#// it's all fun and games until you hear the rattling

[tigerincahoots]

WAS THERE EVEN A BETTER PLACE TO CHECK A BONE THAN A GRAVEYARD? It was fun to flirt. Not that Kevin considered what he did flirting – since to him it was more like crossing t’s and dotting i’s in the process. Say things as they were, as he wanted for them to be – leaving very little to the imagination. He had no time to play those silly little games where one party would play coy and the other would pull the veil bit by bit. No one had time for that shit. Instead, it was much better to make his intentions clear from the get-go. No need to leave someone wondering whether or not he was interested. Others would get off with the anticipation of not knowing – but definitely not him.

IF HE WANTED TO FUCK SOMEONE, HE WOULD SAY IT. And he was making his intention of letting Henry know he was very much interested in boning him. Maybe there was a rule somewhere that co-workers probably shouldn’t get involved physically and emotionally – but whoever wrote those rules definitely didn’t have a boner for their co-worker. They were probably the ones wanting for something to happen and ended up denied. But the emotional aspect of the thing… he sort of understood. Once feelings were attained, thinking with a clear head was much more difficult. People would often prioritize the safety of the person they fancied rather than the goal of the mission. There was a reason why he had never been in a relationship before. Sex was easy. It wasn’t complicated.

EMOTIONS?

FUCK THAT.

”YOU LOOK CUTE WHEN YOU BLUSH.” He could see it. The shades of deep pink and red adorning Henry’s face – he probably wasn’t used to having things said so bluntly or maybe he was unlucky in the sex department. But then again, from what he had seen – that was definitely not the case. He was hot. Anyone with half a brain cell would see that. But rather than keeping things tame and proceeding with whatever Henry wanted to do – Kevin had to indulge himself in one last snippet. So he did approach his partner, lips dangerously close to the other detective’s ear as he inhaled his scent. His cologne, his natural smell. As he counted the fast heartbeats inside the detective’s chest within his mind. “Makes me want to fuck you even more once we are done being professional, Detective.”

AND WITH THAT, OFF THEY WENT. Kevin remained behind as he gave Henry the space and time needed, arms folding over his chest as he stayed nearby. He was curious about what Henry was about to do but his ears and other senses were still checking their surroundings. No unknown scents. No other heartbeats but the two of them. They were in the clear. At least, that was what he assumed until he heard Henry talking to someone who wasn’t there. Talking to himself…? No. Something shifted. The tiger caged in the darkest corners of his mind seemed rattled, almost like something was happening that neither of them could see. But Henry was talking to someone. Talking to whoever died? He was hearing him explain what happened, his attention focused on something that only he could see. On something that wasn’t there but also … was?

HE WAS A FUCKING MEDIUM. Kevin’s eyebrows arched upward with renovated interest. Not one of those fake-ass mediums that read your palm and said you’d marry rich or used tarot cards to predict the future. Not one of those pretenders to talk to those who had crossed the veil. Henry Quinn was the real fucking deal. “Uh.” Definitely not common knowledge but that would explain why all the spooky and weird cases would end up on his desk. And that also explained why Henry smelled human. Because he was human. His gifts and talents had not changed his nature. Just a… nice little bonus.

”YOU CAN TALK TO SPIRITS.” Whether or not Henry was expecting him to freak out was irrelevant. He had seen far worse shit than someone communing with the dead and learning what happened. It was unusual in his very own line of work but not something he hadn’t seen or heard about before. “You talked to the dead guy’s spirit to learn what happened and gave him peace, didn’t you?” Spiritualism was not his forte but Kevin had read about things before. It would never hurt to be prepared – even if bullets or feline agility would do nothing against a poltergeist or a ghost. “This explains why all the weird cases end up on your lap.” The corner of his lips turned up in a fraction of a smile. He really couldn’t judge a book by its cover, could he?

”HI HENRY, THE PSYCHIC MEDIUM.” He was still his partner as far as he was concerned. Who gave a fuck if he pulled a ghost whisperer like bloody Melinda Gordon from that TV show? “So, a wolf – uh? And not a normal one? Funny that.”

They won't bother you again. Honestly, Henry could kiss him right now. The sentiment was sweeter than his partner knew. If only he'd known someone like Kevin in high school, that's when he would have been broken and bothered by bullying. "I think you scared the shit out of them, yeah. Thanks, really." He didn't know what else to say, and he was sure Kevin would put him in a grave if Henry went with his impulse to hug him.

Then the tone quickly changed and Henry took a step back from his partner as he eyed him. He then gave Kevin a small, playful shove. "C'mon, knock it off already. You're embarrassing me." Henry broke the oddly intense eye contact. His cheeks burned, his ears tingled. "Not you looking at my bone in the graveyard. We've got work to do, remember?" He cleared his throat, if only Kevin would stop giving him that look. Henry was afraid to ask what was going to happen if they went out for dinner.

He wasn't a strong man when it came to sexual desire. He'd always wait until it was clear, of course, but when a sexy man wanted him, and Henry felt the same, the chances of him saying 'no' flew out the window. He was a slut deep inside, the part of him that lay dormant since his college years when he'd really upped his body count. If they flirted, and things escalated... working relationship be damned, Henry would get his and be on his knees where he felt most comfortable.

All of this was swirling around that head of his, but no, he wasn't erect. "It's just sweet of you, is all. Whether you meant it to be or not."

Henry gave himself a little shake in an attempt to clear his head of the impure thoughts.

"Alright, you can stay, I do trust you. God help me, I don't know why, but I do."

Henry turned away from Kevin and faced the open grave crime scene. He had his notebook ready, and closed two eyes to open three. Kevin wouldn't see much on his side, other than Henry in a blank stare with a slight sway. There was no guarantee he would spirit-write either, but he always made sure he was prepared. Kevin would also hear Henry talking.

Henry looked around the cemetery, at first not seeing anyone, but then seeing a tail sticking out from behind a tree. "Hello," Henry said softly, "I'm Henry."

The figure emerged from hiding, looking scared and confused in his werewolf costume. This was not a man, but a child, a teen, no more than 16. "Look man, the weed's not mine, ok? It was my friend's!"

He doesn't know he's dead, Henry thought, and felt the fear and sadness in his bones. "It's not the weed I'm here about."

For the next several minutes Henry explained what had happened. The boy cried, which led to Henry crying, though his face was blank for the most part. Then Henry asked the important questions; who did this? Where did they go? And how did it happen? Once a spirit became aware of their demise, they're energy shifted and things locked into place.

Henry ended his conversation by taking the boy's hand and holding it until he faded away. He was passing over, as was Henry's job to help with. Being stuck terrified in a graveyard was no way to spend eternity.

Henry slow blinked again and came back to his normal senses. He could feel a dull ache in his head and chest, heart and mind, as he always did. To Kevin this must have looked like a mime routine or some other crazy thing. Henry wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

He looked down at his notebook the words wolf and north printed there among a throng of black scribbles that looked insane. He handed the notebook to Kevin. "I've got a general location. And I think you were right." A slight pause, then, "I'm sorry if that freaked you out. Hi, I'm Henry and I'm a psychic medium. Nice to meet you."

[drachliebe]

haven't talked about the ice gorgon thing for a while and-

this is very convenient for me icon-wise , but i imagine that when lilli's power creeps up , her spaces around her eyes , mouth , and hands darkens-- mimicking frostbite , but also making her look like a corpse .

the reason for the skeletal imagery is because it's paired often with a.rktos relating to his "true form, " ( although whatever THAT is , your imagination can do the work :) ) and corpse paint is always worn by the actors / singers preforming his songs ( and also his music genre is alleged to be metal , so it fits musically , too ! )

i've also been listening to the 2nd album's Ich bin Hass / Sie ist Kalt segment for the ice princess bit and just. . . MAN the ambiance is eerie . there's also this piano refrain ( ending with some percussive instrument i can't name , but it makes this collective clacking noise ) that plays when the ice princess is attempting to freeze poor tblga and i think it's nice touch .

[taure-annie]

The Blue Glow

→ premise: What starts as late nights spent helping Paige through heartbreak slowly shifts - until you’re left wondering if friendship was ever the right word. (RoommateAU)

→ word count: 4k

It’s just past two when you hear the key rattle in the front door, followed by the soft creak as it swings open. Paige, your roommate, usually comes home late on Fridays, a little buzzed or maybe high after a night with her teammates or her girlfriend. You’re used to hearing her stumble in, her laughter still lingering from whatever fun she’d been having, always fading into the quiet of the apartment.

You call her name, waiting for her confirmation. She’s the only one with a key, but saying her name and hearing her respond feels safe, like a habit you’ve formed without thinking. Silence. You lean back in your chair, letting your game screen idle as you peer through the small crack in your door.

You wait a moment, letting the silence of the apartment settle around you before it's broken by the unmistakable shuffle of her kicking off her shoes, the soft thud of her door and then steady beat of music seeping from her room.

You turning back to your desktop and unpausing your game. Your fingers move across the key‐ board, killing pixelated monsters and yet still, your mind crawls back to 20 minutes ago, when Paige walked in.

Were you supposed to knock on her door and ask if she was okay? Basic roommate etiquette would assume so, but it's not as though you and Paige were buddy-buddy. Sure, you'd chilled together a few times to catch up on Netflix's latest murder doc and yeah, she'd invited you to one or two of her teammate's afterparties (none of which you'd gone to, instead you offered polite decline that assured she really didn't need to ask you again).

At most, you and Paige were just in each other's orbit. Nothing more than two girls attending the same university who got placed together in an apartment just off-campus.

The clock ticks to 3:15, and finally, the music fades into silence. She’s probably asleep now. You tell yourself to focus on your game, but your gaze drifts to the wall, your thoughts lingering on her room just a few feet away. Honestly, you’re not sure why you’re still awake.

***

You’re unpacking your groceries when you notice her—Paige, sprawled out across the couch like she’s trying to disappear into it. Her hoodie is pulled low over her face, but you can still make out the outline of her eyes, locked on you the moment you glance in her direction.

"You good?" You ask, feeling the need to soften your voice - something in your body tells you to tread carefully.

She yawns, stretches, and when she speaks, her voice is thick with sleep—rougher than usual, like she hasn’t quite woken up. “Yeah, just a bit fucked up.”

There's something in her tone that gives you pause like she's daring you to dig deeper. You hesitate. It sounds bad to say, but you've always liked the unspoken agreement between you two - the comfortable distance, once again, like planets moving in the same orbit but never touching.

You take the bait. "What's up?"

She pushes herself up, so she's now resting on her elbows,  “Ari fucking broke up with me."

The two had seemed to be one of the few couples who could go the distance. In the few games you attended, you'd seen her girlfriend always present, aptly draped in a number 5 jersey titled 'Bueckers'. As far as college relationships went, it seemed like love.

"Oh." It's all you manage to say at first, unsure of how to respond. Were you supposed to hug her? 

Paige drops back onto the couch, covering her face with her hands. "Yeah, oh."

"And it's final?" You ask, "Cause, it's never really over, over. It's probably -"

"She blocked me," she cuts in, still deep within the recesses of her hoodie. "She probably blocked me the moment I left her place ... I've messaged her and called her but it goes straight to green or voice mail."

You nod, once again unsure of what to say next. You'd don't have to think because Paige drops in again. She had a one-of-a-kind skill of unknowingly being able to fill in silences.

"It's not like I cheated or she cheated," you hear the emotions flooding back into her voice - it's not sadness, well it probably is but it's wrapped up in anger and disbelief. "Which spins me because it's not like we were in a bad spot - okay yeah, I wouldn't respond sometimes, but that's normal, sometimes I'm genuinely tired from training!"

"Maybe she's stressed too and it's all a bit too much to deal with," You say.

She throws you a quick look, something between betrayal and you're not helping. It's fast, and she cools her features back to normal.

"- Not that I'm saying it's a good excuse," you counter, "But, it's something to consider. Did she actually say why?"

"Something about I'm not present. It's bullshit," she sighs.

You want to say something comforting, anything, but everything that comes to mind feels hollow. Besides, it's not like whatever you could say could put a bandage over a 2 year relationship ending.

She sits up again, her hoodie falling back to it's rightful face. She looks around the room, her eyes itching for something to distract her from whatever uncomfortable feelings she can feel rising. Her eyes fall on her set of keys, the original red fob you'd both received on move-in day had long been overtaken by numerous keychains and fabric bracelets - even a heart picture frame.

"Hey, do you want to do something?" She asks, "Get out of here for a bit?"

At the tip of your tongue is some vague excuse about how you really need to cook right now, but before it can come out, she speaks again.

"Please - I really need to step out for a bit." Her voice is soft, just about holding back a crack.

You're not a monster so of course, you nod and say sure. You don't ask where to until you're following her long strides down the hall and into the low-lit car park. The night feels colder than usual and your bare feet in slides feel anything but appropriate for the weather.

An orange glow from a stray streetlight casts a small tinge of light on her face as she unlocks the door to her car. "I was thinking of going to the outdoor court. You know, the one near the park? It's just a short drive. I could really use a change of scenery, and maybe shooting around would help clear my head .... that cool?"

"Yeah," you say, because what else could you say? "That’s cool."

How cliche you think - a basketball player needing to shoot hops to clear their head. 

The drive is quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. Paige keeps her eyes on the road, and the tension in her shoulders is palpable. You can't help but think this is how she looks when she's on the bench, (playing the game in her mind, sizing up the opposition and just yearning to get back in).

Connecticut's lights blur past as you make your way out of the downtown area, the campus fading away as she turns into a quieter, more residential neighbourhood. The basketball court comes into view, illuminated by a few scattered streetlights and a single overhead light, casting a gentle glow over the cracked asphalt and faded court markings.

She pulls into the nearest parking bay, reversing in with ease, her arm draping over your headrest as she checks the mirror. It's then that you wonder how many times she's done this exact move with her ex. You imagine her ex sitting where you are now, lips fresh with a kiss and the seat shaped by her form.

A whole two years, you think. No wonder she was going stair-crazy.

You're now out of the car, rocking on the back of your feet as Paige gets her duffle bag out of the car. It's at that point when she finally asks you about your day.

You shrug, "It's been ight, nothing much to be fair. Just trying to get my head around ... we've got a new TA and the bitch marks hard as hell."

She chuckles in response, "Damn, tough one. You do something with economics, right?"

"Yeah, something about economics. Not my first choice but it's gonna do the job," you reply trailing behind her longer strides as she leads you both into the empty court.

"Economics. Get the job done?" she repeats with a playful scoff, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Can't tell if you're being humble or—"

"Not humble," you interject, "It's an ends to means."

She unzips her duffle bag and brings out her ball and bounces it a few times, the rhythmic thud echoing softly in the quiet night. "What's the end goal then?"

You're shrugging as you go to take your place on the edge of the court, watching as Paige moves around and seemingly becomes one with the court. (something about seeing her in her natural ele‐ ment) "Probably some cushy consulting job. I'm not gonna lie, I've got no idea but I've lowkey liked the subject all through school, it's just made sense to do it."

Paige dribbles the ball a few times, then takes a shot. The ball cuts through the air and swishes through the hoop. light work.

"I'm guessing you've always known what you wanted to do," you continue.

She nods, bounces the ball again, but this her feet and body moving across the court as though she's playing the last two minutes of a game. "Yup! It's always been basketball. From elementary, middle school and high school. Nothing but ball." she punctuates her last line with a throw.

 "Wish that were me!" you say.

She looks over at you, the ball now finding itself passing from hand to hand. "You wanted to play ball?"

It's your turn to scoff, "No, I'm talking about the whole knowing what you wanted to do from the get go."

Paige pauses mid-dribble, her eyes narrowing playfully as she studies you. "Yeah, I get that. Not everyone figures it out early. But, you know, it's not like it's been easy. Just because I knew doesn't mean it wasn't a grind."

She takes another shot, and the ball glides through the net with a satisfying swish. As she retrieves it, she adds, "There's a lot of pressure, too. Once you say 'this is it,' everyone expects you to stick with it, no matter what."

You watch as she moves across the court, her pace slower now, more thoughtful. "I guess I just got lucky," she continues. "Or maybe I was stubborn. It's hard to tell sometimes."

"I guess that makes you one of the few," you say, leaning back against the fence, watching her with a mix of admiration and something else - something you can't quite put your finger on. Is this what her fans felt? It always spun you that she had fans. Fans. Would they be jealous right now? "Most people I know are still figuring it out, including me."

Paige stops dribbling and looks at you, her expression softening. "You've got time," she says, her voice losing some of its earlier intensity. "There's no rush to have it all figured out. Sometimes, the best things come when you least expect them."

She tosses the ball to you, and it lands in your hands with a gentle thud. You can feel the worn leather under your fingers, still warm from her grip. For a moment, you're both silent, the weight of her words hanging in the cool night air.

"Maybe," you say quietly, the ball feeling heavier and heavier in your hands. "But sometimes it feels like everyone else is racing ahead while I'm stuck at the start line."

"Play with me," she says, gesturing you over.

You look down at the ball and then back to her, "You're a D1 athlete. You're just gonna show me up plus I don't even know how to shoot."

"Come on, I'll teach you," There's a playful glint in her eyes. "It'll make me like five percent less sad."

You hesitate, but her enthusiasm is contagious. She hands the ball back to you and steps behind, lightly adjusting your stance. "Feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent," she instructs, her hands guiding yours on the ball. "Use your legs for power, wrist for control."

You try to follow her lead, feeling her breath close as she directs your movements. "And when you shoot, remember, follow through, like you're reaching into a cookie jar."

You chuckle at the analogy and take a shot. The ball bounces off the rim, and Paige claps. "Not bad. Let's go again."

Paige steps in front of you, her tone shifting slightly as she moves into coach mode. You can tell she's probably coached some little league somewhere here in Connecticut or wherever her home state was - she’d mentioned it numerous times but you’d forgotten. "Alright, keep your elbow in and focus on the backboard," she says, her hands demonstrating the movement. "And don't forget, it's all about the follow through."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Alright, coach. I got it."

"It's Coach P," She smirks, her eyes twinkling. "Just trying to make you a baller." You take another shot, and this time, the ball swishes through the net. Paige cheers, giving you a high five. "There it is! You're a natural."

"Light work" you say with a grin. It's anything but.

Paige bumps you lightly with her shoulder. "Not bad at all. But next time, we're working on your dribbling cause that shit was shocking."

***

Nights at the court, which you’d now come to know was actually called St Bernard’s Court, became routine much like when you’d call her name when she’d come back to the apartment.

You’d gotten used to settling into the passenger seat of her car, the familiar hum of the engine surrounding you as she drove, her hands gripping the wheel with that same steady determination. Conversations, once filled with awkward pauses and small talk, now flowed effortlessly. They were the kind of talks that never seemed to end - about everything and nothing, the mundane details of life at uni, complaints about bad food at the cafeteria, or her latest training session. It was simple.

Sometimes, she’d give up her dictator-like hold over the music and let your playlists take over, though more often than not, you let hers play on. You never minded; there was something comforting about the predictable beats of her curated selections. Her taste was always a little sharper, more nuanced than yours, and you found yourself adding some of songs to your liked list when you’d gotten back to the safety of your own room.

Sometimes, after an hour of shooting around, you’d both end up on the concrete, sitting against the low bleachers, legs stretched out before you, talking about whatever came to mind and letting the cold settle deep into your skin. But more often than not, the conversation would shift to her ex. It had become a quiet pattern: Paige would talk about her like it was a distant, painful memory she was still learning how to deal with.

She’d mention her in passing, her tone casual at first, as though it didn’t sting anymore.

It reminded you like she was just like any other girl despite the fame. Unable to resist feigning indifference to hurt - so you didn’t judge because you’d done it over and over.

“I don’t even know why she said that,” Paige would say, tossing the ball back into her hands, eyes focused on something far off. “I never meant to be distant. You know how it is; practice, school, games... life’s a lot.” She’d sigh, running a hand through her hair, shaking her head.

And then, almost like she couldn’t help herself, the bitterness would slip in. “She made it sound like I didn’t care at all,” Paige muttered, kicking the ball across the court. “Like it was all about me, me, me.” Her voice softened, the edges raw, the anger melting into something unspoken and lingering. “She didn’t even give me a chance to explain, to fix things. Not that it matters now.”

You listened. Not to solve anything, not to offer some platitude about how she’d be better off. You listened because, in those quiet moments, it felt like her words were a way of processing, a way to let the weight of everything settle into something less heavy.

Her ex wasn’t just a past relationship, not just a name you’d heard murmured in the back of conversations. She was a part of Paige’s present, even if it was an unwelcome one, lingering in the way Paige looked at the court sometimes, or the way she pulled away when you tried to get too close. Her ex was a shadow that loomed over your conversations, her absence filling the spaces that Paige didn’t want to admit she missed.

“You know, I thought she was the one,” Paige would often say with a dry laugh, picking at the fabric of her hoodie. “Stupid, huh?” She’d shake her head like it was all so ridiculous now. But the way she’d say it, softly, almost tenderly, like she was still trying to convince herself.

And then, just as quickly, she’d pull herself out of it, focusing on something else. “Anyway, I’m not thinking about her tonight,” she’d say, standing up and grabbing the ball.

At some point she’d move on. Stop needing the nights at the court and you’d be proud because your friend (it felt weird to call her a friend thinking about the times you’d dodged her invitations for connection, but things were different now) had moved on.

***

The nights eventually come to an end.

They’re stopped when you’re sitting in yours and Paige’s shared living room, letting the tv play in the background as you listlessly scroll on your phone.

The door to her room is closed but you can hear the familiar music playing through it. She emerges, her face flushed and eyes bright - frantic even.

“Yo ... Guess who just called me?” She announces, taking what felt like her first breath in hours.

You look up, the question hanging in the air between you. Your thumb hovers over your phone’s screen, trying to gauge her excitement.

Paige’s gaze is intense, a slight nervous energy vibrating beneath her words. She doesn’t wait for you to guess.

“Ari,” she says, her voice a little softer now, like she’s unsure what to feel about it. “She called me.” The words hit you unexpectedly, like a slow tide pulling at your feet. A small knot forms in your stomach, not because you’re unhappy for her, but because you weren’t prepared for this.

“Oh shit,” you manage to say, trying to push away the strange, unexpected sensation that’s fluttered inside you.

“She said sorry. She said she made a mistake. Fuck, I... I don’t know even know what think.”

You lean forward a little, trying to sound reassuring. “I mean, that’s a good sign, right? She’s reaching out.”

Paige exhales a short laugh, glancing down at her hands before looking back up at you. “I guess? But fuck, it just feels... messy.”

You nod, understanding the weight of her uncertainty. You’ve seen how much this relationship meant to her, and it’s clear she’s torn.

“You wanna talk about it?” you ask.

She shakes her head, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Not yet, I think. I just... I need to think. It’s all a bit much, you know?”

The room goes silent, save for the faint hum of the TV in the background.

For a moment, you sit in the quiet, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. And maybe it’s just you, or maybe it’s just the way Paige is looking at you now, but you sense that something has shifted—ever so slightly, but undeniably.

You’re still not sure what that means yet, or if it means anything at all. But for now, you don’t push.

She sighs and falls back onto the couch, closing her eyes. “I’ll figure it out,” she says softly, more to herself than to you but you know she’s already made her choice. 

You lean back, turning your attention back to your phone, but there’s an odd feeling in your chest that refuses to settle. For a moment, you wonder what would have happened if things had gone differently, if she’d never gotten that call. But before you can think too much about it, Paige shifts beside you, her presence pulling you back down to earth.

“Thanks,” she says quietly.

You smile, almost relieved that the tension has eased, even if only for now. “Anytime.”

The night stretches on, the air between you both comfortable again. And yet, you can’t help but wonder why you feel torn. Why aren’t you bubbling with happiness, like how you’d reacted when Zen had called you in senior year to say she and Trevor had gotten back together.

Eventually, you leave the couch, muttering an excuse about needing to get back to studying.

 Ari comes back into the fold of life at yours and Paige’s apartment like she’d never left.

The songs that used to fill Paige’s room—those soft, sad, contemplative ones—shift back to some‐ thing lighter, more upbeat. Her shoes reappear, scattered carelessly by the door, mingling with Paige’s own, like they always belonged together. And just like that, you go back to being good roommates.

That doesn’t hurt. It’s respectful - because who’d let their girlfriend spend nights at the basketball court together? It makes sense.

It only hurts when you come back to the apartment and see them on the couch. The lights dimmed, a fluffy blanket over their legs and a Christmas movie playing.

The first time it happens, you’re awkward. Painfully awkward. Your body not knowing how to react for the first time to something you’d seen countless times before.

You hesitate in the doorway, suddenly unsure of how to move, unsure of what to say. The air between the three of you feels thicker, heavier than it ever has before. You wish you could say something light, make a joke.

They don’t even notice at first - Paige’s attention is wholly focused on the TV screen, her hand absentmindedly brushing through her girlfriend’s hair. You feel like you’re not even supposed to be here, even though it’s your apartment too.

Eventually, though, Paige looks up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a second, the warmth in them falters. She smiles, but it’s tight, apologetic.

“Hey,” she says, her voice a little too bright, a little too forced. “You’re back. We were just watching this cheesy Christmas movie. Wanna join?”

The offer is there, hanging in the air between you, but the tension is palpable. You force a smile, shaking your head quickly.

“Nah, it’s fine,” your voice comes out more strained than you’d intended. “I was just coming in to ... grab something.”

You spend the rest of the night at Zen’s.

“So bitch, what the hell is up with you?” Zen asks. her gaze sharp as she watches you.

You blink, focusing back on her, the buzz of the rosé clouding your thoughts. “Nothing, I’m fine,” you reply, maybe a little too quickly.

“Sure ... sure you are,” she says with a knowing look, before taking a long sip from her glass, then a pause. “Dude, you’ve literally been distracted all night. Moping around everywhere.”

You hesitate, a little caught off guard. You’ve told Zen about Paige, from the odd first meeting to playing basketball together and to the events which took place hours ago.

“You sure you’re okay with them... back together?” Zen continues, her voice quieter, but there’s a softness to it now. She’s not trying to push, just letting the question sit there.

The idea that maybe everyone sees what you’re trying to hide - maybe even Paige  - that part makes you feel sick.

You take another sip of your wine, the sweet sharpness of it doing nothing to dull the growing ache in your chest.

“Yeah,” you say again, but it’s not convincing. Not to Zen. Not to yourself.

Zen’s eyes soften, and for a moment, she doesn’t look at you like she’s waiting for a response. She looks at you like she already knows the answer. You know it. Damn.

***

A/N: My first Paige fic! let me know what you think and if I should continue ... I haven't written fanfiction in years, which is a shame because I used really enjoy the fic writing/reading community. I've literally had this blog on the backburner for the last 3 or so years just waiting to find the right thing to write about and here it is ... I think?

[komoboko]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐤𝐨 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐝

ft: tanjiro kamado, zenitsu agatsuma, inosuke hashibira, kanao tsuyuri, genya shinazugawa

Genlas canon I’m ufotable so what if I made a kny oc bcs of genya 🗣️ ・ignore how half of these are about sleep

# tanjiro ! ☆

TANJIRO is such a sweetheart, he really is. But when it comes to sticking to a schedule, he does not make any shortcut or excuses to what will happen. Whatever the schedule says goes no ifs ands or buts. Thankfully he only uses a morning routine anyways.

He had heard from both Rengoku and Mitsuri that having a morning schedule is very good to prepare you for the day. So tanjiro has one to! He tries to get you to follow the routine along with him but you would rather stay in bed instead..

The moment the sun begins to rise is the time Tanjiro wakes up as well. It’s almost as if his body had a set in clock to wake him up. He already gets himself up before he comes and “pesters” you, who is still sound asleep when he’s ready to start the day. Tanjiro only pokes your cheek trying to get you to wake up.

You only groan turning your body over as you already know what he’s waking you up for. “Tanjiro I don’t even think the sun is up yet..” you mumble putting a pillow over your head. Tanjiro only silently laughs before replying “That doesn’t mean we can’t wake up either, if we don’t go fast we’re going to miss our time to train before leaving!” He only flashes a beaming smile, you wished to see that smile in your dreams right now instead.

# zenitsu ! ☆

If he had to be honest ZENITSU is unironically really clumsy. Sometimes he’s doing it to get a laugh out of you, but other times he’s genuinely falling. He can’t help it! It used to be something that happened every now and then but it’s almost become more of a habit of his now.

Even if everybody knows he really is just clumsy, if your around without fail he’ll try to play it off like it was on purpose. If your around and he’s already mid fall he’s going to try and stick the landing to make it seem like he was being funny and just doing it on purpose. Other times when it’s too late to cover up his mistake he tries to cover it up with a cheesy pick up line.

You’re only sharpening your sword, admiring the peace until it’s disrupted once again. You can hear a very familiar voice chanting your name as the voice only grows closer and closer. You turn around to see zenitsu rushing towards you after turning a corner, and from what you can tell he has a couple of flowers in his hand.

It’s only when he gets closer is when he somehow manages to trip on whatever was in his path. He comes tumbling towards you as you rush to his aid only to see him quickly put a rose in his mouth. He stares at you with a prideful gaze as you bite back a laugh. You can’t hold it in anymore once he screams howling something along the lines of “THE ROSE POKED ME!!”

# inosuke ! ☆

Sleeping around INOSUKE is no fun at all. He normally has a lot of energy so staying up late is a given, if you manage to actually fall asleep before he does your lucky. If he even manages to get tired and get close to a bed you’re doomed.

When inosuke is asleep there is nothing that is going to wake him up except himself. He is stone cold asleep meaning whatever he does do in his asleep is a complete ball game to deal with. It’s obvious that he is going to be uncomfortably loud, but he really handsy and not in the romantic way at all..

You groan on the edge of the bed as the cold air breezes against you, an hour before you were very much comfortable in the bed, alone at least. The moment inosuke toppled into bed was when everything came to an end. He took all the blankets for himself, he sprawled out taking up most of the space, and did this all while asleep already.

Not to mention the fact he was almost louder than when kyojuro when he’s talking whenever he snores. Every other moment the room rattles with how loud he is. To the point where you get so fed up you grab the one pillow you can find and move to sleep on the couch. It was much easier falling asleep on the couch, the only problem is when you woke up you find inosuke still completely asleep on top of you.

# kanao ! ☆

A lot of people don’t realize that KANAO can be unusually blunt. Around you she feels more open to speak her mind about something and without realizing it. Her words can come out much more harsh than she had originally intended it.

When she’s around you she’s much more careful at watching her tongue, as she obviously does not wish to hurt your feelings. Which she is really good at!! But if you ask for honest criticism she can’t say that she won’t hold back even on you.

You stare at kanao’s paper as she continues to sketch the treeline in the window Infront of the both of you. You’re impressed by her eye for art and even wonder if she could give you some tips as well. It’s not like you haven’t been practicing after all! “Kanao? Would you mind giving me some tips on how to improve my drawing? Honest criticism please.” You ask the girl as she turns to you. Kanao stares down at your drawing seeing what she believes is a samurai down on your paper.

She looks up back at you taking a deep breath before saying, “well your drawing isn’t near accurate to what time period I assume you’re going for. The proportions are off, the armor plates aren’t in the right place, the blade is incorrect, the legs aren’t even or balance the upper body.” Your jaw drops as kanao only looks back at you putting a hand on your shoulder. “I could help you if you like.” She hopes this would make up for shock she put on your face

# genya ! ☆

While GENYA can normally keep things together, there are times where he doesn’t keep track how long he has been a demon. It’s rare considering he normally on a mission for this to ever really happen, but it doesn’t mean it hasn’t.

The mission had gone well to say the least but everything had gone on for so long. Task after task, minute after minute Genya had become more weary and more irritable. By the time he was actually released he couldn’t care about anything except going to bed. On the plus side it would mean he could see your face as well.

When he finally made it to the inn you to we’re staying at he didn’t think twice about immediately moving towards the bedrooms. He failed to see his reflection or acknowledge how loud his footsteps were moving around the house. You groggily open your eyes startled awake by the incoming noise, you don’t remember anybody staying with you. Not until a shadow peers through the doorway.

You turn around to see yellow eyes stand out from the dark hallway. They pierce menacingly almost into the room your in, slowly creeping closer in the dark. Naturally you scream but your surprised when the figure screams to. It stumbles around the room until it can see its own reflection. It’s only then when you realize it’s just genya who didn’t even realize he was a demon himself. He only mumbles out a small “ohh..” before climbing into bed to try and trying to apologize to you..

[heartfullofleeches]

how do we feel about brie x obliviously cute reader—similar to the cheerleader reader except tthis reader is a total goody two shoes nerd walking into brie wanking his thing on stream and reader is basically like

“��� what the sigma”

Brie with a cute, nerdy Roommate Reader who somehow has zero clue the nice guy they're bunking with is a streamer of a different kind.

Poor Brie- Making all that noise in his room. The games he's playing much be really hard. Reader isn't totally oblivious to Brie's occupation. He did tell them he was a streamer before they moved in- he just happened to leave out the fact he does his recordings nude for viewers hundreds if not thousands at a time. His bedroom walls are pretty thick and he's good at keeping quiet when he has to so it's not like any roommate he has will know unless they're into that kind of stuff.... until he ends up falling for his dorky roommate and can't keep his mouth (or legs) shut when he thinks about them.

Reader ready to burst Brie's door down when they hear him whimper their name one night at a time they'd normal be asleep, fearing he'd fallen and hurt himself. Brie scrambling to throw a sweatshirt over whatever skimpy outfit he had available for the late stream as Reader jostles the door handle. His embarrassment is quickly replaced by annoyance at chat members calling Reader's voice attractive and wondering if they're here to join the fun.

-

"Brie?! Answer me! If you don't open this door right now I'll.... I'll do that something to help you!"

"S-shit!.... I'll be out in just a sec!"

Brie frantically claws at the neck hole of his sweater as the rattling of the doorknob continues. He practically swam in the accursed thing everywhere else, but the collar just shrunk more and more with each wash. Dusting strings out hair out of his face, a message scrolling across his screen catches his eyes. In the sea of chat members, some curious as to what's going on and others saddened over their loss of content the message could have gone unnoticed. If Brie had blinked in that exact moment he would've missed it.

He wished he had.

"They sound pretty cute ;) Can we get a peak?"

Brie slaps a hand over his mouth. He wheezes- substituting the gag caught in his throat with violent, exaggerated coughs. The thought of this being how he confesses his feelings for you makes him sick. You aren't even his yet and these people already wanted you. They'd never have enough of you if they saw your face - saw you for even a faction of what he sees in you. He couldn't allow it.

The clacking of his keyboard tunes out the incessant knocks on his door.

"Not now, not ever. Sorry! ^.^"

[kingtomura]

Tough love

summary: Back and forth banter with a world class villain is all fun and games until he’s gotten you undressed and underneath him, begging for anything and everything he can give you.  cw: tomura shigaraki x female reader, virginity loss, virginity kink, creampie, piv, dacryphilia, very smitten tomura, just smut tbh, drabble wc: 1k | crossposted to ao3

Tomura Shigaraki knows he has a way with words. 

He’s had to learn, especially if he would be the one to rule the underworld, you know. 

It always catches you off guard and it always leaves you wanting a little more — so when you’ve found yourself beneath him in the dark covers of his bed, you slowly realize just how cunning a mastermind villain could really be. 

And it drives you crazy. 

The way he eases into you with promises and whispers of going slow and taking it easy because in his eyes you’re just so fragile he wouldn’t want to break you.

But God, it’s so hard to keep his word because you’re so tight and your little moans and whimpers are driving him crazy.

His thick cock tears through your hymen as he pushes on. Inch by inch, Tomura slides in through the slick, tight walls of your cunt. He’s so deep, the head of it kisses your cervix. 

He gives you a second to adjust — he promised he would go easy on you, but your pretty cunt just takes him so well and you’re being so good for him, he can’t help himself. It’s impossible to keep still and he can’t take the stagnation anymore. 

Your little cries sound like music to his ears and he knows it should make him feel a little more ashamed, but Tomura Shigaraki is not one to feel shame. He adores your cries and wants to hear more of them. 

Tomura wants you to break for him, but he won’t let you know that. 

No, instead he tells you how well you’re doing and relishes in the way you whine as he gets faster — the pain getting a little worse but the pleasure getting a little closer.

And oh it hits just the right spot for him because he’s losing himself more and more into your soft, addictive walls. He knows that if he goes a little harder he may even see those pretty tears trail down your cheeks.

You tell him to slow down, that you don’t think you can take it if he keeps this up, but that’s just what he wants, isn’t it?

He wants you broken and crying for his cock.

He wants you to cum around him as he goes deeper and deeper inside of you with each thrust, cock brushing that sensitive spot inside of you and making you cry out.

You’re such a good girl for him, so good and so sweet — you give him everything he asks for.

You look up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, your long lashes wet with unshed tears and you beg.

The pain has fizzled away and now you're begging him to go faster, harder — to give you more, and he does!

He does with a fever he didn’t know he had as those tears finally, finally make their way down your soft cheeks and he just can’t help himself when he leans down, tongue darting out to catch the salty drops before they trail further and fall onto his dark bedsheets. 

It would be too much of a waste to let them go. Not when he’s worked this hard for them.

You’re close.

He can tell from the way you tighten around his cock and by the way your moans are rising by an octave. 

Tomura decides he loves this part.

He loves to see you come undone completely and surrender yourself to him in a way you’ve never conceded before. He loves to see your expression as he holds your hands above your head, grip tight on your wrists, but careful finger lifted for your protection.

It’s hard not to get carried away. 

There’s the rattling of the headboard as it slams against the walls of his bedroom, the bed is shaking with the force of his thrusts. It should be a sign that he should try to keep it down — that he should be more thoughtful of those who may be within the building, but all it takes is a glossy eyed look from you and he knows it doesn’t matter.

No, none of it matters as he doubles down, his forever careful hands moving to get a better grip on you. Tomura settles for one hand gripping your waist as he leans down onto his elbow of the other. The close proximity is intoxicating as he now has the leverage to really fuck into you without a care.

He watches on as you bring a hand to his cheek, eyes lost in pleasure, but still seeking the intimate affection from him.

He loves the way your eyes close and your brows furrow as you get closer and closer and—

“Fuck..” his own breathy moan catches him off guard, too lost in his own pleasure and watching you that he let himself go along with your release. 

The way your pussy grips him, so tight and so wet, makes his hips stutter and his vision blur as the white ropes of his cum fill your insides. 

You were so pretty, but especially now in the afterglow of it all — sweat clinging to your skin as you tried so desperately to catch your breath. 

Tomura loved it. He loved all of it. 

It’s not enough to let you just lie there so he leans down, capturing your soft lips into a kiss and dipping his tongue into your mouth. 

You moan softly at the intrusion and Tomura drinks it up with a groan of his own. 

You taste so sweet to him, like a fruit he just cannot get enough of — a cold drink on a hot day. 

Tomura finally pulls away to admire his work of your kiss swollen lips and drunkenly pleased smile and it makes his chest clench. 

It’s such a sight that he just can’t help himself when his hips start moving again, steadily going in and out as his already sensitive cock hardened again.

He hopes you’re ready for round two because he’s only getting started.

[flightlessangelwings]

FawKtober2024 Part 8- Javier Peña

Javier Peña x fem!reader

Kinks- consensual non-consent (cnc), rough sex, aftercare

Word count- 1.6k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), rough sex, handcuffs, gags, consent is explicitly given and safewords are established, pet names (baby, sweetheart), no physical description of reader other than body parts, no use of y/n

Notes- Please be aware of the warnings on this one as it's rougher and not going to be for everyone! But I do love me some cnc and it's been a while since I wrote one so this was fun to write! Enjoy!

~

It was late, and Javier should have been back hours ago. You sat on the couch, the tv just background noise as you wrapped yourself up in a blanket waiting for him to get back. Stifling a yawn, you fidgeted in your spot as your nerves rose with every passing minute. Part of you was a little scared, but that was a part of the thrill of it all. And most of you was excited anyway. From the moment he called in the afternoon and said the secret code word, nothing else was on your mind.

You were so wrapped up in your own mind that you didn’t hear the door open and shut or the footsteps that got closer and closer to you. It wasn’t until a large hand covered your mouth that you knew you were no longer alone.

The hand stifled a scream as you struggled in its strong grip. You flailed your arms around as you thrashed in an attempt to break free, but the hands that held you were too strong. Plus, you were caught off guard, so any type of advantage you could have had was gone.

It wasn’t until you heard your name in a familiar voice that you froze.

“It’s me, baby,” Javier whispered in your ear. One hand kept you still on the couch while the other stayed over your mouth. He paused for a moment, giving you the chance to tap three times to end this if you wanted to. But, when you didn’t, he went back into character. 

“Who would leave such a pretty thing home alone so late?” Javier’s tone dropped as he pushed you onto the couch on your stomach. 

You yelped as you suddenly found yourself thrown down. But, before you could react, you felt a weight on top of you, pinning you down. You tried to wiggle your way out from underneath Javier, not wanting to make this too easy for him, but he was able to keep you in place.

“Fuck you,” you spat as you thrashed under his grip.

“I plan to,” Javier smirked from behind you as he pulled his handcuffs.

He was fast and nimble with his hands, and Javier had your arms tied behind your back before you could resist much. You whipped your shoulders around in an attempt to break free, but Javier let his entire body weight sit on your hips as he pushed you back down flat. 

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured as he ran his hands under your shirt and his calloused fingers grazed the skin of your back.

“Don’t touch me,” you jerked your body as much as you could, trying to fight the growing arousal between your legs.

“Oh,” Javier mocked you, “Don’t be like that, baby,” he let out a low growl as he suddenly yanked at your pants, tugging them off as you screamed and held your body down to keep him from undressing you.

“Stop it! No!” you yelled as you dug your hips into the couch.

“Shut your mouth,” Javier snapped, “Do you want the neighbors to hear?” It gave him an idea. Javier reached into his pocket and dug out a bandana and quickly tied it around your mouth. “It’s a shame to waste those pretty screams,” he rumbled, “But I don’t want to be interrupted.”

You whimpered as you rattled muffled insults through your gag. It only made Javier chuckle lowly. He took advantage of your distracted mind and tugged your pants and under off in one swoop, leaving you exposed. Your muffled cries only fueled him on more, and he felt his jeans tighten as he cock hardened.

“Shit, baby,” he whispered in awe as he soaked in the sight of you like this. You were cuffed, helpless, and at his mercy… and you had never looked more beautiful. Part of him wanted to stop this little game and kiss and make love to you tenderly and sweetly. But he knew how much you wanted this, and although he was reluctant at first, Javier now saw the appeal. 

Another whimper from you broke Javier out of his trance, and he was reminded of the strain between his legs. He groaned as he quickly unzipped his jeans to free his aching cock as you squirmed under him.

“Gotta have you, sweetheart,” he growled through gritted teeth.

You tried to protest, tried to mumble a “no,” but all you could do was moan. Javier grabbed your scalp and buried your face in the couch cushion with one hand while his other reached between your legs and spread you open, exposing you to him. He growled in anticipation as you whined underneath him, turning him on even more.

In the blink of an eye, Javier suddenly thrust into you without warning. Your scream was muffled by the cushion and your gag, but his groan echoed in the room as he felt your warm tightness around him.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good,” Javier rumbled. 

Tears filled your eyes at the sudden intrusion, and you felt an intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure that only Javier could bring you. You screamed into the couch as he thrust into you in slow but harsh movements. You tried to claw at him from where he bound your hands, but it was no use; all you could do was barely scratch at his skin as he had his way with you.

“Fuck,” Javier groaned as he sped up his pace, fucking you harder than he ever had before.

Your cries of pain quickly turned to pleasure as you could no longer pretend you didn’t want what Javi gave you. Muffled moans filled the gag as your eyes rolled back with every harsh thrust of his hips. He almost actually hurt you, and you loved it. You craved more. You wanted more, harder, faster.

“Javi…” you managed to mumble through the bandanna. 

“That’s it, baby,” Javi encouraged you as he slapped your ass once, making you yelp. “That’s it,” he grunted as he thrust himself as deep inside you as he possibly could.

Tears fell from your eyes as you moaned into your gag as his thick cock filled you harshly over and over again. Your world felt like it was crumbling around you, like an earthquake and a hurricane at the same time. You felt like your body was on fire and about to be ripped apart simultaneously. It was pain and it was pleasure and it was everything and more. And it was perfect.

And that was when Javi growled in your ear, “Gonna cum, baby,” his low rumble went right to your core and you squeezed your inner muscles around his cock, “You gonna let me cum in you like a good fucking girl?”

You choked on your own spit as he yanked on the back of your neck, “Uh-huh,” you mumbled through the gag.

“That’s it,” he groaned, “You gotta cum too, baby. You gotta cum on my cock even if you don’t want to.”

A mix of a whine and the most obscene moan escaped your lips as your mind spun. He adjusted his angle so that his cock struck your sweet spot with precision, and it made you cry out through your gag. Your tears soaked the bandanna as your moans got louder as your climax started to build, as much as you tried to fight it.

“I feel you fighting it, baby,” Javier growled, “It only makes me wanna make you cum more,” he sped up his thrusts, pounding into you with wanton lust that completely took over his mind.

Javier’s hips slapped against yours as heat rose in the room. It didn’t take much longer for him to get what he wanted as he felt your body tense underneath him. You screamed into the bandanna as you trembled under his body and your climax washed over your body, filling you with pleasure. Javier grunted as he finally let himself go and his hips stuttered as he came just behind you, spilling himself into you as a string of curses spilled from his lips.

Exhausted, Javier fell forward and collapsed down onto you with a groan. Together the two of you laid on the couch in a sweaty mess as you both caught your breaths. Javi kissed your skin where he could reach as he carefully tugged at the bandanna. You gasped as your mouth was freed finally and you took a deep breath through your lips.

“You ok, baby?” Javi asked in a softer tone. 

“Perfect,” you replied in a hoarse voice and a smile on your face. Turning your head to meet his gaze, you added, “Thanks for indulging me, Javi.”

Javi smiled down at your before he kissed you tenderly on the lips, “I’ll admit I enjoyed it too,” he smirked against you, “Thanks for talking me into this.”

That made you laugh as you kissed him again, chasing his lips every time he tried to pull away.

“Now let me take care of you, baby,” Javi murmured, “I got you.”

“I know you do,” you whispered as you felt him push himself up, whimpering as he pulled out of you, “I trust you, Javi.”

Javi didn’t say anything as he uncuffed you and rolled you onto your side, gathering you in his arms. He wrapped himself around you and held you close as he kissed your temple. You nuzzled into his chest as you let out a sigh, placing feather light kisses on his chest as you closed your eyes contently. 

“You know I’d never hurt you for real, right?” Javi broke the silence as he caressed you, “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“I know, Javi,” you said, “That’s why I trust you and no one else to do this with me. We’re alright.”

“We’re alright,” he repeated as he rested his head against yours, “We’re alright, baby.

[wakeup01]

A Matching Pair

Goddammit. Why does he always have to argue about it. Can’t he ever put himself in my shoes and try and be more understanding.” I mumble to myself as my boyfriend fades out of sight down the empty train car. I sigh and stare out the window of the train, listening to the world outside shudder past.

“This space free?” Comes an excited voice, I look up to see a fit young guy casually drop onto the seat opposite me. He looked no older than 22 and was outfitted for some kind of sports game, with a designer tracksuit sagging off his hips, a red jersey that pressed against his lean stomach and a glossy puffer jacket.

“Uhhh…not really.” I remark, side-eying his trendy permed hair, perfectly styled and faded. I had never really understood the appeal of…‘fuckboys’; rich but devoid of personality - aside from the prepackaged one they adopt. In this case even I had to admit that he was rather attractive, in a blunt, dumb ‘grammer is for losers’ sort of way. There was a casual air of confidence in the way he carried himself, narcissistic? Sure, but maybe a little ego didn’t hurt, especially in the bedroom.

Shame he obviously wouldn’t be a sub - he’d look nice around my cock, although I can picture my boyfriend tripping over himself to placate his every whim. The perks of this ‘open relationship’ we had seemed increasingly one sided. Ugh. I’m quickly reminded of our argument, and my indignation wins out over my misguided lust.

“Mate, you look proper mad.” He chuckles, kicking off his trainers. He stretches out his legs and rests them on the seat next to mine.

“Name’s Dominic and I’m not….mad.” My voice trails off.

“Uh oh. Who is she then blud?” He gestures at me with his hands, rattling the horde of bracelets that buried his wrists.

“He.”

“Pftt. I should ‘av guessed. It’s all the same to me. I’m Trev ‘btw’. You off to the gay convention?” There’s a wry smile that is hard to be angry at, in fact I feel strangely comfortable with him. He seemed like a good listener.

“Funny, but yes. Meeting our friend Nate there.” I cross my arms in a futile attempt to appear more dominant.

“Wait, they have those now?” My eyes squint at him. “Just fucking with you. I got a game the next town over. I’m a player.”

“Wow, you don’t say.”

“Maybe you’ve seen me play on the tele eh?” He puts on a face and flashes his shiny white teeth proudly.

“Sure…” He was in a professional team? Like I’d know.

“So spill, what’s the issue with yuh ‘boy’? His ‘bussy’ too small?” My mouth begins to move before I really get the chance to think about what I’m saying, or why I’m telling him at all.

“Ugh. He just never tries to see things from my perspective, he always expects me to play the ‘top’. About everything. And I don’t share his weird kinks.”

“TMI. Oh. You’re the top? And your name is Dom? ‘Lolz’. Is your boy called SUBastian?” He laughs mischievously. His brazen use of text speech was strangely endearing, something I thought impossible.

“Dominic. And no, his name’s Addy.” I correct, flatly.

“Uh huh. Yeah, and have you tried the same? See things from Addy’s point of view. Find equal ground right. Maybe I can help. It’s like when there’s a disagreement in our footy team.”

“I don’t think it’s quite the same thing…”

“Should give it a try Dom, see how it feels to be the sub. It can be fun to let someone else take charge. Easy too when you don’t overthink it. Go on, just lay back and relax.” Yes, I’m sure this will solve all our problems. I humour him anyway, resting my back against the seat’s cushion. Ten seconds pass in silence, just the hum of the train carriage throbbing rhythmically.

“This is stupid-“

“Shush.” Trev stares at me intently, trapping my eyes into his own. I don’t think to look away, why would I. He continues talking, I hear the words floating past me but don’t register what they are. It feels like minutes until his fingers snap in front of his face, and the spell is broken. He just smiles and waits expectantly for me to reply. His legs move from the seat next to me and I follow their movement.

“I—I guess.” I stutter, unsure of what I’m replying to, feeling slightly dizzy, like waking from a dream. For some reason my eyes seem drawn to his feet, now resting on the edge of my own seat, fidgeting between my thighs. I didn’t notice that they were sockless before… or that they were so big.

“Deeper.” He snaps his fingers again. My eyes are feeling so heavy, it’s becoming harder to keep them open. “Picture your boy sitting in your place. See it in your head.” I think about him, see his dreamy smile, like the one growing on my face. “So easy.” Trev repeats, my head nodding absently to his words. He adjusts and pushes his feet against my groin. Hmmf. I should tell him to stop. To stop…

“Uhh.” The dull sound leaves my lips instead of the words I wanted, the rubbing sensation fraying the edges of my thoughts.

Trev’s fingers fiddle at his pockets. He pulls out a vape stick and blows a huge bubblegum flavoured cloud of smoke into my face. The fumes flow through my open mouth and circle my head. His hands appear to be moving in slow motion, like everything was suddenly at half speed.

“Being in charge is exhausting huh. Much better to just relax and follow along, like your boyfriend would.” Yeah, he would probably do whatever this guy asked him to.

“I bet he’d rub my feet If I told him to.”

“Yeah.” I agree, wrapping my hands around Trev’s chunky feet - he definitely would. I run my fingers up and down his sole, picturing my boyfriend in this situation.

“Eyes up here fam.”

*snap*

I look back up at him, falling into his stare once more, entranced. My hands continue to massage him, passing over the curves and arches of his large feet. The shame of doing this in a public place completely lost on me. “Good foot boy.” I fail to hold back a moan at the validation. Is this what it feels like? It feels…nice, good.

I sense my body start to slowly lean forward of its own volition. Trev loudly exhales, his lips pursing. Another dose of bubblegum mist fogs my view. “What else would your boy do?”

“Don’t know…”

“Bet he’d love to sniff my lush feet hm?”

Probably, I think. He was way more kinky than me about such things. This guy’s feet were quite ripe after all, maybe if I got a bit closer…no—no what am I doing? I begin to pull back when his intense eyes narrow at me.

“It’s okay. I can see you want to take a whiff too. Boy.” His inflection changed on the last word. There was something about the way he said it. Powerful.

“My—my boyfriend will be-“ My voice cracks.

“Put your fucking nose here. And sniff my cheesy feet.” He orders, accentuating each word, dropping all pretence - his finger snapping and pointing down.

It’s like a switch being pressed in my head. The words cut like a knife right through any lingering hesitation. My face lowers and inhales deeply, sucking up his harsh scent.

“Yeah.” I mumble from behind his feet in a daze.

“Yeah what?”

*snap snap*

“Yes sir.” I don’t know why I said it, it just slipped from my lips and then it was too late to take it back. Too late to stop, as my face leans down to his foot like a magnet. Too late to pretend I didn’t want a sniff, my nostrils breathing the thick musky air.

“A good start boy.” I tentatively take a couple more whiffs, a part of me still attempting to hold back, feeling self aware. He rolls his eyes and shoves his feet forcefully into my face, my nose pushed snugly between his big toe. His stench shrouds my head like a cloud. The concept of ‘disgusting’ faded to nothingness.

“Salt and vinegar flavour, your fav.” Trev asserts. It became true the moment the words left his lips. Salty and eye watering. My favourite. My cock liked it too apparently.

“You look so much better under me, worshiping me - where you belong. Keep going.” And I did. Breathing deeply, in and out. In and out. The heat from his foot radiates outwards, travelling down my body, seeping into my skin. “Wouldn’t your boy agree to be at my feet at all times If that’s what I wanted?” He—I would. I want nothing else.

“Of course sir.” I say, unaware that the words would seal my fate.

Something is changing. A shift in weight. My whole body starts to feel lighter, filling with air. My skin itches, a rash forming across it’s surface - bleaching every inch an even, clean white. The rash crawls down my chest, flattening my modest set of abs, leaving everything it touches incredibly soft, absorbent and flexible. Tiny strands of fuzzy cotton fabric poke out from each pore; the changes showed no sign of stopping.

Everything is happening all at once, alarms try and go off in my brain but it’s preoccupied swimming in a musky drunken stupor. My feet seem to leave the floor as my form inexplicably shrinks, the length of my arms folding inwards as my body simplifies.

“Look at you bruv. You were easy as fuck.” I gaze up at him, his smug face towering over me, looking so far away. A puff of vape smoke floats down towards me, particles dissolving on my cushioned skin. The sweet aroma mixes with the smell of his sour feet. “Just one look into my eyes and you were done. Get socked bro.”

Trev started to appear bigger and bigger, his feet dwarfing my new size, now taking up my whole view. It was like my essence was being pulled around his foot. My mouth opens and his toes slip effortlessly inside, stretching me out and making themselves at home. The rest of his foot follows, his ankle resting at my opening. It sets off my gag reflex momentarily, before feeling perfectly natural, like I was tailor made for his foot.

“Sorry bud, they’re a size 13.”

The taste of his potent sole explodes into me. I’m violently shaken out of my trance-like haze, the world around me speeds up. I try and desperately pull away, lucidity returning like a slap to the face. Why am I on the floor? Why is his foot in my mouth?! Oh shit oh shit!

“Get socked!” Trev yells enthusiastically. “Get fucking socked!”

Control is slipping away. My skin pulls taut around his foot, the fabric digging between his toes. It feels as though every part of me is pressed against him, his warmth surrounding me. My new shape settles into place, defined by his smooth curves.

I can’t move my ‘body’ at all, but all my senses still persist…somehow. My blurry vision clears, a sudden shift in view makes me disoriented. It’s as if I have a pov of the room from the bottom of Trev’s foot, he lowers it to the floor and my worldview erratically drops to carpet level before going dark. The material of the carpet brushes against me, the strange sensation is embarrassingly pleasing; bringing attention to the absence of my cock. Relief now seemed impossible.

“Socked. Man, I love that initial freshness. Tbh, it makes the inevitable even more fun.”

He pushes the weight of his foot into me, his sweaty soles sticking to my tight fabric body. It feels humiliating to be literally stuck on the ground. His stench clings to me, soaking me in his foot musk. The imprint of his toes yellowing my surface. It’s like having his foot down my throat, perpetually swallowing his mind numbing sweat.

“Mmm that’s good, you hang so tightly. A perfect fit. Hope you like sucking on my rank fucking toes. Cuz now you’re just my stinky ripe sock. Fucking idiot. Can’t wait to get you worn in.”

That’s not possible, I can’t be a sock…it defies logic. This is a nightmare I’m about to wake up from, any second now…any second…

He pulls at me and stretches my ribbed opening up and over his tracksuit, stuffing the silky material into me.

“So much more… pliable.” Trev wiggles his toes and my body conforms to it’s every movement, lodging in between each one. I try and desperately struggle, do something. I manage to achieve a light wriggle that only helps pull myself tighter against his skin.

Trev lifts his foot and points it towards the window, the dark night air rushing past outside. A clear reflection echoes back. I stare at it in disbelief, wanting to blink the reality from my eyes. A caricature of my shocked face is crudely printed on the underside of the sock - trapped frozen in time, with the word ‘SNIFF’ sewn into the fabric. The material was already beginning to discolour. Logic or not, That’s all I am now - a cheap white sock. His sock. An object.

“Basic as fuck boy makes basic as fuck sock. Lit.” He points out, smirking in the reflection while he checks out his new kit. Trev puts his feet back up on the seat, letting me watch the empty space where I had been sitting - back when I was more than just his property.

“Enjoy the view, while you can cheesy. You’re going to spend most of your time staring at the floor, or the inside of my fumigated sneaker.” What joy. I hadn’t even thought about that, about what comes next. Surely he didn’t plan to keep me like this? “Hmm. I think the name Dominic is a bit too fancy for you now, how about…sock. Simple, to the point.” Trev steps me back against the ground, his heel slightly raised. “Suits you, don’t you think sock?”

Light footsteps thud from down the carriage, getting closer and closer. “Hey babe. I wanted to apologise, Nate thinks—who are you? Umm where’s my boyfriend?” Addy had returned, this was my chance.

I wanted to shout and cry out to him, to get his attention anyway possible. I conjured a barely audible rustle and then nothing. All it did was reinforce how small and subservient I now felt, forced to listen to my owner in silence.

“Oh he’s not gone far, cutie. Sit.”

I hear my boyfriend stammer from above. All it took was one compliment and he turned to putty. In most cases it was endearing, but right now I needed him to be anything but agreeable.

I feel the weight on me shift. I glide through the air again, Addy’s expression coming into view across from me, from us.

“He’s…” Addy looks me over curiously.

“Yep. He got socked.”

“Gosh. That’s…hot.” His cheeks blush.

WHAAT! You’ve got to be kidding me! Damn, why did he have to be so kinky when I need him to rescue me. I can recognise his horny face a mile away.

“Now it’s your turn. Look at my eyes.” Trev’s voice taking on a more serious tone. Addy’s eyes dart up, quickly becoming ensnared by Trev’s hypnotic gaze. No, please snap out of it. “Good, keep looking. Relax. Let me give you the deets. In a few minutes you’re gonna have the privilege of having my foot up your arse, sucking up my sweat as a thin piece of fabric like your bf. You’ll be my sock puppet, controlled completely by my foot. You can already feel my toes pushing at your mind. You want it. Say it.” Trev waves me back and forth, hypnotically.

“But…mmm,”

“Say it.”

*snap*

“I — I want to be your smelly sock puppet. Pleaseee Master.” He moans in a trance.

“Course you do.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Addy’s shorts were noticeably tenting, a wet spot forming at the tip. He was getting off on the idea! “Sock puppet. Look at your boy, read the word sewn into him. You know what to do.”

Addy’s head leans towards me, eclipsing my vision. His huge nose presses up against me, his eyes dilating. I can feel his wavering breath brush at my cotton skin. He did exactly what the sock - me, said to and sniffed. The hesitant whiffs quickly devolve into enthusiastic huffing.

“Babeee. Hmmf. You smell so niceee. Mmmm.”

“That’s an obedient sock sniffing sock puppet.” Trev assured him. ”Now onto the other one.” Addy moves away from my view, I can only see him shuffling at the edge of my narrow locked vision. “Ready to join him?”

“Yes masterrrr.” Addy’s voice slurs monotonously. “Enter me and take control. We’re both yours.” Like hell we are!

“I want you to lick this foot clean like a dirty dog before it becomes your new home.” I hear him start to slobber all over Trev. “Good puppet. Get socked.”

The sound of my boyfriend licking and moaning in heat continued for what felt like an eternity. There was nothing I could do but be suspended in the air like my owner deemed appropriate.

“It’s time to become a puppet. Turn around and spread that cute bubble butt. There we go, feel my foot enter your rear, filling you up, fucking your tiny brain. Ufff. Tight. Fuck. Let’s stretch you out, nice and wide. Ahh that’s better. Your hole clamping around my ankle. Yeah. Becoming soft and flexible. A sock puppet. A sweat guzzling, empty-headed, dirty filthy sock puppet.” I can just about see Addy’s head, craning back in pleasure as he’s foot fucked.

“Butt feels…Hnng my—my body…” Addy pants desperately.

“Now belongs to my fat fucking foot. SOCK. PUPPET.

“Pu—puppet.” Addy’s bobbing head pulls out of sight, compressing around the invader inside him.

“Sock puppet. Surrendered all free will. Sock puppet. Commanded by feet. What are you?”

“I’m a sock… a sock puppet. Mmmmf…I’m a soooommfff.”

His voice goes silent. I can only assume he’s turning into a perfect match for Trev’s other foot. The thought horrifies me, but also gets me a little excited. I glimpse a pristine white shape shudder next to me. Trev sits up and places both feet flat on the ground, in order to admire his new additions to the collection.

“Hell yeah. You two make the cutest pair. Glad I could help bring you ‘together’. And no more worries about disagreements ‘lmao’. Go on, kiss and make up.”

Trev bends his legs and points me at Addy’s new form, his lustful face captured on the socks sole; the word ‘LICK’ was immortalised above. I was for sniffing and he for licking, it made a bizarre kind of sense to my addled brain. He brings his feet together and rubs us both against each other, our ‘faces’ pressed closely. My mind blurs, the friction bringing searing white hot bliss. God it’s amazing. He was so soft! Please more. More! Babe. Don’t stop. Get socked!

Trev eventually pulls us apart, I watch the folds of Addy’s loose fabric pull taut, finalising his transformation. He made a cute sock, just like me. We were now on equal footing. Wait, what am I thinking? This is insane, I don’t want this! Was I stuck like this? Would it be really so bad? No, stop.

I realised that the smell was permeating my thoughts, twisting them. Knowing that didn’t change how good it felt, how good his touch felt, his musk.

“Don’t worry, when I go to replace you I’ll be sure to sell you on as a pair to one of my foot sluts. Let’s be honest, as socks go, you’re kinda ‘mid’ at best.” The comment did nothing to reassure me about turning back to human. “Man you gay nerds are so dumb, none of you can resist my scent. It’s like you want to be part of my fit. Even my sneaks gave more of a struggle than you two lovebirds. All I need now is some new undies to stretch over my ass and hug my fat dong and balls. Know anyone?” Trev pauses and then laughs to himself.

As each minute passed my mind became more subdued, it was relaxing, becoming content. The part that was angry, defiant, was shrinking. A bubbling happiness was slowly expanding within me. I did my best to push it back but with my senses overwhelmed, it was a seemingly losing battle. Addy was probably already loving every second of it.

“Let’s have some fun. Which one of you will make a good cum sock? Who am I kidding, you’ll both be great. But for now…”

He peels me free from his foot, holding me limply in the air. For a moment I feel incredibly empty, already missing his warmth. The disappointment is short lived; I’m quickly filled out as he pulls me over a stiff pole. His cock. His glorious thick shaft. I’m forced to swallow it whole, it’s tip poking at my edges.

With his hand around me he wanks me furiously, using me as sleeve. ‘Don’t enjoy it’, I shout internally. This sucks. This sucks! It’s hard to ignore the pleasure it brings the both of us. Oh god I’m being stretched out by him completely. It sucks. Sucks… this…mmm. Faster. Go faster! Fill me! Cum inside me, mark me as yours!

My sexy owners pumping reaches a crescendo, now with both hands thrusting me up and down. One final tug. A grunt. A twitch. Thick copious splooge unloads right into me, flooding my interior. His fuckboy seed is absorbed into me, my cotton body sucking up every drop. A dark patch spreads across me and crusts over as it dries. The bitter taste lingers, like the cum was sat on my tongue.

“Fuck me, that was sweet. But enough fun.” Trev pulls me off his dick and janks me back over his foot, his toes push against my cum stained dark spot, still damp.

Trev’s phone starts to ring with some loud trap song. “Trev. Yeah. Yeah mate. Course, you fucka. Be arriving soon. Mint, I got me some new gear too. Ace. Uh huh…K, chat tomorrow.”

What would have normally been inane babble to me made a concerning amount of sense, like his identity was somehow rubbing off on me.

He stands up, dragging something over to him with his other foot. I’m lifted high into the air, tauntingly hovering over his beat up shoe. I can’t help but look down at my future smelly prison. I don’t think my mind can take any more…

It didn’t help knowing that the sneaker was once a guy, now heavily used. It was like seeing a glimpse of my own fate. Mmmm.

“Let’s get you acquainted.”

I see the trainer hurtle towards me as I’m lowered to the floor. My edges slide effortlessly into the pungent confines of his sneaker, the thick stale air engulfing me. I’m pressed against the stained sole and squelch against it’s moist surface; the outline of his foot clearly indented into the material. My vision goes pitch black.

The stench is blasted at me from all sides. Fuck me. I don’t stand a chance against it, my mind is drowned beneath its waves. Sinking below as new, more simple desires emerge.

There’s a muffled sound of an announcement playing overhead. “Guess this is where we get off lads. I should probably warn you, me mates and I have a footie match tomorrow. And I don’t plan on removing you, after that I expect you won’t even want to be turned back. Not that I ever planned to. I’m sure you stinkheads don’t object? Sorted.”

I didn’t object, in fact, I— I think I was looking forward to it. My printed face would probably be completely yellow by the end of it, as it should. Mmm.

The weight of his foot lifts as I feel myself rise from the floor and then just as quickly I’m pushed back down to the ground. My boyfriend being subject to the same in tandem. A second later and it happens again and then again, each step the strength of his body squishes me against the shoes insole, which sticks to my surface. And each time, my brain is submerged in a pleasant sweaty haze, scattering whatever dim thoughts I had left. The weight flattening my mind to sodden mush. Rewarding me for fulfilling my role as his smelly, mindless sock, us both huffing at our owners beautiful addictive feet. Together.

“Maybe we should stop off at that gay convention first, see how many noses we can get pressed against you two while you get sucked dry. Plus, we could find that friend of yours to get wrapped around my big sweaty butt.”

Yeahhh…I bet Nate would make a perfect pair of fucking briefs.

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll Results #1 - #4 (5)

As promised, here is the first batch of conclusions I would draw from the choices you guys have made on our weekly polls! Thank you all for participating and please mind the disclaimer before reading! ^-^

I've linked all polls in the titles.

Disclaimer: All polls are hypothetical questions and different factors could influence the results, ranging from your own personality to that of how you imagine the yandere to be. Writing these conclusions is not supposed to limit you in your fun or imagination of future polls, these are only how I imagine the stories I came up with to end. If you feel like reading these results will take away the fun from you, please abstain so you may enjoy future polls, thank you!

General Warnings for Yandere, Sexual Content, Violence, Kidnapping/Stalking, Abuse, Psychological/Physical Torture, Possible Character Death Mention

Yan-Poll #1

Run and try escaping or finding help.

♡ You push the door aside, running down the hallway as quickly as you can. With your yan not close enough to react, you don't waste a second to escape. However, you didn't realize that your door being open meant any other door in the apartment would be locked tight. Frustrated, you rattle the handle to the front exit, desperate to get out, when you hear hurried footsteps behind you. Banging your hand on the door, you start to panic, hoping someone will hear your cries for help as you scream, but just moments later, a hand clasps over your mouth, and you are dragged back to the bedroom you had been locked in, crying and screaming. The bell rings, a concerned neighbor checking on the household as your yandere has to take drastic measures to shut you up, pushing a pillow over your head until you have no air left to fight.

Stay and prove I am trustworthy to fool them later.

♡ You eye the front door, tempted to try and slip out unnoticed. But you decide it's better to wait it out and not risk losing all the trust you have built with the yan until now. Going to the living room, it's empty, so you move on to the kitchen, finding your captor. You are hesitant to speak to them, but you watch them fill bowls with snacks and prepare drinks. When they notice you, they smile, pushing two bowls of gummy bears and pretzels in your hands, asking you to bring them to the living room table. Three board games are stacked on the table as you arrive, and you realize what is happening. With a grin and a sparkle in their eyes, your yan tells you to sit down and choose the night's first game. The atmosphere grows less tense the longer you two play. You win some rounds, and they praise you for it, although you notice them letting you win at least once. You tell them not to cheat, and they beat you in a brutal game of Monopoly. Reflecting on it later, it was surprisingly fun, although you feel bad for entertaining your captor. The door to your bedroom stays unlocked.

Yan-Poll #2

Let them feed you whatever it is they're serving.

♡ ♡ It's not a gourmet meal, but you eat a few spoons, relieved to find it edible. It has the consistency of soup, with chunks of meat and vegetables. The meat is tough to eat, perhaps overcooked or low-quality, but the vegetables are satisfying in taste. It seems your captor checked to get good quality food for you, even if the meat is tough. You ask what all of it is, and they smile, telling you it's a family recipe before questioning if you like it. You shrug, and they utter a short "Aw" in disappointment. However, they look content just eating with you, smiling softly throughout the meal. "Did something good happen?" you ask them, trying to make the silence less awkward. "Mhm, you could say that," they reply, but won't tell you more. You give up. Later, as the yan clears the table, you notice some blood stains on their sleeve and point them out. "Silly me," they reply, laughing out loud in embarrassment. "Must have happened when I prepared the meat." The rest of the day is uneventful, but you feel full after the meal. You hurry back to your room after whispering a very quiet "Thank you," and your captor looks after you with surprise on their face before they beam at you happily.

Refuse it, no matter the consequences.

♡ "Too bad," they sigh. "And after your best friend went through all the trouble producing the meat for this meal." You perk up at the mention of your best friend, furrowing your brows in confusion. Your captor never talks about anyone else but you two. It's very unlike them as they always seemed jealous of anyone else around you. "You asked them for help?" you wonder, perplexed as you look down at your plate. Did that mean your best friend now knew where you were? Was your best friend aware that he was talking to your kidnapper? You were probably getting your hopes up for nothing, but hearing some news—any news!—of the outside world was such a relief. Breathing out, you nod, encouraging yourself to stay positive. Pushing the plate further away, you get up, announcing, "I'll go back to my room," before walking out hungry. You can feel the daggers your captor glares into your back, but you don't care. There was still hope you could be found. There were still people who loved and missed you and would keep looking. When you wake up the next day, you find a copy of the local newspaper on your nightstand. Curious, you browse through it, eventually stumbling over a page where the police asks for help finding a missing person. The picture of your best friend make tears well up in your eyes as you try to read the text around it. There is no mention of you.

Yan-Poll #3

Settle on the floor for the night.

♡ You dread the thought of the cold, hard flooring being your only companion for the night. Looking around, there are no other blankets or pillows to take with you, so you have no choice but to find some space far away from the bed to curl up in. You hear the yan grumble as you come to terms with the awful sleeping arrangements, your body already hurting from fighting all day, but at least you'll have your peace. No way that maniac would come down here instead of using the bed, right? Wrong. Next thing you know, the warmth of your blanket falls over you, and your yan lifts your head to push the pillow under it. But what is even worse is the feeling of their body slipping next to you, settling perfectly against the curve of yours and spooning you. You want to cry as they wrap their arm around your midriff, pressing their face into your back and taking a deep breath. They say nothing else, but you know they're smiling, happy to be with you, no matter your choice.

Share the bed with the yandere.

♡ Reluctantly, you slip your legs under the covers while your yandere giggles giddily at your choice. You think about turning your back to them so you won't have to see their sparkling eyes and infatuated expression, but you decide against it at the last minute. Not wanting to be vulnerable when you could keep your eyes on them. The bed is so comfy, especially after a long, exhausting day, and although they try to inch closer, you quickly call them out and tell them to stay on their side, or you'll leave. Disappointment is written all over their face, but eventually, they concede, and you feel better with this small win. Your eyelids are growing heavy, even though you want to wait until they fall asleep, but soon enough, you are lulled into your dreams by the warmth. You don't even notice when they inch their hand towards yours, entwining your fingers and holding on to it the whole night, not minding the lack of sleep when they can watch you for hours instead.

Yan-Poll #4

Jump off the cliff into the water.

♡ There's no turning back now. You plunge into the water, so determined to end this, to finally get away. The ice-cold wet surrounds you, and your body stiffens, but you immediately paddle up towards the surface, just in time to hear and feel the splash of another person behind you. Part of you expected it. You didn't think they'd let you jump and begone, but when you force your eyes open, you see the horror etched in their face. The horror of knowing they don't have the strength to swim back up to you. Their hand is outstretched in a last, desperate attempt to reach you, but they keep sinking while your air supplies are waning. You can't help them, lest you endanger yourself. Gasping for air, you reach the surface, the experience nothing short of traumatic. You tell yourself to push on. You swim along the cliffside, hoping, praying for somewhere to get out of the water. You didn't die jumping in, but the cold and waves are a different kind of torture than you've gotten used to. Your yan comes to mind as you try to survive, and you try to push the thought away, although the guilt seems to want to kill you. When you finally reach a sandy beach, people see you from their houses and come to help you, and you think you finally made it. But they are still on your mind. They'll always be.

Go back to the yan.

♡ You can't bring yourself to leave them. Cursing under your breath, you are by their side instantly, supporting them as you ask them which way to go. Your yan smiles at you as if you have already saved them, but you notice the dullness of their eyes, and your panic makes you careless. You rush through the thicket you have come from, asking—begging for them to tell you where to go! But the yan remains silent on the whereabouts of the nearest house or phone you could use. You feel their body sacking more and more against you, their blood loss gnawing away at their life. You keep pushing on and trying to help and fix this. You don't even like them! Don't even know one good thing about them! You don't... When they call out to you suddenly and sternly, you are reminded of all the times they scolded and got angry with you. Your body halts and tenses instinctively, like so many times before. But instead of hitting or scaring you, they simply ask you to put them down. You want to argue, but looking into their eyes, you know arguing would be pointless. You settle them down on the ground, and they thank you. Tears shoot into your eyes, and you don't even know why as you hold their hand. Time passes. Time spent with them telling you how beautiful you are and how much they love you. You don't. You hate them. Even though you want to leave, you can't bring yourself to get up. You should feel the relief and happiness of finally being free when they are gone. It will take a lot of therapy to overcome the dread you feel, but first, you have to go and find your way out of the forest. Wouldn't want to join them for all eternity, right?

Yan-Poll #5

I, uh... I think I skipped 5 as a number. Honestly heartbreaking because it's my favorite number but the post doesn't exist so apparently I just went straight for 6. My bad, sorry :')

[Your own thoughts, ideas, and reactions are welcome in the comments and asks!]

[minty-drop]

“Collector! Hey buddy, you ok?”

“Collector?”

Colourful stars, sparking with shine scattered across the walls. Searching, looking and digging there corners into the slits between the ivory. Worry swallowed the collector whole, nagging into his gut like a piercing blade.

“King!”

The star child shouted, turning to face the canine like creature, a titan who’s yet to fully grow, something they both had in common.

“I can’t find them. I don’t want to play this game anymore!”

He didn’t like how long this was taking, they were impatient, and did not like loosing games. But at this moment, he didn’t care if he lost.

He just wanted his ‘parent’ beside them again.

“M-maybe there back in our room? They could have switch spots”

“That’s cheating!!”

Rattling the walls like a earthquake, the force of the shout bouncing off the wall.

But he was right? Maybe they did go back?

Swiftly the child’s hand waved across, a motion to quick for the titan to catch before he as-well was thrown on top of its flat surface, the hum buzzing from the star present with the patter of feet next to him.

A game of hide n seek, a classic, a game where one would seek and the other would hide. A simple yet challenging game of who can stay hidden until the end.

And you were quite good at it.

It felt like hours ago you had watch the collectors feet drop off the bed, the counting of numbers stoping that erupted into giggles. The collector was good at hide n seek, and from what you’ve seen, was very good to the point you could only assume he had found king in under afew minutes when the star child had began to run around with an extra pair of feet right next to him.

They teamed up on you. Little sneakers…..

But at this point you didn’t really care, you were having fun with the children who you were to constantly accompany in every waking minute, sure it was tiring but it was fun. And in these moment you got to see them interact, giggling and planing there next ideas that were childish yet entertaining to hear. It was perfectly normal because after all,they were children. Maybes it’s because you were no longer a small child, the childish nature still living in you but as time passed by, you have matured by much and by the time you had met king and later met the collector through the events of the eclipse, you had began to become much like the parental figure of the group. You missed the others, and you wanted them here with you, for the collector to see what he is doing is wrong, but there was only so much you could do. The kid was young with immense power, but as time went on, you’ve come to see them as a young child you could look after and maybe then, all of you would be able to thrive.

But who am I kidding, nothing like that is easy to get.

You first heard the hum of the star like transportation, then the mumbling of the two children. The collectors feet hopped off the star along with the fluffy paws of king. From all you could see, the collector made his way to the bed you were currently under, inspecting the tossed blankets that you made previously made to look like someone was underneath the warm fabric. It was a risky move.

But his ankles were just in reach of your hands.

With a small snicker, you reached out and snatched onto the small godlike child’s ankles, causing the said child to jump up in surprise, hoping all the way over to the other side of the room like a scarred bunny.

“WHAT IS THAT WHAT IS THAT KINGGGGG”

“I DONT KNOW WHAT WAS THAT”

Curiously the collector had slowly walked back over to the bed, creeping up before lifting the whole bed up with his hand effortlessly.Laying there defenceless you could only do one thing.

“SURPRISE???”

Waving your hands like a mad man.

It took the collector a minute before he began to laugh, flying up in the air up and around before landing back down on the soft carpet.

“OHHH THAT WAS SO FUN. WE SHOULD PLAY THAT SO MANY MORE TIME! 1000 MORE TIMES!!!”

You chuckled.

“Anytime collector”

[finniestoncrane]

Gotta be honest with you, I need to hear every single Digger headcanon you have because they 2 you've shared are just so good.

General Headcanons

KTJL!Boomer Headcanons yippee!!! woohoo!!! someone wants to listen to my bullshit!! i am so happy to write down more of my headcanons by the way, but for anyone wanting any make sure to let me know what you want the 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of nsfw things, it's fuckin boomer so of course, there's a whole load of nsfw headcanons and i mention piss because duh

General Headcanons

this is a sort of universal belief i suppose but i do think he lives in his van and i will live and die by my faith. he likes having everything he needs with him at all times. he will spout some bullshit rhetoric about living a "buddhist" existence with few material goods. and he's half right in that he has two pairs of underwear, and a collection of empty (or maybe not completely empty) beer cans rattling around back there

he's passed out twice while getting tattoos and he will yell and scream and argue that it was because his blood sugar was super low and not because he's a total wuss

he smells amazing. not like... good, don't get me wrong i don't think he smells nice. BUT he smells fuckin great. he has a natural deep musk that just hits the receptors nicely, the kind of smell that's laden with all the right pheromones to engage your caveman brain and have you swooning over him

bad habits (which i count as a bonus tbh) include: picking things: ears, skin, nose, anything. drinking to excess and then never learning a single lesson. masking all of his emotions until he's certain you won't make fun of him for having feelings. pretending to hate people that he loves because he can't be seen getting hurt. leaving his clothes lying around and relying on the smell test to get him through the process of getting dressed. kissing you in the morning before he has brushed his teeth. having no concept of personal space: he will steal blankets, he will curl around you in bed, he will sit too close to you on the sofa, he will hang off your body, he will hug you from behind and not let go, he will stand beside you all the time. refusing to take things seriously until he really has no other option. bad temper, and then defusing the situation by kicking something

yes, he has great tits and strong arms, but in my heart of hearts i know his stomach is not flat and in my head he has the sweetest lil beer gut to ever exist. it gets worse once he's just finished eating or drinking, and he cradles it and makes jokes about it being a girl or a boy. and while they might not have added it into the game, they did add in his sweet lovehandles on those hips, and he likes being grabbed by them and pulled into a hug. reminds him that when he's no longer big buff boomer, you'll still be super into his hot body

i think he's 45 years old fuck you. i think youngest he's 40, there's no way he's near me in age. we can consider sun damage to an extent but he has wrinkles, he's a dad, he's got big ol bags under his eyes and a slightly receding hairline

he's competitive, but not in an aggressive way, more in an annoying way. like you play a board game with him, and he'll do everything in his power to distract you, or use the rules against you. and if he loses, he doesn't go in a big strop, maybe a tiny huff with a few whines. who can refuse him a pity win when he's looking up at you all sad with those big green eyes and batting those silly eyelashes?

if there is something about you that he can mercilessly tease you for (without making you cry) he will harp on about it constantly. it's his way of showing that he's comfortable around you, enough that he can make you want to punch him in the throat. he can give but he can't take though, so remember that before you point out that he is in fact ginger, or that his freckles make him look so cutie-patootie, or that his tattoos are kinda dumb

you have to laugh at his jokes and puns, it's a requirement and he'd be tempted to make you sign a contract saying you will adhere to this rule. it gives him a boost, makes him feel proud. plus he is genuinely very funny, and the dorky nature behind his silly jokes is so endearing

Relationship Headcanons

when he falls for someone, he falls first and he falls hard. he also falls pretty easily, and he's no stranger to heartbreak, but he has his terrible coping methods to keep him going

he finds it easy to find something about everyone that he likes, because he's just prone to liking people. he thinks everything and anything is sexy, and he can find your good traits like a pig sniffing out truffles

he regularly brings home gifts for his partner, stolen or otherwise. no one needs to know how you aquired such an expensive piece of jewellery or that really nice original looking bit of art. maybe you just happen to save a lot of money by living in the back of his van with him!!

gifts are just one of the ways he is surprisingly thoughtful for a boy with no thoughts behind his eyes! dates are another thing he's fuckin stellar at!! wherever you're going and whatever you're doing you are guaranteed to have fun, that's just how he is. he makes everything tolerable, and he can turn a shit day into a great one

he's desperate for friendship, far more than he is for anything romantic or sexual, although if the two could go hand in hand that'd be an ideal scenario. he might claim to be chill and looking for a quick root, but he's far more interested in finding a partner who can be his buddy as well as his lover

there's never going to be a moment when he's not touching his partner by the way, like that is just something you are going to have to put up with

hand on your shoulder, hand in your hand, hand on your waist, hand on your thigh, hand on your back, hands around you as he hugs you from behind, hands around you as he hugs you from the front, hands around you as he hugs you from the side, hand on your butt, hand on your chest, hand on your stomach, hand on your cheek. the man has borderline separation anxiety

holding hands is his favourite though, especially when paired with his habit of loudly announcing your status to anyone within earshot. "oh this is my partner!" "yeah i'm their boyfriend!" "i'm fucking that beautiful bit of arse over there, thanks for asking!" like thank you, digger

he's surprisingly emotional, and surprisingly open once you get past his protective exterior layer. he's still always joking around and trying not to take things seriously, but the minute you or he needs some serious feeling time he is down for it

i don't think he would ever choose a sexuality. personally, i feel like he's bisexual or pansexual, but digger would say he's just sexual. he'll go for anything with a pulse who was happy to see him. there's a bit of digger for anyone (or anything...)

he'd be quick to take things to the next level with a partner he really loved. like he comes to pick you up one day in the boomer-van and he's like "tah-dah" and in the bacl there's a plastic storage box duct taped to the wall with your name written on it. this is how he would ask you to move in with him. you might need to get rid of a lot of your posessions but he wouldn't be adverse to you cleaning up the van or making it your own though!! i bet he'd love to have fairylights on the ceiling and some rugs on the floor

NSFW Headcanons

he has a piss kink. i know that is not a thing for most people, but i have evidence backing this up. it's barely a headcanon at this point, it's just straight up fuckin canonical fact lmao!! anyway i don't think it's a goes both ways thing most of the time. he likes to be the one pissing, it's where he refuses to be a switch and will only be the dominant one, usually

speaking of being the dominant one, it's what he's most comfortable with since he's a loud, brash, bold and heroic villainous boy, but he really doesn't mind switching things up. he can be a gentle dom, a bratty sub, and any combination in between. really, he is up for literally any activity or kink or fetish or position you can throw at him

he gets very vocal during sex. he spouts all kind of filth at you, confirming what he's doing, what he wants to do, and what he's going to do to you. his preferred terms are surprisingly gentle though, calling you kitten or pup, princess or prince, love, babe, baby. a combination of them all. aside from that, he is loud. volume is not something he can control when he's deep in the heat of the moment and he is the literal definition of animalistic. he growls while he fucks you, and he howls when he cums, and he has referred to himself as a dingo before...

of course, if you're getting particualrly nasty, or he's in a far more feral mood, he'll be growling low into your ear, calling you a dirty, nasty little cunt while he grabs your body and keeps you close

he's into any kink, sort of believing in trying anything once (or twice... or three times...) but there's a few he just LOVES. ones that if you mention them, you run the risk of having him cumming in his pants or rutting up against your leg like a desperate, badly behaved puppy

obviously, previously mentioned piss kink, but specifically if it involves some level of servitude or worship. like you on your knees holding his cock for him while he goes to the toilet, you offering to lick him clean, or letting him piss on you because you're so beneath him and he's yours to mark and claim. begging for a taste of him or pleading for him to use you gets him going too when you combine it with this

body worship or worship in general gets him going too. he's so desperate to be loved and wanted and adored and needed, so having someone beg for him, tell him they want him, they need his cock, his fingers, his hands, his saliva, his drool, his cum, anything he's willing to give them. top that off by calling him captain and he'll melt into a sticky little puddle

he's also way behind on comfort, so a little bit of gentle love mixed with kink is a great way to help him relax. feed him a tit or a hard cock, let him suck until he's soothed himself. hold him on your lap and stroke his hair while you tell him he's amazing, and so good at everything he does

cowboy digger is reporting for duty at the breeding ranch! get you some horns, a teeny tiny cowprint outfit, a tail and a bell and he'll either milk you dry until you're crying from overstimulation, or he'll ride you until he's pumped every last bit of cum into you, making sure you're ready for him to be the daddy

he'll fuck with the hat on. he's a socks on kinda guy too. he just gets way too into it way too quickly and forgets anything else but rutting and grunting

this could have been soft, if it wasn't george, but he loves when you fall asleep on him, like your head resting on his chest or his stomach or his lap or his shoulder. he'll be sweet, of course, and place a little kiss on the top of your head. but then he will try and sneak a look down your top or at your ass or to see if you have a visible bulge he can ogle

[sudoka]

Outpacing the Dawn

Blackwood Mountain is unforgiving. At night the mountain glows with a strange blue shimmer. One that threatens to consume everyone on it. Is tonight the night you confess to Josh? Or has your fate already been sealed?

Ao3

Washington Lodge. 7 Hours Until Dawn. 

Rust and blood. The pungent smell filled your nostrils. Pain exploded behind your eyes, and sparks swam in your vision as you opened your eyes. In front of you was an old welded lever and just beyond that, a chain link barrier holding… two figures in the distance. You sat up, picking your groggy head up, the bare concrete cold on your hands as the two figures came into focus. Matt and Josh. 

Memories flooded your head. Coming to Blackwood Mountain, warmth, awkwardly diverging from the group to relax,  and then… nothing. You had sprawled out on your bed to finish your current read when it happened. The Psycho. 

“Good, you’ve finally joined us.” You looked up and around, seeing no one else. The voice was muffled. Calculated. Standing up, sparks came into your vision again, but you pushed the pounding in your head aside. 

The name said your voice, but your eyes were trained on the two boys in front of you. They were shackled to a wooden board, feet dangling. And then Matt coughed. Josh tilted his head. They were alive.

“Matt!” You rushed forward, trying the door, but to no avail. “Josh!” You began rattling the door handle harder. Slammed your body against the door frame. It shuddered, but there was no give. “Are you guys okay?” 

And then you saw it. Your stomach dropped. Right in front of them was a horizontal saw. An image of the grotesque skull mask flashed in your memories. This was his doing. And you didn’t like where this was going. 

“We’re okay! What’s going on? What is that?” Matt turned his head towards you and shouted your name. Josh’s eyes fluttered, he seemed to be fuzzy. 

Before you could respond, the Psycho’s voice filled the room again. “So kind of you to join us. When you go in there, be honest with your feelings. Say your goodbyes. Have fun.” 

Click. 

You pushed onto the door and fell onto the floor. Hard. Scrambling up, you ran over to… your mind stopped. How did this affect this guy’s sick game? It was clear whatever happened in here would affect the outcome. How in the everloving hell would it be determined? 

Your stomach sank lower than you thought it could. Be honest with your feelings. There’s no way this crazy guy would know- 

“I’ve been dreaming of having Matt all to myself lately. We’ve only ever kissed, but I think he’s going to ask me out after winning the big game. Obviously he’s going to win.” Hot isn’t even the word to describe the feeling etching across your face at the words filling the silence. 

“W-What is this?” Matt looked at you. 

You couldn’t form any words as the Psycho’s voice continued to echo around the room. 

“He said he wants to play varsity, and I really think he’s going to make it big. Is there room for me there? I’ll just focus on tonight and hopefully it ends with me under him.” 

Matt’s eyebrows furrowed and you took a step towards him. “That fucker must’ve stolen my journal. These were from a really long time ago. You know the night.” You cringed at your own words. 

“Good to know it’s from a long time ago,” Matt replied and shifted his body uncomfortably, trying to wrestle himself out of the shackles. Your heart panged. He didn’t deserve to hear these words, especially since your relationship with him didn’t pan out. 

And the person who really didn’t deserve to hear those words was the current person your heart belonged to. Josh glanced between you and Matt wordlessly. His eye caught yours and the contact sucked you into a vortex of the past. 

Washington Residence. Two Years Ago. 

“Thank you for doing this for me. You’ll have lots of fun, I promise.” Matt gave your hand a squeeze. 

“Okay, okay. No need to pile it on. I’m happy to be here for you.” With a returning squeeze, you smiled at Matt. It was a humid August night, the remaining crickets of summer still flitting about. Matt and the rest of the football team won their first big game of the season. And as Matt’s not-quite girlfriend you were obliged to go. 

The relationship started innocently enough. You both had a world history course together, one Matt was flunking. The teacher assigned you to be his tutor as one of the star pupils of class. And strangely enough, it turned out Matt wasn’t too dumb to keep up with the course, he just needed to focus less on sports and more on school. With nothing to really teach him, tutoring sessions became more of a rendezvous. 

Now, here you were. Holding his hand publicly and entering a stranger’s huge house. It honestly felt more like a mansion with a spiraled staircase and multiple hallways you looked like you could get lost in. Matt had never quite asked you out, but at some point between the make-out sessions you both knew you were exclusive. He always mentioned his ragtag group of friends, with whom you were familiar with from various classes, but never really interacted with. 

Within minutes you had already lost Matt. He gave you a quick peck on the forehead and began to chum it up with the rest of his team. You had smiled and motioned encouragingly, but now found yourself alone. Awkward and with no familiar faces, you decided to go to the bathroom to freshen up.

It took you a little longer than you would have liked, with seemingly endless doors, but eventually someone pointed you in the right direction. Finally opening the bathroom door, you were surprised to see a brunette with her head out of the small glass window. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

The stranger coughed and you saw smoke permeating around the glass window. “All good! Mind closing the door on your way out?” 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll find another bathroom, no problem.” You rolled your eyes and shut the door. It wasn’t a big deal, but what if you had to actually use the bathroom? There had to be another one in this place. 

Matt being away was no big deal, but gosh you had no idea what you were doing here. You shook your head just as you heard your name being called. Turning towards the sound you saw one of your classmates, Sam, waving at you excitedly with a disgruntled looking blonde next to her. 

“Heyyy, Sam,” You drifted over, excited to see a familiar face. She was ecstatic to see you, bringing you into an emphatic, but brief hug. “Didn’t strike you as the party kind.” 

“I’m not, I’m here for moral support,” she elbowed the guy next to her. He had his arms crossed, his glasses acutely perched on his face. 

He coughed and then muttered out, “I’m Chris.” His tone was off, his eyes scanning the crowd. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s not usually like this. We just can’t find our friend Ashley.” Sam gave you a pointed look and catching her drift, you nodded. “What brings you here?” The question caught you off guard. 

“Oh I uh… I’m here with Matt actually.” Both blondes snapped their attention towards you. You floundered under their inquisitive gazes. “We uh…”

Thankfully, a reprieve was here. “What is up, party people!” You turned to see a new face. His features were strikingly unique with sharp blue eyes, and a humble bravado.  He donned a big smile, slinging his arm around Chris. Your eyes met his and startlingly, your heart rate was quickening despite your inhibitions. 

“Oh, Josh! This is one of my classmates,” Sam introduced you by name. 

“Pretty name,” he said casually, a teasing smile on his face. You couldn’t help but return his smile, a faint heat creeping onto your cheeks. Then he turned back to Chris. “Why are you pouting, man? Drinks? Drinks?” He turned to you and Sam. You wondered if he was sober himself. Chris shook his head, but a light smile danced on his lips. 

“I’m good,” both you and Sam said simultaneously. Josh threw his hands up in defeat. 

“Alright, well, I gotta go make sure Matt and Mike don’t break anything from the keg stands.” And just as quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared, swallowed into a sea of people. 

“Did you want to go with Matt too?” Sam asked you. You thought for a moment and then shook your head. “I was actually looking for a bathroom. The last one I was in had some girl literally through the window.”

“Oh, god, not again,” Chris muttered. “Was it downstairs?” His question seemed odd as you were all still on the first floor.

“It was… why?” 

“Crap, that must be Ashley again. Last time she got stuck,” Chris sighed in exasperation. “Sam, come help me?” 

“Why me?” She laughed, seeming to already know the answer. 

“Last time she got stuck I- listen, I can’t just grab her.” 

“Alright, alright, I’ll come.” After taking a step, Sam turned towards you. “You can come with if you want.” 

Her offer was kind, but you shook your head. “Thanks, but I don’t think having a stranger there for this is the best idea.” 

Chris was practically pulling Sam the second your conversation wrapped up. She turned her head and yelled over the deafening music. “We’ll be back!” 

Then you were alone again. It wasn’t too bad, but so many people milled about. You were mulling over whether or not to find Matt when Josh bumped into you. 

“Whoa, sorry,” he said, grinning cheekily. Whatever was in his cup sloshed over between you both onto the floor.

“No problem,” You laughed, his smile utterly infectious. 

“Can I get you something?” He asked, his voice tinged with concern. “I know you said you won’t drink, but we have like… lemonade. Can’t have people over to mí casa and leave em’ dry.” 

“Oh, this is your place?” Your eyebrow shot up.

“Yup. I know, an impressive place for an impressive guy.” He brushed off his shoulder proudly.

You shook your head in amusement. “Sure, I’ll take a lemonade. I was looking for the bathroom earlier, but it was occupied. Are there any other ones?” 

He relaxed at your request. “There’s one up the stairs and to the left. I’ll go get your drink.” He had a sort of restlessness about him, but he was proactive, you’d give him that. 

Upstairs was daunting and vast, the muffled sounds of the party blaring below your feet. Despite this, the respite was quite nice. Eventually, you found your way to the bathroom and entered, looking into the mirror. This night was not going the way you wanted it to. From Josh’s words, Matt was doing… keg stands. Not exactly the most admirable act. 

But you shrugged it off, patting your cheeks with your hands. This night was going to be over soon. Enjoying the solitude, you started to wander the halls. The carpet was plushy, the walls lined with family photos of Josh, who you assumed to be his parents, and two younger girls. Sisters, you figured from the striking resemblance they all bore to each other. 

The lights were dim, sconces that were not in your tax bracket lining the walls. Something in you told you to turn back after making headway through the halls, remembering Josh was bringing you a drink. The last thing you wanted was to be seen as a creep, especially with Matt’s friends. You had just turned around when voices cut across the night. 

“C’mon Hannah, you look fine!” 

“Fine is not the word to describe this!” 

You froze as two figures made their way down towards you. As they got closer, you realized they were the same girls from family photos. 

The one with glasses and longer hair marched right past you, her face clearly red even with the soft lighting. She went into a nearby room and slammed the door shut. 

The other girl looked at you sheepishly. “I’m so sorry about that. She’s just… a little sensitive. I’m Beth.” She touched your arm softly. “I hate to ask this of you, but I need to find my brother. Can you just… stay with her for a second? You don’t have to go in or anything, but I’d really appreciate it.”

“Sure,” you said, not sure what to think. In a flash, Beth was gone. You stood there for a second, rocking on your heels when you heard a soft sob from inside the room. Taking a deep breath, you decided to knock softly. 

“Go away, Beth!” The other sister, whom you assumed was Hannah yelled out. 

“It’s not Beth,” you cringed at your own words, not knowing what else to say. 

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, she responded. “Come in.” 

Pushing the door open, you saw her sitting in front of a vanity, her nose and face still red from tears as she looked at you through the mirror. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, concern etched on your face. 

She wiped at her face as you stepped closer. “I just wanted to look cute tonight… and no matter how much I look in the mirror, no matter what I do, none of it feels right.” 

“I know the feeling,” you said, now standing behind her at the chair. 

“This is going to sound so stupid, but I really wanted to impress my crush. Look good for him,” she said with a half sob. 

“No… that’s not stupid at all…” You inhaled. “You look so beautiful…” You said softly, not wanting to overstep the boundaries of someone you just met. 

She smiled sadly at that. “Thanks… I don’t even know you, but you’re really nice.” She leaned back in her chair. “I just feel like a huge fool. Look at me, dorky glasses, frayed hair.” 

“Your hair’s not that frayed,” you said, crossing your arms. “But if it bothers you that much, I do have an idea,” you offered, looking her over. She really was pretty, her soft doe eyes enlarged by her glasses. 

Hannah turned towards you now, picking her head up. “Really?” 

With a nod, you took a strand of her dark hair in your fingers tentatively. She turned back to the mirror to watch as you started a crown braid on her hair. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself and here you are doing my hair. I’m Hannah,” she said. You offered your name in return, laughing softly. 

“We do stupid things for boys. For instance, I’m here for one too.” 

“Who?” She asked, leaning forward. You averted her gaze from the mirror, shaking your head. 

“That’s fair,” she laughed.  “But since we’re friends now, I’ll figure it out.” You laughed at the family’s overt comfort with people. First Josh, then Beth, and now Hannah, none of them backing away from engaging with people.

“You are just like your siblings. I step foot in here and you guys are everywhere.” You started to work on braiding the other side of her hair. 

“It’s a Washington thing,” she giggled. “So you’re friends with them?” 

“I actually just met all of you for the first time. I came here with Matt.” Your fingers faltered as the words fell from your lips. 

“I knew it!” She exclaimed. “He was acting really coy these past couple of weeks.” She noticed the blush creeping on your face and settled back down. “Well, my crush is Mike so…”

You smiled at her confession, finishing her braid and joining the two strands together. “Well, I heard they were both doing keg stands, so who knows if they’ll even recognize us. But…” you said, grabbing a nearby butterfly clip she had strewn on the dresser. “Mike is bound to recognize someone as gorgeous as you.” The clip laid neatly in her hair now, pretty, ornate blue and gold now adorning her head. 

A blush crept on her face and she bowed her head. “Thank you…Actually, I know just how to thank you.” Without warning, she grabbed your hand and pulled you through the halls. You followed closely, laughing breathlessly as she brought you into a bedroom. 

As you oriented yourself, Hannah busied herself in a dresser drawer. You looked around, the walls of this room covered in horror movie posters, the bed in the middle covered in blue checkered bed sheets, little classic monster figurines lining any shelf space available. It should’ve been overwhelming, but you found it had a certain charm. Your eyes widened, this had to be Josh’s room. 

“Aaand, here!” Hannah turned towards you, holding out a flowery silver ring. It looked as if the band was made of branches, intricately winding over themselves. The ring was breathtaking. She noticed the hesitation on your face and pushed it into your hands. “Don’t worry about Josh. He owes me this. Please, take it.” 

Your fingers closed over the ring. “I really don’t-” 

“Uh-uh!” Hannah held up a hand. “You help me with Mike, I help you with Matt. A ring that pretty belongs on a girl like you.” She broke out into a grin and took your hand again, leading out towards the stairs. Her sudden energy was contagious and you both spoke in hushed whispers about updating each other on how the night goes. 

Right before the stairs were Beth and Josh, making their way towards you both hurriedly. Both Beth and Josh looked at you and Hannah and then back to each other. 

“Hannah?” Beth asked bemusedly. 

Hannah stood up straighter. “I am sorry for how I acted earlier, Beth. I am a new woman. And it helps that I had help from someone” Hannah smiled at you appreciatively.  Josh stood there silently, a similar look on his face as Beth’s.

Beth nodded, too astounded to speak. “You are a wizard,” she said to you, pulling Hannah towards her. She mouthed a thank you over her shoulder as they left. 

Now with just you and Josh, you turned towards him. “What happened?” He asked you incredulously, a light smile playing on his lips.  

“I just went in and offered to braid her hair. She really needed it,” you said, shrugging. “And she also declared us friends.” 

“I see that,” he said with a laugh.”Y’know she doesn’t get along with people that easily, so I’m surprised she even said that.”  He extended his arm, offering a red solo cup. “As promised, one lemonade.” 

“Thank you,” You reached to take the lemonade, your fingers brushing against his you took the cup. “I- um…” You looked at him, feeling flutters spread through your body, as if there were butterflies in your ribcage, bursting to escape. His gaze locked onto you, and the rest of the party became drowned out by the beating of your heart. 

Josh cleared his throat, drawing his hand back first. “No problem. Like I said, can’t have anyone high and dry at my place.” 

You nervously took a sip of the lemonade, trying to still the beating of your heart. You were here with Matt, you reminded yourself. And then you remembered the ring Hannah had handed to you. 

“Oh!” you said, reaching into your pocket. Taking the adorned silver ring out, you held it out to Josh. “Hannah gave this to me, but it looked like it was yours.” You flushed at your words, hoping he wouldn’t be upset. 

Instead, Josh looked surprised, his eyebrows shooting up. “It is hers actually, it’s a Washington heirloom.” He sighed. “Did she go digging in my room? All she had to do was ask.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, your fingers curling over the ring nervously. 

“No, no,” he waved at you. “Keep it. It suits you,” His eyes drifted down to the ring in your hand, and he laid his hands on yours, pushing your fingers to hold it. The contact sent electricity into your body. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, tilting your head. 

He nodded, his gaze unwavering from the precious silver in your hand. 

“I’ll take good care of it, I promise,” you said, unsure of whether to put it in your purse or not, weighing the least awkward way to do this with your drink in your hand. 

“Ah, here,” he said, reaching out. Your hand instinctively moved the cup towards him. Instead, he had taken the ring and was now slipping it gently onto your index finger. For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you looking down at the ring on your finger. It felt comfortable, sliding onto your finger like butter. But it wasn’t too big, settling just right. The cold metal was in stark contrast to the heat of Josh’s hands, still warmly holding yours.

A loud crash from downstairs broke the moment. You both laughed nervously, and you drew your hand back. 

“I-I should go check on that,” he said. 

You nodded, letting him go a few paces ahead of you, gripping the railing as you went downstairs. The heat of the moment didn’t escape you, and your head swam. Going back downstairs broke your feelings of solitude, an arm immediately slinging itself over your shoulders. 

“There you are, babe.” Your face flushed at Matt’s familiar voice calling you babe. You turned towards him, a delirious look on his face. He was clearly inebriated. 

“Hey, stranger,” you joked, leaning into his touch. Matt brushed his lips against the side of your head, and you froze. “What’d I miss?” You asked, taking a cautious sip of your lemonade. This was the first time Matt displayed PDA with you, and of course, it was when he was drunk. 

“Nothing at all, this party was so boring without you,” He clumsily nuzzled his face into your hair. Your body shifted, feeling the room sway. Despite being sober, the music felt like too much. It was pounding. 

“Didn’t look like that when I heard you did keg stands.” You turned to look at him, taking in how his eyes had a distant glaze to them, his head bobbing with tipsy movement. 

“‘Ts not like that,” He slurred. You frowned, your mind growing worried about his current state. 

“Alright, stud, we should get you home,” You said, patting his shoulder. Matt blanched, shaking his head adamantly. 

“No, I didn’t get to introduce you to my friends,” he shook his head. 

“I met some of them, don’t worry about it,” I offered, pulling Matt’s hand in an attempt to lead him to the door. But he just shook his head again. 

“But we didn’t even-,” He cut himself off, his lips having much too fluid movement for someone as drunk as he was. His mouth was on your neck, trailing up to your ear. His breath was hot and warm. “Please,” he begged. You didn’t know what to say to his words, so you just let the moment overtake you. All of the months of creeping around, of the small dates and stolen moments culminated into this. Your desire and need for Matt took over your head and body. Before you knew it, he was pulling on you, and you were being swept into his arms. 

His lips met yours over and over clumsily. Your heart beat in your chest, knowing you had wanted this for so long. You let him take you upstairs, your mind swimming as you both entered a dark room. All that mattered in this moment was you and Matt, letting him push you down onto a soft bed. Yet, somewhere in the haze of making out, a sneaking suspicion grew in the back of your head. You hadn’t made it that far past the staircase… As you opened your eyes, you froze, seeing the dark shelves and shadows around you. Without thinking, you pushed on Matt’s shoulder with your hand. This was- 

“Are you okay?” Matt paused, pulling back from you. You had completely froze. The light leaking in from a nearby window caught on the silver ring, glinting as it laid against Matt’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you answered as you tried to catch your breath. “This is um, it’s just, this is someone’s room, I don’t feel comfortable going any further.” 

Matt visibly relaxed at your words, a small grin forming on his lips. “Don’t worry about it.” And then he was leaning back in again, any worries exiting his body. You looked up at him in concern as he dove back in, calculating how to stop him just as the sound of the door being opened and the flood of light switching on caused both of you to go rigid. 

“Oh c'mon man, I said the guest bedrooms!” Your body stiffened as the familiar voice sunk into your head. Your eyes squeezed shut, embarrassed of the position that you were in. 

“Sorry, your room was just the closest!” Matt responded, unfazed. His heat suddenly left you as he moved to get up. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you realized you couldn’t just lay here. Moving to get up, you couldn’t help but catch Josh’s eye. Matt took your hand in his to bring you both out of the bedroom, out of Josh’s bedroom. 

“I’m sorry-” you started, but stopped as you noticed that Josh’s gaze was averted as he stared off onto the floor, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Despite just meeting him, your heart panged. Whatever connection, or spark, or whatever you had felt earlier had just been snuffed out, and it was clear from his expression he felt the same way. 

Washington Lodge. Present. 

Now, here you were. A full two years later, making the eye contact you had desperately craved with him, but for all of the wrong reasons. This time, his eyes didn’t tear away from yours. They were searching for something, and you felt your stomach flip with dread. 

Without warning, the Psycho’s voice filled the dimly lit room again. “Why does Josh look at me like that? It’s like he knows that my heart’s about to beat out of my chest and I can’t take it anymore. He’s so headstrong and arrogant and yet all I want is to kiss him. To hold him. To be held. I can’t keep writing like I’m a teen anymore. This is so embarrassing. I feel something so deep for him that I just feel like imploding.” 

“I-” You floundered under Josh and Matt’s gazes as your deepest thoughts were now floating around in the room. Nothing made any sense. Why was this psychotic guy attempting to reveal your innermost thoughts? 

Say your goodbyes. The command sent a shiver down your spine. And then it was suddenly like it all clicked. He was going to make you choose. And this might be your last time talking to either one of them. Or both if this sick guy didn’t get the show he wanted. 

You approached Matt first, as he was the first subject matter of the entries. “Look, I know things weren’t always perfect for us, you have Emily now, but I wanted you to know that I never held anything against you. And I’m sorry this guy is getting his sick kicks from watching all of this. I care about you, I really do. I was naive and stupid and so many things I can’t take back.” Your breath hitched as you confessed this to Matt. 

Matt met your gaze, a certain softness growing in his deep eyes. “I made mistakes too.” 

You wrung your hands nervously, your palms beginning to tingle from your next action. It was now or never to get closure with Matt. Closing your eyes, you leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as he savored the feeling. 

When you pulled back, you filled your lungs with a deep, shaky breath and faced Josh. Kind, warm, thoughtful Josh. The Josh who never missed an important date in your life, who you spent many nights with just talking for hours or watching cheesy movies. The one you just heard how much gravity was between you and your ex boyfriend. 

Wordlessly, you moved over to him, placing a hand on his cheek. He looked at you, his brows furrowed and spoke before you could say anything. “Did you write that?” He almost whispered, seemingly stunned. 

“I did… recently actually. Josh-,” You ignored the feeling of Matt’s eyes on the scene in front of him. You had moved on a long time ago and so had he. “-I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I need you to know how I feel about you.” In case this is our last time together, you said to yourself. Even if anyone got released, who’s to say there wouldn’t be more. You shoved the thought down and decided not to waste another single second.

“I’m so sorry it had to happen this way.” You pressed your lips against Josh’s. He was warm, and everything you had imagined. He kissed you back eagerly, and you felt all of your reservations go. The kiss was affectionate, and sweet, and you felt as though you could kiss him for eternity. You pulled back from the kiss to see his reaction, every part of you burned to know how he felt, you needed to hear it. 

Words formed on his lips before the world was plunged into darkness again. Your blood ran cold. Someone was pulling you away roughly, your feet dragging on the hard concrete as cold leather gripped your skin. “No!” you exclaimed, struggling against who you knew was the psycho. His show was over. The next thing you knew was the increasingly familiar scrape of the cold concrete against your skin. 

The lights flicked on again and so did the saw, whirring to life in a roar. 

“Good job, that went about how I expected.” The psycho’s dismembered voice filled the chamber. You got up and gripped the chain fence separating you from Matt and Josh.

“No, please, I’ll do anything you want,” you begged, shaking the fence. The saw started to move and your heart plummeted. You moved to the door again, trying desperately to make it move. It didn’t even shake in its frame. 

“You made your choice,” the Psycho drawled. 

“Bullshit, I made no choice!” you yelled, throwing your weight against the door again. “Let them go!” You kept rattling the door, but you couldn’t help but look at Matt and Josh, both struggling against their restraints as the rusty saw reached what looked like a fork in its track. And then it turned left. Towards Josh. 

“No, no, please!” Tears filled your eyes as you got more frantic against the door. Slick sweat on your palms caused your hand to slip from the handle. 

The sound of Josh saying your name caused you to turn your attention towards him. His eyes were widened in fright. “I want you to know that I-” but his words were too little too late. Screams pierced the air as the blade plunged into his stomach. From you. From Matt. And from Josh himself. The sight and smell of heavy iron filled your nostrils. The smell was nauseating as Josh yelled, his entrails being spilled out onto the floor as the saw cut deeper. And deeper. His body went still, his head limp. 

Click. 

You tumbled onto the floor, your vision swimming as you began to feel light headed. A blurry vision of Josh’s body filled your sight. Of what was left of him. He was silent. And you couldn’t comprehend it. 

“Josh!” You shouted, pulling yourself up. You were going to go to him. He had to be okay, this wasn’t real. Something fastened around your waist. 

“We have to go,” Matt said, pulling you against him. 

“No, we have to help him,” you said, tears blurring your vision as snot began to drip from your nose. 

“He’s gone. He’s gone and we have to go. Now.” Matt’s voice was gentle, but he was firm. Everything in you struggled against him, your hand reaching out frailly towards Josh’s motionless body. Your knees were weak as you fought against Matt. 

Nothing was real. You had just kissed Josh. Felt his warmth against you. He was just there, alive and breathing. 

In your weakened state, Matt was able to drag you out of the chamber. The door swung closed and clicked behind you both, a sharp sign of no return. 

“I can’t leave him here,” you cried out, shaking in Matt’s arms. He was warm, blood from his letterman jacket seeping against your skin. It was hot and sticky. And that’s when it hit you. This was Josh’s blood. Still warm. 

“We have to go,” Matt said. He tightened his grip on you. “If that sicko comes back, what then? We need to find the others and get out of here.” His voice was empathetic, but unwavering. He wasn’t going to let you go.

You nodded, letting your body go slack despite everything in your body screaming at you to go to Josh, even if you couldn’t. You wanted to just rot here with him. Everything moved in a blur as Matt guided you both out of the basement. The lodge felt ice cold, devoid of all life. Just hours before you had been talking to Josh on the couch, your legs curled up as you hung onto his every word, the fire softly roaring. And now, there was nothing. 

The weather had begun to pick up outside, the snow and wind swirling. At this rate, it would be an arduous task to make anything out. The trees cast long shadows on the night, engulfing everything in darkness. Both you and Matt walked quickly, your scraped knees burning from the cold under your jeans. Tears flowed from your eyes, still unable to process everything they had just seen. They felt like daggers of ice dragging across your face. 

“It’s going to be impossible to find the others like this, " Matt said, raising his hand to his face to shield his eyes against the poor visibility. 

The others. You had almost completely forgotten that the entire friend group had collected on the mountain. Sam, Chris, Ashley, Mike, Jess, and Emily… 

“Shit,” you replied. A shiver passed through your body, both from the cold mountain air and the thought of the others with the psycho killer on the loose. Were they okay? Were they safe? You didn’t think you could take any more losses tonight. 

Matt softened for a moment as you shivered, and took his jacket off, draping it onto your shoulders. It was little comfort, but you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. The worn out letterman jacket was warm, the right sleeve completely drenched in blood. In Josh’s blood. Your stomach churned at the thought and you fought to keep the nausea down as you traversed the woods with Matt. 

You looked over at Matt silently. Taking the jacket off left him in nothing but his jean jacket and gray sweater. Despite losing the bloody jacket, splatters of blood still trailed over his face and neck, his right sweater arm stained with red. He looked over, catching your gaze and offered his clean arm. You took it gratefully, happy to have something to ground you. 

The moment was short lived as a sudden crunch in the distance caused you both to snap towards the origin of the noise. Was it a friend? Or worse, had the psycho followed you both? No, it couldn’t be the psycho, there were three frames now emerging from the darkness. 

You released your breath as the figures came into view in the pale moonlight-  Chris, Ashley, and Emily. 

“Whoa, what the hell happened?” Chris rushed forward first, taking in the sight before him. 

Ashley started to chip in, “Are you guys ok-” 

“What the hell is going on here? Where were you, Matt?” Emily stepped forward, pushing past Ashley and Chris to look at you and Matt. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of you- Matt’s ex-girlfriend, clutching his arm in his jacket. 

Matt’s words tumbled out in quick succession with yours. 

“There’s a killer on the loose, and he’s after us all-” 

“I can’t, I don’t know. Josh is- We need to leave,-” 

Emily’s eyes widened, and she moved closer to you and Matt. “Holy shit, is that blood?” Her cold demeanor dropped as she shifted closer in concern. Her words caused you and Matt to fall silent. This is not what you had expected from her. Emily usually treated you brusquely. You couldn’t really blame her given how Matt was not known for concise story-telling. Now all three sets of eyes gazed at you both intensely. 

“That’s what we’ve been saying. There’s a killer here and he’s after all of us. We barely escaped with our lives and he’s probably going to try to catch up to us.” Matt shook his head, and stared down at the ground. This was affecting him more than he was letting on. 

Chris and Ashley exchanged silent glances. 

“And… where is Josh?” Ashley asked quietly, placing her hand on Chris’ faintly. Your chest heaved. All eyes were on you. You could feel your heart constricting as the words refused to leave your throat. 

“He’s… he’s…” You kept trying to shove the words out, but they wouldn't come. 

“He’s gone,” Matt stepped in. “He’s… Josh is gone.” Your grasp released from Matt’s arm as his words hit your ears. 

“Oh god,” Emily said, placing her hand over her mouth. Ashley leaned into Chris sorrowfully. 

“We need to go. Right now, we need to find a way off of this mountain,” Matt said, the urgency in his voice picking up. 

“What we need is to go get help,” Emily interjected. 

“And what about Sam?” Ashley piped up. Her head turned toward the lodge frantically as she spoke. “She’s still in there.”

Silence fell on the group with these words. It was as if everyone froze, unsure of what to do. 

Finally, Chris spoke up. “Okay, Ashley and I will go find Sam, Jess, and Mike; the rest of you contact the authorities.” 

“Okay, but we need to go. Right now. There’s an old radio tower in the distance we can probably get to,” Emily pressed. She dusted the snow off of her leather coat. 

You sheepishly nodded. You were in no condition to try to go back into the lodge, the images still fresh and pervasive in your mind. 

The group split, Ashley and Chris towards the lodge; you, Matt and Emily towards the old radio tower. The three of you moved in hurried silence, the wind howling as it picked up through the trees. Your hand had dropped from Matt’s arm, instead Emily resuming her place and holding his hand. 

Things weren’t particularly tense between the three of you, both you and Matt had made things clear to Emily, his new girlfriend, that things were over. 

“I’m sorry about what happened to Josh,” Emily said, glancing over at you again. Her gaze was empathetic, but her eyes glossing over the bloody letterman jacket didn’t escape you. 

“Em,” Matt said tautly. 

“What? How she felt wasn’t exactly a secret,” Emily whispered much too loudly. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” you lied, releasing a small breath. “I appreciate it, Emily, really.” That part was true. Even though you and Emily didn’t have the best relationship, she was surprisingly amicable about your past with Matt. Her concern here was a welcome one. But you couldn’t help but feel a stab of resentment at her part in the drama the last time you all were gathered here on the mountain. 

The silence returned. Your thoughts became a mess. Every Washington you had grown to love was gone. Every single one cruelly ripped from your hands. And it was all this psychopath's fault. A growing anger bubbled up inside of you. If you ever faced this guy again, you knew you would tear him a new one, even if it was the last thing you did. The cold rippled through you and you pulled Matt’s jacket closer into you. The blood from the sleeve was now cooled, leaving an uncomfortable sticky feeling on your skin. 

Thoughts of Josh floated around in your head. His smile. His laugh. The way he always put others first. Even when they didn’t deserve it. Your fingers moved to idly play with your silver ring, the one he had placed on you that first night you met. Hannah’s gift. You had no idea how much things would change, that your relationships with them would deepen so much. That this small token would be all you had left of your best friend and her brother that you were in love with. You had never taken it off, it was like a permanent fixture on your body, and now a permanent reminder of all of your losses. 

As the silence stretched on, you all passed a gate. It was locked, offering no shortcuts and no easy passage on the cold, desolate trek. That is, until you stumbled upon a small outpost. 

“Finally, something,” Emily exclaimed. 

“Yeah, something,” you replied, a sudden glaze in your eyes as something shiny reflected in them. Matt and Emily followed your gaze as you pulled an axe out of the outpost door. 

Matt frowned as the axe came off of the wood cleanly. You turned it over in your hands, feeling the hilt. It was a little heavy, but nothing you couldn’t handle with the sound of your own blood pumping loudly in your ears. 

“Nice catch,” Matt said with your name. “I’ll hold onto it.” He reached for the hilt, and you bristled. 

Matt paused as you drew back, caught off guard. You coughed and pulled the axe closer to you. 

“Finders keepers,” you joked weakly. Your grip on the axe tightened. A whole new web of possibilities opened up with uncovering the weapon, the feeling fluttering in you. “Actually-” you started slowly, testing the waters. “- I think with this, it’d be best if I found the others. Ensure their safety.” 

“What?” Emily turned towards you. “No way, we found it, it should be protection for us. Matt.” She looked at Matt, whose frown had only deepened. You bristled again, feeling as if he could read your every thought. It was as if he could sense the pure anger flowing through you, despite your calm exterior. 

“She’s right, Emily.”

“What?” Both you and Emily looked at him incredulously. Anyone in their right mind would want to keep the axe. You knew that much. 

“She’s lost enough tonight. We’ll be okay, I’ve got enough brawn for us both,” Matt flexed his muscles, laughing haphazardly. You cracked a soft smile at his attempt to diffuse the situation.  

“Unbelievable.” Emily threw her hands up. “You two are the worst do-gooders I’ve ever met in my life. It’s us, or the psycho.” 

“Don’t worry. If I come across him, I’ll take care of him.” The glint returned to your eyes as you gazed at the axe. “Better that than letting him find us.” 

Emily shifted uncomfortably. “Fine, just make sure you swing hard.” You nodded, your lips pressed into a hard, thin line. With the axe, you had a new power. One that was going to take what you wanted. It would save you all. 

Matt saying your name momentarily pulled you back to reality. “Please be careful,” he said, eyeing you nervously. “I wouldn’t let you go on your own, but we need to get help.” 

“Good luck,” you said, a sense of finality in your tone. This might very well be the last time you saw either of them, and you knew it. With your new weapon in hand, you trudged off towards the lodge, a renewed sense of vigor in your step. This was your chance to set things right. It wouldn't bring them back, no, but it might sate the bubbling in the depths of your stomach. The feeling gnawed at you, hungry for more. Hungry for revenge.

[ovaryacted]

hey love!! i was thinking about number 53 with childhood bestfriend!Leon ??

also i loveeeee your writing omg you are sooo talented !!! <3 xoxo

Hey boo!! Thank you for requesting! I think it's crazy I haven't written anything about childhood best friend! Leon when that's the cutest fucking thing ever omg. For this one, I imagine RE2 Leon for the most part in age and appearance, just some very cute fluff with brief pining so I hope you like this because I really had fun writing this out! For context, there's no Racoon City or trauma, just a normal timeline, and Leon lives in Boston in a house where the reader can climb up to his bedroom window from the backyard. And thank you for saying you like my writing, really made my day. :) [ prompt game ]

#53 - "Who crawls through someone’s window at 4 am to go for ice cream?” PAIRING: Childhood best friend! Leon x reader [cw: Fluff, childhood history, little bit of pining] - 1.1k words

Leon was fast asleep in his bed, tucked nicely into his fluffy navy sheets face down in a pillow with drool slipping out of his mouth. He could hear some rattling coming from his window, the noise beginning to stir him from his slumber as he opened his eyes. Disorientated and groggy, he sat up in bed, hair a complete mess and rubbing at the corners of his eyes as he woke up.

Ears perking up to the sound of consistent tapping on the glass of his window, he looked in the direction he heard it, spotting a silhouette that was all too familiar to him. There you were, right on the roof of his bedroom window, the same way you’ve done so many times it became second nature to you. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he moved towards you, lifting the window to let you inside.

“Do you know what time it is?”, Leon grumbled, running his fingers through his hair to put it back in place but knowing he there was no point.

“It’s like 4 am, why?”, you said it to him as if it were nothing, offering a teasing grin.

“Some of us actually need to sleep. We can’t all be vampires like you”, he said to you, crossing his arms over his chest as he saw you go towards his bed, flopping onto it as if were your own.

“I couldn’t sleep and I was bored. So I came to bother you”, you replied, closing your eyes and exhaling a deep breath.

“At 4 in the damn morning?”, you gave him a playful shrug, finding enjoyment in his slight irritation. Even if Leon sounded like he was angry, you knew he wasn’t. He could never be mad at you even if he tried.

This wasn’t something out of the ordinary for either of you. Both you and Leon had known each other for so long that anything considered strange to others was seemingly defined as standard in the bubble that was your friendship. It all started with a funny instance at the age of 5, finding Leon on the playground during recess in kindergarten. Curiosity drew you to the young blonde that sat by himself, doodling in a coloring book on one of the picnic tables.

You sat on the opposite side of him, simply watching as he colored in the drawing haphazardly. You didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t say anything to you, but the both of you developed a form of silent communication. Sometimes, you would draw along with him, silently of course, and rarely, you got lucky and Leon would give you one of his crayons. It became a routine where you both sat at the same table, at the same time, simply sharing a space with each other in a way you both understood.

Until one Thursday, you didn’t come to school because you were out sick. Leon was at his usual spot, at the picnic table with his coloring book, looking for you and wondering where you went. When he couldn’t find any sign of you, he moped for the rest of the day, his mother wondering what had her son in such a weird mood.

When you came back to school the next day, you met with Leon again at the same table, sitting in front of him with the toothy smile you usually wore.

“Where did you go?”, he asked you, speaking to you for the first time since you started to sit with him two weeks ago.

“Got a booboo”, you told him, lifting the sleeve of your shirt to show him the Batman bandaid you had stuck to your skin. His eyes widened the slightest bit, somehow fascinated by the intricate pattern of the adhesive material on your shoulder.

“Woah. Cool!”, and for the first time, you saw Leon’s smile, noticing how he was missing one of his front teeth.

He passed you a piece of paper, watching as you unfolded it to see what it was. It was from yesterday, a stick drawing of you and Leon that he had made when you weren’t here. You cherished that piece of paper as if it were the Monalisa, and when you showed it to your dad the minute you got home, you excitedly told him you had made a friend.

You two have been attached to the hip ever since. From elementary school to high school prom and starting college, you’ve done it all together. And now, here you both were, young adults exploring the world with an unbreakable bond. Some people would pay to have a life connection like that, and it was something neither of you took for granted.

“Can you tell me now why you decided to wake me up this early and didn’t just text me?”, Leon caught how you were wearing one of the many hoodies you had stolen from him. He gave it to you once a few years ago when you were cold, and you never gave it back. Not that he complained, he’d buy as many hoodies as he’d like just so you could steal them later.

“I wanted ice cream, thought you might want to tag along”, you were mischievous, always teasing and bubbly no matter the time of day. 

“Who crawls through someone’s window at 4 am to go for ice cream?”, he scoffed at you, thinking this was all unbelievable to him when in reality you were very much in character.

“I do smartass. Are you coming or not? We could go get Dairy Queen, I know you like their sundaes”, you suggested, kicking your feet at the edge of Leon’s bed, already knowing he was going to say yes regardless of the time.

“Fine. But you’re buying me lunch tomorrow for waking me up this damn early”, he sighed, admitting his defeat to your schemes. 

“Yeah yeah, grumpy pants. Now go clean yourself up, you have some drool on your cheek”, you said back, hearing Leon chuckle under his breath as he went to the bathroom to freshen up before heading out.

You were his best friend, someone he cherished and wanted in his life for as long as he could have you. He’d do anything for you, absolutely anything you asked or wanted he got for you because all he wants is to see you smile. It’s even better if he’s the reason why you smiled, entranced by the way your cheeks perked up ever since he first saw it when you were kids. If only you knew what he was willing to do to make sure you smiled so much your face grew sore.

Whatever you wanted, you got, because he wants you happy. So long as he was the reason why, that's all that mattered to him.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[flemingsgirl]

Enough pt. 3

Masterlist

For the opening ceremony you dress in the uniform you got before you left for Paris, personally you thought you were going back to school, but you kinda liked it, causal yet significant and holds bites of your nationality. With America being second last to be presented you had a long night however your time was spent valuable as you messaged back and forth with Jessie.

As the cameras were pointed on the American boat, you packed your phone into your bag, giving your attention to the crowd around you and the people in front of the television. Smiling, you wave to the viewer as you pass them, having an arm around your best friend and jumping up in your spot. Your phone was long forgotten, so when you hit the mattress as you were ready for the night, you had a glance at the device, flooded with several notifications from your family as well as from Jessie.

Tonight, I’m an American myself. GO USA! (and Canada ofc)

Oh, wow, they mixed up the names of north and south Korea…

Damn I see red, how could they. Relieved I’m not there it’s like much and roaring. Nvm go CANADA! #1

OMG!! Look who I spotted!!

Wow she’s kinda pretty, who’s that? Can you get me her number?

Don’t mind the Canadian athlete in the background with his outstanding tracksuit XD

Seems like you’re busy... :/ have fun and be careful. Let me now when you’re back so I know you’re safe! Good night beauty.

Here to say I’m back safe, already in my bed and ready to sleep. Nighty night.

Just moments later your phone rings and you’re quick to accept and stumble into the bathroom, not wanting to wake Avery. “Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey,” her voice raspy.

“Why’d you called?”

You could hear some rattling in the background, indicating that Jessie’s fidgeting with something. “Just checking in.”

“It’s late. I thought you were already asleep.”

“I know, but I wanted to hear your voice. Maybe I can sleep better or so I could even sleep at all.”

“Oh Jess. What’s wrong?”

The Canadian gulps. “I have troubles sleeping these past days. With all that happened. I can’t have a proper meal cause I don’t have that much appetite and I miss you like crazy and… and…” she rambles on.

“And what? Trust me, I’m on your side.”

“It’s way too soon.”

“About what? Jess, bebe talk to me.”

She stays silent a few seconds before she clears her throat. “I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Jessie tucks on her earlobe. “Like a lot.”

“Yeah, me too.” You lick your lips, rubbing your forehead. “Look, Jessie. I don’t mean it in any bad way or so. With those new standings maybe, we should wait until all the stressful and anxious days are over to take the next step.” You let Jessie assimilate the information. “Those games aren’t how you imagined them and it’s a hard pill to swallow. But I’m with you. You are enough just like you are, Jessie, don’t forget. You’re perfect in any way. If it gets too much call me, I’ll always be here. Okay?

“Yes,” she mumbles into the phone.

“I’ve got an offer.” You don’t hear any answer. “Jess?” a soft sob is audible. “Hey, hey, Jessie, it’s alright. I got you. Do you listen to me?” the line stays silent. “Jessie?” worry grows in the pit of your stomach. “Hey, hey, Fleming, you’re not ignoring me, you understand?” you chew on your bottom lip. “I suppose you lay in your bed… it’s okay if you fall asleep, yeah. I’ll take that credit. Close your eyes for me, would you?” you give her a second to adjust her position. Soft sobs still lingering in the air as she shuffles under her blanket. “I’ll lead you through the opening try to put your phone behind you at best next to your ear.” A moment passes. “Okay. So, before we were let onto the boat, we had a really dope kinda party in our village. Oh, your little shy self would’ve wanted to burry yourself in the ground. It was even too much for me,” you let out a laugh and one side of Jessie’s mouth turns up, her sobs dying. “It was so loud and there were so many people I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was there for like half an hour and it was scheduled for two hours,” your voice a soft whisper. “Fast forward to our boat tour it was so humid. I send you a pic from before, right? Five minutes later I put them into a ponytail cause they were clutched on my skin. I think we were like three hours on this boat and I’m glad we could message this time otherwise I would’ve died of boredom. I small talked with Simone Biles, LeBron James just to name some. yeah, it was great but a special someone has been missed.” Jessie doesn’t respond, the only sound audible are steady breaths. You wander back into your room and cover yourself with the blanket. “If it’s not clear. I’d like you to be here by my side. To see you and to hold you. I can’t wait to see you again Jessie. Good night until tomorrow.”

Three days later your first game in the tournament was scheduled. Your opponent was the Chinese team, a favoured aspirant for a medal. The start was rough the Chinese women pressured and lead the play. Roundabout an hour into the game your team was down two sets, only one set for the Chinese squad to win. In a matter of time the tables have turned, and the teams were tied, leading to a last set which decides the winner. At the score of 8:10 for the Chinese your coach had to switch you out. Five points before your opponent at the net crossed the foul line so that you landed on her feet and your knee twisted, a pain shot through your leg, but you kept playing. You communicated with your coach, and he took a time out for your team to discuss the matter and how you’ll switch on the field. Your heart scattered as you limp to the sideline where your roommate and best friend stepped up next to the referee and took your place. She gave you a quick hug and reassured you, drying a tear that left your eye. On your way to the bench, you exchange high-fives with the team officials. Taking a seat the physio makes his way over to you and kneels in front of you. By the time you shield your face with your hands and every now and then you dry some tears with the hem of your shirt. In the end your team is defeated which is another heartbreak for you and another wave of tears escape you. Teammates huddle around you and embrace your shaking body. Shortly after you find yourself in the changing room getting ready to shower and put on your comfy clothes for the night.

“What did they say about your knee?”

“It shouldn’t be something serious, but they want to give me a break the next game and maybe the one after.”

“That’s promising.”

“Kinda. Hopefully it works out. If not, they want me to get examined.”

“Reasonable.” You just nod too exhausted and gloomy, only wanting to be in your bed and talk with a special Canadian.

“Hey gorgeous, how are you? You played so well.” You burry your face into the cushion, hiding the blush that grows. “Hey, hey, no hiding here, show me your pretty face.” Her chuckles fill the air, and your heart skips a beat. The past days Jessie’s quite outgoing, charming and offensive.

“Thank you I tried my best, but it didn’t work for us. I’m okay, I think.”

“It’s the thought that counts. Next time will be better. Oh Y/N.” Jessie’s eyes dart over your face. “Tell me.”

“Yeah hopefully.” you stop, a shaky breath escapes your lips, “I... it’s…”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s my knee.” You let out a sob. “It just happened and it.”

“But you played on. Were you already in pain?

“Not much, it was kinda unstable and stiff. I don’t know what you’ve seen.”

“At some point you were on the ground and then you stood up and played on. After a few points your trainer took the timeout.”

“For tactics. He sorted the team with the substitution he was going to make. The other player crossed the line and I landed on her foot and mine gave in twisting, and I fell, that was embarrassing.”

“Nothing about it is embarrassing. It’s not your fault and things like that can happen to anyone… I mean the falling, not the injury. How many times am I thrown to the floor or challenged?”

“But it’s part of your game.”

“Are you trying to make my argument unreasonable?” she lowers her eyebrows. “I dare you.”

“What if I do? Try me,” you giggle afterwards as she gives you an evil eye.

“You wouldn’t want that,” she winks at you while she licks her lips, a smug placing itself on them afterward. The heat creeps into her cheeks but Jessie ignores it, holding the stare at you.

You are the first to break the eye contact covering your face with your hands. A grunt finds its way out of your mouth, and you claps your pillow over your head. “Hey, hey, hey shooow youuurself,” the Canadian drags out and you can hear how she pokes her screen.

“Stop it,” you groan and roll your eyes when your face comes to display again as you set the pillow down.

She beams at you, eyes closed, and her nose scrunched. “What do you mean?”

“You being cheesy. A whole new side of you.”

“Oh, stop complaining. I know you like it.”

“How so?”

“Cause you’re still talking to me.”

“I really like this new confident, keep it Fleming.”

[my-own-walker]

The World Turns All Around Her

@lili-tate says: We need a fic with daddy kit!!

note: i can do that! i know i said previously that i didn't want to write father!evan but i womaned up and decided to expand my horizons.

warnings: dad!kit, mom!reader (sorry to be so heteronormative, it was the 60s!), fluff, lowkey postpartum but mostly just exhausted mother, 1965 (you decide if the events of asylum happened or not)

+

My heart is so full of them, I can hardly call it my own.

Kit and Winnie. Winifred Eve Walker.

She just celebrated her first birthday and is proficient in babbling and repeating the sounds that come out of Kit and my mouths. She's close to walking, but not quite. She never quite crawled, actually.

I watch as she scoots across the floor, leading with one leg. It's almost as if she's trying to stand, favoring her right side, the bottom of her tiny foot slapping the floor as she slides along. Her left leg drags along, and her hands compensate for what she lacks in balance. Winnie settles next to her toy bin, which seems closer to a pile at the moment, and picks out a pastel pink rattle.

She cries out in joy as she shakes it, thoroughly enthused by the jingling of the beads inside. She Winnie-walks back over to me, sitting on the couch, and hands me the rattle. I know what she wants, so I do it.

I drop the toy onto the ground. "Uh oh!" I exclaim.

"Uh oh!" she repeats, picking up the rattle, clutching it tightly in her chubby little fist. She smiles up at me as she holds the object out to me once more.

Winnie has eight teeth so far. She's teething, which makes her a bit of a handful. But, seeing her toothy little grin staring up at me, complete with her big, twinkling eyes and round cheeks, makes it all worth it.

These little games, though, admittedly exhaust me. When she's not down for naps or eating, she and I get stuck in cycles of repetitive entertainment. Entertaining mostly for her. That's how babies are, though.

I love that she's grown to an age where she is more interactive, and more fun. Up until she was about six months old she just slept and ate, nothing else. Now, she loves to learn and play and try to talk. She's more mobile.

It's adorable. She's a lovable little person. Kit and I made her, and we wouldn't change a hair on her little head. But how active she is gets tiring.

"Beautiful girl!" I proclaim in a sing-songy voice, grabbing the rattle from her. I drop it again. It clatters to the wood floor loudly. "Uh oh," I call out.

"Uh oh," she echoes. Before she can repeat the cycle, though, I hear a car door close outside.

"Is that daddy?" I ask excitedly, my head stooping and my palms facing up. She grins back at me. "I think that's daddy!" I stand up, scooping her up into my arms in the same motion. I rest her on my hip as we venture through the house to the front door. She nibbles her hand as we go.

The door opens and a rush of cold air, along with Kit, comes through it. His expression brightens as soon as he sees us, his lips curled upward in a smile. "My gorgeous girls!" he exclaims.

He shuffles his feet on the mat by the door, knocking the snow off his boots before stepping forward into to house. He swings the door closed behind him and wraps his arms around the both of us. I kiss his cheek. It's icy cold from the brisk air outside. January in Massachusetts is as white as a rabbit's fur, with snow coloring every inch of ground.

Kit breaks his embrace and looks deeply into my eyes. His face, despite the cold, is as sunny as ever.

"How was your day?" I ask, adjusting Winnie's position on my hip.

"Great now that I've seen you two ladies," he chirps. "Here, lemme take her from ya." He reaches out for her and opens and closes his hands, like a child begging for more sweets.

"Don't you want to take your jacket off first? And your boots?" A subtle hint, yes, but I spent the entirety of Winnie's nap polishing the floors. I don't want him tracking wet slush in.

"Ah, right," he rasps, kicking his shoes off right next to the mat. They clunk down and around loudly. He shuffles to the coat closet and hangs his coat, smelling of tires and motor oil, up on the rail. "Now pass the little chickie over to Daddy." I hand a smiling Winnie to her father. He spins around and giggles with her, then holds her neck as he flips her upside down and back up again.

He repeats the action a few more times before disappearing into the living room with her.

I silently rejoice in the moment, happy to see my husband whisk the baby away so I could have time to finish cooking. I hear them playing, which usually consists of Kit talking away happily, replying to Winnie's oohs and ahhs as if they were having a real conversation.

After a bit of chopping and seasoning, I throw the prepared supper in the oven. I wipe my hands on my apron, untie it behind my back, and hang it on the hook on the wall next to the stove. I grab Winnie's bottle out of the water it was warming up in.

"Kit!" I call, walking through the house to the living room, bottle in hand. I pause in the doorway when I come upon the sight of the two of them. Kit has Winifred in his lap facing him. He sings to her softly:

"So if you tell her every day you love her And if you tell her everything she could be You'll find out that your world will turn around her"

"What a lovely song," I coo, astounded by the softness he's displaying.

He jumps and both of them turn to look at me. Winnie's smile is bigger than the whole sky. "Christ, you scared me," he breathed, a smile breaking across his whole face, reaching his eyebrows last.

"Dinner's ready," I say quietly, walking into the room to grab Winnie from him.

"Ah, ah," he tuts, "I got her." He stands, holding her high above his head before bringing her down and kissing her in a swift motion.

"You'll put her to bed?" I ask, eyebrow raised. I usually take bedtime duty, since he's the one who wakes up with her, changes her, and feeds her in the morning.

"Yes ma'am," he insists. He looks at Winnie and tickles her tummy, making her giggle in delight. "We think Mommy deserves a break, right?"

"Oh, Kit," I protest, holding out my arms once again to take her. "You worked hard all day. Go eat. I don't need a break."

He keeps his gaze locked on the baby. "Daddy wants to eat with mommy tonight," he murmurs. "Daddy doesn't mind. It means more time with his little princess."

I step forward and kiss his shoulder, resting my head on his arm promptly after. "I promise, I'm fine," I whisper, tired.

"Baby, you're tired, it's okay."

"Can I help at least? I don't want to sit at the dining room table alone waiting for you," I whine.

"Of course," he responds, kissing me softly on the top of my head. "I'm gonna do all the work, though."

I follow him into the nursery and stand next to him as she changes her into her pretty yellow pajamas. Then he sits down in the rocking chair, Winnie lying across his lap, in his arms comfortably. I hand him her bottle. She holds the bottle in both hands and drinks it cheerily.

"Which book should we read, Smiley?" Kit asks. "I think Where The Wild Things Are is a good choice."

I smile as he reads the story to the baby in a sing-song tone. His New England accent comes across so strongly as he reads. It makes a warm feeling spread through my chest and radiate through my body. It's an indescribable feeling of pride and love toward him.

Winnie is asleep within minutes. Kit catches the bottle as it slips out of her limp hands. "I think she's out," he whispers sweetly, looking up at me with only his eyes.

I nod with a small smile. He carries her over to her crib and lowers her down into it gingerly, careful not to wake her. We both exit the room gently, careful not to make any loud sounds.

"That's the fastest she's fallen asleep in a while," I remark as soon as we're far enough from her room. Kit follows closely behind me, hand on the small of my back.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, you've got the magic touch," I maintain. We make our way into the kitchen and I separate from him to tend to dinner. At least, I think I leave him until I feel arms snake around me. I turn and look up at him, a smirk painted on his face. "Would you like to eat?" I ask, mock-sternly.

"I can think of something else I'd like to eat instead, Y/N Walker," he purrs. Shivers crawl up my spine and light my skin on fire.

"I think I'd like that too Kit Walker."

+

WEEEEEEE i drew upon my, like, one experience with a baby to write this i hope you liked it

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Love Game

[A/N: A lovely reader requested the Commander in handcuffs and, well… creative liberties were taken 😈]

🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤

Request: Steve McGarrett x female reader (bondage, implied edging)

“I’ve missed this so much,” you moan into your boyfriend’s mouth, the two of you blindly making your way upstairs to your bedroom and leaving a trail of clothes behind you. When you hear Steve bump into the wooden bedframe, you give him a shove so he falls onto the mattress and you’re left standing before him. His eyes flash a shade darker at your show of dominance, and he raises himself up on his elbows with one eyebrow cocked to ask, “Somebody’s feeling a little feisty, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you respond with a grin, crawling up the bed until you can comfortably straddle his lap. Steve lets out a soft grunt when you start grinding on him, his hands automatically settling on your waist to guide your movements. The growing wet patch on his underwear from your slick taunts you both with how close he is to being inside you, a single layer of cotton keeping his cock from sliding home.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” he breathes out, eyes fluttering shut when you scrape your teeth along his stubbled jaw while continuing to grind on him. You guide his hands overhead under the guise of intertwining your fingers for better leverage, distract him with an intentional swivel of your hips, then slip your hand under your pillow to find Steve’s favorite jewelry that usually decorates your wrists in bed.

Steve’s hips still and his eyes fly open when the cool metal of the handcuffs touches his skin, and he tugs at the confines to find them already cinched, the chain rattling against the headboard with every pull. You sit back to admire the pretty picture and he lets out a growl before demanding, “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing, little girl?”

Rather than answering his question, you pose one of your own while brushing your fingers over the bruise on his cheek, then the jagged cut knitting together on his chest. “What do I say to you every morning before you go to work?” He winces slightly at the contact but his hardened gaze remains locked on you. “Steve?” you prompt, growing impatient.

“Be smart, be careful, and don’t hurt what’s mine,” he grumbles quietly, now understanding what this is all about.

“Hm,” you muse with a hum, tilting your head back and forth. “No, yeah, I think that’s fairly intuitive.”

“Y/N-”

“Quiet,” you cut him off, leveling him with a glare while moving to sit on your haunches between his open legs. “Since you like to gamble with something that’s precious to me,” you explain while letting one manicured nail trace a circuitous path over his throat, between his pecs, around each nipple, down his torso, and along the tantalizing patch of hair disappearing beneath his boxer briefs, “I thought it would be fun to gamble with something that’s precious to you.” You squeeze the prominent bulge between his legs begging for attention, and Steve lets out a startled gasp, his body jerking upwards into your touch and the handcuffs rattling against wood. The sound alone has you squirming, equally desperate for release but determined to see this through.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen,” you announce happily while your hands work to remove the last article of clothing keeping you from admiring your boyfriend’s naked body. Unable to resist, you lick a stripe along the length of his cock and he moans pitifully, yanking at the cuffs once more with a quiet, “Baby, please, please just let me make it up to you.”

“Why, Commander,” you mock, delighted, “resorted to begging already? That’s just sad.”

“If I didn’t have these goddamn cuffs on,” he growls out, “I’d be fucking you stupid into the mattress right about now.”

“Tempting,” you hum, dancing your fingertips along the delicious v-line of his hips. “Now, where was I?”

“Being a brat?”

“Duh,” you respond with a roll of your eyes. Metal rattles against wood, and you know Steve is just itching to slap the attitude out of you. You wonder for a moment if he could actually break the slats of the headboard, but push the thought aside and press on. “Anyway,” you sing out, brushing your palm over the head of his cock and giggling when his hips reflexively jerk up against your touch, “here’s what’s gonna happen.” Leaning over to the bedside table, you pull a deck of cards out from the drawer and Steve raises one eyebrow in question.

With a dramatic clearing of your throat, you announce, “I took out all the face cards so we’re just working with aces through tens.” You settle back on his lap, letting out a soft moan at how hot and hard he feels sliding between your folds, and Steve groans, “Baby.” Ignoring his cries, you start shuffling the cards while explaining, “Clubs, you get this. Diamonds, I’ll let you fuck my mouth-” He whimpers, his cock twitching against you, and you glance up at him with a smirk before continuing. “Spades, tits. And hearts, well… I think you can figure that one out,” you say with a suggestive bounce on his lap.

“What’s the catch?” he asks, voice rough with arousal.

“I’m so glad you asked, baby,” you simper. “You only get to cum if I pull an ace.”

“Fuck.”

“And here’s the best part,” you whisper, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. He can feel your lips quirk up into a smirk and braces himself for what you’re about to say next, body tensing up beneath yours. “I only left one ace in the deck.”