#I do feel like it keeps having the dude do something terrible that she should leave him before. and then explaining why it wasn’t that bad /

[aroaessidhe]

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The Surviving Sky

adult scifi/fantasy about a fracturing married couple who live with the last of humanity on a floating city powered by arcane science

Iravan is a privileged and powerful architect, who keeps them afloat with his plant magic

Ahilya has no magic - and is deeply interested in studying the magical megafauna which are the only thing that can survive the cataclysmic jungle on the ground

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

He’s staring at him.

Steve Harrington is staring at Eddie Munson.

The thing is, people don’t just stare at Eddie. Not for any reason that means anything good for Eddie. So when, completely unprompted, the fucking King of Hawkins High walks up to Eddie and says, “I need to talk to you,” Eddie thinks he’s entirely justified in the squeak he lets out.

“You? Talk? To me?” Wow. Great job, brain.

“Please,” Harrington whispers, and Eddie thinks desperately this must be some kind of joke, except he’s good at reading people, and he knows the desperation in Harrington’s eyes.

“Okay,” he says, stammers. “Um. There- there’s, behind the school, a, uh-”

“Table,” Harrington nods. “That works. Just…” he sighs, rakes a hand through his hair. “Leave the lunchbox at home.”

Eddie’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Then what the fuck do you want with me, dude?”

“I can’t explain. Not here, not now. Just. Please. After school, okay?”

Eddie looks at him. Really looks, studies his face, understands the lines by his eyes, the tightness of his mouth. His heart thumps as he realizes. He’s scared. “Okay,” he says, and means it.

Eddie’s a man of his word, so after school he makes his way to the table, pausing when it comes into view. Harrington’s already there, sitting with his head in his hands. Eddie calls out from a couple of paces away. “You sure you don’t want anything from the lunchbox?”

Harrington jumps, hands up, eyes round. Relaxes a little when he sees Eddie. “No. I- I’m good. I can’t, actually.”

Eddie frowns. “What, like, a sports thing? No one’s gotta know, dude, I’ve never been busted, I can keep a secret.”

Steve gives him a half-smile. “No. It’s- it’s not a sports thing. Just… sit down? And promise to listen?”

“Okay,” Eddie says, because he knows how comforting it can be to just have someone there, and he’s not a dick; clearly Harrington’s going through something. Though why he approached Eddie, of all people, he doesn’t know.

“Okay,” Harrington repeats back, taking a breath before starting. “If I were to tell you I’m from the future, a future in which we know each other, how would you ask me to prove it?”

Eddie blinks. He was ready for a lot of things, but not time travel. “Um. I dunno, man, I haven’t really thought about it.”

He takes another deep breath. “Can I try?”

“To- to prove you’re from the future?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie laughs, a little hysterically. “Man, where the fuck do I get the strain you’re on?”

He blinks. “What?”

Eddie gestures at him. “Come on, man, you have to admit you’re not really making sense here.”

Harrington sighs. Takes another breath. Says, “You live with your uncle Wayne. Your father taught you to hot wire cars when you were nine. You listen to Dio and Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne but your favorite song is I Will Always Love You, by Dolly Parton, because it was your mom’s favorite. The guitar pick you wear around your neck was hers. She taught you guitar. You love The Hobbit. Stop me when I’ve said enough.”

Eddie’s never been more scared in his life. “Listen, man, I dunno where you heard all that-”

“Eddie,” he says, implores, and digs something out of his pocket. Opens his hand to reveal a ring.

A ring Eddie already has on his finger.

“What the fuck,” Eddie whispers. Grabs for the ring before he can tell himself it’s a bad idea. Examines it, sees the dent from where his finger had gotten smashed in a door.

His hands start shaking.

“I’m from 1987,” Steve Harrington says, sure as anything. “And I’m trying to stop something terrible.”

“And what would that be?” Eddie asks, feeling strangely detached from the whole thing.

“Your death,” Steve Harrington says, still sure as anything.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect

[corpseidol]

Hear me out, a vampire like reader x sbg cast. Like they don’t drink human blood but they do drink phantom blood (do they even have blood?) Maybe reader had actually been in the cycle longer, giving them more experience with the phantoms? Like in the day time just your average goth but when it strikes twelve? Those phantoms better pray. I think it would be funny if they were the youngest, like Aiden but with more maturity? 🩸-anon

NIGHTFALL

author’s note : I LOVE THIS (you can be 🩸 anon!!)

concept : vampire!reader with sbg group

genre : hcs + one drabble, vampire au (only reader)

content : gn!reader

first meeting the group

⠀ › ⠀being honest, the group thought you were some newly found demon that lurked the phantom realm.

⠀ › ⠀they were freaked out when they saw you just recklessly eating off the flesh of each phantom and slicing all of them into pieces.

⠀ › ⠀at first you seemed like a maniac but the more they saw the more that ashlyn felt like you were doing it like you knew what you were getting into.

⠀ › ⠀as they were watching you assassinate each phantom and clear the area for them, aiden felt most fascinated and was about to jump in as soon as you killed them all until you started sucking on the phantoms flesh

⠀ › ⠀the group was looking at you with pure disgust (while aiden still had that smile on his face)

⠀ › ⠀logan stared at you, aiming his shotgun at you and as soon as the bullet almost hit, you flinched. then you were gone. gone?

“i’m offended.” you hissed, crossing your arms. your clothes were drenched in blood. as logan was about to shoot you again, you kicked his gun to the side and wiped the blood dripping on your chin with the back of your hand before licking it.

the others didn’t know if they should run but tyler confidently held his weapon at you “are you gonna be a problem?” he grit his teeth as he watched your smile fade “are you?” you asked, your hand curling into a fist.

first impressions

⠀ › ⠀the group concluded that they wouldn’t hurt you (unless you do something wrong)

⠀ › ⠀aiden was mostly fascinated by your skill and asked a lot of questions

⠀ › ⠀tyler was wary of you and would get protective when you go anywhere near taylor. he thinks you’re a psycho.

⠀ › ⠀taylor was a little wary but she did wanna warm up to you, she had questions to ask too

⠀ › ⠀logan seemed to be timid around you, his guard was always up. he had mixed feelings about you.

⠀ › ⠀ashlyn felt slightly troubled abt an addition to the group, but she really pondered when you said you’re way more experienced than them. she had many questions to ask. and those questions weren’t all about your abilities. (some, not all!)

⠀ › ⠀ben was quiet around you, he didn’t stand out very much.

drinking phantom blood

⠀ › ⠀it would freak them out when they all meet up in one area and you seem to be missing

⠀ › ⠀and then after a few seconds, you come back with blood all over your shirt with a dumb smile. they look at you with a weird face and you just stare at them like “wazzup ma dudes?”

⠀ › ⠀sometimes it’s like they have to keep you on a leash because of how reckless you can be

⠀ › ⠀they would get scared and start running from you when fresh phantom blood gets all over them and your pupils just grow bigger as the scent flows to your nose

general hcs

⠀ › ⠀i like to think that you get way more energy when you drink the blood of phantoms so when you do, you’re like an unleashed beast.

⠀ › ⠀compared to the others, you’re not scared to go in a phantom-filled area. you just make sure you’re prepared.

⠀ › ⠀in the real world, you deal with terrible body pains because of the adrenaline

⠀ › ⠀aiden is very playful and challenging towards you

⠀ › ⠀you and aiden are literally a power-duo

⠀ › ⠀when you and tyler still haven’t warmed up to each other, he would hate it when a phantom would be behind him and when he hears a loud squash; he would turn around and see a phantom’s body on the floor with their head being held by your sharp teeth with a shit-eating grin

⠀ › ⠀ben heals your bruises because you get hurt as much as aiden does

[riality-check]

More roadie shenanigans, keeping feedback from this post in mind! part 1, part 2

ao3

It’s before the second show, and they’re already fighting.

“You can’t chicken out,” Gareth says.

“I’m not gonna chicken out!”

“Good, because I’ll tell Wayne if you do,” Jeff says.

Eddie glares at him. “You’re an asshole.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Shut up and get out of here!” Archie says, pushing Eddie toward the tech booth. He complies, but not without another scathing look over his shoulder.

His friends laugh because of course they do. They’re assholes, but, luckily, they’re the same kind of asshole that Eddie is.

He straightens out his shoulders, breathes, and prepares to grovel.

Robin and Steve are setting up just like they were at the last venue. It looks like a mess of cables and boxes from Eddie’s perspective, but Steve and Robin work with ruthless efficiency, alternately talking and signing when their hands aren’t full.

“Um,” Eddie says. G-d, he’s never been this awkward in his life. But this matters, like, really matters to him, and he’s gotta do right.

Neither of them pay him any attention.

“Excuse me?” he says a little louder.

Robin turns around. When she sees him, her expression instantly sours.

“Hello?” she drawls, sounding bored out of her mind.

Steve turns around, too. When he sees Eddie, his face-

Well, Eddie isn’t sure what that expression is supposed to mean. If he had to guess, he’d say mild annoyance.

Mild annoyance shouldn’t look that hot.

“I just wanted to say again that I’m really sorry,” he says, making sure to talk clearly and loud enough to be understood. He’s not an idiot, he knows that shouting is rude, but he makes sure he can be heard over the general chaos of setting up for a new show. “It wasn’t any of my business, and even if I meant well, it’s not an excuse.”

Steve’s face softens a whole lot as Eddie stumbles through his apology, and then he reaches up to his ears to take out ear plugs.

Huh?

“Mind saying that again?” Steve says with a smile.

Eddie is. So confused.

But then Steve laughs. “You should see your face, dude. I got the gist. Apology accepted, we’re cool.”

Okay, that makes Eddie feel better. A lot better. But he’s still confused.

And his mouth always moves faster than his brain.

“Why are you- why do you have- what-”

Robin rolls her eyes fondly. “This idiot,” she says, pointing at Steve, “always tries to do the first show without the ear plugs he needs-”

“Not this shit again,” Steve mumbles.

“-because, as it turns out, your ears do a lot more than just hear. Like balance-”

“You’re one to talk about balance, Buckley,” Steve says, giving her a light shove. She nearly topples over if not for the fact that he immediately grabs her arm to steady her.

Eddie thinks he might know even less than he thought.

“I want to make it up to you,” he says, and Steve and Robin stop bickering.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve says, and Robin elbows him.

“I want to,” Eddie insists. “What’s your favorite song? We’ll play it at the end of our set.”

Naïvely and terribly optimistically, Eddie hopes Steve might say something that’s already in their set list, or maybe another one of their songs.

From the way that Robin and Steve are looking at each other conspiratorially, he doesn’t think that’s the case.

“No,” Steve says, laughing and shaking his head.

Robin sneaks a glance at Eddie, smirks, and starts signing at Steve.

The only thing Eddie understands about the conversation as their hands move is their facial expressions: Robin with a smirk, and Steve trying desperately not to laugh.

He’s so cute. He gets this little crease on the side of his mouth that Eddie wants to smooth out with his thumb.

Slow the hell down, buddy.

“Fine,” Steve says, throwing his hands up in the air. He turns back to Eddie. “Pretty Fly.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Eddie blurts.

Steve’s eyes narrow. “Didn’t you just apologize to me?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says. “It’s just that my bassist and lead singer have been gunning for this song for, like, 6 months. Archie chomps at the bit for fun bass lines, and Jeff just thinks it’s funny as-”

“Slow down,” Steve interrupts.

Right. He talks too fast.

“I’ll play it, but it means caving to my asshole friends,” Eddie says.

Robin cackles. “Told you it was a good idea.”

“Yeah, I love a good bass line,” Steve says. His face is softer again, and Eddie thinks he loves that expression.

He checks his watch. “Soundcheck is soon, so I’m gonna head back. Sorry again.”

“Eddie,” Steve says, and oh.

Eddie loves how Steve says his name.

“We’re good, okay?” he continues, small smile on his face.

“Well,” Robin chimes in. “After the apology song you will be.”

Eddie laughs. He really likes her now that she’s warmed up to him.

“Noted,” he says.

He heads back with a final wave and ducks backstage, where the band is tuning their instruments.

“Well?” Gareth asks, tightening his snare.

Eddie grabs his guitar, closes his eyes, and sighs. “He wants us to play Pretty Fly as an apology.”

“Let’s fucking go!” Archie roars, and Jeff gives him a high five.

“No way-”

“Gareth, I know-”

“You dick-hungry traitor.”

“Hey!”

“The fucking Offspring, Eddie? Punk? Are you shitting me? Punk just because you want a shot with a hot guy?”

Archie starts plucking out the bass line. Gareth throws a drum stick at his head. Jeff beams it back at him and misses.

“It’s one time,” Eddie says.

“Unless your cute roadie likes it enough,” Jeff teases.

“He’s not my anything.”

“Not yet,” Archie adds.

“Not ever.”

“Fucking pessimist,” Jeff says.

A tiny crashing sound makes them all turn toward the drum set, where Gareth is lightly thumping his head into the hi-hat.

“I’m gonna have to do the backing vocals for Pretty Fly,” he mutters.

“Your fault for sounding like a pre-pubescent chihuahua.”

Gareth throws his other drumstick at Jeff. “I’m not begging you for shit.”

“Do it for the bit,” Archie says. “You love doing it for the bit.”

Gareth picks his head up. “I do love doing anything for the bit.”

“Soundcheck in five!” someone calls.

“Thank you five!” Eddie yells back. Shit, he’s gotta tune his guitar.

Soundcheck is a breeze, and, after that, the time flies. Before he knows it, they’re out onstage, playing their usual set list.

Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this. The energy, the lights, the sounds, G-d, all of it. There’s nothing like being onstage and playing until his fingers hurt, nothing like joining in on the backup vocals, nothing like hearing the crowd roar with them.

It’s perfect. Touring is everything he dreamed of and more.

Eddie wants to do this for the rest of his life. They’re gonna headline one day, he knows it, but this is an amazing start.

What Eddie doesn’t want to do is talk, at Jeff’s request.

“Okay, okay,” he says, getting the crowd to quiet down. “We’ve got two more songs. The first one is one we’re playing because I fucked up.”

“And because he finally caved to us,” Jeff adds.

The crowd laughs, but it doesn’t feel mocking. Eddie laughs with them.

“So, Steve, consider this the final part of my apology-”

“And my peak embarrassment!” Gareth adds.

The crowd laughs again, and Eddie sighs, fondly long-suffering. “Let’s do it.”

The backing vocals are fucking embarrassing. Eddie’s with Gareth on that one. They suck, and he feels himself flush for reasons other than the heat.

But he imagines Steve smiling as he watches the show, and Archie is clearly having the best G-ddamn time on the bass, and Jeff is basically cackling his way through the song, so it’s worth it.

They get through it and then their closer without a hitch.

“We’re Corroded Coffin!” Jeff tells the crowd. “Y’all were amazing, so keep that energy up for the other opener and for the main act!”

The crowd roars, the lights black out, and they make their way backstage.

In the green room, on Eddie’s guitar case, is a note.

Apology more than accepted. Here’s my number in case you want to apologize again. Or maybe grab a coffee.

Text, don’t call. In case you haven’t noticed, my ears don’t work.

-Steve.

Eddie has never added a contact faster in his life.

I think I saw a 24 hour diner down the road. Hopefully they have good coffee.

Steve’s response is immediate.

Do you really think I care about the quality of the coffee?

You could be a coffee connoisseur for all I know, Eddie types back.

I don’t know a lot. Hence the date.

Date.

Woah.

Eddie tries to get his heart rate under control and text Steve back. He’s never been good at multitasking though, so by the time he’s able to formulate words again, the lights have gone down and the second opener is on. Steve’s working, and he shouldn’t be bothered.

Besides, Eddie should probably use the time between now and the end of the show to think before he speaks for once in his life.

Yeah fuck it I’ll keep the tag list (or you can follow the shiny new tag #gi;pe au): @vampireinthesun @paperbackribs @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @omgshesinsane @bestwifehaver @marklee-blackmore @gleek4twd @steddiestains @chaoticvictorianspirit @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @alienace @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @punctualhowell @pluto-pepsi @voidpacifist @sunfloweringstories @anaibis @evillitteguy @hallucinatedjosten @avi17 @b-u-g-g-y @shinekocreator @l0st-strawberry @brassreign @abbiecadabi-blog @rainbow-freckle @gregre369 @rehfan @just-a-tiny-void @weirdandabsurd42 @satan-is-obsessed @honeysucklesinger @coyotepup345 @gayafmermaid @thegingerrapunzel

[thefanficmonster]

Piss off your parents pt.2

PART 1

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Turns out, LA is packing way more surprises than you were prepared for.

He's still nursing the same drink he started the night with. Not by choice - he just knows that he might make some serious mistake if he indulges in anything more or stronger. The beer is treating him well.

Then again, if he sees Nate and Y/N making out one more fucking time he might steer to the whiskey.

He feels like a terrible friend, unsure of who he's being more unfair toward of the two. He should be happy for them. Like Sam. He can't take a page from his book, though. He can't be openly supportive and encouraging of the blooming romance between his friends. The most he can do is plaster on a strained fake smile and try to enjoy his night, keeping himself away from them. If he can't be a proper friend, the least he can do is not let his displeasure - and borderline selfishness - swim up to the surface.

Although his features are definitely giving a clear glimpse into the warzone that is his mind. Hard glare, set jaw, gritted teeth, furrowed brows. If Sam wasn't already several rounds deep he'd probably pick up on it instantly.

Thing is, he already has picked up on it. The avoidance, the cold shoulder, short-spokenness. He's been picking up on the clues for months but dared not bring it up. In his head, it makes no sense. To him, it always seemed like Colby and Y/N were the rom-com waiting to happen. Stolen glances, gentle touches, subtle affection, their own love language. All trademark Colby-Y/N stuff. Where Nate came into the equation is unclear to him.

Truthfully, nothing is clear to him right now. Which is why Colby is currently helping him off the table he can't remember climbing onto.

"Come on, dude. You're gonna break something important." He says, steadying his best friend when he hops down too enthusiastically for someone in his state.

Sam slurs a response but is grinning from ear to ear so he can only assume he's enjoying himself enough to not mind Colby gentle-parenting him. But also enjoying himself too much to be trusted and left to his own devices.

Scoping out the hotel club with a quick glance, Colby's gaze thankfully finds Corey. Who it doesn't find is the main culprits responsible for his deteriorating mental state. Where's a shot of whiskey when you need it?

"Mind watching over him for a bit? Imma go get a drink." He yells over the music directly into Corey's ear, nodding to the inebriated blonde who's swaying to the beat of the music without a care in the word. Colby aspires to be him in an hour, the risks of it be damned.

Corey accepts the duty, earning himself a grateful pat on the back from Colby who disappears into the crowd the same instant. He's heading toward the bar, eyeing the bottles lining the wall behind it greedily. He's sees the amber liquids as a sea he's about to drown his worries in.

That is if he can shake them, though.

And, try as he might, he can't.

Surveying the venue a couple more times, he feels a sickening pit settle into his gut at the absence of his two best friends. He can't remember when he lost sight of them nor how, especially since his eyes were glued to her the whole night.

Others would be a lot less concerned with this predicament. I mean, when two people like each other veryyy much, have had several drinks throughout the night and have disappeared from the party, it's pretty clear where they might be and what they might be doing. But Colby doesn't even wanna let his train of thought travel that way. Neither his heart nor his liver can handle that.

But that's when he spots Nate with Sam and Corey. Yet still no Y/N in sight.

Colby decides this calls for a search party.

He checks each and every corner of the club with upmost diligence. She's wearing a little black dress that is for sure to help her blend into the blur of the party with the minimal lighting and packed crowd. It's not a problem for him though, he could spot her from a plane. Which makes his lack of findings all the more concerning.

He eventually takes his search outside the club and into the hotel lobby. Then out on the sidewalk, then in the parking lot. He has soon scoped out the entire perimeter around the hotel without finding a trace of her. He's all out of places to search and chock-full of sickening worry. It's as if she's disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Speaking of smoke...

As he's making his way back to the hotel entrance, he catches something out of the corner of his eye. A small plume of smoke emanating from the cracked open window of one of the club bathrooms. That's when the idea pops up in his head.

He never checked the ladies' room. For obvious reasons, of course.

But his rationality and reasonability were checked clear from his system ten minutes ago when his body entered full panic mode. So...

Still he tries to reason with himself: Play the drunk card. Just accidentally stumbled into the wrong bathroom, that's all. 'I'm not a creep I swear, I just mixed up the doors'. That could work, yeah....

And so, with a quicker pace to his step, he steps out of the humid LA air and into the chillier and more pleasant hotel lobby. He stops for a second under the cold AC breeze to take a breath. Collect himself.

What if it's not her? What then?

That depressing train of thought is interrupted by a slight ping coming from his back pocket. He nearly drops his phone he takes it out so damn fast. He'd sent Y/N a string of messages and even tried calling her a few times, all attempts with no success. Therefore, for a split second, he's hopeful that maybe she's finally replied.

Much to his dismay, it ends up being wishful thinking.

Much more to his dismay....

"Hello Cole. How is Y/N?"

...it's her mom.

It's been eight months since the incident, six since they moved to LA. In that time, Y/N's mom has come around approximately half an inch closer to tolerating him. Mostly because he's her only intel on her daughter since she's so adamant on being stubborn and not talking to her. And Colby is more than happy to be of service, he just wishes....

What exactly?

Wishes they could mend their bridges? Wishes he didn't have to lie on both his and Y/N's behalf? Wishes he didn't feel s fucking guilty?

Wishes it wasn't all a ruse?

Mrs. Y/L/N checks in once every couple of days, often with texts at odd hours like this. She has a lot of night shifts to handle at the hospital so, when she gets downtime is when she stops to reach out with a message to Colby - who she believes is her daughter's boyfriend, mind you - to ask about Y/N.

And he's always been instant with the replies. 2AM, 4AM, 7AM, you name it. Never once has he taken more than a couple minutes to reply. He can't remember sleeping more than two to three hours a night if any since they moved here. He'd blame it on the weather change. Then again, he knows better.

His correspondent noticed this too...

"Why are you never asleep? Is something wrong?" She'd asked him at one point, showing genuine concern which truly warmed his heart. And then broke it right afterwards when he remembered he can't tell her what's wrong. He wishes he could tell her for whatever reason. He has a feeling she'd understand, maybe even like him better because of it. But how could he tell her? The charade needs to be upkept, the show must go on, and he'll just...well, suffer, really.

With a quick confirmation of Y/N's well-being, he continues his venture back into the club, making a quick beeline for the dark hall leading to the bathrooms. And yes, he feels like a creep but no, he can't turn back now.

So, he pushes the door to the women's restroom open.

Thank the heavens, he thinks to himself. For two reasons.

Firstly, because it's a single stall bathroom.

Secondly, because on the sink counter outside the stall sits Y/N and suddenly he's getting deja vu.

Mascara is staining her cheeks, a cigarette is hanging between her lips, her hair is a mess. But she still gives him a smile when she sees him come in. "Hey." She greets him, voice barely above a whisper, "You're not supposed to be here."

Colby quickly locks the door behind him, approaching her with a newfound shake in his knees. Given her state, he's quick to assume the worst. "Jesus Y/N, what's wrong? Did something happen? Talk to me."

She shakes her head, a few more strands of her disheveled hair going awry, "Nothing happened, nothing's wrong. I'm just...having fun." She sounds bitter. Not sad, not angry. Just bitter, regretful almost.

For some reason he chucks up to human nature, he feels anger start boiling in that lingering pit in his gut, "Where have you been?"

She motions to the counter below her nonchalantly, slurring a little "Here" in response.

"Where'd you get that?" He asks, nodding at the cigarette between her fingers.

She laughs, whether drunkenly or genuinely he's unsure. "Some girl gave it to me when she heard me crying in the bathroom."

Alarms start goin off once again. She's unaware she's playing him and his sanity like a yo-yo with each spoken word, "Why the fuck were you crying? What happened?!"

Y/N finds the audacity to roll her eyes at him, "Nothing! For fuck's sake, Colby, nothing happened!"

"How can you say that and expect me to believe it? Look at yourself! You're a mess!" He tries subduing his anger but it's impossible. He doesn't know where it's stemming from. Maybe it's all that pent up adrenaline from twenty minutes ago coming loose. Maybe his worry is mixing with the relief and melting into frustration. Maybe he's taking out his bitterness - piled on for months, mind you - on her. Even though she doesn't deserve it. And he knows that.

She deserves the world.

He just doesn't deserve her. And he's yet to come to terms with that.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." She sasses him, taking the last puff of her cigarette before tossing it out the window.

"You're mascara is running down your face, your hair is all over the place, your lipstick is smeared as fuck. There's a party going on out there but you prefer sitting on cold marble and smoking in a bathroom. You can't tell me there's nothing odd about that." He's losing it, he can feel his sanity slipping from his grip and he can't get a better grasp on it. All he can do is watch as it leaves him.

Y/N, in her usual fashion, is quick to clap back, "You're the odd one! You're fully sober at your own party, angry for whatever reason. You're standing here lecturing me instead of being out there having fun. Oh, and need I remind you, you're in the ladies' room."

He laughs humorlessly. Exhaustedly. "I haven't been on a wild goose chase the whole night for you to...."

"He doesn't want me."

Her words cut him off and cut him deep. The confusion is brief but the pieces fall into place almost immediately.

Nate

"There's no fucking way. You've been all over each other..." He stops himself when he realizes how upset he sounds recollecting all the instances he caught the two in their own world. The pit rattles, a sickening feeling climbing up his throat.

She scoffs, "Yeah, well that's all there is to it. It's all physical. And always prompted by alcohol." A long sigh escapes her lips, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm just disappointed I didn't notice it sooner."

Colby Brock, for once in his life, has been rendered speechless. But he's aware staying quiet isn't an option. So he makes a weak attempt at a consolation, "Y/N, I-"

"Did you know?" She thankfully cuts him off before he can continue word vomiting.

He quickly shakes his head, "No. I swear I didn't. I would've told you."

"Yeah, I know. I know you would've. I just don't know why he told you he liked me when you asked him..." She sighs, picking at the hem of her dress, thankfully oblivious to the sudden paleness of Colby's face.

The sickness gets worse as he remembers his huge mistake. A lie he told months ago.

Y/N had asked him to fight this one battle for her and he still didn't do it, for utterly selfish reasons. She'd asked him for something so simple - ask Nate about his feelings for her, if there were any. And what did he do? He kept his tongue behind his teeth and quietly hoped she'd forget about it. Such a foolish thing to expect from someone completely head over heels in love.

So, when she inevitably checked in to find out the response, he had to lie. Lie and give her false hope he didn't even know was false at the time. There was a devil on his shoulder telling him to tell her the complete opposite but he could never be that evil.

He'd rather drink and sleep his way into coping through it all than watch his best friend be brokenhearted.

In the end it seems he somehow swerved the situation into hitting both those nails on the head. And he completely and utterly hates himself for having done that to Y/N.

The least he can do is come clean.

"I never asked him."

Silence. Fucking crickets. They can hear each other's heartbeats. And he can't bring himself to look up at her, let alone meet her eyes.

It feels like forever before words are spoken between them. She's the one to break the silence with one simple word: "Why?"

He can't tell her why. He doesn't know why.

Actually, you know what, fuck that. He knows exactly why and that's the reason he can't tell her.

"I don't know." He feels like such a coward. But the consequences of the truth terrify him.

"Why did you lie to me?" She doesn't sound angry. He wishes she did. Because the hurt he can hear in her voice is far worse than any furious wrath she could unleash upon him.

"I don't know."

"Fuck that, Colby. You're my best friend, for fuck's sake. You're the last person I'd expect to lie to me and you-"

"You don't wanna know why, Y/N." His restraint is growing weaker. He regrets the words as soon as he says them. He's aware she most definitely not leave it alone now. They're both stubborn, so fucking stubborn. Mules, if you will. Legends say they still reference something they bickered about a decade ago today.

"Yes I fucking do, Colby."

"It could ruin a lot of things."

"It won't."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't."

"You promise?" He feels horrible asking for a promise from her after having revealed the biggest lie he's ever told her.

Well, second biggest anyway.

But she doesn't second his opinion because her response comes out faster than a bullet, "I promise."

In this moment of honesty, raw and bare honesty, how could he lie? How can he look her in the eyes and not tell her the truth? How can he even look at her? He owes her that much but doesn't know if he has it in himself to do it.

Forcing himself to look up, Colby swears he can feel a sharp pain in his chest. Her eyes are dry of tears by now but the shine remains, accentuated further by the fluorescent lighting. He swears he can feel himself fall for her all over again, even deeper.

"Because I'm in love with you, Y/N."

The crickets are back. The silence is eating away at him. He can feel her slipping through his fingers. Their decade long friendship flashes before his eyes. It feels like he's saying goodbye. To the memories, to the friendship. To the love of his life that never was.

The weight of the realness knocks his head back down, his gaze fixated on the black tiles beneath his feet. Shame, pain, dread and fear are all battling for first place, causing a whirlwind in his brain that nearly knocks him off his balance.

It's astonishing how much it hurts losing something you new you didn't deserve all along.

Tagging: @benbarnesprettygurl @beanredacted

[softtdaisy]

DESCRIPTION I Everybody respect Charles, your boyfriend. Ironically, they don't know he's the same man they are all afraid of these days.

PAIRING I Charles Leclerc × reader

WORDS COUNT I 2,2k

A/N I Happy halloween my loves!! I couldn't not write anything for this day, I love halloween so much. And I mean, Charles as ghostface is kinda hot no? 👀

Ghostface. That’s the subject everyone was talking about for weeks now. It was in everyone's mouth. Fear, anger and excitement: these were the main feelings people had about him. Or her, for what they know it could be anybody.

“It has to be someone who’s lonely. Why would they kill all these people otherwise?” you heard a girl from your class say.

You were all outside, waiting for your next class. If Ghostface had been the main subject before, it was even more true today. They found someone else's body this morning.

The captain of the basketball team, Max Verstappen.

Until today, the victims were mostly…Well there was nobody, sadly. Or at least, not someone whose death would be as commented on as the star of the school.

The first victim was a teacher’s assistant, which led people to believe either she had slept with the killer or it was some kind of jealousy.

Then there was a member of the chess club. And as much as he was appreciated by everyone, he wasn’t that popular.

Neither were the two girls who had a terrible crash last weekend. It could have been an “ordinary” crash. But the mask was there. Like a proof.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

You turned around to look at your boyfriend, sitting behind you with his hand on your hair.

Charles knew Max pretty well since they were in the same team. He hadn’t said much since you discovered the murder. Not like he said much about the other victims either. 

They all turned their heads to look at him. Charles was highly charismatic with his gorgeous smile, his perfect green and his curly brown hair falling on his forehead. He had some mystery in him. Nobody could really read into him.

Well you could. But you were probably the only one.

The hand that was in your hair slowly moved so he could pass his arm around your neck and keep you close between his legs. “Is it too easy to think it’s someone with no power? Why can’t it be someone who has control over everyone here?”

Everyone stayed silent. Because the idea, somehow, was even more frightening. It could be anybody. From a classmate, to a friend, to a teacher, to a coach, to their partner or their worst enemy. 

What Charles was implying was that nobody was safe.

The silence was suddenly broken by Pierre and his burst of laughter. “You would a fucking cool killer, dude.” He said, bringing his hand to Charles. It took him a few seconds before smiling and checking his best friend’s hand. 

A few seconds that nobody noticed.

“Maybe I should cancel the party tonight.”

You always organized a party the night before Halloween. There was something exciting with starting the festivities earlier than everyone else. Things always seemed to happen during that night. Like people testing their limits, couples acting like there was no tomorrow. You didn’t want to cancel. But was it worth it to risk everyone’s life for your own pleasure?

Weirdly enough, all your friends started to protest against your offer. Apparently you weren’t the only one who loved this party so much. 

“It’s the best night of the year!”

”I waited all year for this, you can’t do that!”

“I didn’t prepare my outfit for nothing, trust me.”

You laughed a little at all their remarks. But the most important one came from behind you. When Charles tightened his grip around your neck so you could come closer to him. You felt his wild hair against your cheek and his breath against your temple. You closed your eyes for a second. Hoping you could be in a private room instead of outside, with everyone.

Not that it has ever been a problem before.

“We all deserve a good night of peace, right?” he whispered in your ear. You felt it in your bones. And when he kissed your cheek, which provoqued again some reactions from your friends, you knew he had won. Charles always gets what he wants.

And he wanted that party to happen.

There was no surprise when everyone came up to your place that night. All dressed up with a mix between “party like tomorrow doesn’t exist” and “we shouldn’t be afraid about what’s happening outside.” You didn’t mind that. You even loved that.

Charles looked deliciously handsome in an all black outfit that was complimenting his eyes, making them look even more percent and vibrant. That was the only thing you saw in the dark. It was even more disturbing for some people when he looked at them: they felt trapped. Like by coming here, they had just walked into the lion’s den.

Maybe they were right. 

“Oh fuck.”

Every light in your house went down suddenly. Just like the music and, basically, everything electronic. You tighten your grip at Charles’ arm from the sudden silence. This was absolutely not part of your night.

“Can someone give it a look?” you heard in the middle of the complaints. You rolled your eyes. Why is it always easier to ask someone else something you’re too scared to do?”

“I’ll go.” Charles said. You didn’t get the time to convince to stay. Your boyfriend kissed your hair before disappearing in the dark. Everybody seemed to trust him with that task. Slowly, they all started to talk and act like nothing happened. Like they weren’t in the dark in a big house in a town where there was a killer around. They all seemed to forget about the situation.

Now by yourself without Charles, you walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. A glass you immediately drop on the floor when you notice a silhouette in the middle of the room. Your scream resonated in the whole house and stopped every conversation…only for more screams to come.

Like they all understood why you were screaming.

It wasn’t that hard to guess, anyway.

Just like everyone, you started to run away and find yourself in your own bedroom. One killer for a whole house. And of course he choose you.

You could feel a presence right behind you. And when you turned around, you knew you were right. There he was, dominating you with his tall figure. Even if you couldn’t see a thing with his mask, you could feel his smirk. You could feel his satisfaction of finding you. You took a step back, forgetting about the wall behind you. You trapped yourself. Like a poor victim.

“Found.” he whispered, putting his body against yours. He didn’t lose any seconds before bringing his knife under your chin. Menacing you with the sharp blade against your skin. The worst part was probably to feel a drop running down your neck. 

And knowing it wasn’t your blood.

He approached his face, pressing his mask against your cheek. “You’re such a bitch.” You heard him laugh. And for a second, you acted scared.

Only for a second.

“But I’m your boss’ bitch, so I’m still above you.” you whispered, just like he did. Because there was no reason Pierre could be the only one to act so scary and dominant. You could imagine how frustrating it must be for him.

Charles chose him to do the killing. He trusted him enough for this.

But Charles would still choose you over him.

Pierre pressed his body a little harder against yours. You could feel every muscle, every curve against your skin. You wanted to test his limits. Not only to tease him. Because you had no idea where he would stop. Would he hurt you? Would he really risk his friendship with Charles to avenge his jealousy? You wanted to know. You were dying to know.

You were probably the only one.

“Let her go.”

You suddenly heard this voice. This deep, dark voice that probably appears in some people’s nightmare.

Pierre immediately froze. He wanted to continue. He wanted to hurt you. But he knew he couldn’t. If he dared touch a single hair from your head, it was his own that would be on the floor in the next minute. He kept looking at you like maybe you would let him hurt you. Once. He honestly believed you would.

What a fool.

Before he walked back by himself, Charles grabbed him by the neck and threw him on the floor. He didn’t even look at you, it wasn’t even important. He knew you were safe now. And he knew you had nothing. 

You watched him put his foot on Pierre’s chest to keep him down. 

None of them speak. The silence was more threatening than any words. 

One move and Charles could harm him.

One move and Charles could kill him.

Charles suddenly turned around to look at you. You couldn’t see anything. Not his eyes that were undressing you, even in this situation. Not his lips that were curled in a grin.

But you still understood him. With the slight move he made with his head. You nod before running to another room. You were sure what Charles had planned for his teammate.

It wasn’t until an hour later that you knew.

When you saw Pierre leaving your house with his girlfriend by his side. “Everything is fine?” you asked them, like you did with every other guest that got attacked tonight. For a second, you really thought he would grass you up. Especially with the way he held his girl closer to him. Like he wanted to protect her from you. Like he wasn’t the killer in your house.

“Just some bruises from the fight.” That’s all he said before grabbing her hand and leading her away. 

Once everyone had left the house, you went upstairs to take a bath. You deserved a good moment of relaxation after that messy night.

And you made yourself perfectly comfortable: bubble bath with essential oil, music loud enough to forget about the world outside.

You could feel him here. You knew he was standing there, watching you. And just for the pleasure of it, you stayed with your eyes closed. Making him wait. Until you couldn’t contain the smile on your face. You loved this situation way too much.

“You want to play psycho killer?” you asked, in a low voice.

You opened your eyes and turned your head to watch Charles walk to you. He was still wearing most of his costume, except for the mask. But he didn’t need it. There was something even more scary in seeing his perfect son-in-law's face that nobody would suspect and knowing it was such a mess in his mind that he had to kill people to calm the voices in his head.

He was standing right in front of the bathtub, his knees sticking to the marble and his body dominating yours completely. If he wasn’t your boyfriend, you would be scared. 

Maybe you should.

You watched his hand coming to your neck and felt his fingers pressing against your skin. You were breathless for a few seconds, like you had a blackout and forgot everything. Your place, your relationship.

But not for long.

“No please don’t kill me Mr Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel.” you said with a fake scared and innocent voice. You loved playing that game with Charles. Because you never knew where his limits would be.

And tonight they seemed pretty high. Because you didn’t have the time to think before he dived your head into the water. Surprised, you didn’t breath before and started to cough almost immediately. And the fact he was still squeezing your neck clearly didn’t help. But you weren’t scared. Even if the seconds started to grow longer. Even if there was indeed something quite weird in seeing the face of the man you loved above yours, watching you struggling under the water.

Because in the end. Charles loved you.

And you probably were the only person he had feelings for.

So it wasn’t such a relief when he helped you resurface and caressed your back while you were catching your breath back. You knew he wouldn’t kill you. Not you.

You turned your head to look at him and that’s when you noticed the proof from the night that just went by. “You still have blood on you.” you brought one of your wet hands to his chest and started to undress him. “Come with me.” 

“You realized you’re just as fucked up as I am, right? “ Charles asked you when he entered the bath and put himself right behind you. You were trapped between his body, his muscled legs encircling yours and his arms holding you against him. His bloody hands were on your body and the way he was touching you was too romantic to think about what those hands did earlier. 

You looked at him and noticed how his face was softening slowly. His eyes were less threatening and more loving and you couldn’t help to think it was because of the love he had for you. He even had a small smile on his face and you could resist kissing the little dimple that was coming out. “I guess we make a great couple then.” you replied before taking the soap to wash the stains from the night.

Washing the horror away and becoming a normal couple again.

[periprose]

Okay I gotta request something JUST HEAR ME OUT

Black Cat!Reader trying to tell Tasm!Peter she's Black Cat while he tries to tell her that he's Spider-Man at the same time. Queue up Peter being baffled, while reader just doesn't believe him lol

Also I am loving Florence, it's so good and rich, I'm still only on chapter three but I want to kiss your Peter senseless- he's such a sweetheart🫶 Also I love youuu🥰

AHHH bby i love this idea and I love you!! (also thanks for the support on florence)

/

Secrets are difficult to reveal.

They're especially terrible when you're telling something so tumultuous to your best friend, something that could either make him judge you severely or run away from you.

How do you confess that you're a thief? An villain turned anti-hero?

Even worse, Peter is someone you really love. Someone you know is too good for you- he would never feel the same way. But that's why you have Spider-Man, right?

You always knew it wasn't always going to be fun and games to be Black Cat. To be the very symbol of bad luck- it's a bad premonition.

You stare in the mirror. Peter will be here any second- he always climbs up the fire escape into your apartment's bedroom, and you told him you had something important to say.

There's a knock at your window, and you turn a little too abruptly.

Peter watches from the outside. He has a tentative smile, but he can see that you're worried, and you make the conscious effort to relax your face.

Peter himself is worried. He's about to confess something very important to someone very near and dear to him- he's Spider-Man, and not just that- he's having a sort-of affair with Black Cat.

He doesn't even know how it happened. First she was stealing wealth from banks, then a few months later she came with him with the notion to be good, and Peter always believes in someone redeeming themselves... but that doesn't mean she had to be so goddamn hot, all black leather and white fur, and Peter's just a horny dude who could not help but kiss back when she made a move on him yesterday.

And it was hot, it was good for him to take out some very human emotions by making out with her, but it wasn't everything. It wasn't you, and now he feels incredibly guilty. So he wants to come clean. Peter wants to let you know the whole truth, and even if that means you'll never like him again- Peter will never act on his unspoken feelings for you- he knows you deserve to know.

"Hey." You let Peter in, and he immediately walks in with an air of anxiety, hands already shaking as he paces around. "You good?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Peter shakes his head immediately. "No, not really. We need to talk."

"Oh." You give him a look as you sit on your bed. "You have something to say, too?"

Peter nods, and you think it can't be nearly as bad as what you're going to tell him.

"Okay. Let me go first- I've been hiding something from you." He starts, but you shake your head. "I haven't been around."

"I haven't been around, Peter." You tilt your head at him. "I... I haven't been telling you the truth."

"Just wait. I'm trying to tell you something important." Peter insists, wanting you to know the truth but you keep going.

"I'm a bad person, Peter." You murmur, and Peter stops, interest piqued. "I've been misusing our friendship- you wouldn't want to be friends if you knew my past."

"No. That's not true." Peter sits down next to you on your bed, feeling that he should comfort you before potentially breaking your heart. "I'll always be your friend. Tell me what's going on."

"Don't sound so sure." You grimace at him. "I... I'm Black Cat."

"Huh?"

"I know, it's so terrible. I stopped with all the stealing and killing, but... I'm still not sure if my so-called good deeds are enough to forgive me." You lean over your legs. "I don't... I work with Spider-Man every now and then, too."

"But-" Peter tries to interject, and you keep going anyways. He's incredibly baffled- it's not that you don't match the size of Black Cat, it's just that he's sure he would've recognized your mouth under her mask. He's fantasized about your lips long enough.

"He kissed me yesterday." You admit, and for some reason it feels like a slap in the face to say, even if you know that Peter doesn't actually like you like that. "And I've always liked you, Peter, so I just have to get this off my chest, because I feel so terrible. I'm sorry."

Peter is snickering.

"What?" You shove him. "I'm trying to tell you about my actual, serious pain, Peter, and you're just laughing-"

He loves this. He can actually be with you, no questions asked, and you have to be Black Cat- who else would know that Spider-Man kissed you? Peter feels a little bad that you're clearly agonized about it still, and he is laughing, but he can't help it.

"I was trying to tell you the same thing." Peter shrugs, as you hang onto his every word. "Okay, not the same thing. But that I'm Spider-Man."

You raise your eyebrows. "Really?"

"What do you mean, really? What's so shocking?" Peter asks, somewhat affronted, still finding it funny. "Do I not look like I have Spider-Man's build?"

"No, no. It just... feels a little too convenient." You give him a pitiful glance. "Maybe you could prove it?"

"Wow." Peter shakes his head, stifling a small smile. "Why would I lie?"

"No, Peter, it's not that you would lie. It's just... it's too obvious of a happy ending for me, and I-" You wince. "I don't normally have those."

"Oh." Peter knows about your past, your unhappy origin story, and he doesn't want to say anything to negate that truth.

So he simply thwips out a web towards your desk, planting your water bottle against the wall, and you don't look too surprised, although you do inhale.

"So that means- I was working with- and you-" You try to make a coherent sentence. "We... we kissed?"

"Tell me if this feels the same." Peter murmurs, half jokingly, mostly serious, and he pulls your face up in the same way you remember he did yesterday.

Knowing that you were the one in that leather black suit with the white trimming stirs something more inside him- yeah, he loves you and he's so glad to have you here now- but it makes yesterday even hotter in hindsight.

No mask this time. Nothing to get in the way of you dragging your fingers through Peter's hair as he presses his lips against yours, not hesitant at all. His lips are firm, plying against yours, and he inhales in a way that screams that he's wanted to do this for a while- even if he kissed you a few days ago, it wasn't like this- and it has you understanding he doesn't want to be gentle. He wants to finish what he started.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"The Best Gift He Can Give." Mickey Altieri X AFAB! Reader.

Okay, so the amazing and fantastic @mrsaltieri-real had a birthday a while ago, and I wrote this as a gift. I edited it to make it reader insert friendly and now I am sharing it with all of you! I hope you all enjoy it.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.4K. Mickey Altieri X AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Your Boyfriend David Fucking Sucks. Your Boyfriend Cheats On You. Apologies To Dudes Named David Who Don't Suck. Stalking. Breaking And Entering. Murder. Blood. Gore. Violence. Making Out. Grinding. Vaginal Fingering. Eating Out. Eating Ass. Hair Pulling. Spanking. Praise. Degredation. Rimming. Vaginal Sex. Cream Pie. Confessions Of Feelings.

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There are people in this world who do not deserve anything. They don’t deserve kindness, or understanding, they don’t deserve friends, they don’t even deserve to breathe. One such asshole was your boyfriend, David. You don’t even know why he is your boyfriend, honestly you’ve had friends ask, and you are never sure much what to say. He treats you terribly, he is mean to you, rude, constantly picks fights, and it isn’t like you can say, “Well at least the sex is good-”

Because it is very much not. You’d been together for four years, and it had never been good.

Mickey didn’t know about that, though. All he knew to start is that you were cute, and he liked how you looked, the rest started to become revealed to him through watching you over time. He remembers the first afternoon he started to pick up on that very clearly. He was in the library, one table over, trying to do some actual work, sure he wasn’t paying for his degree, but he couldn’t exactly flunk out either, and he overheard an interaction, “Do you have to turn your pages so loud?”

Your head snaps up, looking over to him, Mickey’s own eyes flick up, but his head doesn’t raise, brows furrow in question mirroring yours as you ask, “Excuse me?”

“You are turning the pages of your book really loudly-” He drew out your name, focused on it, and that made your expression turn from somewhat annoyed confusion to outright disgust, a roll of your eyes. “Fuck off David.” 

His tone made Mickey’s skin crawl, “Sooo mature, this is a library, can’t you keep it down and show some class?” 

Mickey had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping, who the fuck was this guy, and why was he so comfortable talking to you like that? He thought boyfriends were supposed to be fucking nice to their girlfriends, and here he was treating you like he hated you, as if you were shit on the bottom of his shoe.

That was not the only time he saw you being treated so shamefully by David, either. Seems whenever he overheard, walked by, you were being talked down to by him or already mid-fight. 

Worse still he would complain about what you wore deriding any skin you wanted to show, and what you were into, he’d overheard him belittling your love of movies too. “How the fuck can you do that shit?”

“Do what shit, David?” You sighed, and he asked, “What the same fucking movies over and over, don’t you ever get bored?”

Your reply comes out almost bored, edging on annoyed, “Those same movies over and over are definitely more interesting than talking to you so-” 

“Woooow, is that any way to talk to me?” He’d ask, and Mickey would think to himself that you should treat him a Hell of a lot worse for how he acts.

You and Mickey had been friends in secret for a while, it had been a very quiet affair, mostly because David would be threatened and jealous, something that bugged Mickey, but he was just glad for the time spent with you and to get to know you. Small moments carved out whenever that prick wasn’t around became absurdly meaningful. 

One day he found you alone on a park bench on campus and seemingly very upset, he couldn’t leave you like that, your boyfriend isn’t around and so he comes forward until he is close enough to ask, “Hey uh, you good?”

Head raises, and you sniff, hands rushing to wipe at your nose and mouth, you nod shakily, mouth dry as you say, “Yeah, totally, so, so good.” 

He lets himself smile this kind of sad smile as he sits down beside you, humming out, “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Leave it alone.” You sigh, and he presses, “No way, there has to be a reason you’re this upset and I wanna know.” 

You slump back further into the bench, averting your gaze as you confess, “You caught me, M�� not good at all. I just found out that my boyfriend fucking cheated on me.” 

Immediate anger flares as does genuine concern for you, both emotions taking hold makes his eyebrows raise and his hand reach out to touch your elbow, your attention snaps back to him. Your eyes meet, and he says, “You can talk to me.”

“What is there to talk about?” It’s said very quietly, and his grip on you tightens by a fraction as he encourages, “Plenty. It isn’t healthy to keep this shit bottled up, what he did was fucked, talk to me about it.” 

You haven’t opened up in such a long time but right now, something in his eyes beckons you and the urge overtakes, you feel safe and think, maybe you should open up. Your stomach is churning, and you think, what harm could it do? You start to tell him, a verbal torrent that once it began it was impossible to stop, as you vent about David and the series of horrible things he had put you through in your relationship. He listens, and only when you stop for breath does he say, “You don’t deserve to be treated like this, you could do so much better than an asshole like him.”

A small shrug as you brush him off, “It’s easier to stay in this relationship because it’s all I’ve ever known. Even if I broke things off with him, he’d never really let me go.”

“What do you mean he wouldn’t let you go?” His question isn’t entirely unexpected, but you still struggle for a moment to respond, “I dunno, I just…I know he would put up a massive fight, and I couldn’t ever just make a clean break. He wouldn’t let that happen.” 

He licks his lips tentatively, an almost nervous action, “He…He doesn’t own you. Hon, you know that, right?”

You looked over at Mickey and said quietly, unconvincingly, “I know that.” 

He wasn’t sold. He hated the look in your eyes right now. Not only that, but he tried to break the tension and asked, “Is the sex that good or-?”

You laughed, head tipping back, genuine smile crossing your face, you shake your head as you catch your breath and tell him, “God no, it’s terrible! So vanilla, nothing but missionary, he never even eats me out.” You exhale and expound further, “He expects me to blow him too.” 

“Fuck off no way.” His reaction pulled another laugh out of you, and he insists, “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” You sighed. He speaks with conviction, anger but not at you, never at you, more frustration at your situation and how you seemingly have just accepted it. “Why the fuck do you put up with this asshole? Seems like you are doing all the giving with no take.” 

A shrug as you tell him, refusing to look at him any longer, “I’ve grown used to it, it’s been just so long of the same thing, you know?” 

That was fucking bullshit. Sunk cost fallacy much? Clearly you were never going to get out from under this jerk’s thumb on your own, so he was going to do something about this. It would take some work, but you were more than worth it. He started to stalk him, determined to get real dirt on him, he learns his routine and becomes far too acquainted with even the most basic and mundane things about your boyfriend. 

It doesn’t take him long, around a month in is when Mickey catches David in the act of cheating, he was fucking some girl from his film class. 

It was infuriating! Here he has you, a total fucking catch, and he doesn’t appreciate you, mistreats you, and cheats on you on top of all that. What a complete piece of fucking trash. 

He has every intention of telling you when he has the adequate proof-

Wait.

What if he tells you and you still stay? You seemed so downtrodden, what if not even this is enough to convince you to leave? Fuck, that would be terrible, but he couldn’t let that hold him back. 

He just needed to stay on task, stay focused, and this could work out. He clung closer, tried to be around you more and provide more support, but that, as it turns out, only made it harder. Having to be confronted so frequently with the damage he was doing to you, how sad you were, it made him hurt in kind. He really fucking cared about you.

On top of all of this, his presence is apparently putting more pressure on your relationship. He comes across you and David having a loud and public altercation a few days later, as he gets closer he realizes it is about him. 

“You can’t tell me what to do!” You insist, and David bites back, “Oh, can’t I?”

“No! You can’t! What is the problem anyway?” You try to implore, and he isn’t having it, “I don’t like him! No, scratch that, I fucking hate him. You shouldn’t be talking to any guy, I don’t want you to even look in his direction-”

“You are so ridiculous-” 

He can’t stay. He can’t listen to this. Furthermore, he can’t stand idly by any longer. He is going to do something about this. 

Breaking into David’s place was easy, taking his time is what was difficult. He eases into his bedroom, costume on, knife already in his hand, and comes up to the bed. You were back at your own place, far away and hopefully peacefully sleeping, blissfully unaware of just what he was about to do for you, of the devotion he has and was about to display. 

He wanted to spit in the fucker’s face for what he did to you, more than that he wanted to main and mutilate him, wanted to inflict as much physical pain onto him as he inflicted mental pain onto you. He reached down, he ripped the blanket back, and with one smooth motion he stabbed the sharp blade into David’s stomach. 

The reaction was immediate, his eyes snapping open, mouth open in a soundless scream as it seems all the air leaves him, hands flying to his stomach trying to clutch at the blade but stopping short, afraid to touch the intrusion. He ripped the knife out and then stabbed it back in, immediately. He twists, David inhaled as much as he could but then breathed out, hiccuping on the air, it becomes a complete bloodbath. Mickey cuts, he stabs, he hurts him as he can’t hold back, and David chokes out, “Why?”

Mickey laughs, this cold and calculating kind of laugh before he takes the mask off, and then he starts to talk, “You are a pathetic excuse for a man, a worthless piece of trash-” 

The knife is ripped out and brought back down harder than before, the steel scrapes bone, and he sobs, “-you don’t deserve someone like her, you know that, right? You’ve been mistreating her for way too long.”

The metal wrenched free and then drove deeply inward again, the next sound of pain is a short gasp, Mickey tells him further, “That is why I am doing this, I am going to step in and take over.” 

David looked so pitiful, tears down his cheek, bloodstained and movements slowing, weakening. Mickey leaned down and told him lowly,“I’m going to make her feel so, SO much better than you ever did.” 

He is unrecognizable. Organs are laying all around him, cuts on his face making it, so his identity is basically gone, partially skinned in places. He wished he could have taken the time to skin him alive, fillet him like a fucking fish, but even that would be too good for him. He is sure that he has drained him of about half of his blood, the mattress is soaked, heavy and thick, there is a squelching sound when Mickey gets off the bed. The blood has soaked through the robe, it is staining his shirt and jeans he is positive of it, the handle of the knife is slick, he can feel coagulated blood that has gathered between his fingers, the clots are slippery and almost black.

There is one place he wants to be and it’s with you.

He goes to your place. 

It is obscenely late when you open the door, you are in your pyjamas, you look fucking gorgeous to him. 

“Mickey?” You rub over your eyes, suppressing a yawn, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

He pushes past you, comes inside as he starts to talk, “I had to come see you, I just did something amazing tonight-”

You close the door, he is talking quickly, a mile a minute, excited, manic. “I was thinking about what told me about David and I just got so fucking inspired, you know? So I decided I just had to do it, so I did but, darling, you need to tell me, what else didn’t he do for you?”

“What he didn’t do?” You repeat, softer, confused, and he nods, brows raised and eyes alight, mischievous, “Yes, tell me all the things he doesn’t do for you.”

It is then that you take him in awake enough to register, and notice what he is wearing. A black robe, almost plastered to his body, your eyes flit downwards, and you see that it’s shiny in a particular way that tattles on it being wet, but wet with what? Eyes catch red droplets on the ground coming off of the frayed edged of the black fabric, your gaze shoots back up. You smell the iron, and you see the small flecks of red on his face, and so the question tumbles out, “What is with the robe and is that fucking blood?”

This half smile on his face and a cock of his head as he tells you as if it couldn’t be more obvious, “I just killed David. For you sweetheart.”

You don’t feel angry or upset, to your complete surprise, you feel an insane and immense sense of relief that David is gone. You no longer have to put up with him. 

A sharp inhale as the feeling sinks in, you let it wash over you, not fighting it, letting it soak into your bones. Another question spills out as you ask, “What did you do to him?”

His grin is so wide you worry it hurts his face. 

“I snuck into his apartment, broke in with no issue, I crept into his bedroom and I stabbed a knife-” He brought one foot up, boot rested on the chair at your desk, hauling up the robe, careful not to get blood on more than he had already his hand grasps the hand of the knife. He unsheathes it from the holster that was strapped to his leg, his foot comes back down, he is holding the knife up, you can see the dried blood all over the blade and his hand, he continues to expound, “-this knife, into his stomach.”

He mimics the motion, smile still pulling his features tight, “He gasped and struggled, it was pathetic. I ran him through over and over, the sound was wet, the blood gushed.” 

A sigh crosses his lips, he is looking down at the blade, turning it over in his hands. You, too, are fixated on the glinting metal as it moves from one hand to the next. He keeps talking. “You’d think sound would be a concern. That he’d be screaming his fucking head off, right?”

You look up, he is staring at your face, expectant, you respond to the question, a shaky nod. He continues on, a point of his knife, “Wrong. When you stab someone right, it sucks all the air out of their lungs.” The images his is giving fills your head, of David lying there, bleeding and as Mickey put it, pathetic. He is still expounding. “I was relentless, kept stabbing him, he had no chance to catch his breath. You can’t scream if you can’t breathe.”

You listen enthralled as he describes how he cut flesh from bone, how chunks fell away, digging fingers into open wounds, manually separating cartilage and skin and muscle apart just because he could. He speaks of how much blood he drained and by the end of it you were breathing much harder as was he. Almost no space between the pair of you.

He is looking in your eyes, and he speaks, “I ask again, what did he never do for you?” 

You can’t help it, inquiring, “Why do you want to know so bad?” 

“Because sweetheart-” He sets the knife down on your desk, his hand reaches out to take yours, tacky with partially dried crimson, and he says, “-baby, darling, I want to make you feel all the things you’ve missed out on the past few years.” 

You are as explicit in describing what you’d been missing as he was when describing the violence he did to David. 

“He never made me cum with his mouth, his dick, not even his fingers. I haven’t felt a hot tongue on my clit in fucking years.” You start, a deep inhale before you force it out, speak in hushed tones, “He only ever fucked me in missionary, he never put a hand on my throat and choked me, never pulled my hair, he never praised me, fuck, Mick, he never even degraded me.”

You sigh now, “Never spanked me, never ate my ass, God do I want someone to eat my ass and above all else, he never overstimulated me-”

He cut you off. His mouth crashing into yours after far too long, he kisses you deeply, and you fall into it, into him. A moan into his mouth, hands reach out, fingers tangle in the sleeves, they feel damp, you flex your fingers, you squeeze, beads of blood squeeze through your fingers. Your tongue runs over his bottom lip, and you revel in the taste of him. Christ it was never like this with David, a simple kiss with Mickey was serving to do you in, the graze of his lips against yours, of his tongue brushing yours was sending sparks throughout you. 

Feet stumble back, you pull him with you, keep him near, unwilling to break the connection you’ve made and yet you do, a quiet mumbling of, “Get this fucking robe off-”, pulling on his sleeves for further emphasis. The contact is broken for him to listen and obey, he pulls the robe off and drops it onto the floor, the blood has soaked through to his t-shirt he was wearing, and again you are confronted with what he did. He killed David for you, the evidence of his care for you, of his total devotion is splattered all over him, plastering his shirt to him, soaked into thin fabric. 

This time, you are pulling him back to you, greedy and needy as you do so. Mouths meet again as you are moving backward, the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress, and you let yourself fall, tugging him down with you. 

His leg slots between yours as his lips descend on yours again, you sink further into the mattress as he, in turn, sinks into you, melting into the contact, his leg presses closer, knee is tighter to you and that makes you inhale sharply. That sets something off in him. 

One of his hands moves, threads in your hair, and he tugs, it forcefully breaks the kiss and pulls a moan from you at the delicious rush of pain. His mouth moves, presses over your jaw, down your throat, and he makes your hips move on their own, grinding against him, desperate for more already. A squirm of your hips as you drag your clothed slit against his solid thigh, and the wash of pleasure makes you have to suppress a shudder, a whining moan held back as well as you bite your bottom lip. 

He notices immediately, pulling back from your neck, another tug of your hair, and he makes you look at him, “None of that shit, I don’t fucking care how late it is, I don’t care if every son of a bitch on this entire floor files a noise complaint, I want to hear you, no holding back.”

You are stunned, speechless, your hips shift, and you are drenched, underwear plastered to you and one of his hands locks onto your throat, he squeezes and says, “I’m not hearing you say yes.” 

You just cannot believe everything you’ve ever wanted has fallen into your lap, you choke out, “Yes, yes, please, fucking yes-”

He shuts you up with another kiss and that is how things seriously escalate, both of you rushing to undress each other. You hadn’t been wearing much to sleep, the tank top and shorts were removed, his shirt and shoes are off now, and he stops. You are looking up at him, admiring him the same way he is you, even with almost all his clothing removed there is still the mark of the crime he committed, blood left on his torso after leaking through his shirt, splatters on his arms, the small flecks on his face. He is looking at you like you are a full meal with nothing more in his way than damp lace, “Fucking Christ-”

He sighs, his fingers trace the curve of your breast before he fully takes it in his hand, he looks helpless in regard to what he wants to do, he follows the impulse, he leans down, and his mouth latches onto one of your nipples. His tongue circles and you sigh, arching up into him. 

His teeth graze as one of his hands slips between your thighs, he only gets one pass of his fingers over the wet material before he decides that isn’t good enough. Fingers hook in the thin garment, and he pulls, he hopes you didn’t give a shit about them because he cannot be bothered to remove them properly, he pulls until it rips and throws it aside. No chance of you complaining because his fingers are on you, strong digits press to you bare for the first time. 

Your eyes roll back with a soft, “Oh my fucking God-” which Mickey absolutely eats up as he starts to move, fingers trace slowly, dipping low, catching some mess and dragging it up, using it as lube to rub your clit. 

The increase in pleasure was immediate, your body slowly starts to tense as the feeling digs into your bones, you fully give in to what he is doing to you. 

“Do you know how much I’ve poured over this?” He asks, and you say quietly, “No.” 

“So many nights.” He confesses, his fingers pick up the pace, tight circles rubbed, and he tells you more, “I’d think about this, about having you under me, about doing-” Two fingers ease inside of you, and he moans like it’s his pleasure, breathing out, “-this.” 

“You feel better than I ever thought you could, so fucking wet, so soft.” He groans, and you arch closer, his palm presses nearer, he moves and works with you, fingers curling into that sweet spot and hand grinding over your clit. You listen, and you feel, minutes later, very quickly between his hushed words and expert touch you are shivering and telling him, “M’ close Mickey-” 

“Fuck yes, do it.” The firm command makes it impossible to stop, you tip over and cum. It feels phenomenal, it’s been ages since anyone has done this, showed this level of care and investment in your enjoyment. He doesn’t relent, keeps his pace steady and consistent, and draws out every bit of feeling he can from your high. 

He doesn’t let you rest, your body sinks back into the mattress, you are panting, and he slides his fingers out of you and right into his mouth. Not only that, but he tastes you for the first time and moans from the salt and tang of you coating his tongue. 

“You taste better than anything I’ve ever put in my mouth.” He slips down your body, drags of his lips lighting further fire in you until he settles between your thighs, his mouth latches onto your still very sensitive clit and your thighs clamp around his head immediately. Your hand shoots down, fingers in his stupidly attractive hair, and you moan loudly, just as he wants you to. 

He was ravenously hungry but still taking his time with this, he forces himself to slow down just a touch, he knows you haven’t had this in years thanks to that douchebag of an ex-boyfriend. He laps at your leaking slit, from hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, he swirls his tongue around the boarders once, twice, three times before passing over it again, making you gasp out his name. 

Mickey luxuriates in the act and does his best to ensure that you do as well, sucks with purpose and is quickly rocketing you to another orgasm, you can barely string together a sentence to warn him of that, but he knows, fingers twist further in his hair, and you pull with a cry of his name, in another two short minutes you are cumming again, it’s stronger than the first, you are louder than you were last time, but he continues. He doesn’t stop on your come down, he just slows, goes lighter, his licks are running up the length of you, between your lips and on top of your twitching bud, over and over, methodical, and you can’t stop shaking. 

Somehow through the haze of pleasure you manage to speak, calling out to him, “Mi-Mickey, oh my fucking God-”

He lifts his mouth, you expect him to give you a breather or to give some pithy response that will turn you on further and make you leak more, but instead his hands are on your hips, he tilts them up and his tongue dives lower. His tongue circles over your asshole, and you actually sob, shocked and broken from the sudden stab of ecstasy that hits your gut, your hand leaving his hair, instead gripping at the sheets. You can’t stop from squirming, which makes his job harder, you hear something that sounds akin to a mildly annoyed growl. 

One of his hands lifts off your hip, and he lands a firm smack on your ass as he grits out, “Stop squirming so much babe, let me make you feel good.” 

He gets back to it and your head is thrown back against the pillows, you try, you really do, but his tongue flicks just so and your body bucks. He instead flips you over onto your stomach roughly manhandling you, one hand pulling your hips up, and he dives back in tongue first. He eats your ass with passionate fervour, whenever you buck too much he reminds you to behave with another hit to your ass cheek. His hand that wasn’t on your hip slides under, and he circles your clit with fast and clever fingers. 

The sharp slaps of pain and combined with him being tongue deep in your ass and rubbing your clit makes you cum embarrassingly fast yet again and harder still, legs trembling so much you almost fall on your face, with an ample gush onto his chin while sobbing his name into the pillow.  

When you stopped shaking he came up, another smack to your ass, his chest to your back as he leans down and praises right in your ear, “Oh good fucking girl.”

You start to babble out into the damp pillowcase, “Mi-Mickey, ‘lease, fuck me, need you-”

He hums, and you hear his belt open, finally getting his pants open, he inhales sharply in relief, the pressure easing from him opening his pants. The rest of his clothes are discarded, and he pauses. His hand on your sore ass, right on the spot he kept hitting over and over, his thumb traces down, spreading your lips, over your hole, and he sighs, “I have been dying to get inside this cunt.”

He lines up, he pushes his hips forward and sinks deep inside you, in one swift and smooth motion. The moan you share is like music, beautiful, melodic, passionate collaboration. His hand goes into your hair, he fucks you like that, face down ass up, he starts a quick pace initially, rough, needy and you love it. His body is covering yours as he breathes into your ear, “You feel incredible, oh my God-” His head tips back with a loud moan, he drives into you over and over, “-fucking stunning too, you are so gorgeous.” 

It has been entirely too long since you’ve been fucked in any position other than missionary. The sensation, his weight on your back, the sound of skin on skin, his breath in your ear, it’s fucking perfection. You rock back with him, meet him in the middle, you were giving back, showing just how desperately you want him in kind makes Mickey let out this sound, caught between a groan and something more possessive, not explicitly words, but it hits you low in your gut. 

He starts to slow down, takes a little more time, and you are moaning louder and louder, you are so worked up, so sensitive, you feel alive and electric. On one level it feels like you can feel every ridge and vein of him and on another like you can’t determine up from down, completely drunk on feeling. 

You completely lose track of how many times you get off that night, the pace will switch on a whim, from hard pounding and him calling you every name in the book to more easy and sensual, a writhing joint movement instead of an aggressive pounding. 

You ride him, grind one out on top of him while he cradles your breasts, thumbs passing over your nipples as he calls you a beautiful fucked out angel. 

He fucks you spooning, hand around you and between your thighs, strumming your clit with one hand, the other locked on your throat as he is fucking in and out.

The only thing that seems to make it stop is you literally sobbing for it to. Your cheeks are wet, you are babbling his name and the word stop, you have one leg over his shoulder and the other is pinned down near your knee by him. His stamina was impressive, he’d already cum once when you were riding him, had filled you up, but instead of that stopping it, he just flipped you over, still hard, and kept fucking going, his own cum providing even more lube.

That was a while ago, you could tell that he was near again, sweat down the side of his face, movements of his hips sloppy, panting your name over and over. You know you can’t again, you are too fried, too overstimulated and finally, just as the soreness is starting to teeter on the other side of being more unpleasant and painful than pleasurable he holds deep and cums again. 

You feel totally boneless, your arms feel heavy as you wrap them around him loosely, his head dips down and rests on your shoulder, you are just trying to catch your breath.

He gets his back faster than you. 

He is still inside of you when he comes back up, fingers push some of your hair aside as he looks down into your eyes. Your chest is still rising and falling rapidly as he confesses, for what must be the third time tonight, telling you, “I fucking care about you.”

A strong belief that is nothing but the truth hits, “You deserve way better than him, I wish I could have met you sooner so you could have had those years back of someone who actually gives a shit about you instead of that asshole.” 

You want this, want him, damned what that says about you or your morals, you don’t care as you tell him, “Fuck that selfish cunt, forget about him, let’s just make up for lost time.” 

He has every intention of doing just that.

[ughkat]

focus on me | l.r.h

part seven

part 6 here

college tutor luke au

a/n: { bit of a slow chapter, part 8 in the works!! :-)}

tutor!luke x fem!reader

cw: cursing, tutorxstudent, very brief mention of blood?

not proofread

_

Saturday

6:00 PM

"Why are you acting so weird?" Leah snapped me from my trance, my eyes glued to my sheets ob the bed below me. We had planned our usual hangout in my dorm, bought a disgusting amount junk food and had a queue of movies and shows waiting for us on my laptop.

It had been almost a week since my last session with Luke, since then, he's disappeared.

I didn't receive any texts informing me of a following session, so I had assumed if I just showed up, so would he. The following days after that Monday, I would stay after class expecting Luke's arrival, but he never showed. I asked my professor if he knew what was going on, he nonchalantly brushed it off. "He'll be back." "Probably has other things to do."

I couldn't help but feel as if he had been avoiding me.

"What? I'm fine." I forced a chuckle, furrowing my brows at my friend. I had failed to tell her anything of worth. How would I tell her I fucked my tutor? The one she knows personally?

Leah gave me a cross look, her smile crooked.

"You're a terrible liar, Y/n." She rolled her eyes. "But, if you say so." She scoffed, tossing a handfull of random chips into her mouth. I sighed, contemplating if I should just "man up" and tell her about my stressing events of the previous week.

I continued to stay in my daze as Leah vegged out on my laptop, watching a TV show I had no interest in. I bit my cheek, my mind wandering to all the possible reasons for Luke's absence. Did I do something? Is it me? Am I being dramatic? What if it has nothing to do with me? Where is he? Why do I miss him?

"Dude." Leah spoke abruptly, widening her eyes at my face, "You're bleeding." I once again snapped from my daze, bringing my tongue to my previously chewed on lip. My anxieties had let me absentmindedly chew enough skin off the corner of my lip, making me bleed.

"Oh, shit." I wiped away the little blood with my thumb, taking a deep breath at my undermined nervousness.

"Seriously, what's going on?" Leah spoke softly, pausing the show on my laptop. She sat criss cross, turning herself towards me to listen. She stared at me with genuine compassion. I glanced at her briefly before darting my eyes to my hands, which were fidgeting relentlessly in my lap. I sighed deeply before speaking.

"I don't know..." I began, "It's a lot... And a little crazy." I shook my head. Leah inched closer, tilting her head.

"You can talk to me, babe." She reassured, poking my knee playfully with a finger. I smiled softly, looking up at her warm face.

"Okay..." I sighed, "You have to swear on your life to keep this a secret. Seriously, this is confidential information." I stressed to my friend, half sarcastically, but genuine. Leah raised her eyebrows at the seriousness, but nodded.

"Of course. What happens in this room stays in this room. My lips are sealed." She smiled. My thumbs twirled in my lap anxiously as I tried ti gather my words neatly and orderly, which ended up coming out like word vomit instead.

"Luke and I..." I started, my eyes glued to my lap, "I fucked Luke... And I liked it. And it happened twice. And now he hasn't been at school in like, a week and I'm worried it's my fault, and he hasn't texted me, and-" Leah threw her hands up in front of her chest, halting my words.

"Yo." She spoke, blinking slowly, "Let me get this straight... You fucked your tutor? You and Luke fucked? Where?! How?!" She exclaimed, speaking with her hands dramatically. I threw my hands over my face in embarrassment, my cheeks started to get hot.

"I know." I whined into my hands, "I don't even know how this happened, Leah." I groaned, sinking into my posture. Leah's mouth was agape, collecting her thoughts.

"Can't he like, get arrested for that?" She asked genuinely. I widened my eyes.

"Can he?!" I exclaimed, "I'm not a child why would he get arrested?!" I yelled in a whisper.

"Cause he's technically a teacher... Right?" Leah furrowed her brows. I shook my head in frustration.

"I don't know, dude. It's all so much." I whined, dropping my hands back to my lap. "Please, don't tell anyone. Like anyone." I pleaded, looking at Leah with genuine concern.

"I won't." Leah reassured, still very obviously mind boggled at the battalion of information she just received.

We sat in a tense silence for a moment before Leah spoke up.

"What are you gonna' do?" She spoke through her teeth. I glanced at her, her expression full of sympathy yet shared stress.

"I don't know. I wish he'd say something. A text. Anything." I mumbled.

"Have you texted him?" Leah tilted her head. My eyes darted around the room. Am I stupid? Of course I am. Why don't I text him?

"I haven't." I shoke my head, reaching for my cellphone beside me. "I don't even know what to say.".

"Uh, I don't know, maybe "Why are you ghosting me I have the ability to ruin your entire career"? Hello?" She spoke with a petty and sarcastic tone, I couldn't help but let a small giggle escape my lips at her immediate hastiness towards Luke's absence.

"I'm not saying that." I scoffed, "I'm not mad at him or anything." I spoke as my thumbs hovered over the screen, looking at our last message threads. My mind raced, what do I say? "Where are you?" "Are you okay?" "Are you mad at me?" "Did I do something wrong?".

"Hey. Everything okay?"

I typed out my message hesitantly, my thumb scared of the send button. Leah watched me patiently as I finally hit send, I tossed my phone quickly away from me as I did, as If I was thirteen and texted my crush for the first time.

"Ugh, why does he make me feel this way." I groaned, flopping on my back into my bed.

"I told you he wasn't shit." Leah mumbled. I shot her a death stare before sitting back up.

"We don't know why he isn't talking to me yet. Maybe there's a genuine reason." I tried to stay optimistic. Leah scoffed.

"Right. I hope so.". I bit my cheek with unease as I took in Leah's unenthusiastic tone. I didn't want to believe Luke was avoiding me for any reason. I couldn't imagine what I had done. Though our last session had ended fairly awkward, I assumed the events spilled that day inferred that the stance on our contact with one another was acceptable. Sure, we didn't get to talk much, but I doubted that he would be intimate with me while wanting nothing to do with me...Right?

My eyes found themselves darting to my phone every few minutes, the ringer was off yet I hopelessly checked in the chance that Luke's message silently made it's way through. I tried to stay grounded, have a good rest of the evening with my friend.

"Don't dwell on it right now." Leah gave me a playful shove, noticing my tense posture, "See what happens on Monday." She spoke in a no-sweat tone, an obvious attempt to calm my uneasy feelings.

9:00 PM

A yawn escaped my chest as I gathered Leah and I's mess from just a bit ago, making my way to the bin with handfuls of wrappers, bags, and bottles.

I stopped suddenly in my tracks as a single chime rang from my phone across the room, making my heart jump slightly. Not getting my hopes up, I nonchalantly finished my cleaning, ignoring the notification until I concluded my job. I could feel the idea of the notification belonging to Luke try to take control of my thoughts, but remained calm. Why was I letting him affect me this way? He made me feel crazy.

I leisurely made my way to my bed, getting comfortable in the blankets and sheets before hesitantly grabbing my phone. The screen set aglow to my face as the notification showed iteself to me. Luke. 1 Message.

"Yup."

I furrowed my eyebrows, narrowing my eyes as I swiftly unlocked my phone, opening the whole message thread.

"Yup?" I spoke aloud in disbelief, bringing my phone closer to my face. What did that mean? Yup? I felt myself fill with anger and confusion. I felt as if I'd rather him just kept ignoring me. I scolded myself mentally for my immediate assumptions of the tone of his message, as "Yup" could be spoken in any emotion. I couldn't help but feel immediately insecure, as though his message was standoffish.

My leg bounced hastily, I bit my cheek as a million emotions flooded me at once. I didn't know what to say. If I should say anything at all. What if he's not mad? What if I'm being dramatic? I let myself overthink, staring at his text in a daze.

"Are you sure?"

I typed impulsively, sending without thinking. I just wanted a real answer. Quicker than I excepted, Luke started to type. I felt my heartbeat begin to pick up, feeling silly at how easily he controlled my emotions. His message snatched my attention abruptly.

"I'll see you on Monday."

[sunnyie-eve]

3 | A Pro

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: none

| MASTERLIST |

~

"You said this is the most haunted room?" Sam asks as they all stand outside the room.

"Yeah, I'd say this is the most haunted room." Audrey agrees.

"Cause the most haunted floor is the fifth floor." Colby points out.

"Which is what we're on." Dani sarcastically smiles.

"Love that." Matt tells her so she nods her head with a big grin.

"Most haunted room on the most haunted floor." Colby says all together.

"Hopefully it's not too bad."

"This is where you guys are doing the Estes Method." Colby looks over to the brothers.

"Didn't you guys say you were sleeping here tonight?" Sam plays around with them.

"No," Matt shakes his head.

"If so Dani is my cuddle buddy." Nick makes everyone laugh as he pulls her closer to him.

"I don't wanna stay though." She pouts as they walk into the room and it smelt terrible.

Audrey said it was weird as they all say how bad it smelled, "It smells like your room dude." Sam tells Colby.

"Actually..." Dani laughs as he turns to face them.

"What?"

"It smells like your room dude." Sam laughs.

"Is this room known for smells?" Dani asks looking over at Audrey.

"Weird ones,"

"Well, okay." Sam nods his head.

"Check one." Dani does the same so Matt does the same a her as he sits next to her on the sofa.

"You guys have been in here... And it's never smelt like this?" Colby asks so Audrey and Maddy tell him no.

"We got that unreleased smell." Chris says on the other side of the room happy with his joke.

"They should've kept it unreleased." Dani shakes her head laughing.

"Definitely a smell based on negativity." Nick says before they all leave the room and make their way back down to the lobby to start the investigation.

Once the three say they're ready Colby gives Nick and Matt an EMF reader to where Nick says it feels like a taser so Dani jokes about tasing a ghost. Matt ends up pointing it a Dani next to him so he laughs, "I'm not a ghost, Matt."

"What if?" Colby gives her a look.

"You want her to be?" Sam asks with a smile.

"I don't,"

"Terrible brother if so." Matt points at him.

They go to Driskill's painting pointing the EMF reader at it and gets them, mostly Matt, to light up. If they tried to move it up it would go away but lower it worked, so Matt said it was Samantha tickling his feet.

"Samantha did pass here." Dani reminds the group so Nick sits at the bottom of the stairs as Matt goes up some.

"I'm getting less as I go up." Matt tells them.

"You sure about that?" Dani sees it, "I still see it lit up."

"If you wanna come around and follow us for the rest of the night... You are more than welcome to do that." Matt tells the spirts as they get ready to move on.

"Look at Matt being a professional." Dani smiles surprised how well he was doing.

"Thank you." He tries not to smile too much.

Going over to the vault, Sam holds the door open for everyone to go in but Chris said he would go in last because he didn't want them shutting them in there alone. As Dani goes in after Matt she tells Chris not to trust them as they tell him they wouldn't.

Inside Matt's EMF reader was still lit up compared to Nick's, "This way is where I'm really getting all of it." Matt points in the direction of where Dani was standing.

"My sister?" Colby raises an eyebrow.

"Okay dude, alright alright." Matt laughs at him. It seemed like everything was against him tonight making it seem weird with Dani. He didn't want her thinking her was a weirdo.

"Yours is doing something mines not, I'm pissed." Nick gets annoyed since his still wasn't working.

Sam brings out the static box to detect the direction of static anomalies. Chris tells Matt he should be the one to keep talking since he does such a good job.

"You're good at talking to the D. I mean taking the D. I mean talking to the D." Colby jokes but only Dani was listening so he laughs seeing the look on her face.

"Haha," She mocks his laugh.

"Mr. D, what's going on? If you followed us from your painting and you would like to touch this box or make this go up. To two or any other higher level." Matt asks questions.

Dani looks over at her brother and Sam, "He's gonna take y'alls job."

"Almost." Colby agrees he was doing really well.

As soon as the box lights up everyone gets excited, "That went all the way..." Matt tries to talk as everyone was talking, "That went all the way to five." He says and Dani was the only one paying attention to him, "That went all the way to five. The went straight there." He finally gets everyone's attention.

"You had like something happen this entire time." Chris tells him.

"That's crazy." Colby points at the EMF going off, "How does it go from like zero to that?"

"If you're in here and want to follow if for the rest of the investigation..." Matt starts.

"We'd love your company." Dani finishes.

"You know where to find us." Colby adds.

"Five guys, one girl." Chris laughs a bit as they all head out if the room going to the elevators to go up the the fifth floor.

"Let's see if it will actually let us up this time." Matt says and it works the first time pressing the button.

"The fact it can go this quick and at the beginning it was so faulty," Chris points out,

"Very like... Moody elevator." Matt calls it.

"The elevators are weird... Interesting." Sam makes a face thinking about the ritual later.

"What do you have planned?" Colby moves the camera closer to his face.

"You couldn't pay me to join for that part." Dani makes it clear she will not take part in it.

"You guys don't like it?" Colby asks looking at Nick and Chris, "I know you don't like it." He turns to Matt.

"I think he's gotta be the one who does it." Sam suggests looking at him as well.

"If you do it, I'll but you breakfast, lunch, and dinner tomorrow." Dani nudges him with her elbow while Nick and Chris laugh.

"Deal."

[hairmetal666]

Steddie Notes Part 6

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

They’re stuck in the Upside Down. 

Nancy. Robin. Eddie. And Steve’s so fucked up from the bats, every breath, ever movement, has him in agony, and he just keeps seeing Eddie here, and it makes it all so much worse. This was never supposed to happen. And how was Steve supposed to keep him safe, keep them all safe, when he could barely stand upright from the pain?

Eddie walks a little way ahead with Nancy, fled after saying, “for your modesty, dude,” and throwing his battle vest at Steve’s face. It leaves Steve with Robin as they navigate the vines and random earthquakes to get to the Wheeler’s house. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Robin asks. 

Steve narrows his eyes. “You mean other than being dragged across a dry lakebed and eaten by fucked up bats?” 

“Is it. Eddie?” 

He bites his lips between his teeth. Of course Robin knows. She always does. “I hate that he’s part of this, Robs. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“You think it’s your fault.” It’s not a question.

“How can I not.” His voice catches and he has to clear his throat before he can continue. “You got dragged into this just by being friends with me. And now Eddie? If he wasn’t our friend—if he wasn’t my—he would be safe.”

“Steve. You know that’s not true. Chrissy was cursed already. She would have always died that night. Eddie was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s not your fault.”

He nods, tears pooling along his lash lines. “We kissed,” he croaks out.

“What?” Robin shrieks loud enough to echo across the desolate, cursed landscape. 

Eddie and Nancy glance back in time to see Steve knock his shoulder against her arm. “Quiet,” he hisses. 

“Sorry,” she frowns. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner! When? How? Are you together now?”

His mouth twists. “No. I think I fucked it up? It was—fuck—when he came over after Chrissy. He was so upset, and I was comforting him, and it just happened. I feel like I took advantage of him.”

“So, you haven’t talked about it?”

He gives her a look again. “When would we have had the time?” 

“Okay, okay. But he doesn’t seem mad. I mean, he still gazes at you all lovestruck and ridiculous.”

Heat bursts under the skin of Steve’s cheeks. “He does not,” he mumbles. 

“But you do need to talk about it. Obviously. You two have been pinning for years.” 

“It’s a year and a half. At most. Not even.”

“Feels like years to me.” 

Steve scoffs, falls silent. “I’m scared, Robs. What if he doesn’t like me back? He was too upset when I kissed him, and—I pushed it too far.”

“You did pick a truly terrible time to kiss him, and you two should probably talk about that, but Eddie isn’t going to be upset that you have feelings for him.”

“How do you know? There’s no way you can be sure. I don’t want to risk everything.” “Steve, I—” Robin’s mouth contorts into a complicated series of o’s as she fishes for words. “We’re already risking everything,” she says. “With the Upside Down. With Vecna. When we’re back topside, you should take the time you need to talk to him, okay? I promise that, even if he doesn’t like you like that, he’ll still love you as his closest friend.”

He can’t think of the words to argue with, so he nods, stuffs his hands into the pockets of Eddie’s battle vest. His finger catches on something deep in the right pocket, accompanied by a telltale burst of pain. Steve hisses, retracting his hand, a drop of scarlet beads from a small slash at the tip of his index finger. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. He wipes the blood on the vest—it’s already soaked with it, anyway. 

“You okay?” Robin asks, her blue eyes sharp at Steve losing more blood.

“Yeah. Munson’s keeping sharp shit in his pockets again, is all.”

He reaches back into the pocket to find the offending weapon and finds a crumpled sheet of paper. An amused breath bursts out of him as he realizes what it must be, and he fishes it out with hesitation. 

It’s crinkled and grimy with age, but Steve unfurls it anyway. It’s his own handwriting at the top: “You ever been in love?” 

He doesn’t remember writing it, not clearly. There’s a vague recollection of wobbling around, crossfaded in his bedroom, scrawling words on the first acceptable surface he finds. Doesn’t remember giving it to Eddie, but he’s responded; it’s scrawled right there beneath Steve’s question: “No, but I think I’m falling.” 

Steve stops in his tracks, staring at the note, eyes darting from the paper to Eddie. A bright pulse of hope sticks in his throat. They’re going to get out of the Upside Down, and when they do, Steve is telling Eddie everything.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

He doesn’t. 

Nancy is taken by Vecna and then they fall into planning mode, apparently RV theft mode too (“don’t cha, big boy” is never going to leave his head), and in the panic and fear, there isn’t time. 

There’s a little part of him, too, that doesn’t want to say, “I love you,” like it’s a good-bye. He meant it when he told Robin he still has hope, he does, refuses to accept any outcome that isn’t success, that leaves one of their rank dead. 

So, he doesn’t talk to Eddie, and they’re in the Upside Down for their last stand and all the words and emotions pile up on his tongue but can’t find flight. 

He, Robin, and Nancy turn to go, he’s already kicking himself for his silence, when Eddie’s voice rings out, “Hey, Steve?”

Steve turns fast, almost overbalances, but the meeting of their eyes steadies him. In the rich brown of Eddie’s, Steve thinks he sees all the things he wants to say echoed back. They gaze at each other in silence that thickens every millisecond until Eddie says, “make him pay,” and Steve lifts his chin in acknowledgement. He knows it’s not what Eddie means to say, thinks he understands why he can’t. 

There will be plenty of time for their confessions when they get out of this alive. And they will. Steve is sure of it. 

✏️✏️✏️✏️

It’s over.

It was hard. Bad. But it’s done. Vecna a smoldering ruin on the Upside Down version of the Creel House lawn. 

Steve doesn’t feel triumphant, exactly. They’d almost died, strangled by the vines, briefly outmatched by Vecna. He is relieved, though. Eager to get back to the trailer park, to Eddie and Dustin.

They traverse the Upside Down, silent now and free of earthquakes, closing in on the trailer park in record time. 

Up ahead, Steve makes out a hunched shape that must be Dustin in his ghillie suit. He wonders where Eddie is, but he’s not afraid. 

He picks up speed to close the distance faster. “Dustin!” he shouts. He means it to sound excited, triumphant, but it’s strangled. His heart’s beating too fast.

Steve is near enough, makes out the dark heap at Dustin’s feet. Someone is chanting a high-pitched, unbroken rhythm of “no, no, no, no, no, nononono,” and it takes him several long moments to realize the sound is coming from his own mouth. He can’t make himself stop.

“Steve,” Dustin sobs. He’s covered in red, leaned over Eddie’s prone form. 

There’s so much blood, congealing in dark pools on the grey earth.

“Eddie, Eddie, hey, hey,” Steve falls to his knees, fighting off the panicked keen building in his throat at Eddie’s mostly closed eyes. 

“Babylove, honey, sweetheart, please, please look at me, okay?” There are bites on his cheeks that Steve avoids, tapping at Eddie’s cheekbones with shaking fingers. 

Eddie’s eyes flutter, try to focus, but drift. “S’vie?” he rasps. 

“Hey, hey, It’s me. We’re gonna get you out of here, but you got to stay awake for me, okay?”

“N’ver thought I’d go to heaven,” Eddie mumbles, he fights his eyes from rolling back.

Steve forces a laugh. “What a line, man,” his focus shifts. “Robin, Nancy, we need to stop the bleeding.” 

They work in a flurry of motion, Steve talking to Eddie, struggling to keep him alert. 

“You gotta stay with me, Eds. Okay? I can’t be without you. You know that, right? You’re everything, Eddie. Everything.”

Eddie smiles with teeth full of blood. “Whatever you say, angel,” he whispers. His eyes slide shut.

Steve swallows his scream, hefts Eddie into his arms, and runs.

(Part 7)

This is a rough one, please feel free to shout at me about it. Thank you so much for reading! One more part to go; and don't worry, nobody dies and there's a happy ending.

I can't add anymore tags, but I appreciate each and every one of you for coming on the steddie notes journey with me! 💜💜💜

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@trainchomp @anaibis

[hearts4youz]

The Captains Daughter- Chapter 18

A/N: Thank you all for readinggg!! this one took awhile to come out so thank you for being patient with me :D

Word count: 1.3k

Taglist: @abbiesxox @n30n-j3lly @weird-katthing @kayoyamamegame @kroowonderemporium @astro-ghoul99 @darkravenqueen98 @gaylilangelbaby @yuunnnaaaa

Ghost's pov It's been a few days… I have not spoken to Y/N once. I feel terrible as she spends less time with me. Occasionally offering a sad, guilt filled smile in the mess hall or at meetings. I haven't shown up for training in days, I wonder if she still waits for me at the gym. I hate to say it but I miss her. Even though I feel so bitter and cranky this time of year. I've never felt this for anyone. Being around Y/N makes me feel good. It makes this job feel less like a job. It sounds cliche but it's true. This morning, I find myself walking to where Y/N and I usually train. I straighten my shoulders and put on a serious face as I walk in. I expect Y/N to not be there, but Instead I am greeted with the sight of her pretty face breaking into surprise as I enter. I try my best to keep my eyes void of emotion, although I want nothing more than to hold her and whisper apologies into her ear. "Good morning Lieutenant," she says respectfully as she stands at attention. My gaze softens. "Y/N…" "About the other day, I shouldn't have yelled at you. I just…" I can't believe I'm about to tell her this "I don't know how to deal with this… your kindness." She looks up at me questioningly. "The guys don't usually question my behavior because that's just how dude's are, but you… You're changing me Y/N." I pause "I really enjoy your company, you don't piss me off… well, not as much as other people I guess," I smirk. She giggles. "I want to be a better person, I don't like how people are scared of me," I sigh as I finish. "Can I give you some advice?" She asks. "Mhm" "This might not make sense to you, but I think you should save Ghost for the battlefield and just be Simon for everyone else," "I don't follow," I say, confused. "Well, when I think of Ghost, I think of you in a fight. The huge guy with the skull mask and a gun. But Simon, Simon is you when you let loose. I haven't seen it much, but I like that version of you a lot better." I nod. "Okay… I think I get it." She changes the subject, "So, what do you have planned for training today?" "Hm, I think that's more of Ghost's thing, I'm Simon today," She beams at me with that radiant smile of hers, "You mean it?" "Yeah, It's time for a change," I say solemnly. Her and I walk out of the gym and into the hallway surrounded with a comfortable silence. We walk past the mess hall and break area and I notice something unusual. "What are they setting up over there?" I ask. "Oh, It's New Year's Eve so everyone who's off duty tonight is going to throw a party," She says softly, knowing the holiday topic is still sensitive. I surprise her with my answer, "Ah, I see… are you going?" "I guess so… why not?" We continue to walk in silence for a few moments. "You know… I think i'm going to go as well," I say finally. Her head tilts to the side and she raises her eyebrows, "Really!?" "…You know you don't have to go just because I suggested that you come out of your shell more often. I don't want you to get too overwhelmed." "I want to go, I should be getting out of my comfort zone more often." Y/N purses her lips, seemingly contemplating it. "Good, i'm glad," she smiles.

-Timeskip-

That night, I stood with Gaz and Soap having a beer while scanning the room for Y/N. "I wonder who Ghost could be looking for," Gaz joked to Soap, who snickered in response. I only rolled my eyes and looked down at my half empty drink. "Y'know LT, i'm glad you came, this is nice," Soap confesses. "It is, I like this more laid back you," Gaz agrees. "You can thank Y/N, she inspired it," I tell them. "Psht, of course she did." "You could get some action tonight… if you play your cards right," Soap says leaning in closer and lowering his voice. "Wha- I'm not… she wouldn't…" I sputter out, rapid fire. "Not like that, get ya head out the gutter!" I blush and chuckle. "What is it then?" "The captains on duty tonight, he won't be here to supervise his daughter, you could make a move," Soap shrugs. I bite my lower lip, realizing that this is the perfect opportunity to confess to Y/N "But, what if she rejects me, I still have to be able to look her in the eye in the morning," "Oh, for fucks sake! would you take a risk for once? live a little?" Gaz says, shaking his head. "Hey, I've never done this before! i'm nervous," I try defending myself. "LT's nervous? Ha! that's a first," Soap blurts, clapping me on the back. I ignore the rest of their gibes because I notice Y/N entering the room. Time seems to slow as she makes her way towards us in a sparkly silver mini dress. I feel my cheeks heat up beneath the mask as she flashes her signature smile when she sees us. I take in her hair and makeup, done to perfection. The heavenly scent of her perfume lingers in my nostrils when she stops and stands beside me. "Hey everyone," she says casually. I find myself lost in her beauty as she joins in the conversation, but as the night goes on, our group splits off. Gaz and Soap mingle with other people, I try to stick next to Y/N and talk with her, but she gets whisked off by someone every five minutes it seems like. Eventually I get overwhelmed, stepping outside and pressing my back up against the cold stone building. I fish around in my pocket for my cigs and a lighter. I put one in my mouth and thumb the lighter until I get it lit. I exhale deeply and watch my cold breath swirl up and away with the smoke. Maybe this was a bad idea after all… I think to myself. I watch the twinkling stars shift in the sky for awhile, It seems to calm my nerves. That, or the nicotine. I hear the sliding door open and close and peer at the person out of the corner of my eye. "Simon…?" the voice says. Y/N "Yeah, It's me," I gesture to her with my cigarette. "Is everything alright, I've been looking for you," she says softly. "Yeah… it's just a lot to take in I guess." "The party?" "The party, the people, the mindless, drunken talk." "Yeah, I get it." I turn to face her and she still looks beautiful as ever, her mascara smudged slightly onto her upper eyelid. Lipstick worn off, the remnants of it staining the glass of the drink in her hand. Her breath has a slight tinge of alcohol to it as she speaks. I notice the redness in her face, I can't help but think it could be me for a moment but then I look down at her. "Ah shit, you don't even have a coat on… here, take mine," I insist. "No, it's alright… I just got out here. Besides, wouldn't you be cold." "Just take it," I say, holding it out to her. "My father only taught me a few things that were worth a shit, being a gentleman is one of them." She reluctantly takes the jacket and slings it over her shoulders, thanking me. The heavy fabrics envelop her frame, her legs are still exposed. I have half a mind to bring her inside but then she starts talking. "Happy new year," she says quietly. I check my phone and see that it is indeed past midnight. "Happy new year, Y/N."

[ticklishraspberries]

Movies Make Ticklers More Creative (Billy/Stu)

Summary: A bad horror film leaves Stu seeking entertainment in other forms, at the expense of Billy. (Thank you to the person who suggested I use the film Ghoulies as the movie in this fic!! Here is a YouTube link to the tickle scene in this movie, it is...Something for sure!! I haven’t seen the whole movie btw, just that clip as well as reading a few articles about it, so sorry if I’ve gotten any of the lore wrong. Regardless, it has an 8% on Rotten Tomatoes, so...)

As usual, Stu’s parents aren’t home, and he is filling the silence with the sounds of beer cans cracking open, hands rustling in the bowl of popcorn, girlish screams from the television speakers, and Billy’s commentary from the couch beside him.

After making their way through all the classic horror films, the boys have resorted to watching whatever they can find, whether they end up being fantastic deep cuts, or they absolutely suck, but joking about it makes it worth the watch.

Tonight’s movie is proving to be the latter. It’s a film called “Ghoulies” from ‘85, and it’s…Well, it’s keeping them entertained, for sure, but there is nothing disturbing (nor inspiring) about it. The scares are cheap, and the dialogue is atrocious.

Billy comments that the main chick, Donna, is kind of hot. Stu hums in agreement, but his heart isn’t quite in it. When the guy takes her out by the lake, though, their interests are piqued. This should be the part where Donna loses her chance of becoming the final girl, where she loses her virginity to the first schmuck who tries, and both the teens die a terrible death for daring to engage in premarital sex.

But that’s not what happens at all. Sure, it’s PG-13, but they were expecting at least a little action. But no, Donna and Mark stay fully-clothed and…Well, Stu snorts out a laugh as the kid starts tickling her instead of trying to bang her.

“This might be the worst movie that we’ve ever watched,” Billy says. His tone is deadpan, but there’s a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Oh, by far,” Stu agrees. “It’s not scary, and it’s not sexy. You can be missing one, but not both.”

Donna on screen is shrieking, begging Mark to stop tickling her. The scene feels eternally long, and since the screaming is that of laughter rather than fear, it feels much more ear-splitting than usual.

Stu looks over and sees Billy’s face screwed up in annoyance, and that sort of moping will just not do. Sure, the film sucks, but is good company not enough to make the guy happy?

“What a way to seduce a girl, eh?” Stu says, trying to crack some jokes and lighten the mood. “Tatum would nail me in the balls if I tried that.”

Billy just exhales through his nose in amusement, and Stu decides that isn’t enough.

“I mean, dude’s got no game. What did he say to her?”

“In the creepy voice? I dunno, I think he called her a little girl though, which is fucking weird.”

“Gross. She seems to like him, though. Maybe we should be taking notes,” Stu says, placing his beer down on the coffee table. They’re basically ignoring the movie by now, and he’s overcome with the strange desire to touch his best friend in that moment, to make him laugh like the girl in the movie, and that weird-ass scene gave him perfect inspiration on how to do so.

He and Billy have been friends since middle school, and Stu’s seen sides of him that no one else has. He’s pretty sure he’s the only person who has ever seen Billy cry, other than his parents. He’s the only person that knows Billy used to be scared of the dark, or that his mom had to sleep in his bed with him until he was ten because of that fear.

And, of course, he knows about the more fucked up shit that goes on in Billy’s head. He’s seen it first hand.

Stu also knows that Billy is ticklish, something he found out by accident and rarely used to his advantage, because last time he tried, he’d ended up with a pretty gnarly bruise on his jaw. But the risk seems worth it at that moment, so Stu takes his chances.

“Quit looking so miserable. The movie is shit, but I’m not,” Stu teases. Trying to mimic the weird, high-pitched voice the guy in the movie had adopted, he continues. “Cheer up, little boy!”

He reaches out a hand and prods at Billy’s stomach, which makes Billy shove at his hand with a suppressed huff of laughter.

“Fuck off,” he says.

Stu does not fuck off. Instead, he scoots closer on the couch, effectively trapping Billy between the arm of the couch and his body, and continuing to wiggle his long fingers against Billy’s stomach.

The light of the television illuminates Billy’s scrunched up expression, trying to hold back his laugh and seem pissed at Stu’s immaturity, but it only lasts a few moments before the bright, boyish giggles that are so unlike his personality come spilling out.

Stu grins in triumph. Billy’s actually sort of adorable when you get him like this: Guard down, acting his age, letting loose. He squirms like a fish on a hook, and Stu has to dodge his flailing limbs. His hair falls messily into his face, his cheeks look flushed.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you—” he grits out, but it doesn’t sound intimidating at all.

“No you won’t,” Stu replies. “You’d miss me too much.”

Billy lets out a noise somewhere between a growl and a whine, before dissolving into laughter again as Stu’s fingers dance up his sides. It isn’t until his ribs become a target that Billy truly fights back, grabbing at Stu’s wrists and trying to shove his hands away.

Stu takes that as a sign to back off, because although it was a risk he willingly took, leaving this without injury is still the preferable outcome. He watches with a grin as Billy catches his breath, arms wrapped protectively around his middle.

“You’re an asshole,” Billy says.

“I know,” Stu replies.

Their eyes meet for a moment, and Stu feels his face flush for reasons he isn’t quite ready to confront.

By the time they look back up at the screen, Mark and Donna are dead and they’ve completely lost track of the plot. Neither of them are complaining, because it was a fucking dumb plot to begin with. Leaving the crushed cans and empty bowl behind, the two boys climb the stairs and crash into Stu’s bed for the night, a common occurrence that somehow feels different this time, like something between them has shifted, just enough to make Stu’s heart skip a beat when Billy falls asleep with his face pressed into Stu’s shoulder.

Like this, he looks innocent. He looks beautiful.

Stu makes a mental note to research other horror films with tickle scenes in them, just in case he needs an excuse to hear that giggle again. Even if the movies suck, spending time with Billy is worth all the shitty scares in Hollywood.

[flowerflamestars]

the rolling in the graves reread thoughts/ favorite lines/moments:

Chapter 1

"He thought, some nights, of walking into it." "Himself, Autumn-gutted and war-torn: the trees might as well swallow him whole." -- AAAAHHHH my poor forest baby T-T

Lucien contemplating starting a forest fire.

Eris contemplating if Rhysand has a domesticity kink.

"He didn’t want to be alone, in this strange body of his." *cue more screaming* "Blending where he didn’t belong had been Lucien’s whole life, of course he was subtle." T-T

Lucien, sun drunk, losing his shit. Nesta walks in while he's naked and absolutely nothing sexy happens and I love it.

Lucien's longing for home including the sound of Eris's real laugh and his dogs.

The last summit. The image of Feyre in the most obscenely eye catching dress possible insisting that she didn't want attention. And the fact that people were probably still gossiping about the fact the Nesta and Elain hadn't been there.

“Feyre was busy stealing me.” Someone please rescue my fox baby

The Night Court is afraid of Jurian.

"Nesta Archeron lived, and no on in this court wanted her living."

"That Lucien wanted, horrifically, to be touched. To reach out, to all that fearsome strength, and touch."

Chapter 2

Rhysand trying to call in Eris and Eris being like "Ha, ha. no We're doing this my way." A way which includes every diplomatic formality he can muster and the IC having a whole ass dinner/meeting just to bitch about it. (Azriel keeping his mouth full of alcohol to avoid having to talk to anybody.) Elain making off with the whole cake.

The Laugh That Changed The World.

Cassian scowling at the sight of Nesta being genuinely happy in someone else's presence how dare.

I'm suddenly having thoughts about the fact that what changed everything between them was Nesta's genuine unbridled laughter and one of the things Lucien misses when he thinks of 'home' is Eris's genuine laughter. (not meaning to imply Lucien's having any sexy thoughts about his brother. Maybe a representation of Lucien wishing the people he cared about were safe to feel and express such laughter. Words hard. Thoughts not wording good. I think I remember "Lucien missed his terrible, awful brother" from a snipit)

"She was so fucking gorgeous, and utterly unable to ask for what she wanted. It seemed possible she’d never had the chance." *screaming again*

"Nesta opened her eyes and showed Lucien pure, molten silver fire."

“Absolute authority and eternity should mean something.”

“He pulled away?” Lucien just sounds so, so offended that Cassian pulled away. Like, this dude, this asshole, could have all the Nesta bites in the world and he pulled away. Lucien just trying to reassure Nesta that the biting thing is natural and being like "You can bite me when ever you want" and also being like "Please bite me. please please pretty please."

"Nesta Archeron was not easy, but Lucien thought Andras would have liked her too." T-T

Feyre and Rhysand insisting that humans were under their authority and then proceeding to not really give a shit when Lucien tries to tell them about them.

Feyre only caring about Lucien going to see Elain.

"There was no question as to whether Elain would be present- she did not seem to use her magic for anything but to avoid him, and Lucien couldn’t blame her. There were only so many awkward conversations one could have with someone magic and tradition insisted you want, where absolutely no spark lived- and it remained easier to just go, than fight Feyre."

“If you smell like blood, it’s usually mine and you’re much, much happier.”

Feyre buying Elain a house and painting it completely in nursery colors. Elain and Nesta repainting the rooms Elain actually uses.

“Someday,” Lucien said, leaning down to kiss beneath her ear, “I want you to fuck me.” I think I speak for the whole Lucien fandom when I say that we all want to see Lucien get pegged.

“Do you think,” Lucien asked, “Elain will ever tell Feyre?” “What? That she’s about as romantically inclined toward you as she might be” “A chair? A hunk of stone?”

“For three people obsessed with fucking each other, It is staggering they’ve never managed it, in half a millennia.”

Lucien finding Cassian's fixation/obsession with Nesta uncomfortably familiar. What other man might we know of that's over-controlling and possessive of his powerful wife. gee I wonder. (not)

"You hate it.” “What I like doesn’t matter.” *rage*

"Choking on pollen, stupid Spring cravats, cutting out pieces of himself until there was nothing left. He didn’t need to like Ceylon velvet. Itchy lace. Stag hunts with dogs and horses and arrows, when Lucien had fought wyvern with his bare hands as a boy. He didn’t need to like Tam’s rules or the courtiers jokes, the endless pale fucking roses- Until Lucien had talked himself into walking after Ianthe in that cave, let Tamlin flay him to the bone for disloyalty-" *more rage*

“It matters. Your husband should care to know.”

"But Feyre just laughed, wine glass jaunty in her grip, and admittedly blithely to bumping up against all their shields- Rhysand hadn’t even taught her to keep her magic to herself. Just that power, power, was hers. For the having, and taking." *rage again*

"The North had enough men who used emotion as an excuse- enough faeries in this whole fucking world, who’d made anger a haunting."

"Nesta folded her cheek on top of his head, one of those not quite right, even for High Fae, motions that snuck into her mannerisms when no one was watching, like she didn’t have joints. That Lucien got to see." *That Lucien got to see. That Lucien got to see. THAT LUCIEN GOT TO SEE*

"The sword of a Queen if he’d ever seen one, blade imbued with screaming, forest-fire wild wrath and beautiful for it."

"Lucien had done worse things than say yes, for the hope of belonging." have we rescued our fox baby yet? I think we need to rescue our fox baby.

"One of the things about Feyre that both charmed and wore, as time went on, was that she saw love in an utterly human way. Childlike. Rhysand was her soulmate- her only interest, her sole desire, the best she’d ever have. Lucien had wondered, more than once, if they were even friends."

To Feyre, love was an ending, happy. To an immortal- to perhaps, Nesta Archeron, smiling at him sidelong, it was an open door."

"She would have burnt the sky. If they hadn’t sought out to humiliate her from the start, hated Nesta human before she ever found a power than could cleave forever- she’d set fire to the world, for those she loved. But not for herself. None of them deserved her."

“Earlier. I am usually happier. You make me happy.” *excuse me while I sob*

"All fire wanted, was to be free. To burn."

“You owe me.” Lucien Vanserra said, burnt bright and alive for it, beloved of this place where he’d never been, “So help me.” It would take a High Lord you said? Pardon me, I'll be right back. I'm gonna go traumatize my dad/give him a heart attack.

ANYWAY, lovely story is lovely. I deeply, dearly love all the non-sexual intimacy. The cuddling! The "That Lucien got to see". The *flailing gestures to whole fic* EVERYTHING.

so, anyway, reread hearts <3 <3 <3

(I really need to figure out how to do emojis on my laptop keyboard)

this has filled me with delight and joy!! and fully reminded me how much I love this story <3

thoughts thoughts thoughts: you're poking at one my favorite through-lines, which is that it is an AFFAIR, a sexy sexy affair and they're going at it like crazy, a thing they are both pretending is The Only Thing Happening, when in reality it is...maybe the least important aspect to their relationship from either of their perspectives?

(despite the desperate horniness)

Eris actually shows up next chapter, and continues to be pure comedy.

No, but the laugh thing IS something- Lucien hasn't felt safe in. forever, really. A very, very long time. He's not at a point where he dreams about that for himself. He wants the people he loves to be safe. He's so, so, so deeply sad but he lets himself actually be mad beyond belief over other people. Fox babe IS burning it all to the ground on his way out.

And he just. god, he loves SO HARD.

Enough to reveal that he does know about his secret birthright and just completely shatter Helion's heart in the process, along with committing himself to a full-scale Autumn rebellion, if it gets Nesta out. With the hope that maybe, MAYBE, she'll want to help him...with all that.

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

I could teach you things Pt 5

Summary: You said you don't drink much.....anyway turns out you're a totally different person! Especially when the ladies slip something to you, just to make you more compliant of course, they just want you to be their princess, nothing wrong with that, right?

Warnings: 18+ only Minors DNI Failed drugging because of Kate's interruption, but nothing horrible, Wanda just wanted her girl to be lucid for her, who wouldn't want that?

Words: 1,500

A/N: Not proofread because reading my own work back makes me sick. Enjoy! :D

"How's our pretty girl enjoying the party?" Wanda kissed up your neck swaying her body with yours as you let yourself enjoy the music coursing through your body

"Answer your mommy pretty girl" Nat appeared in front of you holding three drinks, made easy with her long fingers "yessss I'm enjoying the party" You reached to take the drink but Nat took it away "Ah ah my love I think you've had enough don't you?"

"But Natttt!"

You felt Wanda dig her nails into your side "You know that's not her name princess"

You winced at the slight pain but corrected yourself looking at Nat "Sorry Daddy, please can I have a drink?"

The older woman nodded handing you a fruity-looking drink you didn't recognise but didn't question "Thank youuu" You took the drink and gulped it down making the two women smile "Come on detka let's sit down"

Wanda pulled you into a dark booth in the corner of the huge club sitting you on her lap with Nat following close behind sitting next to you "I thought you said you weren't a drinker?" Wanda joked and you shrugged "I-I like…I lied" you hiccuped giggling and tried kissing Wanda's neck

"Your neck is sweaty" you giggled again

"It's because I have to keep running after you little one, you're quicker than Nat and I, you know you can't run off from us"

You rolled your eyes "I can do anything I want I'm not a baby, I'm a grown woman" You pulled away from the woman standing from Wanda's lap and saying something about going to the bar.

Nat sighed sitting next to Wanda properly and kissing her softly "Did you put it in?" Wanda asked and Nat giggled "Pretty sure you've said that to me before in bed"

Wanda pushed Nat away a little "You're a dick, did you do it or not?" Nat nodded "Yep! She should be sleepy right about now with how quickly she drank that"

Just as she finished speaking Wanda looked into the crowd and saw you leaning against the wall looking dizzy "hm seems like it's working, a grown woman huh? We'll see about that"

You thought it was funny walking away from the women but now you felt off, the room started swaying and your eyes felt heavy, what happened? And why did you suddenly feel helpless without Wanda and Nat

You felt arms wrap around your waist from the side and looked to the side seeing Wanda "Hey little girl do you feel fuzzy?"

You nodded letting yourself fall into her body and you felt Nat slide behind you helping to hold you upright "Are you sure you're a grown woman? It seems like you're a baby right now, aren't you? You need your mommy and daddy to take care of you?"

They weren't questions, not really and you knew that but all you could do was continue to sway in their hold "I think it's time to go home yeah?"

You mumbled a yes and the women smiled leading you out of the club, the cold air hit you making you stop and run to a bin and throw up in it, Wanda coming over and rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back "Oh honey you really can't handle your alcohol can you? It's okay we'll get you home to a nice hot bath with some cute ducks, would you like the ducks?"

Even though you didn't answer Wanda knew you'd love the ducks, like every good girl does

"Y/n?!" A voice echoed and you managed to pull your head up seeing your friend Kate coming over in a blurry haze

"Hey Kate," you said wiping your hand across your mouth and still holding onto Wanda "Dude you look fucking terrible, you never drink that much"

"She's fine Miss Bishop," Nat said sternly and the young girl looked between her and Wanda "Aren't you two too old to be out partying?" She laughed but they weren't laughing

"Actually Miss Bishop we're all here together," Wanda said while looking over you making sure you were still okay

Kate gasped "Oh my god! Dude did you bag yourself two MILFs?! Hell yeah! Are you their sugar baby? Damn I wish I had a hot milf to hold my hair while I threw up"

You knew Kate was probably saying something ridiculous but you couldn't care when you felt like your insides were at war with each other, all you wanted to do was lay down and you needed Wanda to take you home

"…Mommy please can we go…" you whispered but it was loud enough for Kate to hear and start laughing

"Mommy? Wow you are so whipped, I need to tell Peter" Pulling her phone out she went to call Peter but Nat quickly snatched the phone out of her hand "Hey Nat come on, Yelena wouldn't care, be cool like your sister"

The Russian threw the phone to the ground and stood on it breaking it

"Nat what the hell?!"

"I think it's time to go, Kate, now" The girl left in a huff and Nat turned to you and Wanda "Time to go home my loves"

The drive back to the house was quiet, you were asleep in Wanda's arms and Nat was driving "Are you okay Nat?"

She sighed "Sure, just Yelena is going to be pissed at me when Kate tells her I broke her phone, how's Y/n?"

Wanda looked down at you and kissed your forehead "She's okay, still a little fuzzy, she's a pretty girl like this"

Nat glanced in the rearview mirror at you two and smiled "A lot of room back there?"

Wanda raised an eyebrow "Sure?"

"Maybe she needs to be even more relaxed?" Nat winked but Wanda just shook her head "Our first time together will be special, not in the back of the car Natalia"

Nat groaned "But the car is clean! And what's more special than a Tesla?"

You stirred in Wanda's hold curling into her "Behave Nat"

"I'm not a dog Wanda" she retorted

"Really? Then why do you wear the collar I got you? For fashion?" Wanda kissed your head smirking at Nat's blushed face "Okay whatever" she went back to driving in silence

When they arrived at Wanda's house Nat helped her carry you out of the car and into the house into the bedroom "Oh princess you're so cute" Wanda whispered laying you down

"Well, that didn't work out very well did it?" Nat joked and Wanda lightly smacked her arm "I didn't think our girl liked the special treat in her drink, plus Miss Bishop didn't help"

Nat agreed "It'll be okay Wands, well, what do we do now?"

"Let her sleep, she's had a long night of drinking"

Nat chuckled "Yeah sure, just drinking, I don't think we can drug her like the last one"

"Don't make it sound so sinister Natalia the last girl just needed to be kept lucid, a shame her family took her away from us" Wanda kissed you on the cheek when you stirred in her hold "Shh honey you're okay Mommy and daddy are here, let's get you into bed"

You woke up a little in Wanda's hold hearing them talking in Russian, you think it was Russian anyway, but you chose to forget it and close your eyes again when you felt the soft bed underneath you drifting quickly back off to a deep sleep, you'd try and figure out what happened in the morning

******************************************************************

"Are you sure? Maybe you just imagined it?" Kate was pacing back and forth in her shared apartment with Peter reminiscing about the night's events

"No she was definitely drugged, I've never seen her act like that when she's been drunk, and trust me I've seen her absolutely smashed out of her mind!"

"But why would Miss Maximoff and Miss Romanoff drug her, they don't seem the type, Miss Maximoff did slap me on the back of the head once but that was because I took a cookie from the plate she had for the church picnic"

Kate stopped in her tracks to look at Peter questionably "You took a cookie? You know if you waited like an hour you could've taken more at the picnic"

He shrugged "Yeah I know but I didn't want to listen to boring church talks"

"Fair enough" Kate agreed "but back to Y/n, I'm just worried about her, I hope I am being paranoid"

"Maybe call her mom? She's gotta know what's going on" Peter suggested and Kate shrugged "She and Mom aren't that close I doubt she knows, I'll call Yelena later"

"Ooooh calling your girlfriend?" Peter teased laughing when Kate threw a cushion at him "My very best friend I'll have you know, the only one who actually listens to me and isn't a dick" She smirked when Peter faked a gasped

"You hurt me, Katie"

"Good"

They both laughed momentarily forgetting if you were actually in trouble with the older women, they'd help you tomorrow.