#Now I need to cut her hair and give her better eye chips

[dia-oro]

In my defense she was at 19€ but after the sale she is now a 40€ so I didn’t think and buy her. she pretty

[taintandviolent]

Stalked - Kai Anderson x Reader

summary & wordcount: 2.6K! After breaking up with Kai, he decides you need a little reminder of what once was. idea requested by @kaislittlelamb originally!

w a r n i n g s: smut with very little plot, implied stalking, toxic relationships, throat fucking, blowjobs, Kai being Kai, violence, aggression.

a/n: this was originally a drabble, but got longer - very quickly written, sorry if it's horrible! definitely not my best. thanks for reading it, if you did!!! no taglist this time because it's a pain in the bootay.

full fic under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

You'd met with Zack a few times now, but this was the first time you two had actually gotten to talk and get to know each other. He was cute, in a very boy next door sort of way; physically fit, a tousled mess of brown curls, bright green eyes, and bright, white teeth that probably got whitened bi-weekly.

"So, anyways, I moved here about three months ago after my mom moved here, and with her needing help, I figured I might as well stay." 

"Nice." You grinned. 

"Yeah, so I'm definitely still learning the best spots to eat..." 

You casually glanced around the restaurant, scanning the patrons next to you; you were an observer and enjoyed people watching, in all situations. Abruptly, several tables across from you, wavy, blue hair caught your attention. Your expression contorted into one of shock as your eyes trailed down the bridge of the nose, taking in the man's face. No fucking way. 

As though he felt that he was being watched, Kai turned mid-sentence, and immediately made eye contact with you. His brows rose slowly in surprise, and ultimately, delight. You blinked and turned away quickly, engulfing yourself back in the conversation. Or hoping to. But there was no escaping this. 

"Excuse me," you heard him say, before scooting his chair back. The legs scraped against the floor with an awkward sound, and Kai made his way over to you, navigating around the tables. 

Like a child trying to avoid being found, you almost considered sinking down in your seat, chest heaving with shallow breaths. Some luck you had. Some fucking luck. You rolled your eyes, shifting your shoulders. Zack watched you, studying your very apparent discomfort. You felt both men's eyes on you, and laughed nervously into your soda.

"Y/N..." Kai said. 

You said nothing in return, only smiled sarcastically and stirred your soda with the straw. 

"New boyfriend?" He asked, his tone dripping with faux-interest. You knew him. You knew him like the back of your hand, and he wasn't interested. He was waiting to incriminate you.

"No, actually." Zack interjected, bravely. "We're just getting to know each other. It's going well." 

You nodded, giving him a genuine smile. "It is." 

Kai tightened his smile further; the fakeness started to show through the cracks. "Good, good. Well, I just wanted to say hello. I'll leave you two lovebirds to finish your appetizers." 

"You know him?" 

"Unfortunately. Too well." 

"Ex-boyfriend?" Zack asked, popping another spinach-dip loaded chip into his mouth.

Sheepishly, you nodded.

"He looks familiar." 

"Yeah, you've probably seen him on TV. He's a councilman."

Zack snapped his fingers, pointing at you. "That's it! Anderson, right?" 

Again, you nodded. "Yep... that's the one." 

The waiter appeared, meals in hand. As you two ate, the conversation naturally melted away from Kai, which you were grateful for. Especially since it seemed like it was headed in the direction of Zack wanting to vote for him and agreeing with his campaign policies. Unfortunately, Zack fit the bill of one of the men that Kai would easily brainwash, and recruit to his noble cause.

Halfway through dessert, your phone buzzed. You knew who it was from without even looking. The message read: We should get together.

You quickly thumbed out a response. Why? 

Just to talk. 

Against better judgement, you agreed. The rest of the date was spent laughing about poorly written films in the last decade, but in the back of your mind, laughing was the last thing you wanted to be doing. The next hour was a blur. Zack had gone in for a kiss when he was leaving, which you returned, but only briefly. You were distracted. Painfully so. You went from the restaurant to Kai's, but you hardly remembered driving there. Your mind was on autopilot; a rotten, sour feeling bubbling in your stomach. Everything in you said that this was a bad idea, and yet, you gripped the steering wheel hard, looking at his front door.

You got out, locked your car and made your way up the pathway. You only knocked once before the door flew open. He stood tall. Proud. Unwavering. That overly confident, but calm smile plastered on his stupidly-handsome face. His hair hung at his cheeks, greasy as ever. He was pleased you'd shown up - you thought you saw a flicker of doubt that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't have. But you were a woman of your word, and you weren't going to show him that he was something to fear.

"So, when are you going to break it off with what's-his-name?" Kai asked as he took the basement stairs quickly, trotting down them. You followed, wordlessly, revelling in the familiar sensations. Once you'd stopped at the final step, you glanced forward, eyes locking on the brown leather couch. Out of all the memories that you'd had in that basement, the ones that rushed back were the ones where Kai was fucking you on that couch. Ruthless, merciless fucking until your back hurt and your insides felt like they'd been obliterated twice over. You blinked the images away, swallowing hard. Your head turned before your eyes met his. 

"Zack is actually very nice, and he'd probably treat me very well if I decided to pursue a relationship with him. But since when do you care who I'm with?" 

"It's my business." 

"No, it fucking isn't. It hasn't been for weeks. Last time I checked... I was uhhh, what was it? A stupid bitch?" That had become a favorite alias of his. You plopped down on the sofa, cushions giving way to your weight.

Kai bristled. "You know, you really should be careful what you post on social media." 

"Excuse me?" 

"You never know who could be watching." 

The realisation hits you like a freight train. Him being at the restaurant wasn't a coincidence, it wasn't bad luck. Kai knew exactly where you were going to be and he made it a point to be there. You’d replied to a friend in the comments of a post, telling her that you were going to be at that particular restaurant in the afternoon. He’d seen that.

"You've been.... fucking stalking me!?" 

Kai filled his chest with air, somehow standing taller than he already did. "You sure like to show off your cute little life, don't you? Pathetic little coffee outings and Tapas date nights. But what I want to know..." Kai trailed off, circling you like the pathetic little lamb you were. "...is who you go home and think about. Is it Zack? Or maybe Edward?"  

You felt the muscles underneath your eye twitch. 

"Or is it.... me?" 

Kai finally moved in front of you, his broad chest obscuring your view from everything else. His legs touched your knees. 

"Answer me." 

"I don't have to tell you anything, Kai. You aren't my boyfriend anymore."

"I said answer me!" Kai pressed his thumb and forefinger into your cheeks, making your lips pucker out like a stupid, confused fish. He yanked your head forward, bringing it up towards his. The action strained the muscles in your neck, but you didn't dare say that. This dynamic was very familiar to you. You'd been here before. 

"Seems like you need a little reminder."

A chill ran down your spine.

"Open your mouth." Kai's thumb traced your pouty lips softly, sweeping back and forth. He waited a few seconds, his face tight with impatience and when you didn't concede to his request, Kai forced your mouth open, pressing his fingers into your cheek flesh until you winced and dropped your jaw. 

"Good girl. Now, you're going to keep your mouth open until I say to close it. You understand?" 

You nodded, your tongue resting delicately on your bottom teeth. 

"I have a very important job for you. You're going to stroke my cock until it's hard and then I'm going to throat fuck you."

You held back a cringe. He was always so... direct. Direct with his intentions, direct with his words, direct with his actions. You supposed that was the main vein of why he was doing so well as a councilman; people liked the truth -- and regardless of validity, if something is delivered with enough confidence and directness, it's believed. 

You reached forward tentatively, undoing the button of his dark jeans. The zipper came next, one tooth at a time. You felt the heat of his groin as soon as you leaned forward to pull the jeans over his buttocks, turning your face away so that you weren't met with a mouthful of fabric. With a strong hand, you gripped the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down over his balls - his dick flopped out, heavy and warm to the touch. You sucked a self-encouraging breath into your lungs and reached forward to grip his flaccid cock, inching your lips towards it.

"No." He bucked his hips backwards, furrowing his brows. "What did I say?"

You froze, backpedalled and began stroking, intentionally angling it towards your mouth. Kai let out a shallow breath, pressing his chin against his chest to watch you. You gave it a firm squeeze, and in response, his cock twitched in your grip; it didn't take long for it to swell and stiffen to capacity in your grasp. You paid some attention to the tip, spreading around the slithery pre-cum that had leaked from the slit.  

"I always liked that about you - your willing adherence to any and all demands. You know what I want." 

At least he was praiseful. He always had been, even in the late and toxic stages of your relationship. Still, you chalked it up to him enjoying the sound of his own voice and feeling like he was in control of the situation

Your free hand took hold of his balls, squeezing them softly. At that, Kai vocalized hungrily, grunting low in his throat. He was a very venous man; in any heightened state of emotion that got the blood flowing, his veins popped in his forehead, his neck, his hands... and his cock. Your tongue massaged the veins that swelled on his shaft, flattened out on the thickest one underneath and flicked at the tip.

You continued jerking it, finding a rhythm until Kai's large hand enveloped yours, forcing his cock out of your grasp to replace it with his own. Pumping his cock in and out of his hand a few times quickly, Kai hissed through his teeth, and took a fistful of your hair at the crown of your head. He immediately let go, and cupped the back of your head with his hand, stroking it softly. Tenderly -- like it meant something to him. It didn't. You were a stupid pawn in his story, another one of his dedicated cult members, and he regarded them all the same.

You closed your mouth to swallow, wetting the inside of it before returning to your previous, vulnerable position, tongue out, eyes lifted to meet his. Kai's pitch-dark eyes looked down at you with a roiling expectancy, one that spoke louder than words could. He slapped the tip of his cock against your waiting tongue, revelling in that first, startled flinch.

At first, he slid just the tip along the texture of your tongue, grinding against you, but it didn't take him long to penetrate. The tip of his cock bumped against the back of your throat, and you closed your lips, bowing your head slightly to allow him further down your throat.

“How does that feel?” 

You nodded your head. Kai let out another throaty moan and picked up his pace, thrusting his hips hard into your face as you relaxed your throat as best you could, fighting your gag reflex. His cock filled your throat - violated it - the salty taste of his precum overwhelming your senses. Your nose burned and your eyes watered. You guessed that your eye makeup had begun to stream down your cheeks in ebony ribbons. 

Kai's visual was ethereal. You were coming undone before him - below him - as women should. In such a submissive state, you looked your best. He took a fistful of your hair and yanked you forward, violently forcing you to deep throat his dick. He felt the slick, strong contraction of your reflex and grit his teeth; you were withholding it, but the pathetic, whimpering sounds of your gags drove him forward. He pictured them, remembering all the times that he had been in a similar position with you. 

"Gag," he said, finally. "I want to hear your pain." 

When you didn't, Kai forced his cock further into your throat, until your nose was pressed in the bush of his hair. That did it. With your eyes squeezed shut, your throat repeatedly rebelled. You coughed and gagged around his shaft, the tip still pressed against your tonsils. You finally opened your bleary eyes at him, straining them upwards to get a visual on him, to beg him wordlessly for relief. Kai flattened his hand on the back of your head and bunny humped your face, pulling more desperate gags from your throat.

"Who do you belong to?"

No response. Just a full-mouthed cough.

He took a fistful of your hair, pulling you hard off of his dick. THWACK! Kai's hand whipped across your face, leaving a welting streak of red in its wake. His cock bumped against the roof of your mouth as you nodded slowly, stunned from the sheer force. 

"I'll ask you one more time... who do you belong to?" 

Finally, you gave him another feeble nod and lifted your hand to press a single finger into his pectoral muscle.

"Good... that's what I like to hear. You remembered that it's rude to talk with your mouth full, too. I'm so proud of you."

Kai reinserted his cock into your waiting mouth, almost gently. That was everything but comforting, but this foreplay was familiar to you, and therefore, enjoyable. Sure, the way your throat burned as his dick hammered in and out might've teetered on the edge of discomfiting, but you'd been here before. You knew him, and at one point, you loved him.

You made an O around his cock as he dragged it out from the back of your throat, sucking gently. Kai began thrusting again, but less rhythmically than before. He was losing his steady pace, and that only meant one thing.

"Don't fucking stop," he breathed. "Keep going."

You closed your eyes again, two tears streaming down your blushing, caving cheeks. He was going to cum soon, you felt the tightness, the heat, the urgency behind his thrusts. Pumping his cock in and out of your swollen lips, Kai’s hand snapped to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he thrust remorselessly. 

A second later, he bottomed out again, and you felt his cock twitching, pulsing in your mouth as his orgasm washed down the back of your throat. You coughed a wet, sticky wet cough and Kai groaned, letting his head fall back into his shoulders. 

"Swallow. Fucking swallow it."

You did. You winced as your throat accepted the mouthful of blisteringly hot cum, salty and slightly unpleasant. Your mouth felt sticky and your throat was coated – you couldn't talk, not clearly. So, instead of telling Kai that you hated him, you just glared at him with fire in your gaze, baring your teeth at him like an angry dog.

“Aw, what? What, you hate me? Is that what you want to say?” 

You nodded.

“Go sit at the table. We’re going to talk about that.” 

[literallydontknowdontcare]

idk if you’ve done this already bc all the vanessa fics r merging together in my brain, but maybe smtg where she has a very stressful day at work, and needs to take her anger out in a healthy way (by doing the reader!!!)

Taking It Out On You

a/n: I love this prompt but I was on a certain sleepy drug when writing (I'm sick as hell right now) so I have no idea if this is good LOL. Anyway, exams are officially over so MORE FICS! YAY! And thanks for the love recently, you all are amazing :) Enjoy!

Content/Warning: smut, choking, pussy slapping, fingering [all r receiving], exhausted/pissed off Vanessa, handcuff use, gun used on you to get you off, you being a good baker, side note I love the Elizabeth lail edits recently 

w/c: 2304

You swayed your hips to the radio. Recently, there was more 80s music than new age, which you weren’t complaining about; sure, you missed hearing the newly hyped singer Miss Britney Spears, but even you had to admit Tears for Fears had a kick to it. Kneading into the last of the cookie dough, you conveniently hear the rumble of Vanessa's police vehicle pulling up to your shared home. Smiling, you pause the music, swiping off the flour that dusted the white countertops onto your apron just as the engine outside slows to a halt. The bench is now fairly clean, you wait eagerly as you see the faint outline of your girlfriend emerging from the car through the window.

The front door clicks open. You hear Vanessa’s footsteps thud a lot less carefully; usually, she would sneak up behind you from wherever you were in the house. She gradually got better at it, too, her dangerous job teaching her a thing or two. It was unlike her to come home after a long shift careless, thudding her jacket and gear on the ground before pressing herself behind you. She inhaled the scent of your freshly washed hair, groaning.

“Bad day?”, you ask, grabbing the pan of unbaked goods and placing them into the oven, Vanessa moving with you so she didn’t have to remove her grasp around you. She huffed as a reply. As you stood back up, she whipped you around, momentarily giving you whiplash. You took in her expression for the first time; her eyes were essentially dead, her pressed lips giving the smallest of indications that she was happy to be home as she attempted a smile when your eyes met.

“It was... Definitely a day”, she sighed. You tilted your head, lifting your hands to cup her face.

“Want to talk about it?”, you prod gently. It seemed that Vanessa was experiencing harder rosters more frequently than before: you presumed it was the pressure of her father, whom she almost never talked about, getting to her. Vanessa simply stared behind you at the oven, her dull eyes beginning to twinkle. “Chocolate chip?”, she questioned, avoiding your query.

You bit your lip and nodded. Her eyes met yours again and you pushed your face closer to hers, not quite reaching her lips but certainly leaving the possibility. Maintaining eye contact, you reach behind her head and softly pull on the hairtie of her ponytail, letting her short, blonde hair loose. She fluttered her eyes closed, groaning. You slide your fingers through the strands of her hair, pulling on them slightly to release any tension. Vanessa inhaled deeply. Pressing your lips against her jaw, you start to pepper her face with small kisses when you feel her take her hands off you, to your dismay.

*Shuffle shuffle*

Vanessa fiddled with her police belt, something that made your groin twist deliciously just from the sound of it. It usually meant one of two things: either she was about to take it off and with it her pants, or she was about to use something *from her belt*. As you attempt to part your lips from her face, she cuts you off.

“Don’t look”, she retorts. As much as you’d like to disobey those orders, there was no way you wanted to be her day even shittier. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you rest your head against her neck as you feel her take something off her belt. Smirking, she raises the object up to your stomach, pressing it deep into your flesh. You gasp and jump back, the coolness startling you. Before you could look down, she spun you around, slamming you against the sink. You whine, your knuckles gripping onto the counter. Vanessa returned to your behind in a flash, grinding her front against you. Disappointingly, you couldn’t feel a strap underneath her pants. You huff, which she notices immediately.

Grabbing onto your neck with a force that startled you, she brought you up so that you were standing straight up as opposed to being bent over. “With what I’m about to do to you, we won’t be needing my cock, baby”, she growled, her hand beginning to tighten around the sides of your neck. You gasp out, your hands rising to your neck to ease the grip, only to be yanked away behind you.

“Vanessa”, you cautioned, unsure of what she was getting at. You heard the jangle of the metal cuffs and froze. “You wanted to help me, yeah?”, she sang sweetly. “Baking me something, cleaning up the front of the house for me”, regarding the time you spent earlier today reorganizing and decorating the place for winter to make it homier.

“You want to make me feel good?”

You don’t hesitate to answer. “Always”

“Then let me use you”. You hear the clank of the cuffs being closed around your hands tightly, Vanessa's leg coming up between your legs that you opened just for her. “Let me see you come with my gun in your mouth”. At that sentence alone, you couldn’t help but let out a moan, jolting your hips involuntarily down on the thigh she had graciously given you. She laughed darkly behind you, removing herself completely from you, making you cry out and turn around to face her. You already missed her manicured hand that fit so perfectly around your neck, acting like a necklace you wished you could always have.

“Couch, baby”, Vanessa demanded, allowing herself to watch you as you made your way out of the room; God, you being in her handcuffs with a vacant, submissive look in your eyes made her want to double down on being rough with you. She followed you soon after, the only thing missing from her outfit being the cuffs that were around your hands and the gun... That was being held so confidently in Vanessa's right hand.

You shifted from your position on the couch, unsure. She laid it beside you, her mouth twitching at your confusion, before climbing on top of you to straddle your waist. She slammed her lips onto yours passionately, hot saliva mixing on both lips. Your moans gradually got louder as her hands attached to the back of your head, roughly pulling at your hair. Vanessa bites your lip harshly, grinning as you try to back away. Her hands leave your hair and begin to forcefully strip your pants from your body. Parting your lips from hers, you lift your legs up to assist her. The soft warm light from the living room lamp perfectly accentuated each other's features; Vanessa's eyes were completely focused on you, taking your sticky panties and flushed cheeks.

“Top off”, she leaned back, watching you rush to meet her demand, smirking as you fumbled with the buttons of your shirt. Now being completely naked, your skimpy bra and underwear being the only things covering your very aroused parts, she spread your thighs with an air of smugness.

“Vanessa”, you pout, jerking your pussy up. She trailed a slim finger along the top of your briefs, pulling them down slowly. Your breasts rise and fall rapidly at the sensuality of it all: the relaxed pace made you even more blushed. Moving her fingers around your folds, you lean your head back, closing your eyes in pleasure. Suddenly, Vanessa slapped at your pussy. Crying out, you snap your head back up and shut your legs. She didn’t like that. Narrowing her eyes, she yanked them back open, harshly slapping the inner side. “Keep them open. Don’t make me tie up your legs as well”. You squirm as she rubs her middle and ring finger quickly on your puffy clit, mewing out loud at the vulgar noises she was creating.

“So sweet like this, hm? Think you can last more than... What was it? Eight seconds?”, Vanessa snickered, recalling the time you came so quickly underneath her that it was actually dismal. You blush at her mocking tone. She swirled her fingers around your opening, her mouth twitching at the way your pussy spasmed when she pumped them in. You lay down, whimpering as she picked up the pace. With no regard to how prepared you were, she shoved two more fingers in. Wailing, you move your hips with her, remembering that she wasn’t doing this for you; she was doing this for her. The thrusts turned into a heavy pound, your moans making it known that you couldn’t take it. Vanessa feasted her eyes on your body, licking her lips at the way your arousal pooled on the leather of the couch. As you were distracted with the overwhelming urge to come right there and then, she reached for the gun. Too zoned out to notice, you felt her lips attach to your neck. “Don’t make a mark”, you plead as best as you can. She ignores you, licking at your sweet spot before sinking her teeth into the flesh. Hissing, you pull away before stopping dead in your tracks.

Pressed against your stomach was Vanessa’s gun. Just a Glock 22, you knew that much, as it was the same one every cop used around here. Though, the coldness of the frame stunned you, both from the Glock and Vanessas stared. She stared you down as she removed her other hand from your pussy, smirking at the yelp it caused. Your fluids glistened on her hand in the warm light. You wearily watch her stroke her hand up and down the tip of the gun.

Once satisfied, she pointed the gun at your stomach, tilting her head at your small gasp of exhilaration and fear. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. Are you sure about this?”, she asked sweetly. Her gun was completely empty, for she always took the bullets out at the office after a shift. You didn’t know this, though. You would be relying completely on her skill and carefulness in handling a gun. Vanessa's stomach twisted deliciously at your utter dependence on her. Sucking a breath in, you nod.

She trailed the cool gun up your body, stopping short at your mouth. Pulling your messy hair back, your face red, she tapped the tip of your swollen lips. “Open up for me baby”, she husked. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out and swirl it around the muzzle, breasts rapidly rising and falling from the thrill of it all. She forces the frame in, resting her finger on the trigger. You groan at the taste of your own cum. “See? Look how good you can be”, Vanessa murmured, shifting her body as she felt her own pussy thud. Unable to go slowly anymore, she began to roughly thrust the gun in and out of your throat, abusing it as she would with her strap. You gag as it passes your comfort zone, rolling your eyes back when you feel her other hand slap your pussy once more. She stands up, laughing darkly to herself at your obedience. Your eyelashes flutter, saliva dribbling onto the glock. Holding onto your head, she takes out the gun and pulls you up to turn you around. Your hands, still cuffed, grab onto the top of the back pillows, your knees digging into the seat.

“You going to punish me, officer? I thought you said I was a good girl”, you purr. You felt Vanessa’s hands wrap around your front. Your neck was snapped back as she gripped you, sliding the gun through your folds. “If you think this is me punishing you, you better hope you don’t disobey me”, she taunted. She plunged the muzzle into your pussy, groaning at how easily it slipped in. Almost immediately, she rammed it at a swift rate, choking you when your sobs went too loud. Widening your eyes, you lift your bound hands to your neck and grab onto her hand to ease the grip. “Enough”, she spat, fucking you faster and squeezing your neck harder. Your hips were slamming between the cushions and Vanessa's thighs, arousal streaming down your body. With a muffled cry, you tightened your grip around her hand, signaling your need for release. By some sort of miracle, she went even faster. The combination of Vanessa's grunts, the pressure on your throat, and the gun that was currently abusing your overworked pussy made you scream out in pleasure.

“Uh uh. Tell me what you want”, Vanessa asked, refusing to accept your nonverbal request to cum.

Swallowing once, twice, you manage to simper out, “Pl-Please officer. Let me cum, please please please plea-”

In a flash, she released her grasp from your neck and shoved her fingers into your mouth, her pace in your pussy unchanging. You cum with a scream, your body jolting at the stimulation.

“There's a good girl”, she cooed, slowing her thrusts before removing the gun from your destroyed pussy. You flop your head backward onto her shoulder, staring at the ceiling as the world around you doubles. You felt Vanessa softly rub your thighs, whispering words of encouragement as you faded back to earth from your high.

“Always such a good girl when you play sweet”, she smiled as you turned your head to kiss her. Deepening the kiss, she placed the soaked gun down and wrapped her hands fully around you, inhaling your scent. She moved her lips to your jaw, where she peppered soft kisses as you giggled.

“Vanessa”

“Mh?”

“The handcuffs”

Vanessa laughed on your neck, pulling herself away from you.

“Stay there, I’ll be right back”

As she walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, you remembered the cookies that were still baking. “And check on the oven as well”, you shout out, collapsing onto the couch with a small grin.

[blenselche]

insert for ch2

"Finn, come on."

background items: Marcy Acoustic set poster from Scream Queens, Fern's leaves pressed between glass, Finn's Candy Kingdom diplomat pin, the cash he won in a bet in the comic Marcy & Simon, the dimensional sword, root sword. I wanted to add more but thought it'd get too busy.

closer view and excerpt under the cut

He finds himself before the sink, mussing up his oily hair and disheveled beard to rid himself of wood chips, splashing water over his face and coughing after breathing deep off a stale cigarette. The cherry fizzles back at him against the aluminum as he taps it off into an empty. He tugs at the bottom of his eyelid — the whites of his eyes are yellowing again. Pressing his forehead to the mirror and staring at his reflection he sees Martin's eyes, jaw and brow. He sees his maladjusted view, understands now what he meant, in the end.

He can't look in a mirror without seeing the man staring back at him, and it only gets worse with age.

“You’re fine. Today was just a bad day,” he recites just as he’s been told to, loyal tool of the kingdom that he is, a coping mechanism PB calls self affirmation. He leans back, scoffing, “in a long line of bad days.”

His feet carry him to the stump set before his wood stove, and the air toasts his frozen fingers and melts away the pins and needles in the skin that his port connects to. Anxiety bubbles its way up his esophagus and he drowns it with a long pull off his homebrew, eyes flickering from the bottle to his prosthetic, foot tapping furiously. He sighs and gives into the itch at the back of his brain, taking the wish out and reading it over again, biting more teeth marks into a pencil already shredded down to the lead.

It’s something to look forward to. Something he can put off, hoping ‘it gets better’ but it hasn’t and he’s almost certain it won’t. A morbid form of motivation to get more built, work harder, save more people, hoping against hope he’ll wake up happy before he has to spirit himself away. But none of it matters without fulfillment, sat alone and suffocating under his own melancholy in this empty space, only a facsimile of a loved one on his chest for company. He wants to see his brother, he wants to see his mom. He wants from the bottom of his being to go back and smack himself for being dumb, deaf and blind in the face of his own wants and needs. He hunches more in on himself and clutches it harder, it crinkles back at him, threatening another rip.

Slim, sage colored fingers enter his vision and pluck the precious slip of writing from his hand.

“I’ll give it back if you clean yourself up and go to bed.”

“I have it memorized,” he sighs. “I thought you believed in nihilism, anyway, Miss nothing matters and the wind makes my decisions.” Their eyes meet and he can’t help himself but to smile, though it doesn’t reach the rest of his face.

“I believe in natural predeterminism inscribed on our souls by our great earth mother, not in being a sad sack with whisky dick.”

“Ouch. My ego,” he drones, throwing his palm to his chest in faux hurt. “Like I’m disappointing anyone these days. Cot’s closed, sweetheart.”

“So not why I’m here.” She rolls her eyes and holds her hand out, motioning for the bottle.

“If you crack it open against my floor you owe me a face cord of firewood.” He hands it over by the neck and she takes a fifth straight, wiping her mouth with the back of her glove and gagging. “Christ, bad day?”

“Not yet.” She sighs deeply, clearing her throat of the burn and takes a seat on the floor next to him. “You’re going to be pissed with me. I thought saying anything would just upset you, but you’re still set on doing this,” she waves the wish in her hand, “so. It might help. I don’t know.”

“What are you talking about?” His voice drops decibels, adam’s apple bobbing as he gruffly clears his throat.

“I swear to you I didn’t keep this from you on purpose.” She huffs a sigh and peers up at him guiltily. “You know, Fern crashed in my woods with LSP, but we never spoke. Not until the war.”

“…” his breath gets caught in his lungs, burning.

“I forgot. There was so much going on, back then.” She blinks at him, brows steepled, and covers his hand with her own. “What he said— when I did remember I thought it would just break your heart all over again, so I’ve kept it to myself.”

His hackles raise and defensiveness floods his veins, skin hot and starting to prick with nervous sweat. “Excuse me?” he asks, resistive.

Her eyes hold his though, expression full of pity unchanged. “Finn. Come on.” Her thumb brushes against his knuckles and he shakes her off.

His anger speaks for him, misplaced and protective of his brittle heart. “It’s been a decade and you think I’m like this over some kid I knew for half a minute when we were teenagers?”

“He wasn’t just some kid, I‘ve seen you- you know. Lurking in his tree. It’s a contributing factor in your whole bummer lifestyle because you never processed his death. Or are we still pretending that he has nothing to do with us?” Her voice is gentle but firm, not entertaining his usual evasiveness.

“I'm not doing this,” he snaps, shutting down. He stands and walks to the door, holding it open even though the cold night air will chill the space again. “I am sorry, ‘Tess, for— for whatever you think you know. I can’t rehash it. I’ve buried that shit deep, and it’s gonna stay there.”

“I asked him what he was fighting for. He was dying, falling apart under me, I was just trying to keep him distracted," she barrels ahead anyway. “He looked me in the eye and said ‘same as you.’ Maybe he opened up to me because of what was happening to him, or because he knew we had— you in common, I’m not sure.” She looks at him with such compassionate sympathy that it makes him nauseous. “He adored you, Finn—“ his knees buckle, “—he said he was happy to die for you if it meant he could 'make up for everything that happened after you left him behind’.” She stands and reads the wish, scrutinizing. “If you truly need to do this to be happy… knowing that can’t hurt.”

How he’s able to remain upright he doesn’t know, but a flash of devastation covers his face before he can recover.

“Please, don’t tell me his business,” he rasps, voice wavering. “I can’t,” he begs, croaking out the words through the raw vice of emotion choking him. “I can’t think about it.” He closes his eyes, pleading with his whole body.

He feels a hand brush against his cheek, and her lips press to his softly, whispering “I’ll miss you.”

When he opens his eyes again she’s gone. Bottle and paper placed neatly on his stool. He closes the door and leans against it, hugging himself and breathing hard, face hot with upset. The more he tries to calm himself the closer he comes to hyperventilating, and when the tears start his breathing only worsens. He crams his fist against his mouth and takes a shuddering gasp in, close to wailing over it.

[nhlclover]

ENCHANTED . . . COLE CAUFIELD

summary: an enchanting night with your brother's teammate changes the way you feel about dating

warnings: NOT proof read, drinking, kissing

word count: 2.57k

You pause the episode of Survivor, tuning into the muffled conversation you could hear from the kitchen. It was Nick and Caitlin, although their raised volume indicated that they were arguing, which was bizarre. It had been a bit over 6 months since you’d lived with your brother and his girlfriend and not once had you heard them argue, let alone get in a serious disagreement.

Their voices approached your room accompanied by footsteps.  The room is brightened by the hall light as they appear in the doorway, dressed to go out.

“What?” You ask in a monotone voice.

“We’re going to Kirby’s house for a party.” He tells you.

“Okay? Have fun.” You say, wondering why he felt the need to tell you.

“No I mean we as in all of us. You’re coming too.” He says.

You roll your eyes, pulling the comforter over your torso. “I’m not really in the mood for partying with your teammates, Nick.”

“Don’t care. You’re coming with us, y/n.” Nick said, turning on the bedside lamp. “It’s getting a little sad, all of this moping. I mean I’m pretty sure it’s been a week since you’ve seen sunlight.”

“Nick, she just got broken up with, cut her some slack.” Caitlin says from the doorway. 

“Thank you, Caitlin. See this is why I like her better than you, she shows me compassion.” You say.

“To hell with compassion.” Nick rolls his eyes. “You guys dated for less than two months, he didn’t even know your middle name.”

“Can’t you just let me be sad?” You ask. “I don’t know why you want me to come with you guys.” 

“Because if mom knew that you were just lying in bed, eating chips and binging Survivor, she wouldn’t be happy with either of us.” Nick pointed out your depressing habits. He yanked the comforter off you, taking your laptop and putting it on the desk. “Now get dressed we leave in 15 minutes.”

You groan, watching him walk out of the room with Caitlin shooting you a look of sympathy before she walks out too. Not that he deserves the credit, but Nick was partially right. You had only been dating for two months, so your moping about this one guy was a little extreme, but he was the third guy that you had gone out with only to get dumped less than two months later. It was getting frustrating as you started to wonder if something about you was turning all these guys away.

Another thing he was right about was that you hadn’t left the apartment in over a week. Even you were starting to get a little disappointed in yourself. 

You forced yourself out of bed and into your closet to pick out an outfit. You pick out a black miniskirt and a black corset top, finding an oversized leather jacket in the closet to wear over. You got some block-heeled boots to finish off the look. 

You have enough energy to get out of bed and get dressed, but not enough to put any effort into makeup or hair. You took my hair out of its braid, tousling it a bit, while putting on a bit of mascara on your eyelashes.

You grab your purse, heading to the living room where Caitlin and Nick are waiting. Nick eyes your outfit, then shakes his head.

“No, that skirt’s way too short, go change.” Nick says. You go to protest but Caitlin speaks before you can. 

“Get off her ass, Nick. She looks good.” She says. She hooks her arm with yours as you head out. You get in Nick’s car, the short drive getting you guys to Kirby’s house in a few minutes

Immediately you regret your decision. You thought was going to be just Nick’s teammates but it became apparent that you were wrong as there had to be 100 people in the room. This is the exact opposite environment you wanted to be in at the moment, with sweaty bodies on either side of you as soon as you stepped into the room.

“Nick!” A voice shouts.

Kirby swoops in out of nowhere, scooping up Nick in his arms, giving his captain a hug.

“Hey, Kirbs.” Nick chuckles as he’s put back down.

You quickly zone out of their conversation, looking around the room at the different guests of Kirby’s party. You sport various Habs players and their significant others around the room, but mostly people you don’t know.

It was somewhere in the middle of another unamusing joke that you were prepared to exhibit some forced laughter when you spotted him across the room. His familiar face grinned as he downed the last couple drops of his drink, then began to make his way over to you. 

“Hey, boys.” Cole says as he approaches. “Hey, Caitlin.”

“Cole, wassup bud,” Nick says, dapping him up. 

Cole turned to you. “Hey, y/n.” He said, a smile tugging on his lips.

The first time you’d met Cole was two years ago during the Stanley Cup Finals when Montreal played Tampa. It was Cole’s first year in the league, and you had just wrapped up your sophomore year at Western.

At the time, you’d developed a small crush on your brother’s teammate. It was nothing huge, truly just a passing crush, like the ones you’d had on the boys you’d see once in your lectures.

Then you transferred to McGill and moved in with Nick. Cole became a frequent presence in your life, being a good friend of your brothers. Your once ‘small crush’ bloomed into something stronger. But Nick had already made it clear long ago that he didn’t want you crushing on any of his teammates. Ever.

So, you moved on. You let your crush on Cole get shoved down deep as you moved on to other guys.

“Nick!” Someone shouted from within the house.

Suddenly Chris Wideman is pushing through people, barreling towards your brother and engulfing him in a hug.

“C’mon man, you’ve gotta see Slaf right now.” He says.

Within seconds, Kirby, Nick, and Caitlin are out of the room, leaving just you and Cole. He looks over at you but you avoid eye contact.

“Did Nick drag you here?” Cole asks, making you finally look at him.

Oh, his eyes.

“How’d you know?” You ask.

“I’ve seen you smile, like a real smile, and the entire time Kirby was talking and cracking jokes and you were smiling? That was not a real smile.” He says.

He notices my smile?

“Um, yeah. Nick forced me here. Pulled the brother card.” You say, making Cole laugh. “I would genuinely rather be anywhere else, parties aren’t really my thing.”

Cole looks around, then back to you.

“Listen, I’ll go back in there, nab a bottle of something and bring it back.” Cole says. “We can find somewhere to sit and take a break from them. Because if I’m being truthful, I can’t stand most of the people here.”

You laugh, watching Cole enter the kitchen. He returns a minute later, an unopened bottle of Malibu in his hand

“Jackpot.” He says, holding it up.

The pair of you walk through the hall to the back door, exiting the stuffy kitchen. You guys head for the pool, sitting down at the edge, removing your shoes and sticking your feet in the crystal water. Cole unscrews the cap, takes a sip, and pulls a face as he swallows.

“I forgot I hate coconut.” He says. You laugh, taking the bottle from him and taking a swig. 

Conversation soon finds you naturally, not running out of things to say, topics flowing from one to the other. Hours passed by as you guys sat at the edge of the pool simply talking your way through the bottle of rum. 

“Who do you love?” Cole asks suddenly.

You choke on the rum you’d just sipped, laughing as a blush forms on Cole’s cheeks as he tries to backtrack.

“What…what I meant was are you… are you dating someone?” Coke says, eventually falling into laughter himself. “Fuck that was so weird of me, I’m sorry.”

Once your laughter subsides, you take a swig from the bottle. “Um, no one at the moment.” You say. 

“Really?” Cole says, a shocked look on his face.

“Yeah.” You nod. “I haven’t exactly had the best luck in dating these past few months.”

“That’s surprising.” Cole says.

“Why’s that surprising?” You ask.

“Well... you’re so… I mean…” Cole stumbles over his words. “Y’know you’re being a bottle hog.”

Cole grabs the bottle, taking a large swig himself. You allowed the moment to change but his question lingered in your mind.

It was somewhere around 2 AM when you finally checked your phone. Several text messages and phone calls from Nick and Caitlin appeared in your notifications.

“Shit.” You say, clicking on his contact and calling Nick back.

“Where are you?” Nick asks, a hint of anger and fear in his voice.

“I’m just in the backyard.” You tell him.

“Why the hell are you in the backyard?” Nick asks, then relaying the message to someone, no doubt Caitlin.

“I needed fresh air.” You say.

Nick continues to scold you, telling you how worried he was when he couldn’t find you or get a hold of you. He tells you that they’re leaving now and to hurry up. You stand up, grabbing your shoes in one hand. Cole follows close behind as you make your way to the front of the house.

“Wait, hold on.” Cole says, grabbing your hand and pulling you back slightly. “I can’t go around front. If Nick sees me with you, both of us wasted on Malibu, I don’t think he’d be too happy with me.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “Thank you, for tonight. I haven’t had this much fun in a while.” You say.

Cole smiles and agrees. The pair of you stand there, caught. Part of you doesn’t want to leave him just yet, feeling too much was left unsaid. You don’t know how long to two of you are standing there staring, but you’re yanked out of it as Cole pulls you into him, your lips crashing together.

His stubble lightly scratches your chin, goosebumps prickling down your spine. His hands find your hips,  and needing to close in the space, he pulls your body into his. You break apart, left a little shocked by what Cole had just done. 

“I uh… Nick’s waiting.” Is all you can say.

You spin on your heel, walking towards the driveway, leaving Cole there. You regret it as soon as you’re around the corner, spotting Nick in front of the house standing next to his car. You nearly turn around to go back to Cole, but Nick spots you, chastising you for taking so much time. You shove yourself into the back seat, looking out the window.

The kiss plays on repeat in your head the whole way home, your cheeks heating up as you remember his hands on your hips, gripping onto your jacket in an attempt to pull you closer.

You get home, beelining for your room, afraid that Nick or Caitlin would try to ask questions about your demeanour or why you were in the backyard. The kiss and the conversations keep you up, wanting to replay them over and over in order to not forget them. Eventually, you fall asleep, the feeling of Cole’s lips never leaving your mind.

You wake up in the late morning, the sun beaming in making the room a little too bright for your sensitive eyes. You trudge out into the kitchen, noticing the silent house. On the counter was a note from Nick and Caitlin, saying they’d gone to run errands and that they wouldn’t be back till later.

You took the opportunity to bask in the quiet apartment, making yourself breakfast. A few minutes later there’s a knock on the door. You open the door to Cole. His hands shoved in his pockets, a backwards hat on his head. Upon seeing you, a soft smile spreads on his lips.

“Oh, hey Cole.” You say. “Um, Nick’s not home right now.”

“Oh…I’m not here for Nick.” Cole says. “Can I come in?”

You step aside, letting Cole step in, shutting the door behind him. You’re suddenly painfully aware of your outfit, wearing an old McGill shirt and a pair of men's boxers that had been repurposed as sleep shorts. Your hair was pulled back in a messy braid, strands of hair having fallen out during the night.

“I think it might’ve been a mistake. Me kissing you last night.” Cole says.

“W-why?” You ask.

Cole’s brows furrow. “Well after I kissed you, you just said ‘Nick’s waiting’. Didn’t exactly seem like the reaction of someone who enjoyed the kiss.”

“Well, how else are you supposed to react when the guy you like kisses you out of nowhere? It kind of catches you off guard a bit don’t you think?” You blurt out. You clamp your mouth shut, but a small smile appears on Cole’s lips.

“What? Do you like me?” Cole asks. He steps towards you as you offer him no response.

Part of you, the rational part of you, is screaming at you to step back. Not only were you just in multiple failed relationships, but Cole was your brother’s teammate and friend. He was part of the one group of people you knew Nick would never approve of.

But the other part of you wants him to kiss you again. You want to feel that rush you got when he put his hands on your body, the chills that went up your spine when his stubble scratched your chin. 

“Do you or do you not like me?” Cole asks, taking another few steps towards you.

He’s right there. Right in your face. And you can’t help but kiss him.

Your hands go up to the sides of his face, pressing your lips to his. Cole doesn’t hesitate to put his hands on your waist, instead tugging on your shirt to draw you in. The same chill-inducing rush comes back, Cole pushing his tongue past your lips. 

You’re about to let him carry you to the couch and take control when you hear keys jingling in the door. You jump back, nearly pushing Cole away. Nick and Caitlin come through the door, grocery bags in hand. When they spot Cole, looks of confusion paint their faces.

“Cole?” Nick asks. “What’re you doing here?’

“I uh… wanted to see if you wanted to work out with me today. Maybe play a bit of tennis too?” Cole asks.

“You couldn’t text me? Or call?” Nick laughed.

“I left my phone at Kirby’s last night.” Cole says. 

You know Cole’s lying but Nick doesn’t and seems to buy his lie. “Uh yeah let’s do it.” Nick says. “Just let me put away the groceries and I’ll be good to go.”

Nick and Caitlin begin to put the groceries away. When they aren’t looking, you shoot Cole a look which he reads as ‘what the hell did you get yourself into?’. 

Cole quietly steps over, leaning over. “Looks like I’m going to the gym.” He whispers. “I’ll text you later.”

You shoot him a smile, walking to your room, replaying the events of last night and a few minutes ago in your head.

[0prettygirl-jay0]

~•little stalker•~ pt2

dabi x reader

context: the stalker becomes the stalked.

warnings: smut, caught, oral sex, fingering, name calling, masturbating.

—————————————————————————-

~•dabi’s pov•~

I have to say, 'm not the kind of guy pretty girls stalk, I'm not the kind of guy that any girls stalk or even look at. So what's the deal with her? That's what I've been wonderin’ these past two months. She's so fucking pretty, that night when she took me down like some rag doll, I could've sworn I was in love, then and there. I haven’t felt this way ever…i just couldnt, way to possessive for that shit. Why her? No one should have her but me…i could treat her better then anyone else, kill for her, love her and only her, be there for her.. Fuck I need her. one thing i needa find out, is she a hero or what? there’s nothing about her anywhere..and her fighting skills were too suspicious for a eighteen year old.

name: y/n y/m/n y/l/n

parents: deceased

age: eighteen

address: musutafu city, japan. 275 kinto street, apartment 214, Shizuoka Prefecture.

quirk: blood manipulation

This is the eleventh time this week I've had to jack off to fuckin’ flashbacks, i needed more, need her. Fuck.. This is not okay, especially at the fucking base, i really need to get my own apartment. that way i can have her all to myself. her black leather that clung tight to her body that night, her hips, her thighs…fuck, her face. The office chair i sat on was squeaky, every time i would thrust my hips up, it would sound. It didn't matter at this point, looking down towards my hips, my hands glided over the glistening purple, tip.

——-—————-three hours later————————

now why the fuck would she be at a hero event? there stood the most wanted villain across from a met gala, a building that was surrounded by heros and filled with heros. dabi had been smart enough to place a small chip in a cut toga had made on her body while she was distracted fighting them both.

—————————————————————————

~•reader’s pov•~

i couldn’t handle being that close to him, all i wanted to do was take him right then and there, infront of toga, infront of everyone. taking the cart out my mouth while looking at my smokey eye makeup and fixing my hair in the mirror..he’s a villain, he kills innocent people, maybe im in way over my head..i mean a villain liking me? be so for real, exhaling the smoke from my lungs and out my mouth, i went to fix the bottom of the red, silk dress i wore. my father is a hero, and here i am obsessing over a murderer who doesn’t even feel the same way over me…he couldn’t, right?

“Whatchu doing here dressed like that?” the calm, hoarse voice says as he watched the smoke exit my mouth. in the reflection of the mirror, i could see, it was dabi. shit, how the fuck did he find me.

“dabi..how’d ya’ find me? y’know at a hero event they dont really like your kind here..” i laughed a bit as i turned around to look at dabi, black on black with a gold chain looked really good on him.

“Real question, is what the fuck are you doing here, princess? You a hero?” walking up closer to me, dabi took it upon himself to take my cart and hit it himself, putting it to his pink lips and inhaling, he kept eye contact with me. giving me back my cart, dabi put his hands on my hips to admire the red dress i wore, blue eyes looking me up and down, slowly one of the hands on my hips moved up towards the back of my neck where he held my body firmly. Exhaling the smoke out his nose, the smell of marijuana filled my nose.

“answer me princess, cause i dont fuck wit heroes.” his gruff voice spoke in my left ear and the feeling of now both of his hands grabbing handfuls of my ass to pick me up and put me on the counter, a gasp left my lips as i was so easily picked up and placed on the counter. the only thing i could do was sit and admire the man that stood in front of me, this is all i’ve ever wanted. he wants me the same way i want him.

“my dad is..im just here with him.” now with what i said just now, caused dabi to raise his brow and smirk at me, his eyes glancing at my lips and back to my eyes.

“i love the way you feel, the way you smell, the way your eyes are glassed over and i haven’t even touched you yet, the way you just let go and melt in my hands.” he said this softly with a scoff and a slight chuckle, his big rough hand moved its way up my body and to my face, grabbing my chin to look up into his dark, blue eyes, looking down at me with a smirk, he tilts his head to the side and leans down but doesnt place his lips on my own, not just yet. his other hand kneaded the flesh of my hip, uncontrollably i leaned in to connect our lips.

“dont lean into me like that..im not gonna kiss you.” dabi chuckled a bit again before he continued speaking. “i’ll kiss whats mine, i’ll fuck what’s mine, i’ll satisfy what’s mine…are you mine, little mouse?” his voice spoke again and chills ran down my spine with excitement.

“i want to be..” i said as soft as can be while looking in the man’s eyes.

“…you want to be, is that so? ima be honest with you princess, all i want to do is rip that little red dress and bend you over this bathroom counter until all you do is say my name over and over again.” finally his lips sucked on my neck and his hands got to work, kneading my hip as he grabbed the back of my neck to hold me straight. looking at his finished product with a smirk, his hand bunched up my red dress above my hips. looking at my soaked red lacy underwear, one of his big hands grabbed my thigh to put around his waist and the other moved the red lace to the side.

“such a pretty girl, arent you?” his fingers admired the swollen bud and dipped down lower to the wet folds and then to the tight hole where i desperately needed something to fill. whimpers flooded out of my mouth, throwing my head back to lay on the mirror behind me i covered my mouth with my hand.

“Sweetie, you okay in there?” knocking was heard on the bathroom door as i heard my dad’s voice on the outside, he sounded worried..fuck dad, wrong time to be cockblocking. i lifted my head off the mirror to see dabi’s cocky face looking back at my disheveled one that tried to keep quiet with my hand still around my mouth.

“my dad..dabi.” my hand moved from my mouth as i got both to try an push away the man that had his hand between my thighs.

“your dad’s..aizawa? well shit, guess i wont be killing him on my camping trip next week.” dabi spoke casually and quietly as if his one finger wasn’t inside of me trying to loosen me up.

“fuck- yes dad, im fine. just y’know girl problems…” my head fell onto dabi’s shoulder trying to muffle my moans. hearing footsteps walk away with a muffled oh, i looked at dabi in anger but pure bliss as he entered another finger inside of me.

“so god damn tight, y’know that? but you’ll take me right? all of me, like my good fucking girl.”

“you are so fu-…cking annoying, y’know that.” dabi smirked at me as his free hand put a stray hair behind my ear. taking his two fingers out of me dabi flips me over to lay me on my stomach as his leg moved the both of mine apart. now the only thing i could do was look at his dark eyes through the mirror infront of me. the sounds of a belt unbuckling was what got me out of my dazed state, i wiggled my hips in anticipation with a whimper. slapping his dick on my bare pussy dragged a moan out of my mouth.

“oh, fuck your tight.” finally pushing the tip into me, you could hear my wetness squelching, bottoming out, dabi stilled for a second while biting his bottom lip and his eyes halfway closed. this view in the mirror was the best one yet, at this point dabi was shirtless, his purple scars added onto his tan skin, he had abs and big shoulders.

“shit, only half way, princess, were almost there. you wanna stalk me, you wanna be mine? then take it.” lifting one of my legs on the bathroom counter, dabi grabbed both of my arms to put behind my back while pushing all the way in.

“this is what it means to be mine, little mouse, to be my doll.” he said in a gruff breathless voice as he bent down to whisper in my ear, his abs almost pressing against my back with his hips slapping against my ass. the sound took over the room along with dabi’s whimpers and groans, one of his hands held both of mine hands behind my back and the other covering my mouth.

“this pussy is all fucking mine, doll, and no one is ever taking it away from me. dont fucking close your eyes, look at me y/n.” snapping back into reality after hearing his voice whispering in my ear i open my eyes to look at dabi in the mirror, my teeth bit my bottom lip as dabi sped up his pace, i couldnt help but want to close my eyes and focus on his voice and the feeling.

“im gonna let go of your hands and your gonna fucking play with that pretty little clit of yours for me, got it, doll?” i nodded my head vigorously as i felt the relief of my hands being released. both of his hands roughly grabbed my hips, probably leaving bruises in the morning.

“now ‘m gonna make you cum, and your gonna say thank you. understand?” nodding wasnt enough for dabi, he needed to hear it.

“words, mouse. use them.” his thrusing became so rough you could hear the sink slamming against the wall.

“yes, dabi. thank you!” my hand between my thighs circling my clit and the other covering my mouth, dabi’s voice in my ear and his thick cock slamming into me. it was all becoming too much before that knot in me snapped.

“i dont care if youre too sens-..stive keep rubbing that clit for me princess...” a loud moan erupted from me as stars filled my vison, eyes rolling to the back of my head and my toes curling.

“fuck, yes! keep milkin’ me like that, mouse. please, fuck! say your mine!” coming back to my senses, while shaking and whimpering, i rub on my clit.

“all yours, touya, thank you…~” thats what makes him snap, a loud groan was heard and i looked in the mirror to see dabi’s head tilted back and a hand covering his mouth, the other hand that held a bruising grip on my hip ignited in a blue flame but only for a second as dabi came to realize what he did.

“fuck! dabi?!” my face was still fucked out as i gripped the sides of the counter in pain. orgasm tears slipped down my face and i looked at dabi through the mirror.

“shit! mouse, im so sorry.” he looked down at the flesh wound on my hip with his dick still inside me.

“mouse..what did you call me, just now!?” dabi said with his blue eyes glaring into mine, there was no malice, or anger and i knew exactly what he was talking about, but i wasnt gonna spoil our fun on how i got my information.

“what else would i call you? daddy of course.” with a joking wink and a smirk i would only pray and hope dabi would drop it. slipping out of me, dabi helped me get dressed while watching out for the new wound.

“leave your window open..were not done yet.” was the last thing i heard from touya’s mouth as i watched him leave through the bathroom balcony.

[madhatterbri]

Christmas Party | C.C.

Summary: you are invited to a Christmas party and you beg Christian to be your date to not look lonely to Jack.

Author's Note: I'm like in love with this story. ��🥰 Tried to make it funny and flirty. Hope I succeeded.

@theswitchbladessweetheart (hope you feel better ❤️)

@1dluver13xx

"Heeeeey it is my absolute favorite patriarch," you greeted seeing Christian backstage. He tensed at hearing your voice. Any time you greeted him that way you needed a favor. Nick chuckled and walked away giving you some privacy to talk. "Remember that favor you owe me for babysitting your daughter?"

"You mean that one time you were supposed to watch her for like five minutes while I cut a promo? And when I came back you spent five minutes looking for her because you forgot she was hiding for hide and seek?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. Of course the grumpy old man remembered the bad part. Typical.

"That very time, yeah, good, you remember. Listen, I was invited to a Christmas party and I need a date. Are you free on Friday night?" you told him. He looked at you puzzled. Christian never thought you would want to be with him outside of wrestling business.

"Why do you need a date exactly?"

"I just do, please, I will do anything,"

"Seriously? What is this high school?" Christian muttered and walked away. You yelled at him to wait and stood in front of him to block him. He rolled his eyes and looked at you. An amused yet annoyed look on his face. You had a few seconds to plead your case.

"I asked everyone else and they said no,"

"Who did you ask?"

"Max"

"And what happened?"

"He slammed the door in my face. I asked Roddy and he said he was going with Adam. Well, actually, he yelled Adam's name so I'm not sure. HOOK and Orange just stared at me while eating chips. I promise it will be worth your while,"

"Why?"

"A certain curly haired Jungle Boy will be there," you sung. The Captain Charisma figured it out. You didn't want Jack to see you alone while he had Anna.

Christian stared at you in deep thought. His blue eyes dazzled in delight. Jack would certainly not like seeing you with him. He simply nodded and told you he would text you when it's closer.

🎄

"And you still don't think he has a crush on you?" Skye questioned while looking at your reflection in the mirror. She agreed to help you with your hair and makeup. You never agreed for her to give you the third degree.

Ever since she made it to your apartment you were bombarded with questions about tonight. She started to sound like a parent. Every time she brought up Christian liking you, you shut it down. He was just doing it to mess with Jack nothing more or less. A point you frequently brought across.

"He's doing this to piss off Jack. He wasn't going to say yes until I told him he was coming," you insisted.

"Don't take this the wrong way but you are a blind idiot," she insulted.

"Oh good because I was immediately going to take that as a compliment," you scoffed.

"He trained you and was always there for you when Jack dumped you for Anna. What are we missing here, girl?"

"He is just really nice. I was his manager for a while and babysat his kid,"

"Are you really flexing on that time you lost his daughter because you forgot you were playing hide and seek with her?"

"It was one time and the new season of Stranger Things just came out!"

"And trust me he trained you because he wanted to be closer to you,"

"He wants younger talent to succeed. I bet if Kyle asked Christian would happily help him,"

"Kyle did ask him over text. Christian sent a screenshot of his cash app username and said he isn't a charity,"

You tried to hide a laugh. A pissed off Skye would not help your situation. A knock on your front door ended your conversation. The butterflies in your stomach now in full force. Despite always having a crush on him you honestly never saw anything from him. You looked in the mirror one last time.

"I look great. How can I ever repay you?"

"If I ever ask you for relationship advice please don't give it to me or remind me to do the opposite of what you say," she joked. You shot her a glare and stood up.

You called out that you were coming to the door and opened the door to see Christian. The man before you was dressed to the nines for the Christmas party. Long gone were the tights, t-shirts, and velvet sweater. Now he wore a tuxedo with a blue tie that made his eyes pop.

"You ready?" He asked leaning against the doorframe. A smirk tugged his lip as he saw you staring at him.

"Have her home by ten, Cage, I know where you work," Skye called out and winked at him. He smiled back at her.

🎄

"What a gentleman," you teased when he held the door open for you. He grabbed your hand and helped you out of the car.

"I'm not the little boys you are used to dating," he joked and closed the door behind you. He adjusted his jacket and tie before taking your arm around his.

"Really selling this, Christian, I knew you were a good choice,"

"Well I have to pay you back for that poor excuse you call babysitting," he chuckled. You slapped his arm playfully as he walked you to the backyard. His hand placed securely at the small of your back. "Let's get this party started,"

The backyard had curtains of Christmas lights covering the fence. A hot chocolate bar with assorted Christmas treats laid neatly on a wooden table. A DJ played a mix of Christmas songs and other assorted hits. A projector displayed a Christmas movie. Different Christmas games were spread out to get the guests to mingle with one another. Pillows and blankets of different styles laid around the yard to ensure maximum comfort.

"Isn't this amazing?" You asked and looked at him. His hand was pressed to his forehead. His blue eyes squinted as if he was looking intently at something.

"I think one of the lights on that curtain doesn't work,"

🎄

The night wore on with you trying to avoid Anna and Jack. It was pretty easy. Jack stayed on his phone on a bench. He mindlessly scrolled as if that was the only thing going on. Every so often he would stare at you with Christian. He glared at you if you happened to meet his gaze. Anna stayed inside the house complaining about Jack.

"Do you mind if we dance?" You asked expecting a no. Jack used to never want to dance with you. Any time you went out you had to dance with your friends. Christian looked at the dance floor and back at you. He took one last drink from his beer.

"Fine but don't get intimidated by my dance skills," he accepted your invitation.

"Wait, really?" You asked and smiled wildly. He grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor. He spun you around before placing an arm securely around your waist. His other hand grabbed yours.

The music played softly through the speakers. You were glad the song wasn't too fast. He was surprisingly a good dancer and easy to follow. The man certainly had many talents.

"You look beautiful tonight," he whispered in your ear. "I forgot to say that earlier,"

"Are you saying I'm not beautiful on most nights?" you giggled and looked in his eyes. "You are not so bad looking yourself,"

He spun you around and pulled you closer to him. You wondered if he was trying to sell this to Jack or if Skye could be right. A part of you wanted the latter. You just needed a sign. Anything to prove that maybe you weren't just another wrestler to him. You would get your wish shortly after.

He placed his forehead against yours. His blue eyes stared into yours as if to read your reaction. When he noticed you didn't pull away he placed his other hand to your hip. You placed your hands on his head running them down to his neck. Your hands rested on his shoulders.

"Christian, you don't have to do this," you whispered. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable,"

"He's not looking. It's just you and me," he confided in you. "If you want me to stop I will,"

"Please don't stop," you pulled his jacket so he was closer to you. You could barely hear the music with how loud your heart was pounding. Your cheeks burned brightly. With the help of your high heels, your lips pressed against his. He stood in shock momentarily before kissing you back.

Growing up you always read about a spark when you kissed the right one. You always told yourself that the spark would eventually ignite when you were with Jack. After the break up you were sure it was just a fairytale. Now maybe it was time to live your own real life fairytale.

He looked at his Apple Watch and sighed.

"It's Adam. I gotta take this call. Don't go anywhere," he apologized and kissed your forehead. He walked inside to a quieter place to take the phone call. You walked to the hot chocolate bar to warm up a little.

🎄

"Seriously? The whole you bringing one of my ex-friends to not look lonely is a little pathetic," Jack sneered. You jumped not expecting him to bother you. He was so adamant about not being anywhere near you. "Can't find someone your own age?"

"You cheated on me with one of my closest friends and I'm pathetic?" You asked bitterly. Not only did your friendship with Anna end but your relationship with Jack. "You and I clearly have different definitions of pathetic,"

"You being the type of person to fuck around with anyone in the business just proves that leaving your ass was the best choice i could’ve ever made,”

Tears immediately sprung into your eyes. This was exactly what used to happen while dating him. He made outlandish claims against you. Things that were never true but still hurt. The party was no longer fun for you. Maybe you could text Christian to meet you at the car.

"Want to say it again, Perry?" Christian asked from behind Jack. The younger wrestler turned to see his now enemy and ex mentor. Everyone knew he would never repeat himself after getting choked out by CM Punk after an altercation back in August. He was more respectful to the veterans to their face. "Come on, Y/N. We are getting out of here,"

You slowly walked past Jack and into Christian's arms. He pulled you in for a hug and kissed the top of your head. His arms felt so safe like he could save you from anything and everything. The sound of his heartbeat calming you.

"Oh, and Jack, go fuck yourself," he hissed. He took your hand and led you back to the car leaving a shocked Jungle Boy in the backyard.

[flyingwargle]

sakusa emerges from the bathroom in a curtain of steam, towel wrapped around his neck, hair still damp. dressed in old sweats, he slips his feet into the slippers left against the wall, and shuffles down the hallway, head raised at the sight of his partner sitting at the dining room table, engrossed in his nail care.

the apartment, usually comparable to a nightclub with how loud atsumu prefers his music, is quiet. all sakusa can hear is the file running over his nail, with occasional pauses for an inspection before resuming. most things that atsumu does related to volleyball, sakusa noticed, is done in silence. from silencing the crowd when he serves, practicing tosses to the tune of squeaky court shoes and bouncing balls, even doing cardio and weights to the rhythm of his own breath. there are few things that he devotes his undivided attention to, and sakusa is simply glad that he is one of them.

"hey."

he looks up, startled. atsumu has lowered his nail file to gesture at him. "c'mere. lemme do your nails."

“i think they’re fine.” sakusa isn’t as meticulous, but he gives them a trim once a week.

“they’re too long fer my standards. i don’t want ya to chip ‘em.”

he acquiesces and sits across from him, waiting for atsumu to wipe the table down before he places his hands on top. atsumu is gentle as he grasps his right hand, cradles it in his own, and runs his file over the nail.

a comfortable silence blankets them. sakusa, unsure if talking is allowed, settles with watching. his partner's eyes are narrowed, brows furrowed together, lips pressed into the tiniest pout. it’s a familiar expression, often seen at their favorite ramen joint as he contemplates between tonkotsu or shio, juggles between two brands of seaweed to save money or indulge, flip-flops between his playlists to determine the mood. sakusa suppresses a smile, endeared by his level of dedication.

“whatcha smilin’ at?”

atsumu looks up at him. of course he noticed. sakusa replies, “you.”

“what, i got somethin’ on my face?”

“you enjoy this.”

it’s not an accusation; just a mere fact. atsumu returns his eyes back to sakusa’s nails, having moved onto his index finger. “’samu never remembered to cut his nails. durin’ a match, he was blockin’ the other team an’ they got a wipe off ‘im. it hit his finger at a bad angle, an’ it broke his nail. he couldn’t play for a week.” his chuckle is light, full of goading but love. “after that, every time he saw me do my nails, he asked me to do his, too.”

sakusa can imagine it: the twins, perhaps positioned similarly as they are now, running a file over each finger, rough but tender, grumbling and protesting the entire time.

“ya wanna know who was up in my face about carin’ fer my nails? my ma.” atsumu’s fingers are rough against his, as most volleyball players’, but he runs the file gently, with slow, rhythmic movements. “i used ta feel bad that she got two boys instead of a girl. she didn’t have a daughter to dress up or paint her nails.”

he releases his hand, reaches for the other. sakusa remains still, lets him take hold, adjust his hand as needed, and continue. “if it weren’t fer volleyball, i woulda let her paint mine. she never got the chance, though, since we started playin’ in elementary school, an’ now, i still play, and ‘samu can’t ‘cause of work. well, not that he woulda let her paint his nails, anyway.” he pauses, eyes raised toward the distance. sakusa recognizes the expression well: nostalgic, edged with bittersweet longing. “instead, she was always on my case ‘bout keepin’ my fingers in good condition, ‘cause they’re what makes a setter.”

sakusa doesn’t respond, overwhelmed by the memories of all the tosses that atsumu made, often deemed impossible until they weren’t, becoming tosses that allowed his hitters to score. he never falls short of delivering the best, and he expects his hitters to reciprocate.

“there. don’t they look better?”

at his voice, sakusa blinks, glancing down at his hands, the sliver of nail on each finger uniformly shaped and filed. atsumu starts to clean up, retrieving another wet wipe, when sakusa speaks up. “motoya and i used to paint our toenails. he has an older sister, so he’d steal her nail polish. we used to paint them before games.”

“really? didn’t expect ya to be interested in polish. aren’t there a buncha nasty chemicals in ‘em?”

“yeah. motoya couldn’t convince me until high school, and even then, he had to buy a brand that i deemed safe.” sakusa draws in a breath. “i still remember what it is, if you want to try it.”

atsumu hums. “only if ya paint yers with me.”

“sure. it’d be fun.”

“never thought i’d hear ya call somethin’ like this fun.”

sakusa rolls his eyes. “i didn’t hate it when we did it before. no one would see it, anyway, except for us.”

“like it’s our dirty little secret,” atsumu replies with a wink. he laughs when sakusa reaches over to shove his shoulder. “not dirty! a fun, ‘lil secret. ooh, we can get our team colors!”

while he finishes cleaning, sakusa fetches his laptop from his room to look up the nail polish brand and find their website. atsumu joins him a moment later, and by the end of the night, they’ve placed an order for several different colors. as they head to bed, sakusa places a hand on atsumu’s shoulder. “in return, can you do my nails next week?”

“anything fer ya, omi.” and sakusa knows that he means it.

[xxavengingangelxx]

Long Way From Home 2/?

TRIGGERS: Implied attempted suicide/self-harm, torture, threatened rape. Dark fic! OC is POW and Graves is a war criminal. Link to part 1 below! This is DARK so I'm still not sure how it'll do but it seized my mind and has to come out. Let me know what ya'll think!

When you woke up your body was hurting everywhere. Your head continued pounding. Your ribs protested when you sat up. It was hard with your hands still ziptied behind you. You realized you were against a concrete wall. But that was all you knew. It was pitch black besides a large air conditioning control screen on the wall adjacent to you. It read 60 degrees Fahrenheit. You shivered because your clothes were still drenched. They were probably doing it on purpose to keep you uncomfortable.

You didn’t even know how much time had passed. Your mouth was still taped shut and you found that especially frustrating. You wanted to holler and curse out the bastard who next stepped through that door.

A heavy door swung open and the dim lighting from the hallway made your headache worse.

Graves. Piece of shit. Piece of traitorous shit.

He was holding something.

A video camera?

“We got somethin’ Shepherd.”

“Better be good.” The voice from the other end said. Shit, Shepherd was in on this too? He approved of this shit?

Lights clicked on and you squinted although your eyes adjusted fast than you expected. The bastard was filming you.

You heard Shepherd laugh as Graves pointed the camera at you. “You got 141’s puppy?” He asked, dark humor in his tone. “The one who follows them everywhere? That cute little thing?”

“She bites, though,” Graves chuckled.

“Teach ‘er not to,” Shepherd responded. “She could be useful.”

“Now see that’s what I told her. She doesn’t wanna believe me.”

“Listen young lady,” Shepherd spoke to you directly. You couldn’t see him but he could clearly see you. “Oh,” he paused. “Jesus, Graves you did a number on ‘er.”

“She won’t talk.”

“She will,” Shepherd said, so sure of himself.

You shook your head. And with your defiance you leaned forward off the wall, brought your ziptied hands to the side of your hips and gave them both the middle finger.

Shepherd and Graves laughed. It wasn’t a laugh of humor.

“Spitfire,” Shepherd said.

“Yeah, I gotta teach her some manners,” Graves responded.

“Do what you have to. I want her working for us.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep her alive. She’s gonna be our bargaining chip.”

-

Graves closed the video camera, giving you a cold, unforgiving glare. “That was your superior you flipped off,” he snapped.

You shook your head. Fuck no he wasn’t your superior.

“Let’s knock you down a few pegs, huh?” Graves walked towards you, knife in hand.

You tried to scoot back but the cold cement wall behind you stopped you.

He knelt in front of you, grabbed your shirt and pulled you off the wall. He left small cuts on your forearms as he sliced through the zipties binding your wrists.

That was all you needed. The adrenaline from earlier was making a comeback and you immediately brought your hands in front of you. You launched a punch, which he blocked easily.

He stood up and so did you. You wasted no time in peeling the heavy tape off your mouth and off your face. The rest of it was still tangled in a sticky mess in your hair. You were sure you had red marks on your face from where the tape had probably peeled the top layer of your skin off.

“You filmed me like a fucking terrorist would film a hostage,” you snapped.

“There’s that mouth again,” he sneered. “Why don’t you put it to better use?”

You gritted your teeth at his sexual advance and lunged at him. He launched a punch but you blocked it, sidestepped him and delivered a round house kick to his stomach. He felt the impact through his vest.

“Still got some fight in ya,” he said, “That’s okay. I like it.”

And with that he stepped towards you, swept his foot under you, and knocked you flat on your back.

You mouth opened in a silent scream as you rolled over onto your side, unable to breathe. Your ribs were definitely either cracked, bruised, or broken from the bullet your vest absorbed earlier.

Graves approached you and used his boot to nudge you onto your back. He then descended on you, placed his knees on either side of you, straddling you. He easily reached up and pinned your wrists above your head before leaning over you. He still had the sickening smell of blood, sweat, and gunpowder.

“Get off!” You kicked and flailed but it was no use. He was too strong. You were hurt. And you were about half his size.

“This is gonna go a whole lot easier if you cooperate,” he said simply, not loosening his grip.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

“You’re gonna be useful one way or another,” he explained. “You can be a hostage or you can work with us.”

“Never,” you wanted to spit in his face but was afraid he would hurt you more if you did.

“You’ll be a lot more comfortable if you just give us updates on your team and work with us,”

“I’m not a traitor,” you snapped.

With that he got up, forced you onto your stomach and pulled your tattered uniform shirt off leaving just your bloody tank top. You immediately thought the worst: that you were going to be raped.

So you instantly arched your back and neck, feeling the back of your head come into contact with his mouth before you heard him full on growl like a wild animal. When he forced you onto your back again and straddled you, you could see your strike had made him cut the inside of his mouth on his teeth. He was bleeding.

You laughed when you saw him bleeding and it seemed as if something clicked in his eyes. You thought he was going to kill you. He wrapped his gloved hands around your throat and squeezed. You gasped, fighting for breath, scratching at his hands in wild abandon. You tried to buck and kick him off but he was too heavy. You felt yourself losing consciousness and in your mind you thought that at least they wouldn’t be torturing you anymore, that they wouldn’t be brainwashing you to work for them just to deal a blow to 141.

He suddenly released you and then he did the oddest, crassest, cruelest thing he could’ve done. He leaned forward and kissed you, his lips and tongue forcing your mouth open. Your hands went to his Kevlar vest and gripped it, trying to push him off. You closed your teeth around his bottom lip and he stopped, pulling away.

“If you bite anyone again, I’m gonna break your fucking jaw,” he stated.

With that he got up and off of you, leaving you to curl up on the floor in pain and humiliation.

“Next time I won’t stop there,” he again threatened you with sexual assault. “So you better be ready to talk when I come back in here.”

The lights were out and you were in total darkness save for the air conditioning panel. The cement floor was cold and you shivered, curling in more to try and keep warm. You promised yourself that no matter what they did to you, you wouldn’t talk and you sure as hell wouldn’t work for them.

-

You woke up with a gasp. You had no idea if it was day or night or how long you’d been out. The air conditioning panel read 55 degrees. You couldn’t change you could just watch as the temperature got lower. They were purposely making you as uncomfortable as possible. Your teeth nearly chattered.

In your almost delirious state you wondered if what Graves had said earlier was true. Did 141 hear you scream for help and not come? You shook your head. He had already started trying to brainwash you without you even knowing it.

You passed out again.

-

You woke up and felt yourself being dragged somewhere. One man on each side held your arms as your boots scraped on the ground. You were trying to stay awake but there were periods of blackness.

You woke up on your knees. You weren’t restrained in any way, which you found odd.

“This is probably one of the more brutal ways to try and get information out of someone,”

That voice: Graves.

You met his gaze and glared although even you felt like your glare was losing its power, it’s intensity.

“Show ‘er,” Graves stated.

Rough hands…not Graves’s…grabbed you and before you could register what was happening your face and head was underwater. The water was freezing and you had to effectively stop yourself from taking a breath. They kept you under until you saw black edges in your vision.

Then you were pulled out and shoved backwards, landing on your back, gasping and coughing, and fighting for air.

Graves stepped into view. “Where were you and your team planning on going after this?”

You couldn’t answer on account of you gasping for air.

You shook your head even when you could talk. Catching your breath, you said, “They don’t…they don’t tell me that shit.”

“Really now?” Graves inquired.

You saw he was wearing different clothes so that told you it had been a last a day or at least 12 hours since you were taken. He looked refreshed, rested.

“I’m a translator,” you added. “I’m just on for the Mexico stuff.”

“Bull,” Graves snapped.

“I’m bilingual, you moron,” you snapped. “I don’t know other languages.”

“You’re clearly not understanding the severity of the situation here and how badly I want that intel,” Graves responded calmly.

“I don’t have it!”

Graves signaled and although you tried to push those coarse hands away from you, you were unable to. You were too tired, too injured, and you were honestly losing your will power.

You found yourself submerged again and while you couldn’t really tell time anymore, you could’ve sworn that they kept you under longer.

They kept it up and you eventually lost count of how many times they submerged you in the cold water. You could tell it was a while because the water was getting warmer and warmer.

“Jesus Christ, Val” you heard Graves’s voice but it sounded far away. He called you by your nickname (Val from Valdez). He knelt in front of you, making his voice sound clearer.

You wanted nothing more than to lash out and hurt him but there was no way you could. You were weak and dizzy.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Graves added. He reached out, creepily pushing your soaked hair out of your face.

Your gasps for air were the only answer you could give him. You gave up on trying to stay conscious and let the darkness claim you. It was the first time you started thinking about finding a way to take your own life.

-

Graves and his demons came at unpredictable intervals. Several times they brought a Taser. Another time they’d just try and drown you either with actual water or waterboarding. You stopped counting how many different ways they inflicted pain.

Other times they just kept you awake for what seemed like forever.

Graves hadn’t touched you despite his threats of rape. At least not that you remembered. But who knew?

-

You woke up back in the same room you’d been in since you were taken. It was still cold or so you thought. Semiconsciousness was keeping you kind of warm. You didn’t feel pain, at least not much. You still had no idea how long you’d been held hostage.

You forced yourself to sit up and look around. With your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, you could see the room wasn’t large but your brain wasn’t able to come close to calculating the dimensions. A glint of light caught your eye. It was something under the air conditioning control panel.

You walked over to it, stepping quietly to prevent your boots from making noise and attracting unwanted attention. You found yourself unsteady on your feet as you knelt next to the item. It was glass.

A piece of glass big enough to…

You grasped it. You gripped it tightly and it cut into your right hand. The shrill pain was welcome only because you were inflicting it on yourself. Your hand became warm and sticky with blood. It was definitely sharp enough.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to go through with it now that the situation was right in front of you. Maybe just cut deep enough to force them to bring you to the emergency room? Were there even any emergency rooms around here? You had no idea if you were still even in Mexico.

The horizontal cut to your wrist oozed blood. You almost instantly regretted your decision. But then again did you really? You could only take so much more of this. You were terrified that you’d break and reveal something. Even if it was trivial you still considered it treasonous. And the last thing you wanted to do was be like Graves: a traitor.

You lowered yourself to the ground and dropped the piece of glass next to you. You sat in a corner. The corner faced the door diagonally so no one would be able to sneak up on you. You pulled your knees to your chest and rested your head on your knees.

You weren’t sure if it was exhaustion or death gripped you but you allowed it.

-

You woke up and you weren’t sure if you were dead and in hell or whether you were alive, right back where you started.

Someone was kneeling over you and you instantly knew who it was. He made your skin crawl. You felt him grip your left wrist in a tight grip. Blood still seeped through his fingers.

“Fucking hell,” you heard him whisper. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

That last word echoed in your head for what seemed like forever.

-

“That was an insane thing to do,” Graves’s voice cut through the comfortable cocoon you were in.

You felt different. You were lying on cold concrete like you had been for who knew how many days and nights.

You were in…a bed? Had you been rescued? Maybe you’d only imagined Graves’s voice.

“Hey,” Graves’s voice again.

You tried to push him away from you but found your right wrist cuffed to something.

“I’m in hell, aren’t I?” you croaked.

“A version of it,” Graves replied. “You don’t have to be though.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you groaned.

“You needed stitches,” he said.

Everything came into focus and you were on a bed with a thin mattress. Your brain still couldn’t comprehend what you cuffed to.

“Can’t have you doing that,” he then paused before sadistically adding, “if you wanted to finish yourself off you should’ve cut vertical.”

You remained silent and simply let that same darkness consume you again.

[anguishedlurker]

A Twisted Situation

Phic Phight for @bellsandmischief / bellsandmischeif on ao3! Prompt "Board game night! The crazier the combination of characters, the better!"

I physically need you all to know that this just sort of happened in about two and a half hours. I didn't write, I was fucking posessed at 3.4k words. Here it is in Ao3 glory

Sam was gong to kill someone, actually.

Star’s lips peeled back in something that couldn’t be called a smile as she waited for Sam to make the first move, waving the hat menacingly.

“I will start a fight you can’t end. Don’t.”

Star’s eyes narrowed before sense washed over her expression, shaking rage off with a short jerk of the head, proper fake smile bouncing straight into place.

Dammit, Sam needed the excuse to leave. Even if it was in cuffs.

“Nothing?”

“Buy your school charity game night pass or leave. You’re gonna build a line, and I don’t care what your issue is, even if it’s really obvious.”

Sam was probably going to kill Tucker worse than she was going to kill Danny, this time.

Danny was… Danny. If box ghost showed up, then getting ditched wasn’t about her.

But Tucker?

“Not that you asked, but apparently the losers forgot to do their homework and now need to do it last minute.”

Sam was going to kill Tucker for not having a better excuse to ditch.

“They do homework?” Star asked, chipper as she watched carefully.

Case in point….

“That’s what I said.” Sam sighed, finally moving to pull out her wallet.

Stupid damn ghosts wrecking the stupid damn scoreboard and pieces of the football field, making Ishiyama panic to get a budget for fixing it now and not next year.

Begging on her knees to Vlad or Sam’s parents was not ideal, and Sam had to admit that this was a better option.

“You donating extra to add to the community ticket pool?” Star asked, leaning back in the shit chair in disinterest, shaking the hat in a taunt.

“Considering I only have a hundred on me, yes.”

Star’s eyebrows raised at that, but she ultimately didn’t remark on it as she put the hat down to unlock the register and shove the hundred in.

It was definitely a first class problem, but one of these days Sam was going to end up tearing out hair over trying to explain that hundred dollar bills are not appropriate amounts of cash to take to so much as an average middle class outing, let alone a charity event in the school gym.

It didn’t have to be her hair either. Violence on her mother sounded nice far too often.

Star absently tossed down four poker chips right behind a sign reading ‘DONATED EXTRA TICKETS’, and picked the hat back up. The crinkle of the numbered paper bits were a guise for the gods laughing at her, Sam was sure.

“Your move, Sam.”

And yeah, it sure was her move.

~

Group four. Japanese number of death, not that it mattered.

Group four, over on the left side of the gym. Wes and Ishiyama eyed her as she approached.

Nobody spoke as she held her paper piece for viewing.

“You know what, I think dad was right. This isn’t worth it.” Wes informed gravely, moving to stand.

“Sit. It’ll be fine, and you got half in advance.” Ishiyama informed, twice as grave.

“The hell does half in advance mean?” Sam accused, already looking to leave again.

Bite her, this was gonna go badly and she needed out.

“Wes has been hired to take some photo’s to help with paper coverage.” Ishiyama stated mildly, her expression warning that if Sam was anyone else the verbal abuse would be much more severe already.

“Okay. Can I ask why Stevie and-” Sam started, motioning to Wes as she spoke even as she made eye contact with Ishiyama.

“You know the butcher place?” Wes asked, cutting off her solicitation of a scathing remark. Ishiyama’s smile tightened, because Stevie and Logan probably were the original plan. Yet, she remained silent.

Dammit. Just this once, provoke her. Give her the excuse.

Bu yeah, fine. Sure. Whatever.

“The one down on-”

She could play ball. She could totally ace the polite conversation contest she and Wes were definitely having.

“They weren’t inside, technically, but like… it’ll be another week.”

Sam cringed in understanding. Lunch Lady and Skulker had both done their number on the joint.

“Well, everyone knows I don’t miss the place, but… Anyone made a card yet?”

They were an alarmingly destructive pair, and debris is rather dangerous to the average person.

“It’ll probably be the homeroom activity on Monday. Now smile, Manson.” Wes sighed, holding up the camera.

Sam immediately made the ugliest grimace she could, even as Wes scowled at her.

“Don’t give me that. I’m with Ishiyama for tonight, and Ishiyama is is in charge of group four. And like, I want to play! Part of my thing was free admission to play. What’s the point of a fight?”

“It just means I go down with you, idiot. And if I go down, I’d do it swinging anyways.”

“Take a seat and wait for the rest of the group.” Ishiyama finally growled, pointedly not looking at either of them.

~

“Ishiyama. I am begging you with no shame; You know, already, how this won’t work!”

Ishiyama was just as transfixed as Sam was on Paulina’s approach, Wes too distracted with taking photos to know the danger everyone was now in.

Ishiyama finally broke the trance to give Sam the most miserable look she could, right as Paulina looked up or long enough to see who she was heading for.

Wes continued to very narrowly evade losing the social politics required to keep from being punched by Dash over in group six, oblivious.

Paulina carefully looked at Sam, glancing at Ishiyama.

Paulina carefully looked at Ishiyama, glancing at Sam.

Sam grimaced and pointed at Wes, who was rapidly realizing that Dash might actually hit him this time.

Paulina immediately fixated on Wes, wide-eyed.

Wes, making his exit, turned to find out that paulina was staring at him, and Sam had swapped to pointing at Paulina.

Wes was now staring at Sam, and also pointing at Paulina.

Sam very slowly nodded.

Wes turned to Ishiyama, who was refusing to look anyone in the eye.

Paulina turned to look at the gym doors, clearly mentally calculating the danger and not coming to any favorable conclusions.

Before she could simply turn around and walk out however, Jack Fenton came bellowing in.

“Hey-o kiddo! You in group four too?” He asked, not waiting to loop an arm around Paulina and start dragging.

Wes looked like he was dreaming of the nearest breakable window, but there was money on the line. He began the miserable shuffle towards his doom..

Sam moved to stand, stopped by Ishiyama.

“God help us both child, if this has to be my night then it’s going to be yours too.” Ishiyama demanded, breathing just a little too hard.

“You and what blackmail?” Sam challenged.

“The glitter and glue spray bomb on the cheer team a month ago, straight to your parents.” Ishiyama hissed, just low enough Paulina wouldn’t catch it in her rapid forced approach.

Sam contemplated, and sat back down.

If she got Sam that meant she go Danny, and Danny was on some very thin tightropes right now. Tightropes apparently held by her parents monetary support, because even if Sam got punished they’d pull their next donation for being bothered with such lowly activities.

This was fine. This was going to be so fine. Why wouldn’t it be so fine?

~

“The first game, at least before we are free to chose…” Ishiyama started, taking a shuddering breath.

“Is however far we get in monopoly.”

There were multiple monopoly sets donated for this event, and no time limit on playing.

The limiting factor being potential assault charges was not mentioned as Wes clicked his tongue and Ishiyama and Paulina both plastered on smiles for the camera.

Sam was going to hate that tongue click by the end of the night.

“I love monopoly!” Jack sounded off, missing the sheer rage of the other four people tapped here with him.

~

“I…”

The silence of the third doubles in a row was deafening.

“I sit my little piece in the jail, and leave to go take a photo of group two in twister. Yell at me when someone rolls me out.” Wes huffed, borderline slamming the flatscreen TV token onto the board.

It was the second turn.

Ishiyama had made them take the Electronic Banking monopoly set, to hopefully discourage cheating as she now held the little device that could read their fake little cards. Ishiyama herself gave a faintly wistful look as Wes stomped off, likely dreaming of doing the same.

“Six, not a double.” Sam sighed, hauling her little coin case to the Mall Of America. Obviously she bought it.

Paulina glared at her, the purse token sitting innocently on the Saint Louis Arch. Her master plan of getting all of those spots was ruined, truly.

Might even have to buy it from Sam.

“Alright! My Turn! Two, woohoo baby! The airports are like train stations in this one, right? I’m taking it!” Jack hollered, deafening. Paulina cringed as she reassessed her plans yet again, watching Jack take his second roll straight into Sam’s MOA. Small blessings.

“So, Jack. What brings you, but not your wife.” Ishiyama asked mildly after fiddling with the stupid little device to transfer everyone’s money, picking up the dice and rolling.

She got herself another ten, and was sent straight to the parking lot. Where there was no pot to take.

“Oh, Mads is out chasing that box spook and the town menace!”

“Alone?” Paulina asked flatly, picking up the dice. Nine. Straight into a treasure chest, which she seemed pleased by.

She seemed modestly displeased by the card she pulled, but ultimately didn’t do anything as Ishiyama verified if she was supposed to do anything based on it. Clearly not.

“Mads is smart! And we promised we’d do something to help get the school in order, so I’m here!”

Ah, yes. Because they’re about ninety five percent of the reason the turf was ruined.

“Right then.” Ishiyama soothed, giving Paulina a flat look.

Paulina seemed unbothered at least. Ishiyama tossed the dice for Wes and came up with no doubles.

~

“Utilities are always good.” Jack hummed, getting his cards in order.

“What about your son?” Ishiyama asked, passive as ever.

“Hmmm…. Dunno. I don’t think this is his kinda thing, though.”

Sam was suddenly glad Wes wasn’t here, the doubles ever elusive.

By the way Paulina carefully eyed his position at team two, she was in agreement. Just because she thought he was nuts didn’t mean she was unaware the moment his little “theory” breached containment to Danny’s parents was the same moment secen kinds of hell broke loose.

“I see.” Ishiyama offered flatly, taking her question mark card.

~

“There’s no way none of you have rolled me doubles yet.”

“Tell you what, Wes… do you want us to just do a gentlemans agreement that you can come back in? I’m sure our lovely team here wouldn’t be opposed.”

“I… wouldn’t want to impose. And those photos-”

“No, truly. Sam? Jack? Paulie?”

“Really, no trouble at all Wes. It’d be mean to leave you there.”

“Whatever.”

“Oh, sure thing kids! Come on, all in honor of having fun!”

“I… thank. You. Your generosity towards rule breaking is truly touching.”

“No problem.” Ishiyama hummed, faintly pleased with herself about dragging everyone down with her.

~

Jack Fenton was the luckiest man this side of Amity.

Sure, Sam had gotten both green spaces already, but this was…

“That’s the last airport, right?”

“I think we’re done.” Ishiyama decided. Wes didn’t take his face out of his hands, his TV token sitting in jail again.

Jacks face fell.

“Yeahhhh, it’s not fun when one person dominates. I know it’s like, luck, but we’ve also got other games to do.” Paulina absently remarked, examining her nails.

“It’s like you’ve forgotten you hate us. Where’s your fast exit?” Sam taunted.

“Samantha.”

“Haven’t. You’re just more invested than I am. And my brother drove me because my engine blew, so I’m stuck anyways because I’m not taking a ride from any of you.”

Jack seemed to contemplate before making his statement.

“I guess that’s fair. But do you two not really…”

“Worlds most open secret my man, not unlike-”

“Wes. I cannot stress enough that I will simply take the murder charge. Ishiyama is not capable of pulling me off in time.” Sam threatened.

“Principal, are you going to take that!?”

“Yes. Of all the people to antagonize, not him!”

“What?” Jack asked, befuddled.

“Not a problem. Cluedo, anyone? It’s open, now.” Paulina offered, the picture of innocence.

~

Jack really was the saving grace to the whole situation, honestly. Insane luck aside, nobody wanted to pull any social triggers with him around.

Sam because she really didn’t need Danny’s parents to hate her, Ishiyama because Jack was the frontline of a contactable defense in emergencies, Paulina had just mentally checked out, and Wes didn’t want to die by Sam’s hand and Ishiyama’s approval.

“I know I asked about Daniel earlier, but did Jasmine not want to come? Rope, Green, Spa.” Ishiyama prattled off.

Paulina was elbowed not so subtly as the player to the left, pretty much her whole pad at Ishiyama so she didn’t have to ask her to speak again.

“Oh, Jazzy’s out tutoring!”

What? Sam tended to have a pretty good idea of where Jazz was at, given she was backup, and… well...

“I didn’t know Spike was on the tutor list.” Sam prodded.

“Manson, who?” Wes asked, glaring.

“Uhhh. I think it’s Edward? Edward… something. I don’t know what his last name is, actually.”

“Edmund Cox. His parents are like, freaks about Narnia.” Paulina offered, realigning with reality as Ishiyama blatantly cheated off Paulinas notepad in the background.

Nobody said anything for a half beat.

“Why do you know that?” Wes finally bit out.

“Money hides in odd places, and I know many with money.” Paulia said, almost totally tranquil as she gave Sam the stink eye.

She could keep at it, nobody would ever believe her that Sam was rich.

“I dunno that Jazzy tutors any Edmunds… You sure she knows an Edmund?”

Ishiyama cleared her throat, and Wes tossed the dice down to move a few more spaces.

A grand total of two.

“Okay, well, I’m sure Jasmine is helping your son. You know, with his homework.” Wes hissed, trying to kill Sam with his eyes.

“Hell if I know, I’m stuck here with you all.”

Wes deflated as Jack finally made it to the kitchen.

“Green, knife, kitchen!” Jack cheered, pointing at Wes to fork over information.

~

Sam was starting to get the picture of the murder, but something was wrong.

Very wrong.

“You. Scarlett, living room, bat!”

“Nothing! You! Loser! Stop trying to catch me lying!” Paulina screamed, barely restraining herself from throwing the entire notepad at Sam’s skull.

“If he doesn’t have it, and you don’t have it, and SHE doesn’t have it, then who has the god damn-!”

“Peace, children.” Ishiyama warned, clearly not believing that peace would be achieved.

~

“I just find it all odd.” Ishiyama hummed, pressing Jack for answers about Danny.

“Yeah, well… It’s not like he really opens up to us anymore. Me and Mads chalk it up to teenager stuff, but…”

Wes wasn’t even focused on chewing mental glass over the secrets he wasn’t allowed to spill, that’s how fucked up this game of Clue was.

“So we’re just ignoring that nobody can narrow it down to one murderer?” He hissed, inching closer to Ishiyama. “We’re just having a super casual little conversation about the idiots school life?”

Ishiyama finally connected that she was only skating by a shitfit from her captive audience because everyone was in an old western style stalemate, and turned to the board again.

“It is very strange….”

“I give. I fucking give. I give up and I’m looking in the fucking packet and I’m taking the loss.” Paulina ranted, snatching up the little yellow envelope before Ishiyama could protest.

Everyone pretended they weren’t super pissed about it when four cards fell out instead of three.

“We have two murders. Green and Scarlett in the kitchen, with the bat.”

Nobody spoke.

“Well… what’s our next game, then?” Ishiyama asked, slightly strained. Even Jack looked mad at this twist.

~

“Left hand blue.” Wes called, exactly as miserable as the rest of them.

Why twister? Who decided that letting Jack Fenton pick was a good idea?

~

Sam crab shuffled between the apropiate colors for limbs so that her head was closer to Ishiyama’s. Wes gave her an unpleasant look for technically cheating, but remained silent. Taking limb detangling off the option list was lethal.

“Call it.”

“UGH! Right foot green.” Paulina wailed, twisting even worse to make it work.

“You know I can’t. I don’t want to plead with Vlad, and this already isn’t enough. Everyone needs to walk away with perfect opinions so they come to the next one, and how can they do that if the organizer won’t play?”

“What about Vladdie!?” Jack called, getting dangerously close to having to stick his head under Ishiyama’s ass.

“Bullshit.” Sam barked, calling bluff. “Not a damn person would seriously rail at you about it.”

“Yes. They would.”

“Left hand blue.” Paulina called miserably. Jack went stock still as he now had very critical choice about where his center of balance, and thusly his head, was going to start drastically leaning to.

~

“Move, loser!”

“I physically cannot! Get your ass off my back first!”

“Get your thigh off my fucking-”

Jack, having detangled from Ishiyama a bit ago, muttered something about him and his bad decisions.

“Right foot yellow.” Wes informed innocently from the safety of the losers seats, watching as Sam and Paulina tried to break each others spines without falling over.

~

They had a crowd for this lunacy. Wes, so safe and cozy from the chair, was busy imortalizing the event with pictures. Even Ishiyama was openly unamused about her humiliation, trapped under Jack’s massive rear, desperately trying not to get squished by his leg curing back underneath..

Sam didn’t have very appropriate thoughts about the way Paulina was twisted around her, and she really wasn’t trying to be crass about it but god if she could do this in twister then professional level gymnast routines would be a joke for her.

“I think you should like, get tested for joint issues. Before you maybe fuck them up permanently.”

“Suck it, Manson!”

Dash gave an extremely pleased look as the spinner stopped spinning, having taken the damn thing from Wes.

… No.

“Left”

No.

“Hand”

No!!!

“Blue.”

Wes coughed from laughter as all four of them started screaming.

First Ishiyama fell. There was nothing near her that didn’t tangle her worse in Jack’s leg than she already was.

But then Jack, who had to contort into the bridge position just to make it to a blue circle, got a short stocky principal to the leg.

The carnage was immense. You couldn’t see Ishiyama’s head underneath Jack’s ass.

But then, Sam.

Second place wasn’t too bad, she decided as her wrist gave. It just couldn’t do it anymore.

And Paulina, tangled around Sam like she was, came down with her.

Yeowch…

The whole gym cheered, reveling in the chaos.

Paulina stared at the ceiling from beside Sam, expression unintelligable.

“I’m done.” Was all she said, unmoving.

Which, fucking same.

Wes laughed even harder, taking photos of Jack rolling off Ishiyama.

“You can’t stop us from leaving, anymore, Ishiyama. This was it. Nothing can keep me here anymore.” Sam declared, doing her best to detangle from Paulina’s limbs.

“I, too, yield. It was fun while it lasted.” Ishiyama wheezed.

“No. It wasn’t.”

“I think I should go check on Mads and the kids.” Jack decided, not moving from his side despite the declaration.

Wes was still too buy laughing as Sam did a four legged crawl off the twister board.

“You need a ride, kiddo?” Jack offered, still unmoving.

“Absolutely not.”

“I do.” Paulina decided.

But Sam was already heading for the door, trying to erase the whole night from her memories.

Tucker would never let this die once the news broke. Which meant she’d have to kill him even harder than before.

Still, that was a job for tomorrow. Right now? She sword to herself the entire school would burn before she could be coaxed into another charity game night.

[love-as-simple-as-shaving-soap]

Sooooooo... someone mentioned wanting a drabble of sorts about chenford + finding out the other was in danger in 5x11, so I thought I'd give it a go

“Hey, I heard over the radio you had to call backup units to your domestic, are you okay?” Tim asks as he finds her standing in the break room.

She doesn’t turn around, so he tries one more time, “Lucy?”

“Before you say anything, just remember that I can and I did take care of myself, so don’t freak out” she says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She finally turns to face him and he sees it— her lip is busted open and she has rogue strands of hair in her face.

“He attacked you?!” He can’t help it. He knows that her small warning was meant to prevent him from reacting this way, but he can’t help it. His blood pressure rises and he can feel equal measures of fear and anger move through him like an electric shock.

“What did I just say, Tim?” The look she gives him reads as slightly annoyed, yet fondly knowing. She does know him too well, after all— which is why she decides that maybe she should leave out the part of also having a gun pointed at her.

He reaches for her face, instinctually wanting to brush away the hair from her face before stopping himself just inches away. Tim retreats a step back and looking out he glass to the bullpen before clearing his throat, “you’re going to need some ice and more ointment for your lip.”

“Yeah, not my first busted lip, believe it or not,” she says with a light chuckle.

“I know. But things are… different. You’re riding alone now and I’ve always worried about you, even when we were riding together, you know that.”

“I know,” she says softly.

“If anything happened to you Lucy—”

“I know, Tim. Same.”

He continues, “I guess before, when we rode together, I felt like I could be there in that moment if you needed me.”

“You can still be here for me, you know?”

Tim ponders this for a few moments. His face turns from worry and concern to something more… mischievous? “True… I can actually be the person to help fix you up now. I’ve got a very well-stocked first aid kit at my place.”

Lucy breaks into a wide smile before remembering her injury and lets out a hiss and then a resigned sigh. “Yeah? You think you can do better than the EMTs on the scene?” she teases.

Tim smirks, “Well, I—“

“Oh! Lucy, I’m glad I caught you before you left. I heard about what happened, are you okay?” Angela asks as she comes through the door and makes her way to the vending machines.

“Yeah, just some cuts and bruises, I’m fine.” Lucy replies as she eyes Tim pointedly.

“I know, but it must have been unsettling to have the victim turn on you and point a gun in your face when you came to help her,” Angela says, inserting coins into machine.

Just as Tim’s eyes widen in shock and his jaw drops in outrage, Angela continues with her back still turned to them, “Then again, at least you weren’t actually shot at today.”

“You guys were shot at today?!” Lucy tilts her head and narrows her eyes at Tim.

Tim finally interjects, “It wasn’t a big deal… Angela and I didn’t actually get injured or anything. Angela and I are fine.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re- I mean, you and Angela are fine,” Lucy says with a huff and a small smile. It's clear to her that this is a conversation they should continue, but perhaps not in the break room with Angela just feet away. “Anyway… I should get going, I told a friend I’d meet up with them tonight.”

Angela finally turns from the vending machine, bag of chips in hand, and eyes them both. “Hmmmm… that sounds nice. How about you Timothy? What are you doing tonight?”

Tim shrugs, “Nothing.”

[walder-138]

Hey Pooks! ♥️ Here for the funny ask game for any of your OCs!

🚗 - “who are they on a road trip?”

🧃- “do they drink apple juice? (That’s not a metaphor for anything i just mean normal Apple juice)”

🫵 - “IF you met them IRL what would you do? what do they say to you?”

🏛️- “they’ve suddenly become President of the moon. What do they do?”

Heyo pookie bear! It’s nice to see you again!!!!

(🚗) Oz is the driver. Hands down, no doubts about it. He would double check to make sure everyone has gone to the bathroom, and he will NOT stop the car until they get to a rest stop. He doesn’t wanna hear about how tired or hungry or how much you need to piss, he will not stop the car once he gets to the highway.

If you have snacks, you best believe Oz’s gonna do that hand-bowl thing at you. Chances are he did pay for it, AND he’s paying for gas, and he’s driving the car… yeah, give him a handful or two. Or three. Or four. Or all of it. Would also ask for a sip of your drink, then precede to drink half of it.

Abbey is the substitute driver and overpacks for the road-trip. It’s like she expects that the car will crash, someone to get shot, a bridge to collapse, and the police to start chasing them. She shoves so much shit into the car for an 8-hour trip that they can barely fit any people in it. Abbey would definitely the most responsible person in the car, and would make sure the driver rests when necessary.

You would never get bored in a car ride with Abbey. She’s got everything. If you complained, she’d hand you a kaleidoscope. If you were hungry, she’d give you a bag of chips. Abbey will play rock paper scissors with you. She wants everyone to have a good trip, and somebody being in a mood’s gonna fuck that up.

Annika starts genuinely tweaking after about an hour on the road. After the realization hits that she’s gonna have to stay still for 8 hours, the moment she starts acting up. Annika would torture everyone in the car for no reason other than boredom. The driver would kick her out or put her in the trunk.

You better hope you aren’t sitting next to her or she’s gonna put a wad of chewing gum in your hair. Better yet, get her a book or to distract her for about 15 minutes as you pray to whatever God/s you believe in that she falls asleep.

(🧃)

Oz: “I’m not fucking five years old.”

Abbey: “I love apple juice.”

Annika: “Am I allowed ferment it?”

“No? Well fuck you too then.” (yes)

(🫵)

Okay, if I saw a motherfucker that looked like him and was named Oswald walking down the pavement, I’d deadass cross the street. I don’t care how many cars are coming, I’d do anything to get as far away from him as possible. Even if we didn’t know each other, I’d still walk away from him. Oz is too unsettling.

“So ya like to play God, huh? Fuck around with mine, and everyone else’s lives? I can’t believe I let sum goddamned teenager drive my life like this. Well, guess it’s time for me to cut your story short. Was gonna have a boring ending anyway.” 😳 (I’m so dead) (the shit I put him through) (I think he had it worse than the other two)

I’d get along pretty well with Abbey. She’s nice, and tries to give everyone a chance. Even if I’m the reason for every bad thing in her life. I’d go on awhile, thinking that she doesn’t know who I am, until she’d grab me by the shoulders and stare into my eyes.

“You treat us as if we’re not real. As if we’re just figments of your imagination. Yet here I am now, skin, blood, and bones. I’m still here, you have not, and will not change. Our suffering is entertainment for you, and you call yourself a good person? You say you love us? If this is your love, then I’m happy I don’t know you well enough to see your hate.” (she grew up in a cult, so knows how to make people existential .) (she wouldn’t hurt me, but she will keep me up at night.) (She doesn’t like hurting people, but she doesn’t like being a doormat) (She’s usually such a sweetheart why-)

Same thing with Oz, I’d cross the street if I saw Annika. I could tell there was something off about her from that look in her eyes. That barely noticeable tremor and the thousand yard stare. Annika is a erratic, unstable, and unpredictable individual, I’d probably call 911 on her ass.

“You should have given me a redeeming quality. Something that I’ll see in your eyes that will make me not want to kill you, or some other peachy bullshit like that. You’re a writer, you should have consider these things! Dumbass!”

(🏛️) (💀)

Oz would immediately invest in anti aircraft weaponry as he knows the United States would be after his ass in about 2 days.

Abbey would probably end up selling the moon for money.

Annika would burrow underneath the surface of the moon as she believes somebody is going to try and assassinate her.

Thank you again for the ask!

[deepdisireslonging]

Broken Negotiations

Bullet Club Gold kidnapped the Reader as a bargaining chip to worm Jay White into a championship match with Ricky. He’s supposed to have back-up. Family and friends that the Reader called in for such an occasion. But things go terribly wrong.

Pairing: Ricky Starks x Moxley!Reader

Warnings/Promises: canon-level hostage situation and violence, ANGST, choking, unhappy ending, whump in general

Word Count: 1040

Note: Yes, writing the reader as Jon Moxley’s cousin is my favorite trope. There’s just so many opportunities for angsty family situations that way. I’m not about to change now. Also, Ricky is really pretty when he's in distress. And I was in an angsty mood earlier this week. Happy, or unhappy reading!

The thin padding of foam under the ring’s canvas did nothing to protect your knees. You grunted when Juice Robinson dropped you, pressing a heavy hand onto your shoulder. On either side of you, Jay White and the rest of the Bullet Club Gold chuckled at your distress. You wouldn’t flinch. Wouldn’t budge. They could make all the demands they wanted, but you wouldn't let them use you to achieve their goals.

Still, tears burned behind your eyes at the scene in front of you.

Ricky’s chest was heaving. The dark bags under his eyes made him look like he hadn’t slept in weeks, much less the six nights since you’d been kidnapped. The championship dangled worthlessly in his hand. Like he’d drop it in a second.

You couldn’t let him do that.

As for the figures standing with him, they didn’t reassure you as much as you’d hoped. Your cousin, Mox, looked ready to hurl himself across the ring to bludgeon his way through your kidnappers. But Claudio’s hand on his shoulder kept him nervously in place. Yuta stood on Ricky’s other side. Cold. Calculating. Watching the ramp and the audience behind them for any tricks. But the way they stood apart from Ricky… The back-up was there for you. If things went south, you would be the only one looking out for him.

“You ready to… negotiate, Starks?” Jay laid a hand on the top of your head. Before his fingers could dig into your hair, you pushed it away. Juice’s grip tightened on your shoulder. “Here she is. Undamaged. Mostly, give or take a bruise or two. As promised.” Jay angled his head as a challenge. “You gonna hold up yours?”

Ricky looked down at the championship in his hand. Then he looked at you. Exhausted.

You shook your head. Not like this.

You yelped as Jay jerked you to your feet, hugging you close. His tight grip around your rib cage didn’t waver as you struggled for more room to breathe. “You don’t have to hand it over. Just agree to the match. Just you and me. Everybody else stays backstage. Your pretty one here,” he dug his nose into the space under your ear, “she can be on commentary though. Where we both can see her.” He passed you back to Juice, who held a hand over your mouth to keep you from interfering.

Still, you shook your head. Glaring at Jay, then at Mox, you did your best to signal to everyone you could that, under no circumstances, was Ricky to agree to any of these terms. Which would change the second that Jay needed them to whether that was now, or during the match.

You bit down on Juice’s finger, making him shout. “If you wanted a match so badly, why didn’t you ask Tony for a contract signing?” With a grunt, you continued to struggle to get out of the arms around your waist. “I know why. It’s because you don’t deserve one. There are better wrestlers with better winning streaks than you right now, and you’re not at the front of the line. So you’re trying to cut. It won’t work. I won’t let it-“

As Juice’s arm wrapped around your throat, you squeaked. Angling his body back, your feet left the canvas. He muttered “now I gottcha.” His mocking laugh buzzed in your brain as your oxygen depleted, and your struggling lessened.

“Alright!” Ricky tossed down the championship. Jay’s eyes greedily watched it crumple in the space between them. “She’s right, you don’t deserve one. But you can have a match. Right now. I don’t care.”

“No-“ Your vision began to spot.

“Let her go. And call a ref. For every bruise you’ve given her, I’m gonna break two bones in your body.”

The horror had only just begun.

While Ricky threatened Jay with every pain known to man, Claudio inched into his space. Juice released you just enough for your vision to clear in time to see the following struggle. Ricky’s mic dropped to the canvas with a bouncing thump. He flailed. His eyes bulged, then shut against the panic as the grip around his throat tightened. His nails clawed into Claudio’s forearms and shoulders where he could reach. Yuta watched on, glancing between Ricky beginning to fade and you. Finally, when Ricky stopped moving, Claudio released him. You cried out as his body landed in a heap.

“Alright.” Mox stepped forward, over the championship, into Jay’s space. “You gonna uphold your end?”

Jay grinned. Slowly, he looked at Juice.

You shoved him away when released. “What? Jon, what is this? Ow!” You were unable to dislodge his grip on your arm as he dragged you out and under the ropes. “No. Stop.” You glanced at the ring. Claudio and Yuta had left, working their way around to meet up with Mox. Inside, the Bullet Club Gold circled around Ricky as he started to stir. “Wait. We can’t leave him!”

“You shouldn’t be here to see this. Now come on. I’ve got you.” He nodded for Claudio to grab your other arm.

“You promised! You promised you wouldn’t do this. I asked for your help, to have his back like you’ve had mine. You promised!” You managed to break loose from Mox’s grip at that. In a terrifying mirror of your earlier position, Claudio wrapped his arms around your waist and began to carry you out of the arena. “NO! Please. Ricky!”

In the ring, the Gunn brothers had Ricky on his knees with his arms outstretched. He glanced up, his head lolling side to side as his brain tried to figure out which direction your voice was coming from. Looking for you, he didn’t see the danger. He didn’t see Jay with the championship in hand. He crumpled again as the metal plate on the belt crashed against his forehead. They backed off as a referee entered the ring.

Your vision began to spot again. Screaming for Ricky, so close after Juice had toyed with choking you out… it was too much.

The last thing you saw was Ricky on his feet, knees wobbling, fists up but punch drunk. The bell rang. And your world went dark.

[starsarefire824]

What kind of prompts do you want? Bc the first thing I thought of off the top of my head was byler going grocery shopping together. Domestic stuff makes my heart cry.

It's not my go to sweet anon, but I think I can do that ;)

___________________________________________________________

"Wait," Mike says, grabbing the carton of milk out of Will's hand. Will blinks, his brows creasing in confusion.

"What?" he asks. "We need milk, don't we?"

Mike stares at the carton Will has chosen. It's labeled with red lettering with a stamp of a picturesque farm across the front.

Whole milk.

Mike shrugs. "I mean----yeah. But-----" he raises an eyebrow. "Whole milk?"

Will huffs and rolls his yes. "Yes. Whole milk? What milk did you want?"

Mike shifts on his feet and pulls at the waist of his pants. "Well, I mean----we always drank skim at our house."

Now, Will's mouth opens up a little. Offended. "Skim?!" he asks, scandalized. "Who actually drinks skim milk? You might as well drink water."

Mike shivers a little. It's cold next to the cooler in his ratty white tshirt. It's 1 am on a random, humid Tuesday night. They had classes all day and finals for the rest of the week before Summer break and it's the first time they've grocery shopped together now that Mike has been spending ninety percent of his time at Will's apartment he shares with Max and Lucas.

Mike quite likes the grocery store at night. It's how he always has grocery shopped, even before him and Will had figured their shit out. They've escaped the oppressive heat of the city for an hour and it's delightfully quiet. There's just a handful of customers and one lonely clerk with her head in a book at the check out line. Will's wearing a plain tshirt and his old Levi's his mom bought him from the thrift store senior year. He's cut them into shorts and there's a hole at the bottom of the back pocket where he keeps his wallet. They are a little too tight and a little too short, and Mike thinks he probably needs to give up this pipe dream that he can fit in his clothes that he's brought from Hawkins much longer. See, he's broader now. Grown. A little in height, but mostly in shoulders and thighs and....well, that isn't really the point Mike's trying to make right now.

The point is, his childhood best friend/ very new boyfriend/ basically roommate is trying to convince him to buy the wrong milk. The point is that Will has already tried to convince him that Oreos are better than Chips Ahoy, that turkey is better than ham, that coffee is better than tea, and that mint chocolate chip is better than vanilla.

And now, they are a half hour into grocery shopping and Mike is actually reconsidering their entire friendship.

Who is this person? And why did Mike never know any of these things about his best friend? Was he really not paying that much attention?

He frowns as paintings and veiled "I love yous" and fights in the rain flutter across his mind.

Okay. So maybe he hadn't been the most observant person in the world.

But this is insane.

"Skim milk is better," Mike tells him insistently.

Will's normally pretty top lip turns up in barely veiled disgust.

"Miiike---- you can’t really believe that?" He steals the carton out of his hand and rolls his eyes. "It’s so-----bland."

"It's healthier!" he protests loudly, making a face.

An old woman inspecting eggs across the way looks up at them curiously.

Will scoffs, his hazel eyes briefly darting towards the old woman as he notices her. He leans in a little closer. He whispers, "Skim milk is not healthier Mike!"

"Yes. It. Is----" Mike counters, leaning in so close he notices how Will's hair curls at it's end from the damp and smells his rain-soaked scented soap. "My mom----"

"You're Mom has no idea what she's talking about!" Will exclaims. "She literally told me over Spring break that I should try a cottage cheese diet."

Mike opens and closes his mouth as his brain catches up with Will's words. He stutters.

"Wait, what?" he asks befuddled. "Cottage cheese? Why on Earth would you ever go on a diet?"

"I have no idea Mike! I'm just saying I don't think your mom is like----the best person to be basing our grocery choices off of."

Mike crosses his arms over his body stubbornly, his turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah well," he parries. "You're mom makes mashed potatoes out of a box."

Will's eyes widen and he immediately shoves Mike's chest in offense. "Hey! I like those 99 cent mashed potatoes! Not all of us are made of money Mike."

Mike glowers. "But they're so......" He scrunches his nose. They're soo--- runny."

Will frowns at him, pursing his lips as his eyes widen in shock.

Mike's heart drops into his stomach. Oh shit. He's really done it now. He flinches when Will motions to put the whole milk back in the cooler. He studies Will's face as he glances at him out of the corner of his eye, bracing himself for a lip quiver or an angry huff. Will was always sensitive when it came to his mom. Well, Will was sensitive in general. And he's been through a lot.

Mike reaches out to offer him a comforting nudge. I didn't mean anything by it, he thinks.

But Will continues his efforts putting the whole milk back. He sets it neatly on the shelf where they found it and then grabs another milk, clad in blue writing and picturesque farm stamp complete with a weather vein and a stately rooster.

2 %.

Mike sucks in a surprised breath when Will glances at him through his eyelashes, his hazel gaze bright and amused in the harsh white light of the grocery store. "Here," he says, smiling playfully as he shoves the milk at Mike's chest to put in their basket he has slung over one arm.

"How about a compromise?" he asks teasingly, his eyes more alive than Mike's seen them in a very long time.

Mike smiles, nodding at him as he swallows nervously. Fuck, he's totally gone for this boy isn't he? It truly is amazing how it had taken him that long to figure it out.

"So---" Will announces lightly, bouncing a little as he steps toward the bread aisle. "What if we made turkey melts for dinner tonight with Lucas and Max while we watch Say Anything."

Mike stops mid-step. "Uhmm, it'll be ham--- and really Will? Another John Cusack movie???"

Will blushes slightly at that and it takes all of Mike's energy to keep from grabbing his face and really giving him something to blush about.

"What?! I like John Cusack!" he shrieks, his shoulders going to his ears in embarrassment.

Mike grins at him. "I know you do."

That makes Will blush an even deeper crimson and Mike's stomach flutters happily. He peeks around before hooking his finger through Will's belt loop and tugging gently then peers down at him softly. "I don't really care. I'll watch John Cusack with you whenever you want. Why don't we go get the cheese and then get out of here. We need cheddar."

Will's watching Mike's mouth, his tongue softly gliding over his bottom lip in anticipation. It makes the heat in Mike's belly bloom and damn it all, if they couldn't just be home already. But then....just as Mike leans in to sneak just a taste of his lips against a wall of bread, Will pulls away from him, his eyebrows creasing together harshly. He looks up at Mike with a look of complete exasperation and disbelief.

"Cheddar???"

[illneverbesorry]

Don't Stand So Close To Me - Part 2

Don't Stand So Close To Me - Part 2

Warnings - Swearing, teacher/student relationship

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

________________________________________________

Your cheeks hurt from the smile that had yet to leave your face since returning to Hogwarts, you had dreaded this moment all summer, but sitting here now you were truly happy. You had kept yourself as busy as possible during the long break, between running through the highlands gathering rare ingredients for Mr Pippin to gathering Beasts for Ms Peck. You had no home to go to, an orphan left completely alone after the death of Fig.

Much to your surprise, and the surprise of many of the Professors, he had made you his benefactor in an amendment he made to his will just a few weeks before his sad passing, having no children or other family of his own. It hadn’t been much, a small cottage in a distant village and some savings, but far more than you had ever expected. It was enough to give you a fresh start after you graduate. Maybe he had realised to seriousness and danger of your situation after all.

Sirona took pity on you, allowing you to stay in a small room she had spare at the Three Broomsticks for help in clearing up and chipping in with cooking for the two of you, she’d become a good friend. Sirona had even helped you go through Fig’s belongings and with selling the cottage to a family that needed it. It was too much for you alone and you couldn’t face living there knowing Fig was gone.

Snapping back to reality, you hear your name being called. Looking over your shoulder you see Natty running towards you. You leap from the floor brushing the dust from your legs and meet her in a tight hug.

“It is so good to see you, my friend! I have missed you so”

“I’ve missed you too Natty” you smile pulling away and dragging her towards your group of friends

She tells you all about her trip back home with her mother, and how she was finally able to go to her father’s grave and that it had brought her some peace.

“But how are you Y/n, at the start of summer you seemed so sad?” holding back a grimace at the memories that flood your mind so put on a tight smile.

“I’m doing better Natty, I…wasn’t in a good place but I’m trying to move forward now”

Natty smiles and reaches for you newly styled hair “Yes I can see you have made some changes; it suits you my friend” (deliberately left this vague – imagine a new cut or perhaps a new colour – just different)

You all spent hours talking before heading to the Great Hall for dinner and the sorting ceremony. You could feel Sharp’s eyes burn into you as you sat there smiling and clapping the new students.

After Black’s customary annoyingly long speech your all headed your separate ways to your dorms but before you could leave the Great Hall, Professor Weasley called for you. You follow her to her office, making polite small talk as you walk but you get a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Now Y/n. I have reviewed your request I received this summer and I must say I was shocked, wanting to drop you NEWT Potions class, especially after getting an O in your Owls it seems to come so naturally to you” She folds her hands calmly over the letter.

“Yes Professor, I did some thinking and…. I just can’t see myself needing it and as I’ve taken on so many other classes….” you hurried for an excuse, in all honesty you hadn’t been expecting to be called out on it like this you’d been expecting an owl in return.

Professor Weasley watched you closely, as if she knew something she couldn’t have possibly known.

“Well, I spoke to your other Professors including Professor Sharp and we are all in agreement that giving how you’re already a year into your NEWT classes and the fact that you caught up so effortlessly your first year with us, we feel you will handle all of your classes perfectly well and succeed in your NEWTs.” She smiled as though she had just solved all of your problems “However Professor Sharp did mention that if you feel you needed the extra help, he’d be very happy to assist you after classes had ended”

You force a smile onto your face, Merlin’s beard did she really need to involve the entire staff? Let alone HIM?! To use a muggle expression, it’ll be a cold day in hell before you ask him for help. You’d rather fail than admit weakness to him. Childish? Maybe, but you had tried to leave the damned class so this could all be avoided.

The next morning you skip breakfast, instead feeling the need to slowly get ready for the day instead of sitting in the loud Hall. You made your way to the library once you’d dressed to meet Natty as you both had a free period. You flop down at the table, all the joy you felt to be back at Hogwarts yesterday gone.

“I take it the meeting with Professor Weasley did not go well?” Natty asks watching you closely

“No, she won’t let me drop potions. I really don’t want to sit that class this year” you sigh, Natty didn’t understand your reasoning as obviously she had no idea about your former relationship.

“I still don’t understand, potions is one of your best subjects. I know Imelda made a few nasty comments ‘Teacher’s pet’ and such but surely that can’t be the reason?” you clench your jaw when Natty mentions Imelda, she was the start of the whispers and snickers that drove a wedge between you and Aesop to begin with. “Did Sharp do something? Say something?  My friend, if something happened, if something is wrong, I would have you tell me”

“No Natty, its nothing like that” you try to calm your friends mind “I just wanted to be done with it. But what’s done is done. You’re my partner though, Garreth can sod off and find someone else, you’re going to keep me sane his year”

The joke about Garreth broke the tension and the conversation could move on. You wish you could tell her the truth, you guessed that was always part of the problem, things were always going to be a secret.

Your classes flew by and the final lesson of the day came around far too quickly. Potions.

You skulk into the room and see Natty had already grabbed a desk, you hurry over and take the seat next to her just in time to see Garreth walk up and glare at you. You smirked at him and waved him on, if you were going to have to sit in this room again when it was filled with memories that now cause your heart to ache you were going to do it with one of your best friends by your side.

You hear his footsteps behind you before you hear his voice and your entire demeaner changes. The smiles and giggles gone and in place was a stone face and emotionless expression.

“This term we shall begin with brewing an extremely powerful sleeping draught, Draught of the Living Death, you may begin” his voice and tone still sent shivers up your spine. You tear your eye away from him as he lowers himself into his chair.

You pick up your potions book and begin to pull out your ingredients, you freeze when you see that you lack two of them. “Shit” you mumble, this was not a good start.

“What’s wrong?” Natty whispers pretending to look down at her book

“I don’t have all of the ingredients; I wasn’t expecting to be here I didn’t get them” you sigh rubbing your forehead.

“I’m sorry Y/n I don’t have extras” Natty panicked for you. You squeeze her arm kindly and sit back down closing your book. You get a few frowns and odd looks from a few classmates but ignore them.

You look over at Sharp, knowing he’s been watching you since class began. Holding his gaze firmly you offer no clear explanation for your lack of work.

“Does there seem to be a problem Miss L/n? or do you simply feel like taking a rest in my class?” your eyes burn into his, the class goes deadly silent…. he’s never called you out like this before.

“It seems sir, that I am lacking a few ingredients, since I wasn’t planning on being here, I didn’t collect them”   

“I do not allow poor planning as an excuse; you will be completing this potion during detention tomorrow evening when you have bought the ingredients….and that will be 20 house points” murmurs of shock filled the room. He wasn’t even that harsh with Garreth after a bad experiment. “Back to work the rest of you”

You hear a snicker from behind you “Looks like she not Teacher’s Pet now” Imelda laughed to her friend; your blood boiled.

“Shut it Imelda, don’t you have some time trials to beat?” you smirk, knowing that she still had yet to beat your course speeds 2 years on, making her glare at you and mess up the boiling of her potion.

“Miss L/n, I’ll see you after class” Sharp called across the room.

After most of the students had fled the room Natty moved to stand “Shall I wait for you outside?”

“No this could take a while; I’ll meet you in the Great Hall” she nodded and left, casting a worried glance over her shoulder.

You watched the door close before getting to your feet and walking confidently over to Sharp’s desk. He annoyingly didn’t even look up; you huffed and cleared your throat only for his to raise his hand silencing you.

Clenching your teeth you try to resist calling him an ass, knowing you’d only have to spend more time in detention with him. After keeping you waiting a few more seconds you raised his wand and cast a silencing charm around the room. ‘Ah’ you thought ‘so he’s expecting a full-blown screaming match’

“I expect an explanation Y/n” he said calmly placing his wand down on the desk.

“I’m not sure what further explanation I can offer you sir” you sneer the word out pettily “I didn’t have the ingredients as I was not expecting to be in this class”

“Not about the ingredients about the letter you sent Weasley, trying to drop my class?” you rolled your eyes “you don’t think that was being a little dramatic” you snap your eyes back to his, trying to hold back your temper.

“Let me think, do I think wanting to not be in the presence of the man who broke my heart for any longer that needed to be dramatic? No” you paused causing him to look down in shame but you weren’t done “Do I think not wanting to be in this damn blasted room several times a week when it is full of memories that only cause me pain, dramatic? No, I do not.” You take a breath to fight off the tears that are threatening to form in your eyes.

“But what I do think it dramatic is my Professor being unnecessarily cruel and keeping me here against my will. You have several students drop this class in their second NEWTs year so don’t act like its taboo to do so. You told me yourself last year you expect at least 3 students in their 7th year to drop your class. So why deny me?” his eyes were sad and wide as he sat there and listened to you pour out your heart.

“Why do you insist on punishing me? You made your choice, so why wont you let me make mine?” you begged in a hushed voice

Aesop couldn’t answer, how could he tell you the truth after breaking you like he did. How could he tell you that he couldn’t make it through the day knowing you were in the same castle if he didn’t see you? How he still wakes from nightmares of that night and then lies awake with tears in his eyes? How can he say he’s sorry, that he loves you so much it hurts to breathe without you next to him. That he can’t go into his art room anymore because the drawing he did of you is still on the easel and he can’t bear to look at it.

How can he tell you he’s been watching you from the shadows and not just since school returned, how he stood over the railings in the Three Broomsticks every night when you worked. Or how he’d wait until he’d seen you return there at night after a day for foraging. What would you think of him?

“I expect you back here tomorrow evening with all ingredient to complete your detention. You may go”

You shake your head to him and walk away, swinging open the door and pressing your back to the cold stone outside the classroom. You breathe heavily and slam you hand over you mouth to hold in the sobs trying to leave your throat.  Why couldn’t your heart just let him go?

Sharp runs his hand through his beard and he hears you leave the room. What he wouldn’t give to go back to that day and just keep his mouth shut, he’d not only lost you, he’d changed you. Yes, you laughed and smiled with your friends but you were hardened. He’d made so many promises to himself this year, to keep his distance, to be professional and courteous but it seems all of those promises flew out of the window the second he caught scent of your perfume as he walked past your table in class. The only spec of light in his dark mind now was while you stood there and berated him, his eyes caught glimpse of the locket he bought you, maybe he did still hold a small place in your heart, and what he wouldn’t give to earn it back.

[stardustndreamsofsilver]

Banana Pancakes

Sammy x Reader (f)

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Slowly opening his eyes, Sam wakes up to the golden morning light shining through the window. Rubbing his eyes, he lazily turns over and wraps his arms around you. Running his hand along the curve of your side, he rests his hand on hip and softly kisses your shoulder. Working his way to the side of your neck, you start to wake. Taking a deep breath in, you stretch out your neck to give him better access. 

Sam kisses just below your ear and whispers, “Good morning sunshine.”

Twisting around, you look at him with a smile and say, “Good morning.”

Lifting your arms above your head, you stretch your tired muscles. Bringing your arms back down, you turn to face Sam and wrap them around his neck. Sam pulls you flush against him. Rubbing your nose with his, he smiles before kissing your forehead.

“So, I was thinking. Maybe today is a lazy day.” Sam says as he pushes a stray hair behind your ear.

“That sounds nice, but I’ve got so much to do.” You say with a whine.

“Like what?” He questions, arching his brow.

“Laundry for starters, then I need to work on some embroidery pieces to sell at the art festival next week. Oh, and I need to help you pack for that festival you’re playing this weekend.” You say, turning onto your back and draping your arm across your face.

“I’ll do the laundry and I’ve already packed what I need. I just need your help picking out the suit I’ll wear on stage. I can’t really help you with your embroidery, but I can make sure you have a few uninterrupted hours to work. I’ll make sure Rosie is quiet or if she’s getting too rambunctious, I’ll take her to the park. Please have at least a lazy morning with me.” He says as he takes your wrist and pulls it down off your face.

A smile creeps its way onto your face and you say, “Okay, lazy morning it is.”

Sam’s face lights up and he grins before pulling you in for a kiss. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You sigh.

“I could lay here with you all day.” He says snuggling closer to you. 

Just then, you hear Rosie prancing down the hall and into your room. Before you know it, she’s hopped up onto the bed and paws Sam’s leg whining. Looking at Sam you laugh and say, “Well it looks like Rosie has something else in mind.”

Playfully, Sam sits up and starts rubbing the sides of Rosie’s face and says, “Ugh, Rose Bud Kiszka! You couldn’t give me five more minutes to cuddle your mama?”

Rosie wags her tail and barks in response. Laughing you say, “I think that was a no. She needed your attention now.”

With a fake sigh of disappointment, Sam gets out of bed and says, “Come on girl, let’s go get your breakfast.”

He and Rosie walk to the door before he stops and turns toward you. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

Sitting up and combing your fingers through your hair, you say, “That sounds amazing!”

“What can I get for you? Muffin? Pancakes? Bagel?” He asks.

“Pancakes, please.” You say with a smile.

“Any preference?”

“Surprise me.”

With that, Sam walks out of the room. Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you lean against your pillows and headboard. Scrolling through your socials and replying to some emails, you wait for Sam to come back. Before too long, Sam comes in holding a tray. On it is a little vase with flowers from the backyard, a cup of coffee just the way you like, silverware, a small bowl of fruit and your pancakes. Grinning, you sit up straight as he sets the tray on your lap.

“Your breakfast madam.” He says with a slight bow.

“Why thank you sir.” You tease. “What kind of pancakes are these?”

“I made some chocolate chip banana pancakes.” Sam says with a proud smile as he sits on the edge of the bed, popping one of your blueberries in his mouth.

“That sounds amazing!” You say before cutting a piece and trying it. “That is so good! I think these are my new favorite. Thank you, love.” You say leaning over and kissing him.

“I’m glad you like them. Now you finish your breakfast and I’m going to go start on the laundry.” Sam says as he stands up.

“Thank you again. I really do appreciate you.” You say.

“Anything for you.” 

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