiago Ponzinibbio
Ponz is one of those fighters who deserves a ton of credit for wall walking his way up the rankings. After losing to Lorenz Larkin, he's racked up five wins and three of those by finish. He's not just eating up on jabronis either with wins over the likes of Gunnar Nelson, Nordine Taleb and Court McGee. He's a damn good fighter who is improving every single performance he has. The problem is that Ponz is not the most marketable WW even if he's action packed and capable of speaking multiple languages. Ponz is the guy who should be a bigger force but alas alack. He's gotta beat Mike Perry to really secure his spot in the 5-10.
3- Ricardo Lamas
In the world of "all things are connected", Ricardo Lamas is competing vs not just Josh Emmett but also the likes of Brian Ortega, Frankie Edgar and etc etc down the line. Lamas has done a lot of good recently---but look at his wins at 145 lbs. We just saw Moggly Benitez eat up Jason Knight over three rounds, we've seen what's happened to Diego Sanchez recently and Charles Oliveira, while very credible, is not the sort of win that gets you talking title shot. He's got a short notice opponent he's being expected to run right through but Josh Emmett is no joke with how hard he hits.
Top 5 Must See Fights
1- Robbie Lawler vs Rafael Dos Anjos
2- Santiago Ponzinibbio vs Mike Perry
3- Jared Cannonier vs Jan Blachowicz
4-Chad Laprise vs Galore Bofando
5- Darren Stewart vs Julian Marquez
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eatgraypes · 7 years
Text
Let’s Go Home
Character/Person : Tony Stark
Pairing : Dad Figure!Anthony x Reader
Time : Modern
Reader’s Gender : Female
Side Note : Domestic Violence Hotline, IM SO SORRY I DIDN’T DO JUSTICE TO YOUR REQUEST
Warnings : abuse, tony is sorta like obsessed with taking care of reader but its kinda cute, this was messily written as i was contemplating my entire existence 
Possibility Of Having Another Part : chances are low
Genre : sorta angst sorta fluff
Request : Can you write one where the reader is like 18-20 yrs old and works as an assistant for the avengers? She lives at home but her father is verbally abusive and sometimes physical. So she spends the night once in a while in her car. Tony suspects something isn’t right so he follows her home in his suit and witnesses her dad hitting her. He decides right there to move her in with the team. He calls her kitten and treats her like his own.
Word Count : 2664
Summary : Y/N was an assistant for the Avengers. An assistant that Tony loved dearly, treating her as his own daughter. He even packs her lunch. But, when Y/N realizes she’s been out way longer than her father would allow, she freaks and rushes home, only to get beaten by her father and rescued by Tony Stark and she, for the first time, accepts his affections, dearly needing them more than ever.
Tony Stark treated Y/N like she was his own. And he made sure everyone in the building knew that. From constantly nagging her to do more training, or packing her lunch despite everyone’s confused stares and snickers, Tony didn’t feel the need to sleep with the woman as he did with others. He felt the need to care for her in a platonic sense.
“Sir, I can just go buy something from the shop across the street,” you took a break from typing to glance up at a beaming and worn Tony Stark, otherwise known as Iron-Man.
“Nonsense. I already packed you lunch for the next three days.”
With that, he dropped a white bag onto your desk and ushered towards the training room. You kept your eyes steadied on him the entire time, a confused and concerned gaze you learned to keep whenever Tony was around.
Could anyone blame you for being just a tad bit perplexed?
Tony went from small gestures such as giving you a hug or wishing you luck that your legs wouldn’t end up sore from having to follow the Avengers around all day and take orders. He’d even end up booking you a massage to relax after you’d spend a day of having to run after everybody. 
Some might say getting this sort of treatment from Tony Stark was a luxury, especially since you weren’t actually an avenger but just a mere assistant. But, God, this was a nightmare that you couldn’t bring yourself to push away.
“I hope you like eggs, Y/N, ‘cause it’s the only thing he packed.”
The sudden voice startled you, slightly jumping out of your seat you whirled around to see Wanda standing just above your desk, in the same spot where Tony had just stood. Her face was slightly hidden as she peeked into the bag that Stark dropped off, coming into sight with nothing but egg-based meals.
You groaned as she sent an apologetic smile, “some of these don’t look that bad. Look, egg salad, egg sandwich, scrambled eggs,” as she continued to list the many meals that Tony had packed for you, you ran a hand through your hair and returned to typing away at your computer, occasionally pausing to jot down notes and the schedules of the Avengers.
“Miss Y/L/N, you’re needed on the third floor in Bucky’s room,” a voice had cut through Wanda’s sentence and you softly smiled, excused yourself, and pushed yourself up from your seat.
“Sorry, Wanda, I gotta go.”
She nodded and laid the bag of food down onto your desk, making sure to tie the ends of it so no bugs - though, she was sure since this was the Stark Tower that there wouldn’t even be bugs present in the first place - would get in. With that, you and Wanda went your separate ways.
It took a white, trotting down the hallway in your heels, though Tony kindly advised you to wear sneakers, and into the elevator to go see what exactly Bucky needed. You waved and whispered polite ‘hello’s’ to people who passed by, even going as far as to have a rather decent conversation with Bruce. You could tell how hard he was trying to be friendly and casual but at the same time polite by his furrowing eyebrows and fidgeting stance. You also knew fully well that Tony had told everyone to talk to you as one of them, not a coworker, but a friend. Hell, you were in the room, being pulled by his shoulder over yours when he told everyone.
“You called for me?” You knocked slightly on Bucky’s door, almost immediately being met with his face when he swung the door open. He forced a pained smile and glanced down at his own metal arm, watching as it lay limp against his side. Eyebrows shot up, you carefully took it into your own small hands.
“What happened?”
You led him out of his room and down the hall, determined to get him to Tony or Bruce quick enough so he’d be able to train or do combat again normally.
“Well, I uh,” he rubbed at the nape of his neck, smiling sheepishly when you turned to show your concern.
“Steve and I made a bet to see who could destroy the most punching bags in five minutes.”
You scoffed, but quickly covered your mouth with your free hand, not meaning to sound impolite.
“Sorry,”
“it’s okay, it was our faults anyways.”
Tony, yes him again, had also warned everyone that you were incredibly shy and since he wanted you to enjoy working at the tower and be completely comfortable he had informed everyone to not explode in your face just as they did with everyone else.
It took a while, but you dropped off Bucky at Tony’s lab as he ushered you to leave and spend your time on someone better. Waving him off and beaming, you stayed just a bit, waiting until Bucky’s arm was at least halfway through working again as you encouraged Tony and constantly assured Bucky his arm was going to be better than ever, eventually you had to leave Bucky’s side when Natasha rang you up and called you to meet her on her way down towards the first floor where your desk was.
Quickly composing yourself from getting a little startled at F.R.I.D.A.Y.S voice, you silently thanked it and rushed downstairs. Budging through many people walking through the halls and ducking under Thor, who swung his hammer violently, you made a beeline towards the redhead you loved to see.
“Hey, Nat,” you said, out of breath.
She whipped around, her brightly colored hair scratching against her pale face and whirring in the air for a split second until she stilled to look at you. A grin immediately replacing the stilled expression she once had.
“Hey, Y/N. Sharon and I were going out for a few drinks, want to tag along? It could be like a girls night out.”
You parted your lips, contemplating if you should go or not. You needed a break, but you weren’t sure if you deserved it. At seeing you battling yourself, Natasha took your hands and caressed them with her own, rubbing circles on the back of your hands soothingly. You exhaled.
Maybe you could use a break.
You chuckled at Natasha’s raised eyebrow as she anticipated your answer. You nodded and gently smiled.
Her grin became even wider, leaning in to whisper into your ear, you leaned in too, “good. Because there’s a special for ladies at 12.”
Your eyes shot open and you could feel your heart skip a bit. Your bottom lip was sucked in between your teeth and quickly, you fished in your pockets to retrieve your phone that was long lost in the deep caved holes of your pants.
Upon feeling the cold metal against your fingers, you pulled it out of your pocket and pressed the home button. A picture of you sitting sprawled against the grass with a bunch of hand-picked flowers bundled up in between your thin fingers came on display. Right above the picture was the time.
1:36 A.M.
You pushed your phone back into your pocket and scurried over to your desk, reaching over it to retrieve your purse that was seated in your chair. From the sudden harsh movement as you tugged at the handle of your purse, you unknowingly knocked over the bag of food that Tony had dropped off for you, causing it to spill all over the floor. Natasha watched you run around your desk to grab a few things, almost tripping on your own feet as you sprinted out the building, bid your farewells to Natasha and F.R.I.D.A.Y and into your car.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
You wanted to cry already thinking about what would happen to you by the time you got home at such a late hour. Sure, you were nineteen, but you didn’t live alone and you certainly didn’t live at the Avengers tower as everyone else did. Despite how well the Avengers treated you, you were still an assistant, so you couldn’t really be offered a room there unless it was really needed.
You just didn’t know how to bring up the fact that you weren’t exactly being treated properly back at home.
You winced at the thoughts of your father throwing insults at you and screaming into your face until your jaw shook and your legs gave out on you. Though it wasn’t the verbal abuse that made you want to leave the house and into the police station or back into the Avengers building, pleading for help. No, it was the physical abuse. It was rare your father would physically hurt you. Only doing it when he felt particularly angry or when he drank too much. You shuddered.
Your phone rang beside you on the passenger seat, most likely having fallen out of your purse when you hurriedly threw it into the seat to start up your car and speed home. Subconsciously, you gripped the steering wheel harder in fear that it was your father giving you a harsh warning of what was to come when you arrived. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted an I.D picture that was no where near close to your fathers. Curious, you quickly glanced down at the phone that vibrated and rung loudly.
Mr. Stark
You let out a sigh of relief, still confused as to why he was calling you at a time like this, but picked up the call anyways as it seemed to ring on forever, as if Tony wasn’t going to give up on calling you until you picked up.
“Mr. Stark?”
“Y/N,” his voice was stern and it faintly reminded you of the way your father would say your name before raising one of his hands to strike you. You swallowed a lump in your throat, trying to hide how shaky you were.
“Yes?”
“Natasha told me you left in a hurry, almost as if you were scared. Are you okay?” His tone quickly changed to a more concerned one. You didn’t know how desperately you wanted to hug him and cry until now.
“Oh, fine.” You sharply inhaled, hoping that Tony didn’t hear the way your voice quivered.
“Y/N. I came by your desk and found the food I made spilled all over the floor. Nat said your eyes were practically bulging out of your head when you checked your phone.”
You cursed under your breath, murmured your apologies to your boss, and hung up, tossing your phone back to the passenger side before accelerating faster towards your house, ignoring all of Tony’s calls the entire ride.
By the time you parked, you were already crying. You’ve gone through this so many times you should’ve been able to take one more hit, but you didn’t. You didn’t suck it up and at least try to fight back. You always just sat there and let the hot tears damp your rosy cheeks as you absorbed his hits and felt smaller and smaller by every blow, becoming the shy, quiet, forcibly happy woman you are now.
You turned the key, pushing the door open, being met with the sound of a static T.V and a beeping microwave.
“Father?” You bit your tongue.
You peeked inside the kitchen and quietly strolled in, shutting the door to the microwave so it would stop making the obnoxious beeping noise. You anxiously turned your head, expecting your father to be standing right behind you with his hands curled into fists. But he wasn’t. Your fear grew by the second as you sneakily made your way over to your room to take a quick peek. He wasn’t in there either. You let out a sigh of relief, pushing your arms out of your blazer.
“Y/N.”
The voice made the tears that you were holding silently fall out of your eyes. You rubbed at them, making sure to get rid of them before your father saw and punished you even more.
“Y-Yes?” You heart sped.
“Come here,” your throat clenched.
Your feet automatically shuffled it’s way over to the living room, immediately betraying you.
Before you could full comprehend it, you were standing in front of your father, heels pressing against each other and arms crossed in a pity attempt of shielding yourself before he could really do anything.
“Come, sit by me.” His voice was a bit softer, scaring you even more.
Deciding not to be hesitant in fear that you’d anger him and bring this on yourself, you seated yourself on his left side and kicked at the carpet below, keeping your eyes trained on your feet right underneath you.
The T.V. buzzed right in front of you, waiting to be switched to another channel and used properly. Your father, who had noticed your fidgeting, chuckled deeply.
You snapped your eyes up to meet his, eyebrows furrowed in a way to show your clear confusion.
He sent a smile at you, and shocked, you couldn’t help but smile back, a bad habit of yours. Before you could say anything to further deepen the moment, your father lifted a hand and struck you against the cheek. You stumbled back and hit your spine against the armrest of the couch, already feeling a forming bruise.
“Wha-?”
“Stupid fucking bitch, you can’t expect me to love you again. You crossed the line. What were you doing out there late?” As he yelled into your face, drawing his hand back again, you pressed a hand against your swollen cheek and crawled backwards, accidentally slipping off the couch and onto the hardwood floor.
“No, please.” You pleaded, tears stinging your eyes.
Your father remained silent, already having lifting his leg to stomp down on you. You groaned at the impact and cried harder, face buried into the floor and your arms protecting your face as he beat into your side. 
“Stupid,” you felt your rib give up on you, cracking.
“Fucking,” he spat on you, continuing to throw blow after blow at your face. You felt yourself slip from consciousness.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from Miss Y/L/N.”
You no longer felt anything hitting you, but continued to hide your face in your hands, curling yourself into a ball and shivering as the cold air hit your torn shirt.
It was a while. You heard arguing, but it was seemingly white noise to you as you thought about everything in your life. You thought back on everything, starting to feel the pain catch up on you.
“Kitten,” a pair of arms wrapped around you. You were quick to push them away and wiggle back into the wall. 
“No, Y/N,” the voice continued, but you cried harder, keeping your eyes shut. You kicked and shoved as the body grew closer to you, trying to get you into their arms and safety.
“Y/N. It’s Tony,” you proceeded to shove and kick until you had to register the name the voice mentioned. Your eyes fluttered open and your prayers were answered when your vision focused on a man with a goatee and tousled brown hair.
You opened your lips to say something, a ‘thank you’ at least. a ‘why’, but unable to find your voice, you threw your arms around Tony and cried into his suited shoulder. He patted you and whispered his ‘sorry’s’ into your hair. 
He hesitated, picking you up and stepping out the door, walking right past your beaten father who laid limp on the floor. The floor you once laid limp on.
All you could hear by the time he made it out of the building was approaching police sirens, whirring wind, your own quiet whimpers, and Tony’s soothing voice. He pushed a strand of hair out of your face and hugged you tightly, his own tears staining his face.
“Let’s go home.”
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pacman-tattoo · 7 years
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All odd o:
iM GONNA PUT THIS UNDER A READMORE BC ITS LONG…
   1. What is you middle//full name?
i’m not gonna say my full name for privacy purposes, but my first + middle names are Tristen Mackenzie
   3. What is your birthday?
May 23rd!
   5. What is your favorite color?
aw man like… light pink? dark purple? cerulean blue??? all good.
   7. Do you have any pets?
yes!!!! i have a cat and her name is rose and i love her
   9. How tall are you?
5′3″-ish? i’m not exactly sure
   11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?
uh… 3 i think? 5 counting both pairs of character shoes though!
   13. What talents do you have?
as a lot of ppl who follow this blog, i’m pretty good at writing! other than that, i like to think i’m pretty decent at singing and acting, and i draw a lot. other than that??? idk
   15. Favorite song?
i answered this but i’ll just add more: A Soft Place to Land from Waitress
also Teen Idle and Primadonna by Marina and the Diamonds!!
   17. Who would be your ideal partner?
alright so like my ideal partner is definitely someone who just loves me for who i am and doesn’t force me to change, y’know? someone supportive who’s kinda ready to take me as i am with all the baggage i have and still loves me in the end but doesn’t take any bullshit? like, they accept i have problems but won’t let said problems excuse my actions. someone who can help me improve on who i am, i guess?
also someone sweet and gentle and just understands, y’know??
idk i haven’t put much thought into a person past that, since i guess all i want is someone who actually gives a shit?
   19. Do you want a church wedding?
uh personally i don’t really care even tho it’d probably piss off my family i guess??? like, it could be or it couldn’t be and it probably wouldn’t make too much of a difference for me because imo it’s a wedding either way???? idk man
   21. Have you ever been to the hospital?
like, me being in the hospital? no. visiting people? yeah
   23. Have you ever met any celebrities?
uhhh i met a guy off of broadway once he was cool i think his name was andrew or matthew or something and he was in pippin and actually was charlemange the night we saw the show!! i wish i could remember his name because he gave me really good advice about basically sharpening what i wasn’t good at when it came to theatre
   25. What color socks are you wearing?
none
   27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?
like… i mean, i wouldn’t be against it? as long as it’s for something i’m proud of, i guess???
   29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?
nnnope
   31. What position do you usually sleep in?
i usually lie on my stomach when i sleep!!! idk why it’s been kind of a recent thing??? like i use to sleep on my left side for years and over the last year or two i’ve started sleeping on my stomach for whatever reason
   33. What do you typically have for breakfast?
i usually don’t wake up early enough to actually eat breakfast but i like to make scrambled eggs and toast!! because effort
   35. Have you ever tried archery?
no but i want to :’O
   37. Favorite swear word?
eh, probably just ‘fuck’ because i’m not creative
   39. Do you have any scars?
i have a reaaaaaaally faint scar going up my leg from when i did something stupid and was scratched by a wire!!!
   41. Are you a good liar?
depends on the lie and who i’m telling said lie to, honestly.
   43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?
uh i can kinda do a russian accent like Stereotypical Russian and i can do a southern accent (which works because i’m from the south but i have no accent i swear), and i can do a kinda posh accent??? idk man i should sit around and just attempt accents one day.
i’m good at mimicking mercy from overwatch sometimes tho but only when i’m playing her because it’s more of me just sitting there echoing whatever she says i guess
   45. What is your favorite accent?
idk my russian accent is at least fun to sit around and say shit in
also just??? idk what you would call it other than Stuck Up White Girl but that’s also kinda fun because i literally will sit around and say stupid shit
   47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?
that’s honestly a good question and i couldn’t tell you because i barely remember anything like lemme check amazon because i have this dress??? that was probably expensive
it actually wasn’t too expensive it was only 35-ish dollars??? idk then i tend to not buy expensive clothes
   49. Are you an innie or an outie?
innie
   51. Are you scared of spiders?
hhholy fck yeah i nearly panicked yesterday when there was a spider in my car like i was almost gone but my brother got it
   53. Favorite foreign food?
honestly that’s hard but i??? fukn???? love??? chicken enchiladas????
also does fondue count bc it’s from switzerland and i love fondue like cheese??? good. chocolate??? heaven.
   55. Most used phrased?
probably like “idk man” because i just Don’t Know
   57. How long does it take for you to get ready?
depends!!! sometimes it can be around 30-40, sometimes an hour, sometimes i’ll be ready in 10 minutes i don’t do makeup and throw on something decent
   59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?
i tend to mostly suck???? that doesn’t sound sexual i swear why does everything have to sound sexual jfc
   61. Do you sing to yourself?
i think we all know the answer to this one. it’s a definite yes and anyone who thinks otherwise doesn’t know me tbh
   63. Biggest Fear?
dying young, i guess? it’s something that kinda haunts me still and idk of anything that’d be a bigger fear than that for me rn
   65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?
idk i rarely watch movies????
   67. Can you name all 50 states of America?
i mean i’d probably leave a few out but i can
i took a thing and i got like, 35-36 out of the 50 so that’s good i guess
   69. Extrovert or Introvert?
def an introvert
   71. What makes you nervous?
what doesn’t make me nervous tho
uh i guess just??? driving in silence makes me nervous
honestly any silence makes me nervous because i need at least some sort of constant noise??? tests are hell, man.
   73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?
depends on the mistake??? i tend to but if it’s just something really minor i won’t bother the person.
   75. Have you ever started a rumor?
nah i dont think so. if i have then??? whoops. i know a guy who started (or at least tried to?) rumors about himself tho it was weird
   77. Have you ever drank underage?
not rly??? i’ve had sips of stuff but that was usually with my parents and it wasn’t enough to make me feel anything. altho next time my friend and i hang out without her parents there i might drink a little, just to be able to say ‘i did the thing’ since i kinda wanna do teenage shit while i still can i guess?????
   79. Who was your first real crush?
guy i knew/know (we’re kinda friends??? like we talk but we don’t make extra effort to do so imo???) named jacob!!! he let me down gently because he was also the first person i confessed to, and altho i kinda regret it, i still had that rejection so at least i don’t have to deal with that shit with someone else being “that first rejection” or w/e
   81. Can you roll your Rs?
aaaa sadly no i wish i could tho!!!
   83. How fast can you run?
i don’t think i’m fast but i think i’m fast enough
   85. What color is your eyes?
blue!
   87. Do you keep a journal?
i kinda used to??? i stopped writing in it for a while…   89. Do you like your age?
ehh kinda??? like…? i’m still technically a “““teenager”““ (even tho i technically count until i’m 20 but legally i’m an adult at 18) but it kinda sucks because being 17 is lowkey kinda stressful because woah ur a senior in high school time for u to be forced into thinking you need to choose a good college that will get u a degree for a job you’ll always be in for the rest of ur life and just the fact i’m kinda inexperienced in shit??? i just wanna be smooched before i turn 18 man
   91. Do you like your own name?
i mean??? i don’t like ‘tristen’ but i do like ‘tris’! which is why i go by it online and i try to get ppl to call me it. there was someone i know who was like “no one even calls you that” when i said something about being called “tris” to someone and i’m like… that’s because i never said anything about it before…??? no one calls me tris because i never really went by it before….???
but anyway “tristen” is fine but i will always prefer to be called “tris”
   93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?
i’m gonna say i’d love to have a girl but honestly? i don’t really care? if i have a child or if i have children, i just want them to be happy and healthy and feel they can trust me with anything - or at least almost anything, since i never really had that person growing up.
   95. What are your weaknesses?
uh i’m not the strongest person when it comes to physical activities but that’s also because i’m a dumb egg who sucks when it comes to shit like dancing because i kinda throw myself down a hole when other ppl get things and i don’t and i get really self deprecating over shit
also self deprecation by itself is a pretty big weakness.
other than that, i’m kinda messy?? like my room itself is a mess and there’s clothes on the floor and i really just need to take a day and clean up
   97. Were your ancestors royalty?
not that i know of
   99. Color of your bedspread?
uh its too hot for one rn but i have a white one that my grandma bought for me and i use it when its cold af outside
i want this galaxy one that i found tho….
(I SPENT AN HOUR ANSWERING THIS BUT IT WAS FUN OMG…)
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Amanda/The Rowdy 3 Ship Ask
@everythingremainsconnected, requested I do Amanda/The Rowdy 3 for the ship ask! Send me you dghda ships and I’ll answer the questions accordingly :)
1) Who spends almost all their money on the other? Amanda enjoys spoiling the Rowdy 3 whenever she has some cash by taking them out to a fancy dinner, or buying everyone a new weapon. Martin tells her he doesn’t want a new bat however, as his is special, so she buys a baton for herself. 
2) Who sleeps in the other’s lap? Amanda likes to stretch out across Gripps, Vogel’s and Cross’s laps while Martin drives them around the city. She either takes a nap while Gripps braids her hair or reads a book with Vogel. Cross will draw sick tattoo ideas all over Amanda’s leg with a Sharpie. 
3) Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes? Tbh it’s going to be Amanda again. One time she didn’t feel like wearing pants because it was a hot summer day and fuck the system! The boys aren’t complaining tbh, like it’s really sweltering outside and they’re all down to their underwear to. 
4) Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway? Gripps and Martin have chastised the group to just go to bed at a normal hour just once!! But Vogel, Gripps, and Amanda are binging their queue on Netflix and they don’t have time for sleep! 
5) Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies? Martin had been teaching Amanda how to bake chocolate chip cookies they made from scratch in Todd’s kitchen, obviously when Todd was out doing something god forbid he catch them wrecking his kitchen with baking supplies! Martin leaves Amanda to watch the cookies in the oven to go fetch the boys from across the hall. They found an apartment with a dog inside and they broke in to pet it. Amanda however has an attack when the cookies have one minute left, she touches the handle of the oven to open it up when suddenly there is a horrible heat encompassing her palms till suddenly she’s alight with a roaring fire that is tearing at her skin and has her crumbled to the floor screaming in agony. They boys come and save Amanda from the attack, but the cookies have burnt and Amanda is crying because she hates this stupid fucking disease. Martin assures her it’s fine, and even eats a burnt cookie. They make a new batch together again while Vogel and Cross munch on crispy cookies on Todd’s couch. 
6) Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh not really.” Amanda has a Tumblr obviously, and likes to find every obscure OT3,4,5 prompts those otp writing blogs have to offer and no matter what the prompt is, whether it be them all sitting outside under a tree and eating dirt, or being peaceful gardners who have never done anything wrong ever, she just reads them. Gripps is always like, that doesn’t even remotely sound like us how…? And Amanda is straight up rolled over laughing when Gripps and Vogel are arguing over why they never get any cereal so they could do enact the “Who eats the last of the cereal in your OT5 And who gets mad about it? ” Prompt and piss Martin off. 
7) Which one wears the others clothes? Cross wore one of Amanda’s crop tops to work out in, Amanda didn’t mind and actually thought it was adorable. All the boys share clothes when they’re running low before laundry day, and sometimes Amanda steals one of Martin’s jackets to curl up in and take a nap. 
8) Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remember (thing), right?” Amanda will take Vogel and Cross to run errands and when they get back to the van with a bunch of unnecessary purchases, Martin is the first to ask them if they got the thing he specifically asked for. Amanda says she forgot it, and takes Vogel and Cross running back to the store rushing to buy Martin’s thing so he doesn’t know, even though he totally knows they forgot and is now parked in the store’s parking lot waiting for them to come out so they can have a ride home. It’s all fine in the end. 
9) Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions? Martin or Gripps are the only ones allowed to drive the van due to a previous incident, *cough* Vogel trying to drive it into a lake *Cough* and Cross reads from the map or Amanda uses the GPS on her phone. 
10) Which one does the posing while the other one draws? Amanda loves drawing the boys and she has asked every one to pose on their own or will make a group painting. Martin has been asked to touch his beard in every piece Amanda does. 
11) If they were about to rob a museum, which one does the back-flips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips? Vogel and Amanda like to play spy and are back-flipping, army crawling on the floor, pressing themselves against the wall and slowly sliding down the hall to the thing they’re gonna steal. Martin and Gripps won’t admit that they think Amanda and Vogel are cute and just walk to the sword in lock up that they’re stealing while Cross follows Amanda and Vogel just eating a bag of chips behind them and chilling. 
12) Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which and which one makes the other stop drinking? Cross and Vogel literally drank so much alcohol they think the grass is sliding and the weird thing is they aren’t near the grass they’re at the beach sitting on the open back of the van. Martin sneaks the bottle away from them and gives it to Gripps. 
13) Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts? Vogel likes to give everyone little presents that he finds on their trips. 
14) Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own? Everybody uses Martin’s last name. Martin is the one who brought them all together, takes care of things when it gets rough and keeps them all away from every returning to CIA holding. 
15) Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside? Gripps and Martin are out gathering supplies for the week while the rest of the group is sleeping, Vogel is peacefully dreaming when he feels a tickle on his nose that wakes him up. Vogel see’s that it’s a spider and starts screaming and smacking his face waking Amanda and Cross up. The spider is thrown onto Cross who squirms and yelps for help, Amanda sleepily gets up and finds the spider crawling over to her side and she see’s the other two freaking out on the far side of the van telling her to kill it when Amanda picks it up and throws it outside the van door. 
16) Which one gives the other their jacket? The boys have all had to give there jackets to Amanda at one point or another. 
17) Who keeps getting threatened by the others protective older sibling? Todd would like to think he is a force not to be reckoned with but really, as he’s sitting across from four of scariest looking guys on the planet trying to stare them down in what he believed to be an intimedating glare he began to get the feeling that perhaps he wasn’t so good at this protective older sibling thing. The Rowdy’s promise Todd that they would never hurt Amanda, never. Todd believes them. 
18) Who’s  the first one to admit they have feelings for the other? Amanda sheepishly admits that she has a crush on her boys. 
19) How good would your OTP be at parenting? Pretty bad/ But not because they couldn’t love and care for their kid, it’s because they’d keep telling the kid to fuck the system and would let them name themselves, and teach the kid how to wreck shit. 
20) Which one texts with perfect grammar and which one uses numbers and typos? Martin and Gripps use perfect grammar while Cross, Vogel, and Amanda are butchering words and talking in nonsense. 
21) Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them? The rowdy 3 protect Amanda from people who make fun of her disease. 
22) Who makes the bad puns and who smiles at them? Gripps and Vogel, make literally the stupidest puns in the whole entire world, but Martin will pat them on the shoulders as Amanda genuinly laughs and Cross just kinda scrunches up his nose. 
23) Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired? Vogel and  Amanda get piggyback rides from Gripps and Martin all the time. On a rare occasion Cross will pick them up and carry them home. 
24) Which one competes in a competition of some sort and which one is cheering obnoxiously from the sidelines? Amanda isn’t even sure why the Rowdy’s are screaming at her to go and are literally shoving other people around them like they’re in a mosh pit because Amanda is just in a group painting session at the park with random strangers. She secretly loves it though and keeps cracking a wide grin. 
25) Who takes a selfie of the other when they fall asleep on their shoulder? Martin or Amanda do this. 
26) Which one would give the other a makeover if the other asked? Gripps and Amanda! Gripps finds it soothing to apply makeover on others and helping them look their best! While Amanda just likes making people look fierce and wild. 
27) Which one holds the umbrella over both when it’s raining? Cross and Martin. Usually though, they’re all dancing in the rain having a marvelous time getting soaked and splashing in puddles or they wait in the van or under shelter for the rain to stop. 
28) If your OTP went on vacation where would they go and who would take pictures? They go on a vacation to an old west ghost town where they explore the museum turned shops, go on a horse ride tour which just means them stealing five horses for an afternoon and exploring, and staying the night in the haunted mayors house. Cross and Amanda are taking the most pictures. 
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