#Posting before I get the hell outta here (front)

[the-chaos-goose]

Every day will wood makes me question how lesbian I truly am

[ckret2]

who wants a prism break?

So, the Theraprism! The Theraprism sucks, right?

This is like, a good day.

The Theraprism clearly sucks.

Have a one shot of Bill escaping Theraprism with the most desperate escape plan imaginable: reincarnation.

(Warning for, as you might expect, psychiatric hospital abuse.)

####

There are fates worse than death. Like boredom, for instance!

####

Everything was black and numb and silent and cold so so cold but no he could only call it cold if he felt cold and Bill didn't feel coldness there was just the absence of a feeling the absence of heat the absence of light the absence of sound the absence of touch the absence of air.

The absence of everything.

Bill had loved a void once—a micro black hole. Every time they touched it slowly killed him, spaghettified his limbs, drained his energy. His energy was so vast that she never claimed a drop of a drop of a drop of his reserves—but it still hurt like nothing else to be crushed and stretched and ripped and consumed by her event horizon. The pain was wonderful. Being shredded was ecstasy.

This void was the opposite of her. 

He couldn't even feel anything when he tried to scream—without air, he couldn't feel his vocal plates vibrate. He couldn't feel his hands, his face, his eye; he tried to bite himself just to feel something and he couldn't feel his mouth, he tried to rip open his wounds and couldn't find them; why couldn't he see his own light, why couldn't he see his blood, where had he gone, was he gone—

Reality returned like a light bulb being switched on.

The first thing he registered was a shrill sound on the verge of inaudibility; and then the pain in his eye, his sides, his wounds; and then the dull gray light, the hard floor under his knees, the antiseptic stench in the air conditioning.

He stopped screaming. The shrill sound stopped.

"Energetic as always, are we?"

Bill blinked blearily at the Orb of Healing Light hovering before him. He croaked, "I'll regurgitate you."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." A glowing translucent clipboard manifested in front of the Orb. "Well, you've gone through this enough times to know the drill! Do you need a moment to recover, or—?"

"No no, I'm fine, I'm fine." Bill slumped forward, trembling hands on the floor, waiting for the vertigo to pass. "I'm fine. Do your thing." He'd rather get the post-Solitary Wellness Void reorientation interview over with.

"Perfect. What's your name?"

"I'm ol' Vinegar Pete."

"No clowning, please."

He sighed loudly. "Bill Cipher."

"Good. Where are you?"

He considered saying hell, but decided he'd used up all the clowning he could risk for one day. He didn't want to go back in. "The Theraprism. Ward 333."

"Very good. When are you?"

"I was gonna ask you," Bill groaned. "How long was I in the hole this time? A million years? Ten million?"

The Orb checked its notes. "Eight minutes."

"Wh—no, no I know that time moves slower out in reality than in the prism. I'm not asking how much time passed in reality, I'm asking how much time passed here."

"Eight minutes," the Orb repeated. "Outside the Theraprism, one third of one second passed."

Bill groaned again and flopped flat on the floor.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Why are any of us here?" Bill asked the gray linoleum tiles. "Usually because some dumb beast tripped into the booby trap that sets off its reproductive process. How's your species work, you pop outta nebulas, right—?"

"I meant, coming out of the Solitary Wellness Void."

"Oh." Bill tried to remember what his infraction had been this time. "Because I failed to escape."

"Because you tried to escape."

If he'd succeeded, they never could have punished him. "Sure."

"Good, you seem oriented to your surroundings. Let's get you to the nurse and then back to your cell." The nurse? What did he need a nurse for?

He only realized then that he must have succeeded in reopening his wounds in the SWV: the never-quite-healed crack across his exoskeleton was wider, the edges chipped and bent. It hurt. His eye socket hurt too; he tasted blood. With the way his whole body usually ached after leaving the void, he hadn't even noticed.

Through the crack in his exoskeleton, his edges had frayed into fine golden threads. The sight of silvery blood on his hands made him nauseous; he hastily looked away and reminded himself it was only his own. 

####

As Bill wearily followed behind the Orb and two security guards followed behind him, he had to periodically turn to hover sideways to streamline himself. These days he was so weak that he could feel the air resistance pushing back against him when he floated; with his wound reopened, he felt like the air pressure could snap his exoskeleton along the crack and break him in half.

"You're not Emmy," Bill said. "You're, uh..."

"A-AOX4."

"Oxyyy," Bill said weakly. "Heyyy. S'been a while. Usually I get a personal welcome back from the void, why didn't Emmy show? Don't tell me it doesn't see me as a threat anymore!" He'd be offended if it didn't. D-SM5 was the closest thing he had to a nemesis these days. Even if he couldn't beat it, he wanted to think he still irritated the daylights out of it.

"Director SM5 couldn't make it. It's overseeing the preparations for Paingoreous's reincarnation."

"That's today? Good riddance." Paingoreous had started getting sanctimonious the past few hundred group therapy sessions—don't you have any compassion for your victims and it's possible to live a happy life without slaughtering all your enemies first and maybe I should ask for permission before I vivisect my friends' faces—passive, self-defeatist crap like that. Vivisecting your friends and seeing who complained was how you found out who your lame friends were! Now that the wet blanket was leaving, the rest of them could get back to spending their sessions reminiscing about the glory days and trying to set the donuts on fire when the therapist was distracted.

"Yes," A-AOX4 said pointedly, "it is good he gets to leave to go become a productive member of reality. We're all so happy that he's rehabilitated enough to earn a new chance at life." (Bill rolled his eye. A-AOX4 ignored it.) "Wouldn't you like a chance to rejoin reality, Bill?"

More than anything. He'd been in this crystallized brain's perpetual dreamscape for what felt like both a thousand years and a single day—time never passing, an eternal inescapable moment. He'd tried to break out, sneak out, or bargain his way out more times than he could count; sometimes he was locked in the SWV as punishment; and sometimes the staff gently stopped him, confiscated his supplies, and chastised him for the effort—and the reminder that he was as powerless as a child was worse than the void. He'd gone delirious from the boredom, hallucinating screams and burning faces as his mind struggled to stimulate itself (and he'd been medicated for it). He'd so despaired of escaping that he'd looked for a way to burn up the remains of his energy and vanish for good (and he'd been medicated for it). He ached with the need to see the stars again.

But not enough to sell his soul for it. If he took the staff's route—let them break him down, sandblast off his rough edges, erase everything that made him him, and finally physically transform him into some alien creature—then whatever left the Theraprism would no longer be Bill Cipher.

"What, and force you guys to find a new 'unique case'? I wouldn't do that to you! I know how much you love me," Bill said. "Besides, why would I go through all that just so I can reincarnate as a sentient snowflake, or Mi-Go antennae lice, or..."

"A butterfly," A-AOX4 cut in, an edge of impatience creeping into its tone. "Paingoreous has chosen to reincarnate as a butterfly. We all think that's a very productive way to channel his desire to digest his own skin."

"Unless it's one of those blood-drinking butterflies, lame." Bill scoffed. "Wait—hold on, you said butterfly? Like an Earth butterfly?"

They were, of course, not actually speaking an Earth language, but an interdimensional pidgin that borrowed words and grammar from dozens of worlds. When around the Orbs of Healing Light that held half the staff positions, Bill tended to speak a dialect of the pidgin that used flashes of light for 40% of its vocabulary. It was perfectly possible that the word Bill knew as "butterfly" was also used for some alien creature, but—

"Yes, an Earth butterfly. A Vanessa atalanta, to be precise."

Aw, boo. Not even a cool butterfly. "He's reincarnating on Earth?"

"Yes. Many of our patients reincarnate on Earth. As long as you're careful about which region and century you reincarnate into, it's at the top of our recommended list of Goldilocks zones."

There was another phrase that Bill recognized, but this time he was sure his definition was not A-AOX4's definition. "Whaaat do Goldilocks zones have to do with reincarnation."

"You didn't pay attention to the orientation session on our outpatient reincarnation program, did you."

"What! I didn't get an orientation session!" said Bill, who probably didn't remember any such session because he didn't pay attention to it.

"Well—we rank millions of planets and their dimensional parallels based on their potential to help patients reintegrate into reality. We do try to set our patients up for success," A-AOX4 said. "To qualify as a Goldilocks zone, a planet has to meet the Theraprism's rigorous list of criteria: its lifeforms, cultures, laws of physics, and position in interdimensional society must all be conducive to a patient's continued recovery. We want to ensure that our patients' new lives are neither so difficult as to retraumatize them, nor so easy as to let them coast by avoiding continued personal growth, but right in the middle, so that they're emotionally and spiritually challenged without being overwhelmed. The Goldilocks zone: a perfect compromise between two extremes."

"Yeah, sure, sounds great." Bill could feel his eye glazing over in disinterest. Fight it, Cipher.

"Do you miss Earth?"

Bill tilted to glance askance at A-AOX4, and was surprised to see it had turned to focus a spotlight on him. Oh—it thought it had finally found a carrot to dangle in front of him. That was a popular strategy here: they figured out what a patient wanted most, and then used it to coax them into good behavior and "rehabilitation"—better still if they could attach a sense of urgency to it. Don't you want to see your descendants again before the last of them dies out? Don't you want to see your homeworld before its sun swallows it? Don't you want to reconcile with your god before the heat death of your universe?

But Bill had no universe, no homeworld, no family; no lovers or friends or gods that hadn't betrayed him and left him to rot here; and he'd remained smugly steadfast in refusing to give D-SM5 and its minions anything else it could use to get under his chitin. He was proud that he was too broken for even the famed Theraprism to fix him.

A-AOX4 probably thought it had finally found an opening. It might be useful to let it keep thinking that.

"You kidding me? Earth? Pfff! I don't miss that overgrown asteroid one bit!" He waved off the suggestion, and winced when the gesture tugged wrong at his reopened wound. "But hey, you don't study a world for millions of years without finding a few things about it to like. The music's pretty good. And the movies and literature, though if you ask me, they peaked between the first two World Wars. I like trees, evolution did a great job with trees. And humans really went off with the architecture. The pyramids? 10 out of 10. And some of the locals aren't bad, I've got a few exes from Earth."

"Do you? How many exes?"

"Living? Just a hundred forty or fifty," Bill said dismissively. "Earthlings just have those pretty eyes, you know? I'm a sucker for a pretty eye! But outside of that, no, there's nothing on Earth for me."

"I see," A-AOX4 said lightly, and dropped the conversation.

Hook, line, and sinker.

####

The original definition of a "Goldilocks zone" came from astrobiology. The Goldilocks zone was the ring of space around a star in which an orbiting planet could support liquid water and thus water-based life: not too close to the star and too hot, not too far and too cold, but just right. Earth, for instance, orbited Sol in its Goldilocks zone.

It was from this definition that other, more metaphorical definitions of Goldilocks zones emerged. Such as the Theraprism's: a world that was neither too stressful nor too boring for a newly brainwashed—sorry, "cured"—patient. And apparently Earth was in that Goldilocks zone, too.

Which was very interesting to Bill—because in their search for a new home, the Henchmaniacs had come up with their own definition of a Goldilocks zone. For them, it was a dimension close enough to the Nightmare Realm with a thin enough barrier that they could easily punch through it, but not so close and so thin that puncturing the barrier would pop it like a balloon and cause the dimension to immediately prolapse into the Nightmare Realm—which was a problem they'd had before. More than once. They needed a dimension they could easily cut a hole into, but control it, so they could slowly pump the Nightmare Realm's contents in. A barrier neither too vulnerable nor too strong, but just right.

And wouldn't you know it—but Earth happened to be in that Goldilocks zone too. Right next to a point in the dimensional membrane so thin, the Nightmare Realm could almost stretch through and kiss it.

####

Since Bill Cipher was infamously known as the last survivor of a trillion-years-extinct species, and had until recently been capable of instantly repairing himself, there were no medical records on how his anatomy worked. It didn't help that at some point eons ago he'd somehow managed to graft a 3D exoskeleton to his 2D anatomy without breaking his own physics, meaning no one had seen his true body in recorded history. Bill knew how he worked, but refused to offer any hints. So the Theraprism staff had to guess at Bill's medical treatment.

But Bill was still made of energy, and even weakened he could eventually self-repair. So whenever his injury was exacerbated, the nurse tended to just patch up his exoskeleton to keep it stable enough to send him back to his room.

On top of his mysterious anatomy, the staff had no idea how to medicate his physiology. They knew he could be medicated—Bill's personal substance (ab)use experiments were notorious far outside the Nightmare Realm—but they had to treat him like a newly-discovered form of life in figuring out what affected him, how it affected him, and how much it took. He'd been on and off hundreds of drugs as they tried to chemically stabilize a mind for which they had no idea what baseline stability looked like. D-SM5 had told him that between the enormous doses needed to impact his energy-based physiology and the vast variety of drugs he'd been through, Bill's medication regimen was the most expensive in the Theraprism. He took some pride in that.

He had very few things to take pride in anymore. He clung to what meager victories he could.

If Bill got his way, he wouldn't be medicated at all. None of the substances they wanted him on were what he'd call recreational. (Although for a while he had gotten away with not telling the docs that one of his antipsychotics had given him a side-effect of kaleidoscopic hallucinations.) Plus there was the fact that he'd heard rumors that quite a few pharmaceutical execs were good pals with a certain director—not that Bill would name names, of course!—that's his motto, Don't Slander Maliciou5ly!

But when he resisted taking his meds, they could send in the guards to pin him down so a nurse could inject a sedative so strong he wouldn't remember anything that happened for the next few hours to months (hard to tell) until they started tapering it off... and although he'd rather die than admit it, after losing that fight five or six times, even he had to admit to himself it was a lot less scary to just take their rotten drugs. Better to go through his days with his mind dulled and hazy than blacked out altogether.

To retain what little pride he had left, he'd reached a compromise with his jailers.

When the nurse had finished attaching the reinforcing splints around Bill's injury, they grabbed a medication measurement cup, filled it halfway with syrupy eye drops, and double-checked Bill's chart as they dropped thirteen different pills (plus a fourteenth pill for a painkiller) in the cup.

As Bill redressed, he eyed the unappetizing cocktail of antidepressants, antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, and things he'd forgotten the purpose of but that probably weren't doing whatever the doctors hoped and definitely weren't doing anything Bill liked. "My straw?"

"Right, right." The nurse handed over one of the wide-diameter disposable white straws they kept on hand for patients who struggled to drink (or, in Bill's case, patients they struggled to get to drink).

Only a tiny fragment of Bill was actually locked up in the Theraprism—like pinching the glowing lure of an anglerfish in a trap while the rest of the fish thrashed outside—and because most of Bill's vast energy was elsewhere, he was nearly powerless. But he still had enough energy to heat up a finger, twist the straw around it, and hold it there until it had melted into a new shape.

The nurse sighed. "Do you have to do that every time? You ruin more straws than you get right."

Imperiously, Bill said, "Leave me to my whimsy." He tugged off the straw when it had cooled down to examine the corkscrew shape he'd made. The wall was a little flattened in one place, but he could pinch it back open. "See? It's perfect!" Cheerfully ignoring the nurse, he stuck the straw in his cup and slurped down his pills like tapioca balls. He tried not to remember what was in them.

A-AOX4 had left Bill with the nurse, but the two mall cops with medical kinks known as Bill's personal guards were still waiting nearby. The nurse's office was next door to the cafeteria—for ease of patients picking up their medications at meal times—in an anteroom that was connected to the rest of the ward by a set of locked double doors. A couple of guards were stationed near those doors at all times, and generally the guards assigned to Bill hung around with them while Bill was in the cafeteria or nurse's office. Bill floated up to them, regarding them with the disinterest of a king ignoring the servants he expected to open doors for him, and continued to ignore them as they escorted him back to his cell, one in front and one behind, while he sipped on his drugged cocktail.

The Dimensional Tyrant Ward was already one of the most heavily-guarded wards in the Theraprism; but to reach the maximum security cells, a patient had to pass several increasingly heavy security checkpoints with increasingly impenetrable security doors. The final door was warded against all magic, unhackable, unbreakable, and so airtight that even without his exoskeleton there was no gap Bill's 2D form could slide through. The doors to each cell—outfitted with tiny one-way mirror portholes, no latches or hinges on the inside—were a little less heavy duty, but packed with just as many failsafes. The Dimensional Tyrant Ward's max security hall had the most advanced security architecture of any psychiatric facility in the multiverse.

Bill had made a trillion year career of trying to break his way through a door nobody wanted him to go through. He could think of seven different ways to get through the doors. Sooner or later he'd find a way out of this place altogether.

A few of the doors had modifications: this one with a metal slab over the porthole to protect passersby from the occupant's petrifying gaze, that one with extra soundproofed padding coating the door. Bill was almost insulted his own door didn't warrant any special modifications.

His favorite door was The Beast's. A comfortingly yellow triangular sign on the door displayed a black symbol of a steak. Red signs above and below read "CAUTION! FEED UNSEASONED MEAT ONLY." "NO SUGAR ALLOWED." The Beast's heavy snuffing was audible through the door; his hot, sickly sweet breath seeped through the slot in the door that had been installed to deliver his food.

Bill's escorts automatically drifted to the far side of the hall to avoid The Beast. Bill, whose first medication was already starting to kick in, zigzagged lazily back and forth across the hall, heedless of how close he came to The Beast's cell.

Bill had never seen this door opened once in all his time incarcerated, and the dust settled on the additional chains and padlocks stretched across the door showed just how long it had been since the last incident. But some of the patients who'd been here longer than Bill still couldn't bring themselves to speak of the last time he'd escaped. Elder eldritch gods shuddered and gibbered nervously at the mention of his name. 

Bill tilted over to try to peer through the food slot at The Beast. A quivering, sickly blue eye stared back at him. Honestly, Bill thought The Beast was adorable.

Outside Bill's door, the guards waited for Bill to finish his medicine, hand over his cup and straw, and open his mouth and lift his eye out of the way so they could check and make sure he'd swallowed them.

And then he was left in his cell.

####

A perfect cube of uniform dull grey tiles supernaturally lit by a uniform dull grey glow, no light source, no shadows; in a max security room in the Maximum Security Wellness Center, patients weren't even trusted around light fixtures. The staff had removed everything Bill had used thus far to commit violence or attempt escape, plus a few more things as punishments for various infractions: journal, paint, pens, books, magazines, puppets (he missed those the most), even the furniture. He'd never earned the privilege of a TV or radio. By now, all he was permitted were black, red, yellow, and blue dry erase markers to draw on his walls—and the red and blue had gone dry; the "Be a TRY-angle!" poster they'd replaced whenever Bill left the room until he gave up and stopped tearing it down; and the clothes on his back. He'd gradually gotten himself banned from every extracurricular and recreational activity the Dimensional Tyrant Ward offered. Whenever he was fresh out of the SWV, when his restrictions were highest, his schedule consisted of mandatory individual therapy, mandatory group therapy, med checks, and the cafeteria.

He spent the vast majority of his time in his cell, sitting curled up alone, day after night after day, barely moving, barely talking, barely eating, waiting for nothing at all.

####

The seamless door swung open and admitted an Orb of Healing Light.

Bill blinked blearily up at the Orb. It was hard to tell how slowly time passed here, but he was sure it couldn't have been more than a couple hours since he'd been returned to his cell: that was when his medications made his mind the foggiest. "Emmyyy. Where ya been? Didn't see you when I came out of the Solitary Dullness Void. Nice of you to, uh..." A second ago he'd had a clever quip about how D-SM5 had clearly dropped by because it missed Bill, but he'd forgotten how to word it.

"Well, I'm here now. I'm flattered you missed me, Mr. Cipher."

Bill blinked heavily. "You turned that around on me," he griped. "Not fair." Ugh, the room was spinning. He flopped on his back.

"A-AOX4 tells me you showed an interest earlier in our outpatient reincarnation program," D-SM5 said. "Since it looks like your schedule is light these days, I thought you might be interested in attending Paingoreous's reincarnation?"

It took him a moment to process the offer. "Really? That's something people can attend?" What was the catch?

"We usually only extend the offer to the departing patient's friends, and—exemplary patients. But... I thought you might benefit from watching the process for yourself. It may encourage you to take a little more interest in your future."

For it to push a possible lead so fast, it really was desperate to find some leverage they could use on Bill. It probably thought of this as a rare opportunity—a patient from Ward 333 wasn't ready for reincarnation every day.

"Wow. I sure am encouraged," Bill said. "You have no idea just how encouraged I am."

####

If an unambitious office building and a utilitarian hospital reluctantly got married out of a vague sense of heteronormative social obligation, had a depressed child, and the fae spirited it away to replace it with an even more depressed changeling child, the child's small intestines would look a lot like the Theraprism's interior hallways: it was windowless, it was labyrinthine, it was beige, and it was grey, and it didn't even care anymore. Monotonous commercial high-traffic carpet alternated with monotonous commercial high-traffic linoleum. The fluorescent lights buzzed just enough to be annoying, but not quite enough that you'd feel justified in snapping and screaming "I've had it!" as you swung a pleather-seated metal chair at the light fixture.

Even though Bill had been languishing in the Theraprism for hours and/or millennia (Bill couldn't tell; he couldn't feel the passage of time), he hardly knew his way around the Dimensional Tyrant Ward, much less the rest of the facility. As D-SM5 led Bill (and six guards) out of Ward 333 and into a lower security zone, he looked for any scant identifiable landmarks and tried to memorize which turns they took by coding the lefts and rights and ups and downs into a mnemonic word. The walk helped wake him from his medication stupor; but his mind never quite felt fully on.

Bill had only briefly glimpsed the Theraprism's reincarnation unit during intake, just one of many rooms he'd been whisked past as he was dragged to Ward 333 screaming and cursing the Axolotl's name. Entering the unit now, it looked like an occult sacrificial altar carved from marble that had been modeled after a 23rd century starship's teleportation platform, contained in a room that looked like a magic planetarium: glowing stars hovered around the dome of the ceiling. Against the back wall in pale pink marble was carved an impossibly long axolotl, swimming in a figure 8 so its vapid smile almost caught the tip of its ribbonlike tail. Bill glowered at it. Backstabber.

He, D-SM5, and the other observers who'd already arrived were in a connected observation room with an enormous, thick window and a sealed door. Next to the window was a large computer console encased in the same marble as the reincarnation altar. That probably controlled the process.

The audience consisted of three aliens who looked a little like Paingoreous might have with his face unpeeled, a few patients and staff Bill recognized, more he didn't, and Jessica with the shining spherical head and the thirteen fingers. Oh boy. If he'd known Jessica would be here he would have tried to polish. Bill straightened his bow tie and smoothed his rumpled orange jumpsuit.

Paingoreous himself was already in the next room, standing on the altar. At the sight of Bill, his exposed facial muscles twitched, as though trying to widen his eyes even though their eyelids were already long gone. "Bill? What are you doing here?"

D-SM5 answered before Bill could blurt out a witty retort. "I invited Mr. Cipher. I thought he would benefit from seeing what he can look forward to once he's improved. I hope you don't mind."

Paingoreous's face immediately smoothed out. "Yes—of course, director, if you say so. I remember how difficult it was in the early days. I'm happy to help my fellow patients in any way I can." Suck up. A dry note entered his voice, "Especially a more troubled patient."

Bill took one of the folding chairs lined up in front of the window and shot back, "I'm about to have one less trouble! Byyye!" (Did Jessica think that was funny? Sometimes she did. He snuck a sideways glance to see if she was laughing. Oh, right—she didn't have a face.)

Paingoreous didn't dignify him with a response. Too good for the likes of Bill, no doubt. Paingoreous wasn't obligated to answer anybody—except the staff, of course.

Bill had never met the real Paingoreous. By the time Bill was committed, the monotony, medication, and mandatory therapy were already well on their way to killing whoever Paing had once been. No way the offensively bland sap leaving now was the same one who'd come in with his face skinned and muscles pinned open.

A technician was already turning on the computer console, running through a whole list of checks as the machine booted up. A hum filled the room as the altar began to softly glow. To all appearances Bill was facing forward, slitted pupil aimed straight at Paingoreous; but his anatomy was built for watching things out of the corner of his eye and his real attention was focused on the reincarnation technician. "So how's reincarnation work in this dump?" Bill asked D-SM5. "I didn't get the orientation."

"Yes you did," D-SM5 said. "I was there."

"Oh yeah? Well, I don't remember seeing you."

D-SM5 sighed. "First, Paingoreous's memories of his current life must be erased, to give him the best fresh start possible and to comply with Earth's soul sanitization regulations."

"Seems like a big waste of time. His head's already empty enough."

One of the Paing-ish aliens a couple seats over shot Bill a dirty look. "That's my son in there."

"Not for much longer, he isn't."

"Be respectful," D-SM5 said warningly.

Bill ignored it. "So once you've scrubbed his brain clean, what then?"

"Then, we reincarnate him. We've already carefully selected his destination and species; except for special circumstances, we generally don't customize the patient's body further, as the program is already set up to divinely design the body most well-suited to the soul about to inhabit it."

"If these bodies are so perfect, why customize them at all?"

"We wouldn't want, say, a recovering pyromaniac to be reborn with pyrokinesis." (Bill felt unfairly targeted.) "Once his species and destination are entered into the program, off he'll go to start his new life as an egg."

"An egg?! Sheesh, wasn't going through childhood once bad enough? I assume his childhood was bad, anyway! Nobody with competent parents ends up like him."

The Paing-ish alien beside Bill bolted out of their seat and lurched aggressively toward Bill. (Ha. Too easy.) The next alien over tugged them back by the arm. Bill was sure he heard a whispered, "Careful, do you know who that..." 

D-SM5 said, "One more crack like that and you're going back to your cell."

"Fiiine. Why can't he skip straight to being a butterfly, though?" What he really wanted to find out was how to skip straight to adulthood.

"For starters, because spontaneous generation has been heavily restricted on Earth since the 15th century, and banned completely outside of special circumstances since the 19th century."

Spontaneous generation. The creation of fully formed life from unliving matter: maggots that emerged from flesh, geese that emerged from barnacles, snakes and crocodiles that wriggled out of the mud of the Nile. He'd always planned to legalize it again when he took over. So if the only reason the Theraprism couldn't do it was because it was banned, then they must have the technology for it, right?

Bill tuned D-SM5 out as it prattled on about the mental health benefits of restarting life and beginner's mind and boring therapeutic psychobabble, and ignored the flashing lights and divine music as Paingoreous's memory, personality, and identity were all wiped clean. He was only interested in what the reincarnation technician was doing. (Although when Bill briefly glanced at Paingoreous, his shape seemed somehow uncertain, as though his molecules had only just walked into the room and promptly forgotten what they'd come in for or who they were supposed to be. Ready to be reshaped into something else.)

The technician opened up the primary reincarnation program, checked a box confirming that the patient's previous incarnation had been erased, and began setting up the specifications for his next incarnation. Choosing the reincarnation world was easy enough: under the drop down menu, the "Goldilocks zone" worlds were sorted first. Earth was sixth on the list. Choosing a dimension was just as easy.

However, choosing the location and time period looked more complicated; rather than searching through a handy list of continents or geological epochs, the technician checked Paingoreous's patient file and typed a couple of long strings of numbers into the blanks for the coordinates and time. They didn't look like any date system or coordinate system Bill was familiar with. How the heck would he work with that?

And selecting the species, to Bill's horror, meant scrolling down a menu ordered by how frequently a species had been selected for reincarnation at this facility. That was insane! The Theraprism always discharged patients as unambitious species where one member was nearly incapable of making a meaningful impact on the local biosphere—anything useful like an octopus or a goat would be buried amongst the literal billions of species that had received zero reincarnations. Couldn't you just start typing the species's name to jump down to—? But no, the Theraprism's keyboard didn't have characters to type human loan words. The technician seemed to be scrolling manually.

That was fine! That was fine. Whatever Bill left as, he wouldn't be it for very long. He wasn't shopping for a makeover; just for an escape pod.

The technician located Vanessa atalanta (147 prior reincarnations) and kept moving, tabbing past a dizzying array of options—sex, size, coloration, visual clarity, caterpillar spine distribution, a whole list of health conditions and mutations the technician skipped—and every box she tabbed past automatically filled in with the word "DEFAULT". How many boxes could be filled in with defaults?

Bill leaned toward D-SM5. "So do you chuck these suckers out anywhere random on the planet or what?"

"Of course not," it said promptly. "What a thought! We take a deep interest in our discharged patients' well-being. We never leave where they spend their next lives at the whim of the computer's randomized decision." 

But they could leave it up to the computer. Still watching sideways as the technician scrolled past an "advanced settings" button without touching it (was that where the spontaneous generation option was hidden?), Bill asked, "Do youalways choose for the patient, or can the patient make requests?"

Dryly, D-SM5 said, "Unless you make some enormous progress, I doubt you'd get clearance to reincarnate anywhere near that town you terrorized, if that's what you're wondering."

"What! Who said I want to visit that crummy valley! All those mountains and trees? Ugh! No, do you know what kind of place I like? The Greater Cairo metropolitan area. Dry! Sandy! Flat!" said Bill, who detested flat landscapes with all his heart. "Covered in pyramids! Sometimes with my face on them! Plus there's the Nile! I love the Nile! I love being in the Nile! I'd spend all my time in the Nile if I could! I've had some loser ex-friends say that living your whole life in the Nile is an unhealthy coping mechanism to avoid addressing problems in your life, but if you ask me they're just jealous of how amazing my life is—"

"Ready for reincarnation," the technician said. "Proceed?"

D-SM5 left its seat, hovering closer to the glass to catch Paingoreous's attention. "Are you ready?"

"Sure," said Paingoreous, who clearly wasn't certain what he was claiming to be ready for.

"Proceed," D-SM5 said. Bill fell silent, paying close attention to how the technician began the reincarnation process.

She clicked a button that said "EXECUTE" (gruesome), clicked through a couple more confirmation screens, and then the faint background hum grew to a rumble and the magical stars glowed brighter. "Ten seconds," she said. "Nine... eight... seven..."

"Hey!" Bill shouted through the glass. "Friendly tip for Earth! Humans love when you fly into their eyeballs! You should do that!"

D-SM5 rounded on Bill, glowing furiously at him. (Maybe it was Bill's imagination, but he thought Jessica looked amused. Worth it.)

The soon-to-be caterpillar formerly known as Paingoreous stared in confusion at Bill. "Okay," he said—and then there was a bright flash of light.

He let out an awful wail of pure soul-rending agony.

When the light faded, he was gone.

The observation room had fallen perfectly silent.

"That's fine," D-SM5 said. "That's—that's normal."

####

Every once in a while, the Theraprism got something right. It was one of the few big government-sponsored "respectable" institutions that didn't make a fuss about how Bill ate. They just let him go to the cafeteria, strip down, unpeel his exoskeleton, and hang out with the photosynthesizers for half an hour or so in the corner under the grow lights. No gasps of horror or screams of outrage—not from the staff anyway; some of the patients took a bit to get used to it when they were new. It was a refreshing change.

On the other hand, even though they were willing to turn a couple lights high enough to melt most mortals' eyeballs when Bill was feeding, he never left feeling truly energized. The grow lights were designed for species with leaves and solar panels; they weren't designed to fuel up a god made of energy. A few bright lightbulbs didn't measure up to raw starlight.

He figured there wasn't any point in complaining. As much as he hated feeling like a gas tank trying to burn a dust mote for fuel, he knew that they knew that long before he even reached 1% of his usual power, he'd be strong enough to vaporize the Theraprism with the snap of a finger.

When he'd had his daily dose of light, he folded shut, redressed, and drifted over to the actual food for dessert. He grabbed a bottle of an allegedly "lemon" nigh-flavorless clear soda—this would do—and hovered toward the exit.

The cafeteria monitor stationed in the door elbowed her way in front of Bill. "Ahem."

"What?"

"You know the rules. No food outside the cafeteria."

"What! This isn't food, it's a soda. Beverages aren't food, everyone knows that." The monitor didn't budge. Bill tried whining. "C'mooon, I got injured in the void today. Look at this!" He gestured demonstratively at his splints. "Look how much pain I'm in!"

The Solitary Wellness Void made this cafeteria monitor uncomfortable. She'd never said so directly, but she tended to turn a blind eye when patients who'd just come out of the SWV were more aggressive than usual or tried to sneak extra desserts. One time when Bill had come out of a week in the SWV, she'd wordlessly slipped him a couple of packets of low-sodium fear sauce, a condiment usually distributed exclusively to the obligate phobophages in the ward. "Besides, it's my birthday! I'm a birthday triangle! You wouldn't deny a birthday triangle a soda, right?"

"Is it really your birthday?"

"Heck if I know. It could be. I don't know it isn't."

She was trying not to smile. "Fine. Just one time. Don't let anyone catch you with it and finish it before you're back in your cell."

"You got it, toots." Bill glided past her.

He slipped from the cafeteria into the nurse's office before his guards could catch sight of his illicit drink. "Hey, bartender! I'm here for my nightcap."

The nurse prepared Bill's evening battery of drugs. He bent his straw into a fun zigzag—honestly it was really more of a sad N shape—slurped down half the eyedrops, and opened his soda to refill his cup.

The nurse looked over at the hiss of the cap opening. "Hey! Hey—"

"It's just soda!" Bill protested. "The cafeteria monitor said it was fine! Besides, what's a little soda gonna do? Nullify all seven of my antipsychotics before I reach my cell?" (Bill had overheard the nurse grumbling to a colleague about the amount of antipsychotics he was on. They thought it was utterly excessive, considering that they'd had no evidence the drugs were doing anything but making him more erratic—which was something, because Bill had seen patients near drooling catatonia from their meds without any of the nurses questioning their current dosage. Conversely, the docs thought Bill's odd biology meant they needed to give him more if they wanted any hope of impacting him.) "Come on. It's not even caffeinated!"

The nurse took the soda bottle to check the ingredient list, then relented. "Fine. I suppose it won't do any harm."

"You're a peach." Bill topped off his cup, poured the rest of the soda over his eye, crushed the bottle, and consumed it too.

"The plastic probably isn't good for you, though."

"I like the way it melts in the back of my throat."

As he drank his medicated soda and got escorted back to his cell, he lazily drifted back and forth in the hall as far as the guards would let him go, dawdling more than usual—he knew they hated it when he dawdled, but they knew he hated spending one second more in his cell than necessary and grudgingly put up with a little lollygagging to keep the peace. But their tolerance ran out in the max security hall as Bill slowed down even further near The Beast's cell. The guard behind Bill pushed him. "Hurry up." 

"Hey!" Bill wobbled off path and stumbled into the wall, spilling some of his drink. "What's your problem!"

"You stopped moving."

"I did not! I'm just taking my time! Enjoying the weather out here."

"Well, take less time."

"Ugh, fine. Didn't realize you had plans I'm keeping you from." Bill rolled his eye and kept moving.

"Hold it!"

Bill froze. He turned around. The guard was pointing at a streak of clear fluid that had spilled from Bill's cup and rolled down the door. His bones frosted over.

"You dropped a pill," the guard said.

Bill's gaze focused on the circular soap-green tablet on the floor. "Are you kidding?! Aren't the other twelve enough?"

"No exceptions, Cipher."

"You don't expect me to eat it off the floor!"

"Do you want to go all the way back to the nurse's office for another?"

Bill groaned in frustration. "Fine!" He snatched it up, wiped it off on the guard's sleeve, and popped it in his mouth. The guard raised a fist; Bill bared his fangs; and after a tense moment, the guard backed down first. The Theraprism had taken nearly every other power from Bill, but it couldn't take his teeth—and though he knew the guards would win any fight, Bill could make it hurt.

They returned him to his room; Bill handed over his cup; they checked to make sure his cup was empty, inspected his mouth, and locked him in.

He hoped they wouldn't notice that half his pills had stuck in the zig-zag bend of the opaque white straw.

He hoped they wouldn't notice The Beast's tongue thrusting through his food slot to lap up the spilled soda that was running down his door and over the bright red "NO SUGAR ALLOWED" sign.

His entire plan hinged on it.

####

Bill was drawing on the wall with his scant art supplies when he felt reality ripple around him, like the wave in a still pool when someone new quietly slides into the water. He looked up from his work. It was happening.

There were several thuds; then a crash; and then the peal of a prison alarm piercing the air. The alarm melted into shrill dolphin-like laughter, and then the frenetic staccato of a hyper speed dance song that threatened to fracture Bill's internal organs. He shuddered as the sound tore at his wound like freezing ice crystals expanding a crack in a boulder.

But he rose into the air and turned to face the door, ready.

Just in time for the door to vanish. The Theraprism melted away like mist in the sunlight—and oh, the sunlight was glorious. The wide open sky pulsed maddening colors so vivid that the faraway rainbows looked monotone in comparison; the land consisted of rolling hills of candy-coated tongues and stomachs and muscles, the paws of enormous buried corpses thrusting up into the sky, the crevasses between burial mounds running with artificially-flavored saliva. It was Bill's kind of place. He wished he had time to hang around.

Before him, orange fur matted with a fine dust of powdery sugar, wild eyes contracted to pinpricks, stood The Beast.

"You did it, you beautiful monster!" Bill shrieked with laughter. "I knew you'd come through!"

The Beast rumbled, "Em deerf evah uoy."

"You're welcome! You can return the favor later! Me, I have somewhere to be." While The Beast was asserting his personal reality on top of the Theraprism's idea of reality, none of the Theraprism's walls or doors existed. Bill wasn't sure exactly how far The Beast's radius of influence extended, except that it was at least far enough to get him out of the maximum security hall—but he had to move now, before the guards rallied to sedate The Beast. Bill slipped a finger into the band of his ankle bracelet and found that under the influence of The Beast's physics, the stiff plastic stretched like a warm rubber band. He tugged it off and tossed it aside. "Seeya, pal!"

But The Beast held up a paw, blocking Bill before he could zip off. "Noob ym tpecca," The Beast said. "Hself ym emusnoc."

"Oooh. Woww." Bill looked at The Beast's candy paw. "Oh, man. Generous offer! You have no idea how tempting it is to take a taste, but I've really gotta get somewhere, and I've gotta be at least sober enough to pull that off..."

"Emusnoc," The Beast insisted. "Hsur ragus eht fo ssendam gnilims citatsce eht ni em nioj. Rehtegot srorroh letsap dna serusaelp kcis hcus wonk lliw ew. Evarg lufituaeb ym ni em htiw tor."

Bill stared again at the paw. The tip of his tongue slipped out beneath his eye to lick hungrily at his waterline. When was the last time he'd been on something that felt good? "Oh, what the heck!" He took The Beast's paw. "I can do this buzzed! How much damage can one little lick do, anyway?"

####

The guard heaved open the maximum security hall's door. The floor was covered in tacky pools of neon candy and removed ankle monitors. "It's just like we feared," the guard shouted into a walkie-talkie, glancing quickly through each cell door's window. "Every single max security patient escaped under The Beast's reality-altering field."

The guard stopped at the sight of neon yellow and orange, peering through the window at the triangle flopped flat on the ground and surrounded by powdery pink sugar.

"Well," the guard said, "all of them except Cipher."

Through the walkie-talkie, D-SM5 tiredly said, "He licked the paw, didn't he."

"Looks like it, boss."

D-SM5 groaned. "All right! Positive thinking! That's the second biggest threat in the ward already accounted for! Silver lining to Mr. Cipher's substance use issues. Assist in securing the others."

####

The good news was that The Beast seemed happy to frolic randomly around the Theraprism rather than head toward the exit, forcing the other escapees to follow along to remain under his reality-altering protection rather than get stranded in small rooms and locked-down halls. The bad news was that his meandering route let him pick up more and more revelers. After an hour, only a third of the max security patients had been re-captured and dragged back to their cells, and twice as many medium security patients had joined the riot. 

A-AOX4 was on hand in the maximum security hall to supervise as the guards brought in super-powered escapees. Most of them came back loopy on either The Beast's toxins or on the sedative that had been injected to keep them calm. A-AOX4 was checking them for awareness of their surroundings—name, where are you, when are you, why are you here—as each one was locked back in their cell.

And each time it passed by Bill's cell, it glanced in, concerned.

Bill had been almost pleasant when he'd come out of the Solitary Wellness Void—maybe after all those sessions in isolation he was finally ready to be more of a team player. And D-SM5 had said that he'd been unusually well-behaved and attentive during the reincarnation. A-AOX4 had hoped their most surly patient was finally opening up. It would be a shame if this incident with The Beast resulted in his new progress backsliding.

Plus, it took a heavy dose of anything to impact Bill at all, much less knock him out cold. He'd already had to go to the nurse earlier today; what if he needed medical attention?

So after locking up the latest subdued prisoner, A-AOX4 said to one of the guards, "Take over monitoring incoming patients. I'm checking on Cipher."

It unlocked the door and hovered into the room. "Cipher?"

No response. He was plastered flat to the floor.

"Bill?" It floated lower to check his condition. 

He was paper.

Paper meticulously colored in with yellow marker and folded into a triangle; scraps of paper colored black, carefully torn into hand and feet shapes, and shoved in the sleeves and pants of his prison uniform.

A-AOX4 lifted up the paper. On the other side was Bill's "Be a TRY-angle!" poster. He'd written across it, "IS THIS TRYING HARD ENOUGH FOR YOU?"

It turned toward the door—and discovered Bill had filled the wall with a drawing of himself making an obscene gesture, with a word bubble that read, "GIVE MY REGARDS TO THE AX! And tell Jessica I said bye xoxo"

It zoomed out into the hallway and grabbed its walkie-talkie. "Director SM5! Cipher's escaped his cell! He left a decoy! He's not with The Beast, we don't know where he is!"

There was a moment of dead air. And then the director growled, "I think I have an idea."

####

Trying to keep his giggles as quiet as possible, Bill looped through the Theraprism's halls, drifting between The Beast's rolling fields of hard candy corpses and the Theraprism's rigid monotone halls. What had he been worried about! Getting hopped up on astralplanar sugar before escaping his cell had been a great idea! It gave him instant shortcuts through half the walls! And he could handle a little buzz like this! He was totally in control of his actions and knew exactly what he—

How long had he been flying the wrong direction? He turned around. Wow was he high, he could barely focus on anything but all the colors. He wondered if The Beast's toxins had any weird interactions with his meds.

He was lucky The Beast had decided to dawdle around the Dimensional Tyrants Ward: here at the far end of the Theraprism, there were no signs of crisis beyond the sealed doors indicating the facility was under lockdown—and once he was outside a high security ward, there were plenty of cracks, gaps, and vents that Bill was thin enough to slide through. He hadn't even seen a guard since he'd left his cell. By the time he reached the reincarnation room, The Beast's landscape was fading out and the sugar crash headache was fading in, but the facility was still on lockdown and no one seemed to be looking for Bill. He slipped beneath the locked door and powered up the console to the reincarnation machine.

He skipped straight to the reincarnation program and checked the box that said, yes, the patient's brain had been washed. He paused when a warning pop-up blocked the screen. The technician hadn't gotten a pop-up. He had to read over the two-sentence warning three times before he understood what he was looking at. The soul sanitization routine hadn't been run recently, was he sure the patient's memory was erased—ugh, yes. He irritably clicked the confirmation and hoped that would be the last of it.

Bill quickly selected Earth and dimension 46'\; he tabbed past the coordinates and date, and they both automatically filled in "DEFAULT." D-SM5 had said the computer would make a "random" decision if you didn't plug in a time and place, but the staff didn't know Earth like Bill did. If he left the time and place up to the whims of fate, then something as weird as a trillion-year-old alien chaos god escaping a criminal insane asylum to spontaneously generate as a fully grown mortal would be sucked straight into the weirdest place and time on Earth. Gravity Falls: August, 2012. Weirdmageddon. He was willing to bet his life on it.

He was betting his life on it.

After that, with any luck, he'd be able to shed his new body like any other puppet and return to his castle in the sky. If for some reason he couldn't get out of it, he'd only need to pull a couple of magic tricks outside a normal mortal's capabilities to catch his past self's attention, find a way to prove his identity—heck, with any luck, they'd be seeing through each other's eyes and that would instantly confirm it—warn his past self about the Pines' treachery, prevent his own death, save Weirdmageddon, restructure the universe in his image, and rule his new party paradise as god-king for all eternity. Easy.

He scrolled down the list of available creatures, looking for something that would be easy to reach the Fearamid and prove his intelligence with—something with vocal cords that could speak eye-bat would be useful, it'd save him a lot of trouble if he could just shout at his sentinels in their own language and startle them into listening—but, to his surprise, the first useful species he found was humans, down amongst the species that had received a single-digit number of reincarnations from the Theraprism. Really, humans? They allowed that?

Over the blaring alarm, a voice made an announcement. He completely tuned it out—and only realized a moment after it ended that he'd heard his own name. They knew he'd escaped.

Bill didn't have time to search for anything better. He selected humanity.

He tabbed past dozens of features he could choose from for his body—default default default default—who cared what the body peed out of, he wasn't keeping the thing long enough to fill its bladder! He clicked open the advanced settings—there, spontaneous generation! He hoped this thing wouldn't drop him on the sidewalk as a baby, but usually when a human suddenly popped into existence, it was an adult sculpted from clay or something, right? He'd be fine! He checked the box for spontaneous generation.

He got another error message. He groaned. He wasn't sober enough for this.

Something about spontaneous generation being banned on Earth after 1859, is he willing to assume the liability if the patient generates after—yeah sure whatever, he clicked yes. Another pop-up prompted him for the digital signature of the person assuming liability. He typed in D-SM5's name.

As soon as he clicked enter, another error message popped up. "What!!"

He flinched at the sound of a muffled pneumatic hiss. Outside, somebody had unlocked the doors to this hallway. The alarm was still blaring; the Theraprism wasn't coming off lockdown. That meant whoever had unlocked the hall was coming for him.

"Focusss." He skimmed the new warning. Something about humans being on a list of species for which spontaneous generation was restricted—what loser had written a law about that! Who cared if a fully-formed, brand-new human popped out of thin air in the middle of town! What about Bill's wants?! He checked another box YES HE'S SURE HE WANTS TO SPONTANEOUSLY GENERATE A HUMAN YOU MONSTER and pounded enter.

Another pop-up. It wanted to know on which god's authority the spontaneous generation had been authorized.

Bill froze. Why did it need to know. Would it check? A machine that could reincarnate a soul was probably also a machine that could shoot off a prayer. Or was Bill supposed to have some kind of divine authorization code? Which gods were even allowed to authorize that kind of thing? He didn't know which stupid legislative body had made this stupid law or what their stupid definition of a god was! Gods weren't even real, they were just stupid, arrogant, stuck-up jerks who were powerful enough to trick people into thinking they were important! Like Bill! What name were they looking for?!

He heard voices in the hallway. He darted over to the door, slid his fingers through the seams around the doorframe to crush the latching mechanism so it couldn't be opened, and darted back. That wouldn't hold them long; he knew from experience that the guards could bust down the doors in these low security wings without much difficulty.

"Bill Cipher!" That was D-SM5. It had come personally? In any other circumstance, he'd be flattered. "Open up immediately!"

"Has that ever worked?" A god, a god, a god... his eye caught on the bas relief at the back of the next room. If there was any god this place would accept orders from... The guards were ramming the door; the bending metal groaned. He typed "THE AXOLOTL" and hit enter.

The button grayed out but the pop-up didn't go away. The screen froze. "What." Bill tried clicking again. The cursor turned into one of those little spinning balls that meant the computer was quietly having a stroke. "No no no no—"

D-SM5 hollered, "You know what the consequences will be if you don't—"

"I'm not listeniiing to yooou!"

"You're only going to hurt yourse—"

Dropping his voice to a demonic boom to drown out the director, Bill recited, "'I believe that on the first night I went to Gatsby's house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited! People were not—" There was a shriek of tearing metal, and then a bright glow behind Bill as D-SM5 peered through the gap in the door. Bill started talking faster, "'Were not invited they went there they got into automobiles which bore them out to Long Island and somehow—'"

The pop-up disappeared. The cursor returned to normal. The box next to spontaneous generation was checked. Bill stared for a split second, then quickly closed out the advanced settings, scrolled to the bottom of the page, and hit "EXECUTE."

Someone blasted the door out of its frame; based on the blinding glow that accompanied the blast, Bill suspected that wasn't one of the guards, but D-SM5 itself. He frantically clicked through the next two confirmations, flung a couple of folding chairs toward D-SM5 and its thugs, and dove beneath the door to the next room. Ten seconds.

"Cancel the reincarnation!" D-SM5 snapped.

A guard ran to the console. (What if they saw where Bill had gone? They could probably guess the planet, but would the computer keep records of his destination, what his new body looked like—) "I don't see a cancel! I don't think—"

"Then get him off the altar!"

Five seconds. Please spawn as an adult and not a baby, please spawn as an adult and not a baby, please— Bill hadn't broken the door between the observation room and the altar; the guards easily unlocked it. "No no no—!"

"Don't let him esc—!"

Three seconds. An impossibly bright light shone down on Bill. He reflexively peeled open his exoskeleton to accept it. LIGHT—oh, he felt even more alive than the time he'd stolen a bottle of stimulants from the nurse station, ground them up, and snorted them off Mrs. Mirrorcube's back. His eye widened, taking in as much free energy as he could—and then he focused his gaze through the window on the console, focusing the infinite light into a laser powerful enough to instantly melt through the window and explode the computer. The guards fell back, trying to shield their tender mortal flesh from the fury of Bill's fire. Enjoy the blisters.

D-SM5 bellowed, "Bill Cipher, you mo—!"

"CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, SUCKA!" He could feel his body ripping apart, cracking open at the wound. It hurt, but not the hurt of dying; it was the euphoric hurt of spaghettification, of being infinitely sucked beyond a beautiful event horizon. Bill's triumphant cackle filled the air—

—and then the room was silent and dark, and Bill was gone.

####

(If you're new here: I posted this as a one shot because I think we could all use a little Bill escaping from Theraprism, yeah? However it's ALSO part of my ongoing Bill-stuck-in-a-human-body fic I'm currently editing for TBOB compatibility. So, if you enjoyed this and want to see where post-reincarnation Bill goes, check out the fic!! And if you DON'T want to read the rest of the fic, I hope you enjoyed the one shot and I'd love to hear your thoughts.

If you do check out the main fic be forewarned it's only 100% TBOB compatible up to chapter 6. After that it is, bizarrely, 98% TBOB compatible, because somehow I accidentally wrote a fic that lines up with the book so well that I'm legit worried people could use TBOB to work out fic spoilers. But I still need to edit the remaining 2%.

If you're NOT new here: hey gang this is the new chapter 6!!! I finished editing this chapter about fifteen minutes before post time so it's not as polished as my usual chapters, but I hope it didn't read that way. Anyway, I look forward to hearing what y'all think!)

[darnell-la]

Can you do a follow up with the project x!wolverine x government employee!reader (it can be smut or not I just really like that story)

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ)

pairing: project x!logan howlett x government employee!reader

warnings: tied up, trapped, sniffing, hunting down, roughly fucked against a tree, pinned, choking, “dragged” through the woods, fucked on the patio, ass slapping, hair pulling, etc.

note: we will be making a part three where they contact Charles's school for mutants to warn them about the government, but the government hacked into their call and found out where Logan was hiding out and keeping y/n.

Logan will be more sweet in the next one as y/n grows out of the fear of him.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

when y/n woke up, she was dangling from the ceiling by her wrists. It took her a while to realize, she was in a basement full of big freezers and sinks. For a second, she thought she was going to be cut up and frozen to feed to whoever until she saw a man sitting on the stairs, leading upstairs.

“W-Where am I?” Y/n said, voice coming out lower than she expected it to. “Home,” the man spoke before getting up. He came out of the light, now shaking off the figure.

He was shirtless, yet had jeans on. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know why. Was it because Project X had her tried up in god knows where, or was it the fact she could see all of his chest?

He was sweaty, hairy, ripped, muscles flexed every once in a while, veins popping from his skin and smooth.

“It’s passed midnight, but I bet you’re hungry. Went to the store then cooked us up some food,” he spoke as her eyes traveled all over his body. She felt like she was in a trance.

“Up here, princess,” his voice was closer. She didn’t notice how close he was until his fingers lifted her chin. Even though her feet were a few inches from the ground, he was still towering over her.

“You hungry?” He asked with a head tilt. “Let me go,” she spoke, not knowing what else to say. “No,” he spoke back, voice sounding stern. She could hear the seriousness behind his tone.

“And if you try runnin’ you’ll regret it,” he said, body now touching hers. Y/n quickly went to kick him right between his legs, but he knew what was coming. He surprised her by pulling her leg to the side of his waist. She went to use the other, but he did the exact same thing.

“Relax, princess,” the man smirked down at her as she tried wiggling away, but doing so made her cunt rub up and down his clothes length. She prayed he wouldn’t notice, but he felt the wet spot soaking into his jeans.

“If you act good, I’ll fix that for you,” the man whispered in her ear, pulling her body closer to his. Y/n held bad the whine she almost let out. What was he doing to her?

Logan eventually pulled back and walked to the corner of the room to lower her rope. He then walked back over to the girl as she looked down, not knowing what to say or do to the man.

He wasn’t giving off any type of serial killer vibes. He didn’t seem like he wanted to do any kind of killing. A part of her felt saved than she’d ever had, especially because of her job, but she felt off just letting this man win what he wanted. And that was her.

After y/n’s hands dropped from the ropes, she lifted her knees and connected with his groin. The man fell to the ground in pain as she pushed past him, running up the stairs.

The slightly frightened girl ran towards the front door, thinking she was free until she noticed a device on the lock that needed a code. “Fuckin’ hell,” she shouted before running around the rest of the house to find another way.

“You ain’t gettin’ outta here, bub!” Logan yelled from downstairs, finally getting up from the ground. You would think a mutant like him wouldn’t feel that pain, but he did.

Y/n panicked, thinking she was doomed until she had an idea. A stupid one which she slightly felt bad for doing but she did it anyway.

“Son of a bitch!” Logan finally made it up the stairs to the sound of glass breaking. She was out and running for her life, knowing he’d be furious about his genitals and glass.

Y/n ran as fast as she could through the woods, a bit terrified of the dark and animal noises, but the real animal was back at that house. He is an animal, right? That’s what they said he was.

Y/n had stopped after a few minutes to catch her breath. He’s never been the kind to run.

As she rested, she looked down at her feet, swing scratches and blood, but she’d get over it. She needed to get away.

As the young woman went to take a step to continue, she heard a noise behind her. She quickly looked back but saw nothing. Maybe it was a squirrel or something, she thought.

Y/n turned back around to start walking until he saw the view of an angry Logan in her face. “Where ya goin, bub?” He asked. Y/n instantly screamed at his presence.

Before she could move, the man tangled her to the ground, pushing his hand down the middle of her back to pin her into the dirt.

“No!” Y/n fought in anger, thinking she was actually going to escape. “When I said no, you ain’t listen, now didn’t you?” The man said through his teeth as he forced her to dress up.

“Logan, please! N-Not out here, not out here!” She begged, thinking people would be able to hear this scene going on and go and check, just to see her getting drilled into the ground.

“No one’s out here, princess. Not for another mile or so — You’re all mine out here,” the evil low laugh he let out as he pulled his jeans down was insane. He hadn’t even pulled himself out of his boxers. He wanted to take his time with her out here.

Y/n tried kicking her legs, but what was the point? He could smell her leaking down her folds. He knew she wanted this, and he was going to make her understand.

“I said, no!” Y/n shouted as she swung her elbow back as hard as she could, making him fall back. Y/n crawled away, but only a few inches to look back at him. The fear that grew inside of her was unbelievable.

Logan‘s jaw was dislocated. She popped his jaw.

Y/n’s words got stuck in her throat. She wanted to apologize as the man slowly looked up. He didn’t mean to hurt him. She’s not like that.

Before she could open her mouth, Logan popped his jaw back in place with his hand before moving it around to make sure it was normal.

“You fucked up, bub,” the man said before crawling towards her. It didn’t even look like a crawl. How did he do that? Logan lifted the girl up by her neck and pinned her to the closest tree.

“Ow!” She cried out, feeling the tree bark scratched her ass through her thin and silky nightgown. God, she needed to change soon.

“Logan, ow!” She hoped he’d have sympathy for her, but the way his eyes looked, he was far from it. He wanted to teach her a lesson, and that’s what he was doing.

“N-No, no!” She pushed at the man’s hand, but that did nothing. He ripped her nightgown off like a strand of hair. “Logan!” She shouted, feeling the breeze on her body until his body rubbed against hers.

“You’ve been a bad girl,” Logan growled as he pulled himself out of his jeans. “I don’t like that,” he had as he shifted up and between y/n’s legs until they were lifted off of the ground. Her toes barely touched the dirt.

“I-I can't, Logan,” y/n remembered how he fucked her the last time, and he wasn’t even angry at her. Logan let out a chuckle that he soon cut off after he slammed up into her cunt.

Y/n cried loudly as her arms gripped his shoulders. Logan stared directly at her, his face seemed too serious to look at. He was angry. Very angry. But why? It’s not like the pop in his jaw hurt like any other thing her went through?

“P-Please,” she choked as he pushed her neck into the tree harder, just to get a reaction out of her. “Shut the fuck up,” the man said like the tree wasn’t about to break or come out of the ground from how hard he was pounding into her.

“I can’t,” she whined in pain, but too much pleasure to not tighten around him. The way she squeezed him, egged him on further.

“Oh, you can’t? Does it look like a give a fuck? Huh!? Does it!?” He spat as his pelvis roughly slapped against her clit. She couldn’t think straight. This man was fucking her like some wild animal in the woods. She’s literally being fucked by an animal in the woods.

“F-Fuuuck,” y/n dragged with a broken moan. Logan let her neck go and used both of his hands to grip and hold onto her legs, keeping her up and against the tree, not caring how much she scratched at his shoulders and chest.

The man growled in her ear, cock slipping in and out of her entrance as her asshole puckered. He was huge and slagging around like he wasn’t.

Y/n couldn’t say, but her broken cry warned him she was cumming, and when she did, it was hard. “Goddamnit — Fuck,” the man grunted, pinning his feet to the ground to keep up his hard abuse.

“So fuckin’ good — Fuck!” The man couldn’t keep himself together as his nails dug, into her thighs. Y/n was now crying, not because she was scared, but because of the overstimulation followed by a thrust that wouldn’t slow down.

“Yeah? Yeah, is that the spot, baby?” He asked, knowing it was. “Think this is over just because you came? Think ima stop because you’re drunk on my cock? How did that go last time?”

The girl shook her head, half ass answering his questions. “So cute,” the man chuckled before pulling y/n off of the treat and throwing her over his shoulder to give her a small break.

He wanted his fresh meet alive and functioning when he fucked filled her up. Last time he didn’t get that chase, but he swore to god he would this time.

Because she ran so far, he had to walk it, giving y/n some time to come to life. “Lo-“ y/n cut herself off, still having trouble speaking, but held herself well enough for him to understand.

“No more,” she begged, but he wasn’t having it. “Please, no more,” she begged again as she noticed him passing his car parked several feet from his cabin.

“Logan!” She shouted, now kicking and screaming again. The man grew angry but wanted to take her to the bedroom for what he was about to lay on her.

“Logan!” She shouted, gripping onto the side of his house which was a long wooded stand. “Y/n, stop it!” He let her down with a shout as he began pulling her, but she wouldn’t budge and he didn’t want to accidentally rip her arms off.

“No!” She screamed before he finally pulled her off, causing her to fall on the front steps in front of his house. The way she fell and landed on her hands and knees made him say, fuck it.

“You wanna be fucked like an animal? Fine,” he said as he came up behind her, pulling his cock back out before plunging into her, earning a scream that made him know he hit the right spot instantly.

Logan grew an evil smile across his face as he tugged on her hair, making her arch her back before slapping at her ass, causing her to bruise lightly.

“Little sluts get treated like slut, y/n. You could’ve be fucked nice and sweet on the bed earlier, but no — You wanna run,”

Y/n’s mouth slacked as her eyes crossed from how hard the man was pounding on her. “You see that, bub? Look right up there, right into that camera,” he forced her to look at his security.

“Gonna tie you down and make you watch how dumb you look on my dick,” the man spat, making y/n feel the burn in her eyes, but not from embarrassment. From too much pleasure.

“Yeah — Yeah,” the man repeatedly groaned as y/n squeezed him with a shake in her body. “So fuckin’ pathetic, I might have to give you back,” Logan said, knowing he’d never do such a thing. “Nah,” he added drill in her head that she ain’t goin’ nowhere.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ, sᴍᴜᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ғᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ...

[stanswifeirl]

NERD GETS APPRECIATED AND WHIPS IT OUT!

notes: cross-posted on my ao3!

contains: stanford pines x gn!reader

warning: masturbation, some self depreciating talk, him feeling guilty about thinking about you while he jerks it

Glass Shard Beach was rarely kind to him, and there were few normal scenarios he could recall throughout his life.

But now? Here he was, reduced to a stuttering, nervous wreck at the simple words of praise that seemed to flow from your mouth with ease, just like the process of diffusion with non-polar molecules (which, for your information, is pretty damn easy).

This type of reaction is expected, he thinks. How often did a guy find someone as attractive as you in a Fifth Dimensional Calculus class? Of course you would attract his attention!

He didn't like to audibly put down the work done at Backupsmore University, but it wasn't often he'd find someone so... smart. Maybe well-read is a better word? Someone who viewed his work not only with interest, but from a new perspective.

It was dangerous. The way your voice filled the space with intelligent dialogue made him wish it was the only sound he ever heard. The way your scent made him lose focus on his work whenever you leaned in to assist him on a project was simply intoxicating.

He could think up plenty of flowery phrases to describe what he's feeling... Actually expressing them was where his expertise fell short.

To put it simply, the guy was head over heels, and he didn't know how to handle it.

Inviting you to conduct research for class was probably the worst possible decision he could've made. It was absolutely thrilling to spend an afternoon with you, but the growing tightness in his pants only proved to sully his mood. He was sure you noticed. There was no way you didn't, even if you decided to carry on like you didn't know what you were doing to him. Surely, he couldn't be the only one feeling the chemistry!

He didn't know how you worked up the courage to call him sweet names, or pat his shoulder politely at the end of the night when he dropped you off in front of your apartment complex.

More than thankful for the dim lighting, he was only able to mumble out a hurried "Goodbye!" before slamming his foot down on the gas pedal, ready to get the hell outta there.

Ford drives, things pressed tightly together in shame, into an empty parking lot. He parks.

"Sweet Moses." He whines into his hands, patting down drops of sweat with the cuff of his shirt. "Goodness. I'm horrible. You don't deserve this. God, I can't believe I'm..."

His hand shoots for his pocket, pulling out a 38 sided die. To freak, or not to freak? That was the question. He squirms uncomfortably in his seat, closes his eyes, and takes a breath.

Ford mentally cringes it when he rolls it onto his dashboard, realizing how lame he must look as he uses his game dice to decide on if he should masturbate or not.

Mind running a mile a minute, the poor guy was always a bit too self aware of his actions, he realizes how lame he looks allowing a dice roll to tell him whether he's allowed to jerk off or not.

His face scrunches up in disgust as he unzips his pants, hand hesitantly hovering over his painfully erect dick.

"This is so embarrassing." He groans, feeling the length of his dick as it twitches under his touch.

Ford’s face flushes as he slowly moves his hand up and down, humiliated. His back straightens as his thumb brushes over the head, already leaking in precum.

He grits his teeth, feeling his face burning hot with shame as he strokes himself to the thought of you. As much as he admires your fiercely intelligent mind, he can't help but be captivated by how fucking hot you are.

Leaning back in his seat, his eyes flutter closed as he imagines hands brushing against his skin, comforting eyes looking up at him in that way that made him feel so, so safe. His hand moves faster as his breathing grows ragged.

"God, I'm such a loser." He whispers to himself, face growing hot as he realizes how pathetic he sounds.

Would you still look at him like that if you knew what was happening right now? Would you enjoy it? Maybe you'd entertain him. He'd like that.

Oh. Oh. That idea really sticks with him.

Your presence always seemed so commanding. So sure of yourself. Maybe, he hopes, you'd like taking charge of him when he was at his most vulnerable.

His back arches as he bucks into his hand, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to imagine it was you touching him. He should be allowed to indulge a little, shouldn't he? He doesn't know anymore.

It's almost this primal instinct that keep his thoughts out of logic mode, and far more acutely aware on the shockwaves of pleasure coursing throughout his body.

His chest feels tight as he imagines your hand slowly running up and down the base, teasing the head. Tears prick up in the corners of his eyes as picture after picture of you enter his mind.

He curses, stuttering your name as he twists his hand, quickening his pace.

"Thank you." He chokes out, face burning in humiliation as he feels his orgasm building. He didn't mean to think if you this way— the least he could do was thank the image of you.

His head slams back into his seat as he reaches his climax, body trembling as his hand and car floor is stained with long ropes of cum. The mind fog quickly clears, and makes quick work of grabbing tissues from the glove compartment to clean his mess up.

Ew. He'd have to clean properly in the morning.

[nicholasdaymiller]

could you do the prompt “lifting the shorter one up so they can be seen in photos” with nick miller and a super short reader??

SHORTIE — nick miller x short!gn!reader

[imagine the gif is how he lifts you up 🥰]

-> okay, here's my first attempt at writing nick miller fic. it's very short, as i said they would be, but i hope you enjoy! i'm nervous lol

••••

it's the eighth wedding of the season. you and the loft family: winston, schmidt, jess, and nick are all sitting around your table, a little bored, and very much wanting to go home.

jess taps you on the shoulder, and you blink rapidly, realising you had been dozing off, "huh? what?"

"they're doing a wedding party photo," she explains, "come on."

"let's get this over with so we can get the hell outta here." winston comments as he rushes out.

you follow your group of friends out onto a field outside, where the entire guest list is shuffling around, finding their spots for the photo.

you end up wedged to the left of the bride, a couple of heads back. the photographer announces loudly that he's ready to start taking shots, and that's when you get up on your toes, trying to get your head in over the taller people in front of you.

tip toes aren't enough, so you try jumping whenever the photographer yells, "aaaand, 3, 2, 1..."

the jumping doesn't help either, so you grab onto schmidt and nick's shoulders. "guys, can you boost me up a little?"

schmidt doesn't hear you amongst the chatter of the guests, but nick looks down at you, confused.

"why?" brows scrunch as he looks down at you.

you gesture pointedly at the people blocking you from being in the photo. "i'm too small." you laugh.

"i gotcha, shortie." nick glances around, then smiles, "i have an idea."

your eyes widen when you suddenly feel one of nick's arms wrap around your waist, while his other slides under your legs. he hoists you up bridal-style. "oof! there we go."

the new height means you can see above the heads in front of you. "uh– thank you." you reply, trying to ignore the butterflies that swarm your stomach at the contact — your arms wrapped around nick's neck, his holding you up with ease.

the photographer yells, "alright! last one, let's make this a fun one!"

you glance at nick, and he nods at you encouragingly before turning back to the camera and sticking out his tongue. you wrap one arm tightly around him, then throw your other arm in the arm, grinning at the camera.

a few days later, when the photos are posted on facebook, you stop on a particular shot. in this photo, nick had just picked you up, and your eyes are locked onto each other, while the rest of the bridal party is looking ahead. you click save.

••••

[if you want me to try writing some more nick stuff - go to this post for some prompts you can send in ❤️]

[olivianyx]

UPDATES ON MY JOURNEY

Heyy all! I've been focusing on my senior professional medical year and it has been stressful. So here are some things I manifested effortlessly and a few things without me thinking about it. Long ass post ahead! ⚠️⚠️

1. Getting more pocket money than usual. Like my parents usually transact in my account like a $80 or $100 AUD per month. But in both feb and march this year, they transacted me $500 and $700 AUD! Plus! I occasionally find $10 or $50 cash in my classroom or on the streets sometimes (and they come lie next to my feet 😭) I'd ask everyone in my class if it's theirs, and they say no. What do y'all expect me to do? Like go and give it to the university management?? 😭 hell no, so i kept it lol.

2. MANIFESTED DIOR'S LIP OILS!! 😭😭 LIKE 5 OF THEM 😭 YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH I'VE OBSESSED WITH LIP OILS 😭😭 AND I WANTED THE RASPBERRY ONE SO BAD, AND GUESS WHAT? I MANIFESTED IT ALONG WITH 4 OTHER SHADESS OMGGG 😭😭😭

3. My crush giving me hints that she's obsessed with me 😭 like she literally told me 'you're so sweet and caring, I've never met a person like this after my grandma' cus her grandma passed away recently and she was so depressed. She even had an eye infection, so she stopped coming to the uni. So i had to make sure she's alright, and met her everyday cus she needed someone real bad. Like she needed to talk to someone and get that thing bothering her outta her head. I was there all along whatever she was going through (don't come at me y'all, ik if we help someone they would say all these things but she's my crush lol so) She's also getting real close to me, like she tells me how annoying people are lol. She loves skin ship, physical touch, being clingy around me, and complimenting me 😭😭 so these are the hints 😭 like friends wouldn't do that right? Would they?? (My friends diss me right in front of everyone 😶)

4. I've always been the type to care too much for the silliest things, nowadays I don't really put my energy into it and become all anxious. My anxiety levels have completely gone down like I'm literally cool asf?? Even while being in public?? Literally yess

5. Manifested getting my hair coloured next week! and my mom permitted me! For my cousin's engagement in april, I wanna be there like the hot younger sister I am lol. I just wanna make my relatives and their kids jealous cus they made fun of me when I was younger (my younger self has been dreaming for this moment) so why not a revenge glow up?? 😭

6. Losing weight even though I eat like a pig due to my study stress. Like literally I ate a 5 course meal one day and lost 2 kgs the next day? (cus I randomly checked my weight for 2 days cus I had to submit my height and weight to the university student records)

7. Getting a natural blush on my face! Like it's such a game changer, I look like a movie star y'all 😭✋🏻

8. My teachers complimenting me for my discipline and high scores. As yk uni professors don't even give af bout students and they complimented me??

9. Getting into a new friend group! My old one was too toxic and they would always bully me (verbally) my new friend group is literally soo damn enjoyable! Like they're the cool kids of the year 😭 and now I'm one too!

10. As I mentioned in my older post that I'm moving into an apartment. We moved in and it was too difficult for me to sleep as the place was new and also there we're disturbances in the night time like stomping noises or playing loud music at night. So the neighbors there were too sweet that they introduced and comforted us that it's okay and if something's bothering us they'll take care of it. And they literally made the people who we're causing those disturbances to vacate out 😭😭✋🏻

11. My hair getting shinier! It was brittle before as I was severely anemic, now my baby hair is back and it's shining ✨

12. I overheard my parents conversing that they should make me audition for an entertainment company....like what? 😭😭✋🏻 when I asked them once years back they denied giving me a 4 hour lecture and now they wanna make me audition?? Like literally 😭 y'all watch me at the Grammy's (after 5 years lol)

13. Getting into the void on command or intention.

14. I literally get free foods everywhere I go 😭😭

15. I got free gifts from my uncle who's living in France! He works at a fashion company and he sent me perfumes and a few outfits (I can't reveal it I'm sorry)

I ONLY WAS THINKING ABOUT GETTING MY LIP OIL, GETTING CLOSE TO MY CRUSH AND FOCUSING ON MY STUDIES. THE REST, I MANIFESTED WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT IT.

SO WHAT NEXT?

I've decided to respawn to my waiting next month. I'm still scripting how my waiting room should be... So it might take time for me. So till then I'm gonna be strengthening my self concept even more, and also getting more and more excited to be in my waiting room! I want my waiting room to be like a more like a sci fi movie and a princess fairytale combined 😭 (ik I'm weird). Like I just want my favorite anime characters to be there to help me script my DR ✋🏻 So I'm kinda in a more excited mode lately to script my waiting room! Will give you updates on how my waiting room will be in a future post! So until then take care, love you, byeeee byeeee!

- olivia 🤍

[weirdfishy]

gotta urgent need for some not-quite-yet punkflower where hobie is chillin in some rubble post-(successful) battle all knackered out n miles is visiting (idk bc he just told his parents abt spiderman n it went well so he's bursting at the seems with love at being accepted n all yea? he's gotta tell someone, and why not him? why not hobie? it's no one else but hobie he's gotta tell, if he's being honest with himself [denile is not a river in his egypt, ok pav?] so yeah, he finds himself on 138) n catches the tail end of the battle, tracks down where hobie decided to make a couch outta concrete and lands in front of him, buzzing with cheezy lovey dovey feelins of elation, top o' the fucken world, and asks on abt hobie, rambling until hobie just lifts a hand, a silent ask for help up, (always asking for connection always makin sure they're actually there) n miles, have i mentioned he's happy? he's straight up a sap, so he takes that hand.

he takes that hand gently, bending at the waist a bit, dramatically sweeping back his other arm, bowing, for hell's sake, n plants a kiss on the back of hobie's hand, nice n proper, with a cheeky wink to boot (he'd finally fixed the eye mechanisms last week, thanks to penny), before pulling up new london's own spiderman chest to chest with a bright laugh that puts a different kind of stars in hobie's eyes, half dancing half belting out a song in spanish he doesn't quite understand but knows all the words to (it's some continental dialect, nothing his mami speaks, but would filter out the headphones of that kid in his building he walked w in middle school everyday)

before the sirens start getting closer n hobie can feel the warmth of miles-- the warmth of his smile, his hair that's still sparking from transdimensional travel, his arms, chest, laughter, everything, n all at once it pulls every affectionate n pining bit of hobie to the surface, if he weren't wearing his mask his blush would be so impossibly visible it's straight mad how much hobie loves n adores miles, how much seeing miles be happy lights hobie's whole fucking world

and oh, hobie's never seen a god he didn't punch, never believed in any one he couldn't, but right now, with his fingers entwined with miles', aches leaving his bones like he's never felt his left shoulder twinge the second it drops below 21 just because miles just yelled fuck off to the approaching pigs, he could fall to his knees n swear pious fealty to milesmilesmiles.

but hobie is cool (never has a label stuck to him like the one miles has given him), and his real, livin n breathing god is starting to ramble, so hobie webs them upupup, heat along his back as god wraps arms around him, breath on his neck as home weaves tales into the leather wrapping it.

then miles hears hobie's stomach growl, so he starts pulling them away from the path of what he knows is towards hobie's flat, and towards what he swears is the only good puerto rican food in the whole of hobie's haunt, his excitement steamrolling over his usual stuttering spanish, exchanging shouts n jeers with everyone behind the counter

bc everyone knows him, like miles has lived here, earth-138, new london, his whole life, like hobie brown being dragged into the shop every other week by miles morales to get the same two plates (n an extra something for miles to gush over n hobie to taste) is how the rest of this life will go, like hobie n miles are together, in a way that the unsubtle looks the owner's kid at the register is aiming at miles' left hand are correct, but don't involve stuffy socially religious systems like marriage

but they're not, as much as hobie would love to kiss miles, gaze into his eyes for ages, hear his laughter, his off-key singing, his scritch-scritch of something on paper everyday-- bc he can't go abt this like he does everyone else, can't do it with half a foot out the door n a shrug as agreed; it's gotta be both feet on the floor, n it's gotta be for the rest of this life, so he'll take what he can get, and he'll take the distance n devotion, take the faith n the heartache. take what he can get from his god, glad to be touched by his god, glad to be loved by his god, across universes n the fall from his bed to the futon on the floor where miles decides to lay his head for choice holy nights

(hobie doesn't know miles is putting himself at the base of his god's shrine, hoping for his deity to fall into his arms, spikes n all, (ready, so ready to tear apart dimensions again for hobie, to bleed and cry n go to war for hobie) fingers splaying on the side of the mattress warmwarmwarm after hobie starts snoring, before they slip down softly, a prayer imparting from the pads, memorizing the patterns of his god's breath, the smell of the room, the borrowed shirt he wears, the sounds of a second city he calls home, thrumming full with a bass note plucked from an electric guitar, usually shaky hands sure n still picking out a different shape to hobie's eyebrow piercing, deftly screwing a star onto the bar. miles brings offerings to his god in pins n patches on clothing, stickers n torn out sketches decorating a shrine)

so they'll song n dance in new york, in new london; learning each other's cities, earths, haunts, people, arts, each other, like new scars for the collection- permanent and signs of living, odes to loving and protecting.

chest to chest, fingers entwined, warmth in the skies above cities, right on the edge of it all until they fall together, eyes wide open, gods broken down into blood and teeth and lovelovelove

not-quite-yet 2 - 3

. my ko-fi 💛

ao3 link

[everythingwrongwithizumi]

would you write angst for twd negan? reader getting injured ?

To Be Loved

pairing: Negan Smith x fem!reader

warning: MNDI, 18+, slight smut, cussing, sexual harassment, graphic depictions of sexual assault, depression, anxiety, suicide, death, self harm, angst, angst with happy ending?, reader is described to have certain physical attributes, mentions of sexual assault, mention of battered wife syndrome, let me know if you see anymore

w/c: 8k (Zoo Wee Mama)

a/n: Jeez, yea this was a lot. I’m gonna make a separate post about it but if you need someone to talk to or you know someone that has been or you have been sexually assaulted please don’t hesitate to reach out for help or to talk about it. Men and women and Non binary’s you guys are strong keep your head up!!

National Sexual Assault Line

800-656-HOPE (4673)

I had to do it. I had to give up my mind, body, and soul to save my older brother. I owed him everything, he was the reason I was still alive after all this time. We would spend our days scavenging for food and sometimes we’d forget to even look for food.

We only cared for each other and we would never go anywhere without each other. So when he got sick I didn’t know what to do. I would sit there and watch as he had his eight coughing fit that day sometimes blood came out.

He would give me this look, a look that said *Just leave me here to die and fight to survive.* I couldn’t. And I wouldn’t, “You need to drink this man.” He would just look at me with that look before taking a sip.

“I’m gonna go and see if I can find some more water. This shitty town has to have some bottles floating around,” as soon as I got up from my crouching position I felt his hand grip my ankle. “The only thing floating around is your brain. Use it and get the hell outta here,” I stood in shock at his words.

Sure, he’s one sarcastic son of a bitch, but we always did things together and he never gave up, even when the whole world was against him or in this case trying to kill him he never gave up. “Shut up,” was all I said as I released myself from his grasp and exited the department store we(I) cleared.

I looked around and heard an engine nearby. It sounded like a car so I quickly took my knife out and begun sneaking around some buildings to get to the convenient store. Once I made it to the entrance and began to open the door bullets came flying from behind me.

I quickly ran inside to take cover. The loud noises surely drew those dead freaks out. Not wanting to waste anymore time I sprinted to the back where the fridges were. As I began to look for water I heard the crunching of shattered glass being stepped on.

“Which way do you think she went,” one of them asked, his voice was heavy and sounded mean. “Can’t we just kill her and go one with our day,” the other man sighed and it sounded like he kicked something out of the way because soon a thud followed.

“You know what Negan said about the girls, besides he saw her himself sitting in his damn ass in that car,” hearing that told me everything I needed to know. Just like my brother said, men nowadays don’t want to kill women, they want to take them and do things to them.

Shivering at the thought I carefully snuck around some aisles before approaching one of the men who had picked up a stuffed animal near the front. Taking a quick glance at my surroundings I snuck up to the man and shoved my knife in his throat, not allowing him to make any noises other than soft gurgling and throwing his arms around.

I placed him on the floor softly to not attract noise, “Oh shit!” I heard gun fire in the store and I looked around me. There were those dead things coming after the other guy. Taking my chance I ran to pick up the last three water bottles in the fridges before bolting out the back.

Hearing some more gunfire I quickly made my way back to where my brother was. I nearly dropped the water bottles soon seeing four men guarding the entrance. I grumbled to myself and decided to take a different route to get inside.

Once I entered through the back which stupidly enough was not guarded I took down two more of the men in the department store where my brother is. I attempted to make my way into the room he was in before big arms wrapped around me.

I wasn’t a small tiny person but I wasn’t big either. My family had a history of tall kids so I took advantage and threw my head back making contact with his nose. I wanted to rub the part his nose made contact with but I had no time as another pair of arms wrapped around my neck pulling me back and before I knew it, my feet were off the ground.

I was being carried from my arms and my feet. No matter how much I kept moving their arms were not budging. “Well, well, well, what do we have here,” A voice boomed from in front of me as I was thrown into the floor.

A grunt left my lips, “What the hell? Is that anyway to treat a lady?” The man faked sincerity, throwing a hand to his chest. The two men mumbled an apology to him and he simply shook his head before looking down at me, “My names Negan, what’s yours?” Pushing myself up to look at him I nearly fell back at how close he was to me.

He was crouching in front of me with a grin on his face. He was handsome, I’ll give him that, but nothing disgusts me more than evil men. “Y/N,” I quickly spit out causing him to nod before looking behind him.

“Was that your brother,” my eyes shot up at his choice of wording. Fearing the worst I shot up to check to see if he was dead before I was held down by Negan. “Woah! Calm down pretty lady, he’s alive, buuut he’s not doing so good.”

I sniffed and attempted to back up before I felt something poke the back of my head. I turned to see two guns pointed at my head, no doubt on orders by whoever the hell this guy was.

I looked back at him as he looked deep in thought before feeling his eyes wonder on my body. I suddenly felt naked even though I had more than enough clothes on. I wanted to shield myself and hide away with my brother.

“I have an idea,” Negan grinned from ear to ear. My eyebrow raised as I watched him stand up and pick his bat up. Shit. That thing had barbed wire around it. My eyes widened in shock as I was sure he was going to kill me.

Instead he crouched down in front of me again this time his bat was resting on his shoulder, “How about I put your boyfriend out of his misery and take you with me so you can serve under me OR,” he exaggerated the or.

“He comes with us and we treat him under the condition you marry me.”

I chose the latter in hopes to see my brother at his best again. I couldn’t live in a world without him, I just couldn’t. So reluctantly I sat next to Negan as we made our way back to where he called “The Sanctuary “

“So, how long have you and your boyfriend been a thing,” Negan nudged my shoulder lightly to get a response out of me. God I hated the way he looked. He looked so happy and carefree, like nothing in the world was wrong, like everything was just perfect the way it was.

Side eyeing him I responded with disgust, “That’s my brother dip shit.” This only caused him to laugh and the driver next to me to give a chuckle. “You got some spunk to you, I like it,” was the last thing he said before we arrived.

I was met with a woman in a nice black dress. She looked beautiful… Negan introduced me to her and everyone else who was kneeling before him as his new wife. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my sickly brothers eyes widen as he was taken inside by a man in a white coat.

Once I was inside I was escorted by Negan himself into a room with sofas and other luxury furniture. “Hi, I’m Sherry I’m sorta new. Frankie and Tanya have been here for a minute but don’t worry, you’ll be taken care of and treated like a queen, hopefully,” she didn’t think I heard it as her back was now turned to me but I did. I heard that last word.

She showed me to a room nearby and gave me a mini tour. The room was nice it had a full bed, a kitchenette, a loveseat, a table with two chairs, and a bathroom that had a big shower. I stared in awe and she just smiled sympathetically at me.

“You should clean up, I left you some clothes and shoes change into them and give me your clothes your wearing now when you’re done,” Sherry pointed towards the small dress and heels placed on the bed. I turned to her with a raised brow.

She just shook her head, “You have to wear it if you’re gonna be his wife,” my eyes widened in realization that those girls were also his wife. I wanted to just take my brother and run away from here, but this place was a luxury and I still needed to locate my brother.

Giving her a nod she smiled before leaving the room not bothering to lock it. I didn’t care though, a shower sounded like something I needed. I spotted razors and a variety of different soaps. I smiled at the sight and remembrance of when I would spend hours in the shower shaving every crevice of my body.

So I did just that and two hours later with a slight headache, wobbly legs, and tired arms I got dressed. The dress was a bit tight around my chest and waist but flowed a bit at the bottom. A silk A-Line dress with a slight corseted top. My boobs were a problem in itself, they were practically spilling out and anytime I tried to pull it up I felt the air on my ass. Sighing I went with having my chest out rather than my butt.

It didn’t help that the bra I was given wouldn’t fit with the dress and the underwear I was given was a thong that went right up my ass. The heels were strappy and relatively low, thankfully. I turned to open the door but it was opened for me instead.

I made eye contact with Sherry as she looked down at me and smiled, “If I didn’t have a boyfriend and a husband, I’d be all over you.” I blushed lightly at her comment and she took my hand. “Come on, the girls wanted to do your make up and hair, show you the ropes and rules.”

“I know how to wear makeup and do my hair,” I deadpanned as we approached the familiar room with the sofas. “Not the way Negan likes it, he’s pretty picky with this kinda stuff,” she explains and ai only nod in understanding not that she can see me as she’s pulling me into the room.

There was a mirror set up and a chair in it’s some hair tools and a makeup bag. Frankie pulled me to sit down and Sherry sat across from me on the counter holding the mirror. I looked up at her and we smiled at each other. Frankie and Tanya got to work on my hair. Now that my hair had somewhat dried they put stuff in it and blow dried it then they began to curl it.

After that they pinned my hair in place before moving onto makeup. I felt like a doll as the girls lightly touched my face applying the product. Giving one spray they stepped back as I looked in the mirror.

What the hell? I could barely recognize myself. I wanted to take the mirror and throw it out the window. “I hope you memorized everything we did because all this stuff is yours now. It’ll be delivered to your room in a bit but Negan wants a small ceremony to show you off,” Tanya spoke folding her arms over her chest.

It all made sense now and I could only nod. They began to clean themselves up and a man came in with some food on a platter, placed it on the coffee table, then he left. “Let’s dig in,” Frankie said and the girls all walked over to the platter.

I watched as they slowly picked apart the plate and left some to the side, no doubt for me. Sherry motioned for me to sit by her and I did. “How are you guys handling this so well,” I ask, my throat a little dry from not talking a lot. Tanya got up and went to the fridge and Frankie sighed.

“He gave you an ultimatum didn’t he? Look he isn’t a bad guy, he just does bad things,” I scoffed at her words. “It’s true. Believe it or not…he saved us. He gave us an out and if I have to kiss him or have sex with him every now and then I’ll do it because I know that I’m safe and so is my baby sister,” My eyes widen at her words.

Kiss? Sex? Saved?! It sounded like a bad case of battered wife syndrome. I sighed and shook my head, “I have to have sex with him,” I ask in disbelief. “Well no. I just do it because he’s hot and has a big dick, but he won’t force you to do anything. Kissing though, he doesn’t like to be embarrassed so even a peck on the lips will suffice,” Frankie explains and Tanya snorts as she comes back with a bottle of water for me.

It was cold… I stare at the bottle while Tanya teases Frankie about her relationship with Negan but I pay no mind. My brother… where is he… I need to see him… I can’t do this without him.

I was interrupted by my thoughts before the tears came by a man, “He’s ready for you, Y/N.” Sherry stands up and offers a hand. I take it and we follow the man through hallways before spitting Negan standing at the edge of a ledge, fencing stopping him from a long way down filled with people kneeling.

He turns to me and I watch as his eyes visibly widen and his mouth nearly hangs open. Sherry squeezes my hand and gives me a reassuring smile. I give her the same back as she leaves me to join the other girls.

My attention is turned back to Negan when he clears his throat and offers his own hand. That’s when I spot it, there’s a box in his pocket. I sigh as I take his hand and we walk to the end of the ledge where Negan allows everyone to stop kneeling.

A man comes up from behind us and we’re soon facing each other. The man begins to speak words that were going through one ear and out of the other. That’s when I spot him. My eyes widen and I feel my hand twitch, my brother was staring at me with hard eyes, but he looked visibly better.

“I do.”

My attention is snatched back to Negan and the man, so this is what weddings are like? Negan grins at me as it was not my turn to say the words. “I do,” I speak softly “you may now kiss the bride,” the man states before backing up.

My eyes widen and Negan steps closer to me placing his hands on my waist, his next words shocking me and sending waves to my core, “Is this okay?”

I stutter out a yes and he pulls me close and gives me a firm kiss on my lips. My first one… I hear applause from all around us and I feel Negans lips turn into a smile against mine.

It had been about a week and adjusting to this life was…hard, but for my brother it had to be done. Speaking of, I was allowed to see him today. Nerves shook through my hands as this would be the first time I see him since that day he was nearly huffing out blood on me.

I cringe at the memory as I exit my room. The hallways was a little dingy but there was enough light to see who stood at the ends of the halls or who sweeps them. My thoughts were interrupted by a big burly man and two other guys a bit smaller than him. “Look who we have here, names Clyde,” I roll my eyes and cross my arms but then I see his eyes wander to my chest.

“She’s a sexy little thing isn’t she,” one of the guys behind Clyde speaks causing him to grin, “oh she’s not little in certain areas,” he bit his lip and walked close to me but I kept walking back. “You better not tell Negan, or I’ll have to make sure you never speak about anything to anyone ever again, got it sweet cheeks,” Clyde bit his lips and placed his hand under my chin.

The other guys behind him resorted in blatant insult, “I bet that sluts always on her knees for him. Dress like a whore, look like a wore, bet she fucks like one too,” I spit at Clyde causing his eyes to darken. “You shouldn’t have done that bitch—“

“Y/N!” My body was frozen in fear from the look he was giving me and I turn my head to see Sherry walking up to us. “Back off Clyde. Go shove your dick in a walker,” Sherry grabbed my arms and pulled me away. At first she seemed mad and angry, the grip on my arm hurt but then I looked closer at her body language.

The hand in my arm was shivering and the other hand was balled into a fist also shaking… she was scared of him too. I hear a scoff “That’s not true,” he sounded more like a child now. Sherry only rolled her eyes before dragging me to our room with the sofas.

In this lighting I could finally see the fear behind her, “That was Clyde, Andrew, and Nick… Stay away from them.” Before I could respond Frankie and Tanya greeted me. After the hugs I explained that I needed to go see my brother and excused myself.

“Be careful,” I heard from behind me, it was Sherry.

The way towards the medical wing was… interesting. I nearly got lost and had to ask a guy with a giant letter on his dirty sweatshirt. I forgot the letter and was pointed in the right direction. I wasn’t stupid I knew his eyes weren’t on the ground they were on me, more specifically my chest.

I shivered at the coldness as I entered the medical area. “You must be Y/N,” I heard a voice from beside me a turned to see a man in a white coat, he looked ginger. “What gave it away,” I asked softly causing him to smile, “I’m Doctor Carson. I’ve been taking care of your brother these past couple of weeks.”

“Has it been that long,” I accidentally speak out in front of him causing him the chuckle “I’m afraid so. He’s been waiting for you and don’t worry if he’s snappy. He just learned his sister is married,” he gave me a gentle smile. I nod and make my way to his room area.

“You look like shit,” I speak out to my brother who is currently looking out of a small window having to crane his neck to see. His head whips over to where I’m at and he scoffs “You look even worse.”

I smile softly and approach, my heels clicking on the floor. I sat on his bed and we sat in silence before I spoke up. “I had no choice… it was either he killed you or he treated you either way I’d still be here… I didn’t have a choice… I can’t live without you,” before I knew it there were small droplets placing themselves on the backs of my hands.

“I…. I know. And I understand, just—just…if he fucks with you he fucks with me okay,” I nod at his words and smirk before turning my head to finally face him. He looked so much better and his voice was now clear and not hoarse like it used to be.

“N-Not like that! Idiot,” He nearly shouts causing me to laugh. For the first time in a long time I laughed, and it was because of my brother. “I didn’t even say anything bozo,” he started laughing and then I laughed harder at his laugh.

We both sighed before I leaned forward to hug him, my arms wrapping around his waist, “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m gonna talk to Negan and tell him to move you next door to me,” I mumble loud enough for him to hear me. He chuckles and rubs my back, “If he listens to you.”

I look up at him and give him a weird look but he shakes his head as if to say it’s nothing, but I give him a look that tells him bitch tell me. He sighs and leans closer so I can only hear.

“They thought I was asleep and I over heard some guys were threatening to overthrown Negan. Negan heard and he was fuckin furious I mean he didn’t say it but the way his voice sounded gave me chills. Be careful okay,” I pulled away in disbelief and shock. I give him a nod before we were interrupted by Dr. Carson.

“Visiting time is up,” he gives us a smile and I return one as does my brother. “I’ll see you soon,” I tell him and he waves me off like he jokingly doesn’t believe me. I just didn’t think I’d see him the same day…

After hearing what my brother said about some guys trying to overthrow Negan I made my way to his bedroom. I wasn’t 100% sure he was there but one of the guys mopping told me he should be there, so I made my way to his door.

I knocked for about three times before twisting the nob. My ears filled with moans and screams of pleasure as the door opened wider. My hand left the nob and my eyes went to the sofas in the room where Frankie was on top of Negan with no clothes on.

She was bouncing up and down in him with her hands in her hair moaning rather loudly it’s a wonder I didn’t hear it from outside which probably meant the room was sound proof. I made eye contact with Negan and as soon as I did he shouted, “Oh fuck!”

Frankie turned to look where Negan was looking and gasped before getting off of him and slipping her dress back in then grabbing her heals and leaving the room. She placed one if her hands on my shoulder in a reassuring manner.

I couldn’t help but feel a little upset. Sure we may not be a real couple but I always believed in marrying out of love. And that’s what I did. I married Negan, not because I love him but because I love my brother and I would do anything for him.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting and instead of looking down at Negans…well little Negan I turned to face his bed instead of straight ahead at him. He sighed and pulled his pants up, leaving his shirt off.

“I told you to wait a minute,” his voice was low and sounded slightly irritated. “I-I didn’t hear it,” I responded and heard him sigh. “Well what is it? You know you have to schedule meetings with me. I don’t like being interrupted and I certainly don’t like unplanned meetings,” okay now he really sounded irritated. He sat in the same position as before on the couch with his legs spread wide.

I clear my throat and shut the door and saw as his eyebrow raised and a smirk grew, “My girls ready isn’t she.” I nearly gagged as I stood before him. “I think I know who wants to take you down,” now hearing that made him sit up “how did you—“

Accidentally I interrupted him “Clyde, Andrew, and uhh what was his name oh yea Ni—“ Negan put his hand up as if to silence me. “Let me stop you right there sweetheart. First you ignore my words and break into my quarters anyway, then you interrupt my sex, then you keep interrupting me when I speak which I should let you know is punishable by death, and NOW your accusing some of MY closest men of treason. Tsk tsk I oughta hang you on the fence,” his voice was laced with venom as his words became harsher by the second.

I could feel the tears fill my eyes as he continued, “Maybe, since you wanna go around accusing people of such shit I should go and make an example out of your brother. Take out his eye? Make you cut off his arm?” My lip begins to quiver as he speaks and I shake my head “N-No please no—“

“Shut the fuck up! I’m tired of you whining when all I’ve done was help you. You should be paying me with your body for wasting so much shit in your brother. This was a mistake, I should’ve just killed you both when I had the chance,” Negan grumbled the last sentence before bringing his hand down his face.

“Leave, I don’t every wanna see or hear you walked into my room with or with out permission or else Lucille is gonna have a nice wet date with your brother,” as soon as he said brother a small sob escaped my lips as I sped walked out of his room.

I wasn’t looking up, I couldn’t. The tears were already coming out and if it wasn’t for all the things he told me the embarrassment from whispers in the halls caused my face to swell with heat.

I continued down the halls not picking my head up and soon the whispers were gone and I was met with the light hum of the dim lights. I sighed and accidentally let out another sob and I pressed my back to a wall and slid down placing my head in my knees.

“Well look at what we have here,” my body froze at the disgustingly familiar voice. I looked up to see Clyde with his buddies Andrew and that other guy. They stood on either side of me quite literally backing me into a corner.

I looked around for help before trying to make a break for the end of the hall but was stopped when a pear of big arms wrapped around my waist and pressed me against him. “Nah ah sweet cheeks, I told you what would happen if you told Negan. Well, hearing about what happened, he probably won’t miss you once we’re done with you,” his breath was hot in my back sending the terrifying kind of shivers down my body.

I tried to fight back I really did…. But there’s a moment when you fight for so long it doesn’t feel worth it anymore. I kicked and tried to scream for what felt like hours. My body squirmed but I was only met with harsh beatings to my body.

I tried to cry out but my mouth was filled with something else—something that made me want to dissolve into a liquid matter and evaporate into nothingness. I felt disgusting and putrid. My wrists felt like they were gonna break, my head was pounding so hard the world felt like it was shaking in a category 5 earthquake, my chest my body was being tossed and turned in ways it shouldn’t.

I could swear I heard a crack and all I could hear were the grunts and laughter filling my ears. The disgusting words thrown at me making me feel smaller than ever. I didn’t even notice they were done until again all I could hear was the familiar hum of the light above me. I felt the cold air on my body and turned to see my dress completely discarded and torn.

I heard my name being called before I blacked out and felt the wet sting of my tears fall from my eyes.

I heard it again, that familiar hum of the lights only now it was louder causing my upper body to shoot upwards. I looked around with wide eyes, it was significantly brighter the walls were stained but they were still somewhat white. I tried to hide myself and felt sheets on my lower half and looked down to see a gown… wait a minute… this is…

“You’re awake,” I hear a voice from my right softly call. I turned to see Sherry, she looked tired and like she had been crying. “The others don’t know. No one else knows… except for me and Dr. Carson. I forced him to uh do the kit while you were unconscious. I’m sorry I just didn’t want you to relive….that” it all came back to me as my lower lip quivered.

She carefully got up and wrapped me in a hug shushing me as I sobbed into her. She held me and I heard footsteps approaching and a door opening. “She’s awake?” It was Dr. Carson.

Sherry pulled away from me and went to sit back in the metal chair but I held her hand and looked at her and the a pleading look. She understood and took a seat at the end of my feet and rubbed them gently. The act intimate causing me to tear up.

“I know it’s scary. And I’m so terribly sorry for what happened. I usually used this room for surgeries but considering what happened I assumed you didn’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of men groaning in pain,” He spoke softly as he sat in the metal chair by my bed.

“I… I would ask you who did this but from what Sherry tells me I’m sure I have an idea. I’ll let Negan kno—“

“No!” I shouted rather loudly and came off pretty snappy. Sherry even flinched while Dr. Carson only sighed, “This could happen again if he isn’t notified, c’mon Sherry you know this,” he was now pleading to the both of us. I looked at Sherry with wide eyes and she only shook her head.

“It wasn’t as bad as yours and it was a different person. He’s dead now,” she explained causing me to nod softly. “I-I can’t. I don’t want to talk to him or see him or even hear about him,” I spat out to no one in particular and Carson just nodded once again.

“I’m gonna need to keep you here over night and make sure nothing happens and that this was all superficial—of course it isn’t-mentally I mean, but uh I’m sorry this is my first time dealing with something this bad,” Dr. Carson stumbled over his words but I got the memo.

“Me too…”

Dr. Carson explained that the bruising in my legs, arms, torso, back, chest, bottom, and neck should go away in a couple of days and if anything gets worse then I should come back immediately. I turned him out after and Sherry listened to what I need to look out for and how to take care of myself.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Most days I spent in my room staring out the window. The bruises on my lower legs and neck had disappeared but the ones on my arms, chest, and back were still pretty prominent so I had to go bad to wearing that stupid black dress only this time Sherry picked out a different one. It covered more skin and my chest, it was also a bit longer than the last.

She told me she had burned the other one and that she covered for me to Negan and anyone who asked where I was. “I was in my period and there was too much blood and the cramps were awful,” I kept repeating this to myself just about every day.

I hadn’t seen or spoken to my brother and I know he saw me leave the medical area. I missed him but I couldn’t face him, I couldn’t face anyone, not even myself. I punched the mirror in a rage and sat on my bed as my hand bled.

Sherry came by that night. I think she’s like superwoman, she always came when I need her… usually. She helped clean my hand then we both cleaned my bathroom together.

I don’t know why I didn’t think of it but now because my dress had sleeves I felt like Ben more compelled as the blade glided through my arm. In that instance I felt my worries wash through me. The water from the shower definitely helped clean it.

When I got out I got some bandages from my first aid kit and wrapped them lightly so they wouldn’t cause a bulge in my dress. I made my way to our room and found it empty.

Nervously my eyes darted around the room and landed on the door more than a few times. Annoyed at my paranoia I got up to get something to eat from the fridge. The opening of the fridge was loud enough to cover the opening of the door to the room.

I found what made my belly grumble and I reached for the pickle jar. Pulling it out and sighing constantly I scream in shock at Negan by the fridge with his arms over his chest. He too jump in shock his eyes wide “Jesus Christ!”

I ended up dropping the jar by my feet, the juice splashed on my feet. I looked down at my feet and the now smashed jar of pickles not wanting to look at Negan. “I’m sorry,” I gave a bow and went to exit the room quickly until a hand wrapped around my arm, that arm….

I shouted in pain rather loudly causing him to let go of me in fear he held me too hard. It wasn’t until I saw him look at his hand that was slightly damp with blood, my blood. Damn… I should’ve put more bandages over it.

“What the hell,” his voice was now confused as he stared at the blood on his hand then looked at my arm. His eyes narrowed as he grabbed my wrist causing me to hiss in pain and carefully pealed back to soaked black fabric.

The first thing he saw was the soaked bandage then his eyes wandered to the bruise leaking out from the folded over sleeve. He took my other wrist gently and pulled me in the direction of his room.

Entering his room I was filled with a familiar feeling of dread and shame. His voice ringing in my ears from that day. I didn’t want to look up, I couldn’t, afraid he’d call me names and ridicule me further. He pulled me down to sit on the sofa in front of him.

I could feel his eyes scan over me, but it didn’t feel like it used to. Was it… pity? Disgust? Disappointment? Maybe even hatred?

“You did that,” he nodded towards my arms. I stared at the soft carpet beneath my feet, “Why?” His voice caught me off guard. He sounded sincere but I wasn’t a fool“It was my fault wasn’t it? You’re not happy.” I didn’t say anything and we sat there in silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were unhappy? You know you can come to me for anything,” His voice was soft but my head shot up as soon as the sentence left his mouth.

Rage. Anger. Guilt. Shame. I stood up and stared straight at him and I saw his face, it was firm but his eyes told me he was concerned and confused. I wanted to laugh at him, “You wanna know why I’m so goddamn unhappy?” I nearly shouted at him.

I leaned down to insta my shoes and reached for the hem of my dress pulling it over my body then my head. I threw the dress in the floor and watched as his eyes widened. I couldn’t help it, I was my fathers daughter and when looking in the face of confrontation I get enraged.

“This. This was you. All you! I tried—“ my voice caught in my throat as I tried not to choke up. “I tried to come for you to help and you DIDN’T CARE. Instead you ridicule me and embarrass me! Clyde. Andrew. And Nate,” I couldn’t help the chuckle that came out as I shook my head closing my eyes. “Some husband you are.”

After I said that he shot up out of his seat. I expect him to scream in my face but he only walked out the door, slamming it shut so hard the room shook. I flinched at the loud noise and vibrations before mentally gathering that he did in fact not care.

What was I thinking? I’m such a fucking idiot. After I got dressed I walked to the medical area. I needed to see my brother, I needed to cry to him. I needed… to feel like I mattered.

Once I entered the medical area I noticed Dr. Carson hunched over his desk. I slammed my hands on his desk causing him to shoot up. “Where is he,” I asked rather calmly in attempts to sound composed, though I felt the complete opposite.

I know my brother was discharged a day ago from here, but he needed check ups. Carson’s face contorted into one from confusion to despair. “Y/N… I th—I think you should sit down…” He stood up and pointed to the chair beside me. “Tell me where he is or I’ll burn this entire unit down,” I snapped at him.

I didn’t want to believe it. “He’s gone, Y/N,” my head snapped to the voice in the doorway. Negan. “Shut up! You have no right to be here!” I shouted at the man as I walked over to him practically shoving my finger in his face. “I own this place, Y/N… He was… murde—“

“I said shut the fuck up!” I shouted in Negans face. He only looked at me with sympathy and sincerity “Stop it! Stop that! Stop looking at me like that! It makes me sick,” I spat at him.

He only sigh and gave a nod to Carson who left the us alone in his office. “Looking at you like what,” Negan egged on curiosity getting the best of him. “Like you give a damn about me! You don’t care about me! You just want women to fuck! You are as heartless as a stupid fucking rock! You do things and say things but you don’t mean them,” I shouted at him my chest rising and falling from anger.

“I love you,” he spoke softly looking at me with an unfamiliar look. That pissed me off. “No you don’t! Shut up! Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” I began hitting his chest and he stood there taking it. I only stopped when his hands grabbed my wrist pulling me into him.

His body heat and warm scent filled my nostrils, that and the smell of the medical wing caused an overwhelming amount of emotions to flood my senses. I began to sob into his chest and I felt his arms wrap around me pulling me into him as we shifted to the ground.

“He’s not—he can’t be!” I let out a painful cry and he responded with brushing my hair down with his hand and rubbing my back, just like how my brother did. I couldn’t take it and I gave in, wrapping my arms around his waist as I wailed into his chest.

After about an hour and a half I was now down to hiccups and sniffles, still in the same position as before. I felt Negans lips press into my head, “He was out in a run with Clyde and Nick… they just got back and… came back with his head. I asked why they had just the head and they said to put it on a stick because he tried to kill them,” my grip tightened around Negan as the tears came flooding back.

“Why?” My voice was weak and hoarse from my previous sobs and wails. I felt him sigh against my cheek, “I asked them the sam—“

“Why did you tell me you loved me,” it seems my question caught him off guard. His hands grasped my shoulders and pulled me back gently so he could look me in the eyes.

“I told you I love you because I do. I love the way you smile, the way your hair looks when it’s not curled, the way your face is when there’s no makeup on it, the way you dress when your not wearing your dress,” my eyes widened in shock at his confession. I watched his eyes soften, “I also hate you. I hate the way you make me feel. I hate the way you make me want to kick all of the other girls out and just have you. I hate the way you look at me when I do or say something that upsets you. I also hate when you don’t look at me, those eyes… they haunt me. And if I could look at one woman the entire rest of my life, it would be you.”

My vision blurs at his words as I look down and feel tears slip from the lids in my eyes. His hand gently pulls my face to look at him “I would do anything to make you feel good. I would burn this whole place down if it meant seeing you smile or laugh.” He leans forward and feel his lips press my skin gently on my cheeks.

I felt hands on me. I felt their hands on me. I felt their breath and their teeth. I heard their laughs and their groans. I tried to push them off and screamed for help. Their hands gripping my wrists so tight it felt like they were going to break off.

“Y/N!!”

I gasp and look around me. It was slightly dark in the room the only source of light came from a bed side lamp—wait a minute. I don’t have a bedside lamp. “Y/N, baby, are you okay,” I heard Negans voice and my body came down from that tense feeling.

“I-I could feel them… their touch and their laughs…” before I knew it I began crying and Negan pulled me into his arms the two of us falling side ways on the bed. It felt good. The bed was soft and sunk under me. The comforter was a big fuzzy black one.

“It’s okay. No ones gonna hurt you again okay? Get some sleep we have a big day tomorrow,” I simply nodded at his words as he pulled the covers over us and held me close.

By the time I woke up the sun was peaking through the curtains and I was fully aware of where I was. Negan’s room. I had been sleeping here for two nights already. I didn’t want to go back to my room or anywhere else.

I left a dress at the end of the bed along with a note and some heels. I sighed and decided to shower before getting dressed. I froze when I saw myself in the mirror. I couldn’t pull myself from looking away. Disgusting. Shame. Hatred. And anger filled me up as I looked at myself.

I clenched my fists and shut my eyes before turning the shower on. It was so much nicer in this bathroom, it made me feel like I was low class and he was middle upper class.

After showering and getting changed I read the note:

Meet me at the spot ;)

-Hubby

I rolled my eyes and carefully made my way to “the spot” I was taken out of my thoughts when I felt someone fall into step with me. I stopped and spotted her brunette hair curled. She turned and smiled softly at me.

“I’m sorry… about your brother,” she reached for my hand and I let her. I didn’t want to cry not now but this was all too overwhelming. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t alone,” I smiled sadly at her and we soon began walking again.

“Dwight met your brother. He really liked him. Said he was sassy and not afraid to show it,” I looked down and frowned at her words. I knew Dwight from Sherry, they were supposed to get married before Negan found them. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s what got him killed,” I said softly but loud enough for her to hear me.

She sighed and came to a stop. We were now just a hall away from “the spot” Negan wanted to meet me at, “Don’t blame anyone but the dickheads that killed him okay? Your brother was one of the good ones, which is pretty hard to come by nowadays.”

I sighed and shook my head in agreement. She shot me a comforting smile and squeezed my hand much like when she showed me off to get married to Negan. I gave her a smile back and let go, turning down the hallway to spot Negan just standing there swinging Lucille back and forth.

I assumed he heard the click clack of my heels because he looked over at me and grinned from ear to ear. Usually I felt disgusted when he looked at me like that but I only smiled at him and he held his arms out to me.

I leaned into his hug as he kissed my head and whispered in my ear, “let’s get this show in the road.” We made our way down to the common area where there was a giant brick made furnace. There were also four men lined up, each had a bag over their head.

I watched from the side as Negan instructed the bags be taken off their heads. My eyes widened as I saw Clyde, Andrew, Nick, and another guy. My hands started to feel clammy as I tightened my grip on the hem of my dress.

I then watched with a mixture of different emotions as Negan beat the shit out of all three guys except for Clyde. He had been blubbering like a baby and whining in fear. I could only stare as Negan forced him to take off his pants in front of all the saviors.

He did something rather unexpected but also expected, he took an extremely hot iron an held it to Clyde’s penis. I watched Negan in adoration as Clyde began convulsing. It looked like he passed out but a few moments later he turned into a rotter.

Negan took a machete from one of his men and chopped Clyde’s head off. He then instructed his men to clean up the mess and put his head on a stick outside the sanctuary. He then looked at me and motioned for me to come over, “Let this be a lesson! You fuck with my girl, Y/N, I will see to it you never get the ability to fuck ever again!” Then there was a roar of cheers and I made eye contact with the girls who were also shouting

Negan brought his hand under my chin pulling me to look at him, “Is this okay?” He asked making my heart flutter and my mind to race before pulling him in for a kiss in front of everyone.

“Negan!” I shouted as I felt his beard tickling my neck. “Mmm” he groaned softly placing more kisses downwards. “You have a meeting in 10 minutes,” I gasped as his hands found their way under my dress. We were seating on the sofa in his room.

It had been a week since he publicly executed those guys. I didn’t want to speak of them, it always managed to ruin my day. “I don’t care. Don’t wanna be interrupted from time with my girl,” he mumbled into the skin on my chest causing me to chuckle.

“Oh yea that’s right you don’t like to be interrupted—oh!” I felt his fingers press against my center causing me to let out a moan and grasp at his hair. “Don’t do that baby, I won’t be able to control myself,” he looked up at me through his lashes and I placed my hand on his cheek.

I smiled and pulled him in for a kiss before we were interrupted from harsh knocking “Come on man, some of us have meetings!” Shouting came from behind the door.

“I’m not done with you sweetheart,” Negan grinned and gave me one last passionate kiss before pulling away and fixing himself up. “Hey,” I called out to Negan who turned around after picking up Lucille, “I love you.”

I was met with a groan and he tossed Lucille aside on the loveseat and turned to open the door, “reschedule the meeting!” I heard him shout before he shut the door and locked.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he began taking his shoes off and pulling his shirt over his head. “Why don’t you come and show me,” I teased pulling my dress off. That seemed to do it for him and soon he pounced on the bed causing a string of giggles to come out.

It was hard getting used to it, to everything. I didn’t even think to think about someone like Negan in such a light, but he wouldn’t always tell me he cared about me instead he never failed to show me how he felt.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Wasted Love {Part II}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Language, High Angst

Words: 6.3k

Summary: Nope.

Note: Posted the first part of this months back and finally getting around to part 2. I hope you like it. Look out for the final part.

As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it!

As you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous: Wasted Time |

-Lewis-

"For fuck's sake!” He threw the controller across the room.  When it collided with the floor it shattered sending pieces everywhere. "Woah. Woah! What the hell?!” Andrew, Miles, and Daniel all looked at him with varying expressions of confusion, shock, and concern. "Yo, what the fuck is your problem? It’s just an L in MK," Andrew said. He sighed then rubbed his face, pressing a little harder than necessary. "Like we can go again, and I'll let you win if it's that serious," Miles said. He sighed again, his head miles, leaps, and bounds away from the video game, the living room, or his friends. His mind was still in that penthouse suite with you standing in front of him as you argued going back and forth both pushing and neither relenting even a little. His head was still there picking apart every word, every expression, every shuddered breath, every pupil dilation. "Yo, Lewis," Daniel called bringing his attention back to them. "Nah, this can't be about the game. Even you're not that petty," Miles said putting his controller down. "What's up?" He rolled his head around cracking each joint in his neck and shoulders. He hadn't realized until now how wound up he'd been over the last 2 and a half weeks. He also hadn’t realized how steadily his anger and frustrations were climbing too. What was him being in disbelief for the first few days after the confrontation turned into anger then annoyance. Right now he was festering and stewing in all three. He couldn’t believe that after everything you'd been through, everything you'd shared, the lengthy conversations, the trips to and from each of your homes, the late-night phone and video calls that lasted for hours and hours, the dates, the trips, the interactions with his family and him yours, all of it, you were here.

While he had thought you were building and strengthening and growing toward each other despite his insane schedule and lack of free time, that wasn't the case at all. If you had then there was no way you could have said the shit you did or believed he would do some shit like that. "Dude," Andrew began. "It's nothing," he lied. "Bullshit. It's not racing that's been going good, it's not the other hustles either. What, is it Y/N?" His entire body tensed at the mention of your name. That was different. Before, your name brought him peace, a smile and so much more. "Bingo. What is it? Haven't seen her in a few weeks, she too busy for your ass and you salty for it?" He was used to Daniel’s teasing, and usually, he would laugh it up and allow them to bust his chops, but right now Daniel was rubbing on a sensitive topic. Before he realized it he'd kissed his teeth. That action made all three of them perk up. "What's wrong?" "We're done," he blurted out as if the words were acrid acid on his tongue. They were quiet for a few moments, then Miles broke it. "Done? Fuck outta here. You're lying." "I'm for real,” he replied with a touch of exasperation in his voice. "What? What happened?" He sighed again then told them the whole story not leaving out anything. He wanted to hear their thoughts mainly because he felt they would take his side. As he went through the whole thing again he had to admit to himself that there were some things he shouldn't have said, things that he recognized fueled your ruthlessness, things he now regretted. When he'd said his piece he waited for them to tune in, however, a good minute passed before any of them said a word. They just exchanged looks as if speaking nonverbally and trying to come to a consensus. "She fucked up right." Daniel made a face. "IIIIIIII mean," he stretched out in that high-pitched tone that said even more.

"Hold on,” Andrew interrupted, “Has something changed? I thought you were all about her these last months. I thought since she finally gave you the time you were being real.”

“I was—am—was. Shit.”

“You slipped up?”

“No! It was nothing, it was work.”

They all gave him the look as if he was full of shit. Kissing his teeth again he rolled his eyes. “I’m telling the truth. It was work, nothing more. Hell I even told them that when they tried to tag team off each other to spit game. I told them I was seeing someone, and it was getting serious, and I wasn’t bout that life anymore.”

“That’s what I thought,” Miles said.

“I didn’t even know she was there. She showed me some fucked picture and she ran with that shit.”

“What picture?”

He opened his messages, found the picture then showed it to them. You’d sent it to him a few hours after you’d left when he texted you that, “You were fucking things up”, your reply was the picture and a simple reply, “Naw bruh you did that shit all on your own. Own it!” It was the last message you’d sent him. It was now almost 3 weeks later, and you were still radio silent.

“Woah, yeah. That looks bad,” Andrew spat out.

Daniel took his phone and studied the picture closer. “Is she kissing your neck?”

“No.”

Miles now snatched the phone and studied it. “And her hand--.”

“No. Nothing happened. The wild shit is this was a backroom photoshoot for the brand. We were posing for the designer for their social marketing.”

“Does she know that?”

“I don’t know. I shit you not, she blew in like a hurricane and within 10 minutes she was gone. She didn’t let me explain. Nothing. Someone sent her that picture.”

“Someone wanted to start shit and she took the bait.”

“9 months. 9 fucking months I’ve been bending backward trying to erase my past for her. 9 months I’ve been putting in wild effort to show her, prove to her I’m not the same dude I used to be, 9 months I’ve been going hard trying to show her what she meant to me and that I’m not fucking around when it comes to her, but 10 minutes and it all blew the fuck up. Now I’m angry, what the fuck was I doing this whole time? Why?”

They didn’t bother replying because there was nothing else to say. They knew everything he was saying was true. He’d cut out all the extra shit months ago because he wanted to get closer to you. He’d decided to be the committing type and he was happy to do it, happy to show you he was more than his reputation. He’d turned on plenty of trips, parties, and things of the kind with his boys because it would have backfired. He’d worked hard to earn your trust but in truth, he hadn’t earned anything. You still saw him as he used to be. And that was the hard pill for him to swallow.

~~~~~~~

-1 Week Later-

“Uncle Lewis let’s go in the pool.”

Snapping out of it, he smiled at his niece then nodded. “Of course princess, let’s go.”

He walked to the edge of the pool and stood beside her. As they prepared his nephew approached and began doing the same thing. As they counted down from three he jumped at 2.

“Aw, Uncle Lewis you cheated!”

He shrugged and watched them leap into the water creating massive miniature splashes of the one he’d just created. When they emerged they came after him trying to attack him like little baby sharks. Each of their attempts was blocked and turned around on them. When one failed he grabbed the other and tossed them across the pool then did the same for the other. Soon there was almost just as much water outside the pool as there was inside.

By the time he got out of the pool the sun was setting and he was exhausted. Dropping himself into one of the lounge chairs, he sighed and allowed himself to relax. However, relaxation wasn’t in the cards for him. Though the activity from before worked to distract him from his heavy thoughts, now with the absence of said activity it all came flooding back. With an exasperated grunt, he grabbed his phone off of the side table and then went to his socials.

As he aimlessly scrolled through the posts he liked a few and kept swiping. Some of the posts he registered others he didn’t. Within a few short minutes, he somehow found himself on yours. He didn’t even notice until he was staring at one of your recent posts, a picture of yourself staring deeply into the camera. It looked like something shot for a brand or a photoshoot rather than a natural selfie.

For several moments all he thought of was how fucking gorgeous you were. The saying ‘the eyes are the windows to the soul’ rang true for you because every time he gazed into them he was always pulled into their depths to drown in their beauty. Fuck, he missed you he thought to himself. On the 4th post he’d landed on he sighed seeing you laughing uncontrollably with your best friend. You looked like you hadn’t a care in the world; like you were blissfully happy. The thought hit him then that you looked like you didn’t miss him one bit.

Acknowledging that made his heart thud painfully then his annoyance was back. It was just like you to leave him to fall apart while you escaped with carefreeness. He’d always suspected that he felt more for you than you felt for him. He guessed that this was his proof. He tapped the tag in the photo of your best friend and found even more videos and pictures of you. The backdrop said you were either on an island or some European seaside town and you were enjoying yourself. He pressed his finger to the screen, freezing the video on your smiling face. Drinking wasn’t really his thing, but fuck did he want a drink or three right now.

“You’re messing yourself up.”

Snapping his head up, he found his mother sitting beside him.

“Mum.”

“Not only are you messing yourself up with everything you’re keeping in but you’re trying to use everything you possibly can as an escape, case in point this last-minute trip,” she finished.

“Mum, it’s not like--.”

“And according to Miles and Daniel, you’re spiraling inside, and it’s not a little.”

“I’m fine, mum, I promise,” he half lied placing his phone on the side table face up.

“You’re not. How could you be fine? The first woman you’ve allowed yourself to fall in love with in years has done a flip and turn because of your actions.”

His brow rose, “What?”

“Acceptance of one’s actions is important, Lewis. I have always taught you that.”

“Naw. Nope, I didn’t do this. I didn’t make this happen. She is a distrustful person.” He sat up straighter then, “I worked my butt off to show her she could trust me, to show her that I wanted her and only her.”

His mother shook her head about that. “If you’re still doing the things you know are triggers for her, how are you proving anything?”

He looked at her incredulously. He knew she liked you a lot and had grown closer to you over the past months, but he didn’t know when she’d completely jumped on your ship while abandoning his.

“Mum, I can’t control half the things she thinks,” he pleaded.

“The pictures Lewis. The pictures and your choice of words.”

He sighed then because he knew that she’d talked to you already. He was tempted to ask his mother for the play-by-play, but he decided against it knowing she probably wouldn’t go for it.

“It was innocent. It was work.”

“Did you tell her that? You know someone sent her those pictures? Someone wanted to start problems and it was too easy because you helped them along.”

“I tried to tell her, but she basically called me a liar. She looked me in my eyes and decided not to believe me. Plus it’s a lot more than she ever afforded me. She’s photographed with a lot of guys all the time; some work, some not, she doesn’t explain any of it to me, yet I trust her enough to believe it’s not something wild or disrespectful. Yet when it comes to me, I’m automatically the knob.”

“Lewis,” she warned.

He raised his hand, sighed out then leaned back in the chair.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before he continued. “She treats me like an option mum--a bloody option. This whole year, the 9 we’ve been together and the 3 it took to claim her, I’ve treated her like my only choice.”

The truth to those words was a truth he’d buried deep. His mother reached over and took his hand.

“Sweetie,” she began.

He knew what was coming, knew she was either going to defend you or try to soothe the pain he felt. He didn’t want either.

“She acts like I never said the words.”

Another truth he’d buried. “I said them, I meant them and she--she never said them back, never even acknowledged them.”

That night was still fresh in his mind. The night when his body and heart felt matched perfectly, it was the night he’d said the words he’d felt for weeks and weeks before. He’d stared deeply into your eyes and said them. ‘I love you.’ He’d meant them. He didn’t know he could still truly feel that way about anyone or feel enough to say the words. You’d proven him wrong, and he was cut up because of it.

 “Lewis, I’m thrilled that you’ve finally found someone that you want in your life for more than a few months. It makes me so happy that you have found someone to love. She is a wonderful woman, but, who cares what she does? If this is how you feel how you truly feel, if she is who you choose and wholeheartedly want beside you then you are supposed to be with it be about her no matter what.”

“Seriously!? No.”

“That my love, is the difference between a boy and a grown man. A grown man is one hundred percent true to what’s in here,” she reached over then pat his chest just over his heart. “He is about it, and nothing changes it because it does not matter.”

“How—H--how do I do that? How in the world do I put myself out there--,” he voiced before she cut him off.

“--And invite her to break your heart? Is she worth the risk?”

He didn’t want to open his mouth to even answer this. If you weren’t worth it, he wouldn’t have spent so much time perusing you. He never would have made so much of an effort to include you in his world and life, he wouldn’t have waited 6 fucking months to sleep with you so both of you were sure where your hearts were, he wouldn’t have ever told you he loved you. Of course, you were worth it but the memory of the look in your eyes as you spoke to him, the last thing you’d said to him held part of him back.

“I have always been and will always be that bitch with or without you.”

That coupled with the way you looked at him just before the elevator doors closed held him back.

“Lewis!”

“I—I don’t—I don’t know anymore.”

He rubbed his forehead. “I thought I knew, thought I was so sure, I was sure, but--I don’t.”

This was fucked, he thought as he felt his mother’s eyes boring into him. When she stood she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as she did when he was a child after a spill. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out while he relished this comforting embrace.  It was in his mother’s loving and judgment-free arms he finally broke letting it all go.

Hours seemed to pass this way, or perhaps it had been just mere minutes. When his sister approached he felt heaps better but his heart was still heavy. A notification from his phone drew his attention as his sister sat on the floor before him. As he checked it, his sister gave her best attempt at a pep talk. Some words he caught others he missed but the sentiment was sometimes time helped people see the error of their ways and come up with ways to fix the errors. He didn’t know if she meant his errors or yours.

He went into his socials DMs and found a message from your best friend. After hesitating for a few moments he tapped into it and found a video. It took him to a recent video that was only available to her close friends. Your face came into view, and he instantly noticed the tears on your cheeks. You held your hand up to block the camera view, but the angle only changed.

“When bestie is tired of frontin' for the gram with the having the time of my life posts and allows herself to be sad and you gotta cheer her up,” your best friend said.

“Stop. You can’t record me like this. I’m not sad,” you protested.

“No?”

You were quiet for a few seconds. “No.”

Your voice was clouded as if your throat was tight words struggled to make it through. “Not sad—really, really sad,” you said voice a sobbing whine.

Fuck, he thought. He hated seeing you cry.

“What—what do I—do I do now?”

“Allow yourself to feel it,” your friend suggested.

You sobbed some more, and he watched your friend hug you before the video ended. So many things flew through his mind but the two things that kept coming around. The first was how much he missed you.

The second, you were worth it.

~~~~~~

-Y/N-

Everyone said that the first month of a breakup was always the hardest and those words were proving true. Since those elevator doors had closed you’d done everything to keep yourself moving. You piled on work to make sure you had no free time to sit and think. However, that didn’t quite work because wherever you went, something reminded you of him. Either it was a café or a location you went to for a shoot, or even something you ate. You nearly threw yourself into the ocean when one of the set interns brought you a glass of Almave.

When work didn’t prove successful, you picked yourself and your friends up for a girls’ trip to a faraway island. You drank, partied, and posted it all on your socials hoping you could fake it till you made it, but the faking became too much. By nightfall every night, you wallowed with a bottle or two of wine.

While you were beyond pissed at Lewis you also knew that picture was sent to you on purpose. You weren’t an idiot and had dealt with plenty of conniving, duplicitous bitches in your days. You knew someone was trying to fuck with you and start shit and you were giving them what they wanted. That didn’t matter because none of that changed the content of the photo.

Every time you came back to that no matter how much of your anger had dissipated, it all came back with that one nugget of fact. It was straight-up disrespect. If the tables had been turned and it was you, Lewis would have made a huge fuss over it by being extra petty. You refused to believe you were in the wrong, but several bits of your interaction tried to come through to show you had been in the wrong for a few things.

You were a passionate person and usually when arguing that passion shines through and oftentimes you get reckless at the mouth not caring how your words are thrown together or the force of those words. You knew you fought dirty; it was the only way you knew how. You blamed it on the years of living a single and independent life after one of the worst breakups of your life. It had caused more damage than good. You’d had no one to answer to, no one to consider or consult and you oftentimes still lived there in your head. It was a major switch to flip and a switch you failed, more times than you liked to admit, to flip.

You knew that night you’d said whatever came to mind and didn’t care if the words hurt. In fact, you said some things to cause pain and that was the source of your regret. Lewis had often told you throughout your 9-month relationship that your mouth would get you in trouble in more ways than one. He’d warned you about your recklessness and told you he wouldn’t stand for it because if he really wanted he could get just as reckless as you.

That was one of the things you loved about him. He wasn’t afraid to call you out on your bullshit and put you in your place when you got into your bad girlfriend mode.

Sighing, you raised the glass of wine to your lips and guzzled until it was empty. Your eyes fell to the now empty wine bottle, and you debated with yourself over getting another. It was the 2nd bottle of the night, and you knew if you got a 3rd you’d have entered lush territory, but you didn’t care enough to resist. So you slinked across the kitchen to the wine fridge and grabbed another bottle of wine, but before you closed it you grabbed one more just in case.

After you’d popped the cork and filled your glass to the brim your phone went off with a security notification. Checking the application, you reviewed the notice of someone entering your code into your security gate.

“What the hell?”

Another notification came in informing you a car was pulling up the drive. You went over the registered movements watching the videos to figure out if you had a security breach or if someone was just showing up unannounced. On the 3rd video, you realized who it was.

“No fucking way.”

You walked out of the kitchen, through your home, and to your front door. Before you got there, the bell rang. Once you turned the corner you saw who it was through the intricately decorated glass doors. Lewis Hamilton. Neither of you moved. You stood there staring at each other. You couldn’t read the expression in his brown eyes, but you could read the dark circles underneath them and his lackluster complexion. He looked slightly sick but also indifferent. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was having as hard a time as you were. You’d purposely stayed off his and his friends' accounts to avoid any excessive thoughts of him.

Lewis didn’t move a muscle, he patiently waited for you to make your move. It was a move you didn’t know how to make. You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t wanted him to run after you and fight some more, but you also didn’t want to see him again. So one hand itched to grab the knob and open the door for him but the other hand wanted to override the security system and shutter down your house.

You closed your eyes and took several deep breaths giving your body control to see which side won. When your hand wrapped around the knob you wanted to break it. Once you opened the door, you snapped your eyes open.

“What the hell are you doing here? How did you get past my gate?”

Lewis scoffed and slightly shook his head before speaking, “Let me in, Y/N.”

You scrunched your face and doubled down on your annoyance. “What? Not a chance in hell. Answer me. How?”

When your best friend's name came out of his mouth your eyes bugged. There was no way.

“Bullshit! There is no way my best friend would give you my security code for my gate without letting me know. There is no way!”

He looked unamused now.

“Yet she did.”

You studied him still shocked.

“Let me in.”

“No. Why would I do that? We have nothing to talk about.”

“I think we have a lot to talk about.”

You scoffed. “Five weeks too late. Anything I had to say was said already. We’ve both said enough. You should go 44.”

Lewis took a sharp breath in and released it. As it came out it sounded like a hiss. “Oh boy. Y/N, stop talking! For real just stop—fucking talking and let me in!”

“What the fuck?! Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Do I fucking look like one of your side bitches, or your groupies?!”

From the heat rushing through you, you could tell that your anger was beginning to really boil now. With quick moves, Lewis moved from his side of the door to close the space between you. Before you knew it, he had one of his hands cupping your skull and his lips pressed to yours. Like magic as if on command you stopped moving and any thought of protest faded, hell any thought at all faded.

Lewis’ lips moved against yours in a way you’d found yourself missing the last five weeks. He kissed you like a starved man, like a man who’d come back to claim what was his and your body reacted in the only way it had ever reacted—eager acceptance.

A small whimper escaped you and that was when Lewis backed off. You kept your eyes closed relishing the feelings that had now bubbled up within you, feelings you’d been working overtime to suppress and ignore. One kiss was all it took for the geyser to erupt.

“You talk to fucking much for your own good,” Lewis whispered.

You could feel the whisps of his breath against your face and picked up the scent of mint, and some form of berry. You tried to control your breathing so he wouldn’t see how much he still affected you. Opening your eyes, you peered into his glossy doe ones.

“You’ve said more than enough. I still have shit to say. So listen.”

Lewis then squeezed your hip bringing you back to the present. It was then you realized your body was pressed to his and his hand was gripping you holding you against him controlling your body like he always did. Shit, you thought. You loved when he took control, loved how he always knew how to shut you up when you got into one of your what he would call Y/N fits. Lewis squeezed your hip once more while biting his bottom lip and you wanted to knee him in the balls because of how easy it still was for him to turn you on.

As if he knew it too, Lewis released you as quickly as he’d grabbed you and walked into your house. A shiver rushed through you making you shudder. Asshole, you thought while you closed and locked your door. When turned around he was standing there waiting for you. Rolling your eyes, you led the way back to the kitchen. Once there you grabbed your glass and finished it.

“Speak.”

Lewis scoffed. “Don’t test me, Y/N.”

Clenching your jaw you refilled your glass then watched him with slightly narrowed eyes. You were not going to make any of this easy for him.

“I’m tired of these subs you keep throwing my way. So fucking tired of it. It’s like you enjoy being cold and evil to me and that’s not even cool. I’ve never taken joy in being cold to you.”

Shaking your head you took another sip from your glass.

“I’ve known you for years. Yeah, it wasn’t like we were in the same friend group, but we were cordial. I’ve wanted you the entire time I’ve known you. Yeah, yeah, I was messing with other women throughout that time.”

“Messing? Just say fucking. Call a spade a spade and move the fuck on,” you blurted out.

“Again, stop talking!”

His voice bounced around the kitchen, but you didn’t feel fear. You’d never feared him. You knew he wasn’t one of those men who hit women. That had never and would never be him. Narrowing your eyes, you took a large gulp of your wine, your conflicting feelings wreaking havoc on you.

“You act like you don’t have a past or even things from your past you’re ashamed of. Shit Y/N! I’ve told you I am not that man anymore, I’ve changed.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The silence stretched and you kept your eyes on him. He looked hurt but also frustrated. “I get that, and I’ve been killing myself by doing what I can to prove it to you, to show you I deserve your time.”

Shaking your head you scoffed. “You don’t have to prove shit else, Lewis. I have all the proof I need; I saw it all in that picture!”

“The picture was bullshit. Tell me you don’t get someone is fucking with you.”

“Again why do they want to do that Lewis? Huh! Is it because of your thot ass!”

“Oh my god, here we go again! Stop throwing my past in my face. I’ve owned it and have walked away from it. That picture was bullshit. I was working. What that picture doesn’t show--.”

You grabbed the wine bottle and began walking away. “I don’t give a shit anymore!”

Lewis’ hand wrapped around your wrist stopping your movement. “It was a photoshoot, Y/N. Someone took a picture of an impromptu photoshoot and sent it to you out of context.”

You scanned his eyes for any sign of a lie.

“You’re lying.”

“I have never lied to you. I swear it. You can even go to the brand owner and find out, it’s easy to do.”

You couldn’t believe that. “You’re lying Lewis.”

“I’m not. I told you I would never do some shit like that to you.”

You kept scanning his eyes unable to wrap your head around what he was saying. He had to be lying. Right?

“Look--,” he began dropping his hand and releasing you. With a sigh, he continued, “I came here to give you this.”

He then pulled something from his back pocket and held it out to you. The large brown envelope in his hand looked like doom in the form of an office supply.

“This is the last goddamn time I’m going to have you throw my past in my face. The last fucking time, Y/N. It’s not fair and I shouldn’t have to explain shit to you because this was before you and has nothing to do with us, here or now, but for some fucking reason I feel like I have to, and it irks the shit out of me especially since you don’t give me the same courtesy.”

His words felt like dull blades whipping against your skin. That flared your anger.

“You don’t have to explain shit to me.”

“Shut up!”

That was it. Though you liked it when he stood up to you, you hated feeling this backed into a corner, especially with the truths he’d just dropped.

“Listen, you’re not gonna be--.”

That was all you got out before Lewis’ lips were pressed to yours once again and again everything stopped. His lips manipulated you making you slump back against the wall you hadn’t realized you were pressed to. Lewis’ large hand squeezed your hip once again and you’d never wanted to strip someone more than him right now. When he pulled his lips from yours he kept his forehead to yours.

“You’ve never fucked with a guy like me. I told you that 9 months ago and it’s still true. I’m not going to just let you talk to me any old way. Those other fools were weak as fuck. I’m not weak. I can handle your ass,” Lewis said.

He didn’t need to say shit else because you were now turned the fuck on. Your eyes locked and it took everything in you to remain composed though his lips looked more and more tempting with each passing second.

“Are you listening now?”

You had no words.

“I’m done with that life. It’s boring, it’s old and to be honest it weighs me the fuck down. I want you and it goes past sex, it goes past claiming you or getting a notch, or even letting the world know I got you. None of that matters to me, it never has. I want you. I want Y/N. I’ve been real this entire time.”

Again he pushed out the envelope to you.

“After I give you this it’s all in your hands, your court, your decision. I’ll chase you but I’ll only chase you so far. This is how far.”

Your eyes dropped to the envelope between your bodies, but you didn’t reach for it. You couldn’t. You were actually scared of it and what it may hold. Glancing back at him, you studied his face.

“Your decision, make it. If it’s not me then cool. No hard feelings, we’re still friends and I’ll wish you nothing but the best but,” Lewis paused then cupped your chin as he pressed himself against you more. With his face mere centimeters from yours, he finished, “My lips will not touch yours until you come to me for it.”

Holy shit, you thought to yourself.

“Our next kiss if it’s in the cards will be done by you, not me.”

From the look in his eyes, you could tell he was serious. You could tell he meant this with everything. He was done chasing you, done giving and giving only to have you keep him at a distance. Fuckity, fuck, you thought.

“Are you gonna take it?”

You wanted to shake your head, but you couldn’t move. It was like he was the headlights, and you were the deer. You recognized the fear you felt. You knew it was do or die and you knew this was the moment of truth for your relationship. With what he’d told you about the picture being a set up you were more confused than ever. Rightfully, he shouldn’t even be here right now, not after your conversation before and how it all went down. He was still here trying to get you back.

You slowly took the envelope with a shaky hand, the only tell of your fear. Lewis slowly backed away from you while keeping his eyes on yours. When he was a few feet away he turned and began walking out of the kitchen.

“So that’s it?”

Lewis stopped then looked back at you. His expression was different now. You could tell how hurt he was now, how much you’d hurt him.

“You tell me, Y/N.”

You didn’t know what to tell him, so you didn’t say anything. Lewis nodded, the disappointment filling his eyes before he turned from you and walked away. You stood there listening to him walk through your house, his footsteps getting further and further away. When you heard the door close you released breath you didn’t know you were holding. The notification sounds from your phone told you that he’d driven down the drive and left the property.

It was then you put the envelope on the kitchen counter and took several deep breaths trying to calm yourself. No matter how many breathing exercises you did you still couldn’t calm down. Your mind raced replaying the conversation, dissecting every move, word, and glance, and analyzing it against every other conversation over the last 9 months. When your legs gave way from the weight of it all, you dropped to the floor. One question kept screaming in your head.

Had it all truly been wasted love or was there still hope?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[amorchai]

hi bubba, i'm here requesting the lil stevie blurb you wrote for me a while ago; the one with the bonfire and him being all sweet ᰔ

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄.

pairing(s): steve harrington x reader

words: 918

warnings/tags: all the gang being themselves, cursing.

a/n: this is a repost from my old account, the original post gained 700 notes.

the radiating warmth of not only the bonfire in front but the length of steve’s chest pressed against your back is enough to send you into a hazy slumber. if it weren’t for his constant moving as he watched everyone.

your head tucked under your boyfriend’s chin, steve’s arms gently encased your frame and had been for the past hour. the small get together at eddie’s ended with only a few of you left. nancy had drove most of the kids home, max staying as she only lived a trailer across and lucas was stuck to her side; steve opting to drive him back later.

eddie was using his hands atop his knees to make some careless noise amongst conversation with robin whilst steve watched fondly as lucas and max bicker, including him every so often with a ‘steve, tell her,’ or ‘stay outta this, steve, don’t listen to this doofus.’

steve couldn’t get involved, too wrapped up in the ambience of your sleepy nature against him. your breath fanned his neck and your hands clutched his jacket tightly, humming every so often when you stirred from threatened sleep.

“fuck you, honest to god, y/n! back me up here!” hands which previously coursed up and down your back with a sickeningly sweet graze freeze when steve glared at eddie munson from his spot. the kids from beside him follow his gaze when steve tries his best to whisper shout, “shut up, holy crap what ever happened to indoor voices with you lot, huh?”

“i know you weren’t the best in school, steve, but it’s basic common sense to know we’re outside right now.”

his glare moves to robin, ready to make another remark when your nose nudges against his jaw with another hum escaping you, stirring to lay your front against his while hands flatten against his chest which is currently alight with love. causing his throat to close and to shut up entirely.

“i’m not asleep, stevie. still here.” your hands move when steve’s chest vibrates with a chuckle, your words saying one thing but your expression saying a hell of the lot more.

your eyes are half-lidded, filled with a sleepiness, your cheeks look oh-so-soft and steve resists the urge to run the back of his finger over so gently like he’d break you. plus the light from the fire doesn’t help how he feels, not when the warm glow makes you look so much sweeter.

“y/n! queen or the beatles?” eddie’s voice interjects and steve leans down to press a long kiss to your head, lips murmuring against yours in the process, “sorry, baby.” you giggle lazily, hugging yourself closer to your boyfriend, knees bending so you essentially look like a koala clung to a tree.

“queen.”

a rapid beat fills your eardrums as eddie slaps his knees to the chorus of ‘we will rock you’ before standing up and leaning towards robin’s face, “told you! nobody beats freddie mercury, man. nobody!”. eddie looks over to you, face hidden in steve’s frame but eddie still speaks, not caring if it’s not really heard, “this is why you’re my favourite, y/n.”

“y/n’s clearly delirious, isn’t thinking straight,” robin starts.

“yeah, she’s like half asleep,” max continues.

you hardly listen to them, the fall air crisp against your back but steve’s quick to keep you warm. the scent of his woody cologne filling your nostrils and working like a charm to make you feel more woozy and tired, entirely safe in his arms.

“y/n deserves extra marshmallows,” eddie announces in retaliation while leaning down to grip the large bag they shared by the fire earlier to throw it in your direction. steve raises his arm to catch the plastic before discarding it to his side while responding, “y/n deserves some well-needed rest.”

you murmur incoherently against steve’s chest and he runs his hand over your head while whispering, “it’s okay, baby. i’ll get you home to bed.” little did steve know you were far more content at the back of eddie’s garden, lame bonfire while pressed against your boyfriend.

“just stay here?” eddie says as if it’s the simplest thing and steve feels you push against his hand, eyes open once again trying to lift yourself up as you start to disagree, “no, no, no. stevie, we can’t.”

everyone watches you ramble tiredly, steve kissing your forehead while his arms wrapped around your lower back comfortingly, “okay, baby—” but you continue as he speaks back, “we can’t stay, gotta drive lucas to basketball practice first thing tomorrow. gotta go home.”

“you’re right,” steve starts, everyone else confused while steve only smiles at you in complete adoration as you both attempt to move from your comfortable position. steve turns to max and lucas, spinning his finger as a signal to ‘wrap things up,’ “c’mon, lucas. let’s get you home, bud.”

everyone makes a move, lucas nervously leaning in to kiss max’s cheek while steve helps swing his jacket over your shoulder before tucking your tired state under his arm. “robin, need a lift?” asks steve, allowing you a few extra peaceful moments to feel the warm fire against your body.

“think i’m staying here.”

“let’s go, bub,” steve squeezes you while kissing your cheek, his affection only making you feel more tired and light-headed, in the best way while you're guided from the warm fire and instead promised to be cuddled to sleep in the comfort of your bed, your boyfriend right by your side like always.

amorchai masterlist . taglist

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[waywardxwords]

I Always Have

Summary: Dean reluctantly agrees to visit a haunted house with you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: Slight language, small mention of claustrophobia, fluff!

A/N: Day 3 of the #flufftober2023 (@flufftober) prompt challenge! The prompt is: "Wait, you love me?" - "I always have." Side note: if you are on my tag list, I am planning/attempting to post once a day during the month of October. I know that’s a lot of tags and mentions, so if you’d like to be removed you can do so through the Tag List linked in my bio.

Enjoy!

Haunted Houses weren’t really Dean’s thing…well, of course real haunted houses were. But this was different. This wasn’t haunted by real spirits or monsters; mostly just local high school and college students who needed extra money in the fall so they dressed up like ghosts and ghouls. 

Dean had always hated the idea of actually visiting a haunted house. “You’re gonna pay money to go into an old building and have idiot kids try to scare you? Seriously? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.” 

“It’s not just a haunted house, Deanie,” you had egged him on with the nickname he didn’t seem to appreciate. “It’s the pumpkins, and the apple cider, and that fun feeling of experiencing fall and Halloween as a kid.” He had just rolled his eyes. You loved getting under his skin, and as much as you would tell Sam you didn’t know why, you knew (and Sam knew, for that matter).

“Would you two just kiss already?” Sam had teased you from the kitchen of the bunker one night after you had poked and pushed on Dean so hard he had given up and retreated to his bedroom. 

“Ew,” you had forced yourself to shudder at the thought. “Don’t make me puke.”

He laughed so hard he tossed his head back as he did it. “Yeah, okay. The tension between you two is about to make me puke, so do me a favor and just keep it outta the main living areas, got it?” He wasn’t able to dodge the sponge you had been washing dishes with as you tossed it right at his head. 

So here you stood on this October night in the bunker looking at Dean blankly. You blinked twice. 

“You comin’ or not?” He drawled with mock frustration as he pulled his army green jacket over his red and black buffalo plaid flannel. He grabbed the keys off of the counter top and looked at you expectantly. 

“You’re taking me to the haunted house?” You still didn’t believe him. 

“I was plannin’ on it, but you better hurry the hell up before I change my mind,” he grumbled but couldn’t hide the tug at the corner of his lips as you practically squealed and ran by him to get your jacket. 

“Dude,” Sam eyed his brother as soon as you were out of ear shot. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dean held up his hand and went to wait for you in the Impala. 

“What made you change your mind?” You finally asked as Dean pulled the Impala into a parking spot in the dirt field. There were tons of other cars—this wasn’t just a haunted house, but a haunted trail as well and you could hardly hide your excitement. 

“I was tired of hearin’ you bitch and moan,” he shot you a cheesy, over exaggerated smile with his eyes squinted. You rolled your eyes and flung the door open. “Hey, careful with my Baby!” He chirped, his face suddenly morphed into a small scowl. 

“I’m not gonna hurt your precious car, Deanie,” you teased as you met him by the front of the Impala. Each step you took almost had a skip to it, and you couldn’t help yourself as you slipped your arm through his and linked it just at his elbow. 

You weren’t sure if you imagined it, but you felt like his demeanor softened. The two of you walked like that as your boots crunched against the gravel and dirt. There were quite a few others there and a line had formed. The trail was dark but lit by yellow glowing lanterns strung from trees and solar path lights on the ground. 

“Fifteen dollars per person,” there was a teenaged boy at the front of the line with a cash box. Dean’s scowl returned. “Cash only.” He added on at the end. 

“Seriously? Fifteen bucks?” He looked at the kid who just pointed to the sign taped to the front of the table he was at. It read in printed font, ‘$15 per adult’. “Great,” Dean fumbled in his back pocket for his wallet. 

“I got it, Dean. You brought me here and I know it’s not your thing,” you reached for your cross body bag to fish out the money. 

“I got it,” Dean huffed as he retrieved a $20 and a $10 from his leather wallet. “Here.” He handed it to the kid. The kid nodded you both into the event. “What first? Trail or house?” 

“Hmm,” you pondered, your excitement had returned. “Let’s do the trail first.” Your eyes wandered for a second and a squeal left your lips again before you could reign it back in as your gaze noticed a booth just ahead. 

“Jesus Christ,” Dean mumbled, but there was a slight chuckle tucked behind it. 

“Apple cider!” You practically pulled him towards the stand. There was no line, so you were under the lights of the vendor almost immediately. “Two apple ciders, please.” This time, you were sure to pull out your wallet first. 

“That’ll be six dollars,” the woman returned with two cups of cider. You handed her the cash and handed a cup to Dean. 

“Cheers!” You beamed as you clinked your paper cup against his. You noticed a small eye roll from him, but he obliged and took a sip. 

He made a sour face. “Why do you love this stuff?” He rubbed his lips together to get the sweet sticky substance off. 

“I think the real question is, how do you not love this kinda stuff,” you threw back at him as you looped your arm back through his and slowly walked towards the trail. “Halloween is so magical, Dean! It’s literally the best time of year. I think they’ve even polled people on that and determined it is actually the majority's favorite time of the year.”

“Yeah, well, they forgot to poll me on that one,” he grumbled. “We fight this stuff every day. Not this stuff, because it’s fake. But the real deal—the kinda stuff that could kill us. How are you not jaded by that?”

You took a moment before you answered. Your feet stopped moving, so Dean’s stopped too. He turned to look at you as your arm fell out of his. 

“When I was a kid, my Dad loved Halloween. I swear, his whole mood changed when fall rolled around. He built a wooden casket and rigged it with fishing wire to open when our front door opened. We scared every kid that came to our house. And kids would literally come from all over to get spooked,” the memory brought a smile to your lips. “I didn’t even want to trick-or-treat half the time. I just wanted to be at home with my Dad scaring the local middle schoolers. My Dad could be difficult,” your smile fell for a moment as other memories tried to make their way through—memories that Dean was well versed in at this point in your friendship. “But when Halloween came around? Man, those were the best days.”

Dean was silent as his eyes watched your face. He saw the emotions ebb and flow as you spoke. He nodded once. “Okay, then,” he said simply. “Let’s go get spooked.” This time, he held his arm out for you to link yours through, causing you to smile. 

The trail ended up being more hilarious than terrifying. But you and Dean had thoroughly enjoyed watching others jump and yell as they made their way through. 

Next up, the haunted house. This was a little bit different than the trail, as the hallways were so tightly constructed, only one person could walk ahead at a time. You shuddered slightly as you waited, but it was enough for Dean to notice.

“Oh, come on,” he teased as he glanced over his shoulder at you. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Your face scrunched at him as you gave him a slight nudge. “Not scared,” you emphasized. “Just jumpy…” sounds of other haunted house goers ahead of you erupted from just inside the corridor–it made you excited all over again. 

It was your turn to enter the main hallway next. They paused between groups to give everyone the full experience. Dean led the way with you closely behind. The house was even darker than outside, if possible, so it took your eyes a second or two to adjust. 

There were fake cobwebs and a strobe light tucked away somewhere that sent flashes of light in the hall. Screams filled your ears, and you weren’t sure if they were from other patrons or if there was an audio playing in the background—probably the latter. Your eyes danced around in sensory overload as you tried to take it all in. As Dean rounded the first corner, you missed the memo that there were holes cut out in the wall, so when the first pair of hands reached out followed by someone growling behind the plywood, you couldn’t help the way your body jumped or the scream that followed. 

Dean tossed his head back in laughter and turned briefly to look at you. Your heart beat pretty hard against your chest, but you still reached out to swat at him. He surprised you by catching your wrist with his large palm and carefully pulled your arms so they were around his middle. He held them there, and you realized he was giving you something to hold onto. 

“Alright, Kat Harvey,” he referenced your favorite Casper-loving character from the classic ghost movie. “You’re alright.” The hum of his voice vibrated through the layers of clothing on his back. Even though you didn’t feel scared anymore, you couldn’t pull your arms away. 

You inched behind Dean throughout the rest of the haunted house, laughter erupted from both of you as teenagers tried to scare you. It was refreshing to see Dean laugh—truly laugh—and it made you smile. 

As you exited the house, he released your hands he had clutched against his middle and cleared his throat. “That was…”

“I know, I know,” you rolled your eyes as you shook off the empty feeling you felt without his touch. “It was lame, you can say it.”

He hesitated for a moment as he looked back to the house and then shrugged towards you. “Nah, I was gonna say it was actually kinda fun.” A smile tugged at his lips. 

“Oh…” you grinned back. “Yeah, it was fun. Thanks for bringing me here, Dean.” You tucked a fallen strand of hair behind your ear and turned to head back to the parking lot. 

“Where are you going?” He asked. When you turned back, you noticed he hadn’t moved from his spot. 

“Uh…back to the car? That was all you had signed up for…heck, you kinda threw me a bone agreeing to do both the trail and the haunted house.”

“Nuh uh,” he shook his head. “I spent thirty bucks to get us in here. There’s a pumpkin carving booth over there. You said ‘pumpkins, apple cider and haunted houses’. We’re doin’ all three, dammit,” he said firmly but followed it up with a smile. 

Your eyes beamed at at him and you bit your bottom lip gently before striding back over to him, “God, I love you.” Your breath caught in your throat after the last word and you froze. With widened eyes, you refused to meet his gaze. 

There was a long pause that felt much longer than it probably was. But very quietly you heard his voice, “Wait, you love me?”

You paused again, but put on your big girl panties and turned to him slowly. “I always have.”

His eyes watched you closely for a moment, and then he moved to you so smoothly. His lips brushed against yours for a moment before he pulled away, but went in for another. 

“I love you, too,” he murmured gently just as your lips parted. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach before he held his arm out for you once more. “Let’s go carve some pumpkins.” He smiled at you, and this time you knew it was different. It was a smile of contentment. Like everything he had needed, had come to fruition in that moment. 

“Let’s,” you beamed back at him as you tucked your arm through his. He leaned towards you for one more kiss before you made your way to the pumpkin carving station. While you weren’t sure what this meant or how your life was about to change, it didn’t matter at that moment. You had pumpkins, apple cider, haunted houses and Dean Winchester at your fingertips. And with that, you couldn’t think of a more perfect autumn evening.

Thanks for reading!

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @hallecarey1 @zepskies @lyarr24

[ficoandleo]

Leo posted a Tiktok! The description says "I've gotten a few of these again, so here's a reminder lol"

The video appears to take place in an apartment, so clearly from sometime before he came to Darkwick. The quality is a little lower too, perhaps filmed on a slightly older phone. The camera follows Leo's socked feet as he walks across the floor, then pans up to Sho's back where he's sorting some ingredients. Leo starts to speak while walking up to him.

"Sho~chan!"

"What is it." Sho doesn't even look up.

"What'cha makin'?" That makes Sho look up, eyebrow raised.

"Did you forget what you asked me to--" It takes him a moment to process the way Leo's holding his phone. "What're you doing?"

"I was gonna record you making me lunch for a video!"

"The hell you are." Sho returns to the food, beginning to wash vegetables. "You're not gonna be in here while I'm cooking, we've been over this."

"Aw, c'mon, my kitchen's bigger than the one at your house!"

"Space ain't the problem. Outta my kitchen."

"Uh, this is my apartment?"

"Yeah. And while I'm cooking your meals this is my kitchen. Out." Sho glowers over his shoulder and the camera flips back to Leo pouting, then turning and leaving. Over his shoulder the sight of Sho beginning to prep gets smaller.

"He's so mean. He's not gonna let me do it, guys."

The video cuts into another, a reply to the previous one imposed over the upper left. "Have you tried offering to help?"

"Sho~chan!"

"What." A different day, but the same kitchen. A different set of ingredients on the counter, this time with Sho's phone propped up for him to look at. Until the soft sound of Leo's slippered feet on wood becomes tile, alerting him to Leo entering the kitchen, he doesn't even look up from his phone screen, which appears to have Nashville hot chicken on it. "I told you to stay out while I'm cooking, dude."

"But I wanna help!"

"No you don't." Sho doesn't even hesitate or consider the offer. "You never wanna help me. You just wanna film a video."

"No, I'm not filming this time!" Leo insists with a laugh, moving the phone so the camera's no longer pointing at Sho, as though this will be enough to convince him. The view becomes dark, perhaps from Leo covering the camera in some way, so the screen looks darker. "I actually wanna help--"

"You don't wanna help because if I ask you to touch raw chicken you're gonna get grossed out. And if I ask you to touch any kind of herbs or seasoning or spices, you're gonna get annoyed when it gets on you and your hands. And if I ask you to chop or mix something you're gonna complain about how you don't like the sounds. And if I ask you to clean up you're gonna get grossed out. You want me to keep going?"

". . ." Leo whines a little in protest, audibly pouting.

"Out."

"Chat, he is so mean. . . ." The camera goes front-facing and Leo looks sadly into it, leaving the kitchen while Sho rolls his eyes and goes back to cooking.

The video cuts into yet another, this time in a different location, probably Sho's apartment or family home. "Please try asking Sho-san to let you stream him cooking again." There's additional text near the bottom of the screen from Leo that simply says 'Sho-chan's kind of like a spider, it's scary 🕸️' that disappears along with the reply after just enough time to read it.

"Sho~cha--"

"No."

". . .I didn't even say anything yet."

"We ain't doing this here." Sho doesn't look up from what he's mixing on the stove. "Don't even start."

Leo doesn't say anything for a moment, panning the camera down from Sho's back to the junction between where the kitchen arch starts and the previous room's floor ends. The tip of his socked foot is in view. He pans back up to Sho, too busy to mind him. Leo tilts his phone so the view is of the floor again and takes a single step just barely into the kitchen--the shot quickly and sharply snaps up to just barely catch Sho turning around and advancing on Leo in annoyance. Leo starts to backpedal, laughing. "I'm not! I'm not!! I'm not!!!"

"C'mere." Sho, given Leo isn't actually trying to retreat, catches up quickly, and reaches out for Leo, pulling him and the camera shot closer. Then, based on Leo's little cry of alarm and the view lifting, Sho appears to have picked Leo up.

"You can watch. . .," he begins, walking them, view from just overhead showing Sho using only one arm to carry his little friend. He only walks a short distance before depositing Leo, from the soft sound of his body hitting the surface, onto a nearby couch. "From over here. Got it?"

Leo continues to laugh, but probably nods. Sho sighs, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tries not to laugh with him.

"Good. Sit." With that, Sho walks back into the kitchen, the camera following his back.

One last cut in to another reply. "I NEED another POV of Sho carrying us and telling us to sit--I mean! Please try and get Sho-sama to let you in the kitchen one more time!! Please!!!"

"Sho~." Leo whines, sounding a little tired. The camera looks into another, different kitchen, smaller than the first one, although still likely in an apartment.

"What~." Sho imitates Leo's tone, though it's unclear if he's mocking it. He cooks, seemingly unaware of the camera on him, although it's hard to see what he's doing with the camera pointed at his back.

"I want a juice~." Sho sighs and steps away from where he's cooking, exposing what's likely the beginnings of some sort of salad. He opens the fridge and squats down to look through what's in there, then grabs something and holds up a bottle of lemonade behind him. "Yeah, that's good!" Sho closes the fridge and sits the bottle in front of Leo, just within frame of the camera. He frowns, and Leo takes the bottle closer to himself and out of frame. "Thanks, Sho~"

"Stop trying to record me cooking."

"But I'm not even in the kitchen. . . ." He follows Sho as he rounds the counter. "I just wanna watch, Sho. . .can you open this for me?"

Sho stops in front of Leo, looking down at him and the camera with an unamused expression. He reaches over and opens the bottle, removing the protective seal, and putting it aside. Before Leo can properly coo his thanks in his sleepy, pathetic voice, Sho reaches an arm out towards him. He starts to laugh, jumping up out of the stool and backing away quickly. "Wait, wait, wait--"

He gasps and laughs as Sho runs at him with a grin and snatches him up, once again with one arm, still holding his lemonade as he begins to carry him away from the counter. Leo whines and laughs, not resisting being carried and only protesting the potential spill of his drink. Finally, Leo is dropped onto a couch a ways away from the kitchen area. "You can watch from here. Stay away from my kitchen."

Leo laughs. "Can I have my drink, though? I'm thirsty, you jerk."

Sho offers it to him, then pulls it away before he can take it. "Hey. Hey. Listen to me."

Sho puts the bottle behind him, then pushes his hand against Leo's chest, his other hand resting somewhere past Leo and the camera, probably the back of the couch. The camera view moves backwards with Leo being shoved, but Sho leans in close regardless, camera tilted back to still see most of his face as he glowers down at Leo. "Stay. Okay?"

Leo lets out a giggly 'mmhm' and reaches a hand out for the lemonade. Sho sucks his teeth and gives it to him. "Good."

The camera stays on for a bit and Sho glares down at Leo for a few more seconds before returning to the kitchen.

. . .understandably, the comments are full of suggestions that he simply keep trying, wondering what else Sho would do to get him to stop, and people questioning the nature of Sho and Leo's relationship(as well as others insisting they're not together and professing to Leo's single status or that they believe him to be in a relationship with others--other content creators, other friends he's had on stream, Romeo, and of course the Inspector.)

"So noisy." Leo says to himself while watching the rising engagment with some amusement. "These are reposts. . .you guys are so basic. . . ."

[buckychristwrites]

Could This Be | Chap. 10 | j.t.

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: One minute, you're single and working for AFC Richmond as the team's medic. The next minute, you're in a fake relationship with the team's handsome striker who you know next to nothing about.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Discussions of Previous Emotional & Physical Domestic Violence. Cussing. Fake Dating

A/N: This is such a baby update, i didn't think it would be fair to give it it's own day soooo double post!

Masterlist | Could This Be Masterlist | Main Blog

“And what is my number one rule for not getting injured?” 

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid.”

“There we go,” You praised the team, who were sitting in the conference room as you gave your annual presentation about concussions. Usually, you gave it towards the end of the season, when people tended to get sloppy. However, Coach Beard and Roy had approached you to ask if you’d give it early, due to the incident at the Tottenham match.

“Alright..any-“ 

The door creaked open, everyone turning to see Jamie attempting to sneak in. He froze the second he realised that all eyes were on him. Cheering, your presentation was completely forgotten about by everyone, including yourself, as the players all jumped from their seats and went to greet him. You felt like a deer in headlights just at the sight of him. The joy in his face radiated, even to you from across the room. As everyone settled down, his eyes met yours, softening.

Raising a hand up, he took a seat as he said, “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt ya.”

You blinked as if you just came out of a trance.

“No worries,” You said simply. Throwing a glance back at your powerpoint, you remembered where you were and what you had been doing. “Okay. Any questions?”

Isaac raised a hand. “What if we aren’t being stupid and we get a concussion anyway?” You considered this. 

“That would suggest you weren’t not being stupid enough.” 

He nodded his head in understanding, as if you had just given him a real explanation and not just a sarcastic remark. 

“How do you suggest we not be stupid?” Colin asked. You shrugged. 

“That part is up to you!” You said as nicely as you could. It was hard doing these presentations when you knew damn well that no one paid attention during them. “But you can start by following literally all of the things I said in the powerpoint presentation.”

“What if we missed the powerpoint?” Jamie asked, hand in the air. It took everything in you to not laugh, although a few people in the room did so for you.

“You should request a private session then, since you of all people need to see it.” 

“Oooooooo, a private session!” Dani called out, followed by his teammates all shouting and laughing. 

“What could that entail?” Colin followed up.

“Don’t be fucking cheeky!” You scolded them, shaking your head with a smile on your face. Jamie was looking down at the ground, scratching the back of his neck as he laughed. “Presentation over. Get the hell outta here.” It sounded like a high school classroom, as everyone began talking excitedly as they rose from their seats and filed out of the room. Turning with a sigh, you began to unplug your laptop from the projector. It wasn’t until you were slipping it back in its case when you realised you weren’t alone.

“I was just joking, you know,” You said without looking up. “I won’t make you watch the presentation.”

“Wouldn’t be doin’ much watchin’ anyway,” He admitted from his spot towards the back. “I’d just be listenin’ to ya.”

Trying and failing to not smile, you turned to look at him, hands folded in front of you. He had a devilish grin on his face, as if he knew what he had just said would make you blush, which it did. 

“So you’re back,” You said. He nodded, looking around the conference room.

“In a sense,” He said before his eyes found you again. “I’m working with physio. They have to clear me before I can practise again.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back today.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to surprise ya.” A beat passed. “Maybe I was givin’ ya space too.” Something about this made you anxious, your fingers instinctively going to pick at your cuticles.

“You don’t need to do that,” You said softly. He stood up, slowly making his way down the steps towards you. You took him in. It had been days since you had seen him, and you didn’t realise how much you missed him until this moment. A magnetic force fell over your body as your legs yearned to pull you closer, but you resisted, staying in the same spot. 

Something had changed. You could see it in his body language. The way his arms were crossed over his chest like a protective jacket. Or the way he kept his distance. Whatever it was, the feeling made your chest hurt.

“I’m tryin’ not to… pressure ya, is all,” He explained.

You tried not to scoff. “Do you think you’re pressuring me anytime you talk to me?”

But there was pressure anytime you talked to him, although it certainly was not from him. It was from yourself. Your heart screaming to just let him in. 

Why is it so hard?

“No,” He said simply. “I just… worry, I guess.” 

You shifted from one foot to the other. 

“I just don’t want things between us to change,” You said, trying not to sound like your throat was closing up. 

He stared at you, before looking at the floor, shaking his head.

“But they already have, haven’t they?”

He was right. They absolutely had. And you took that sentiment to heart, it not leaving your mind for the duration of the day.

And the night.

And the next day.

And the next.

Until this moment, as you sat on the train on your way to Scotland, your suitcase and dress bag resting on the bench across from you. The phone in your lap vibrated, pulling you from your thoughts.

KJ: U on ur way? x

You: Train just took off, got about 5 hrs to go. xx

KJ: R and I just got here can’t wait for the wedding 2morrow!!!

Dropping the phone back onto your thigh, you turned to stare out the window. The city disappeared, and you were surrounded by trees and greenery. Headphones in, you shuffled your music, allowing yourself to get lost in the melodies and sceneries.

And for the whole duration of that train ride, the only thing you thought of was Jamie.

~

TAGS

@daffieapple, @my-left-sock, @buckybarnex, @jelleeyfish, @ricciardhoe3, @picked-off-by-barzal, @lilweirdgal, @hotdoglamp, @loveslide, @rosea-h, @13-7-19-67-71. @wickedheartz, @xxenia14, @zazima, @alainabooks143, @geek-and-proud, @imagines-reblogged, @fuckifuckedup, @booklovingduck, @loveforaugust, @f1maverick, @jamieroyjamieroy, @meisterdani, @hanybunch, @batsy-bats1, @brianandthemays, @heletsmelovehim, @breepboopbap. @jellycolors, @taytaylala12

[collapsedglasshouses]

I don’t know if you take smut requests so I’m just gonna request for a fluffy one where Noah’s S/O has her wisdom tooth removed, I never had it done so all I know is that you get high af from dental drugs and people forget they have a partner or even married lol

A/N: I do take smut requests, I have a posted about my rules here. ♡ I like this request a lot tho, Anon. I got my wisdom teeth removed about three years ago, but I'm not from America. Where I'm from, you can choose what kind of anesthesia you get while they get removed. I didn't get full anesthesia, only local, so I couldn't feel pain and I remember everything... BUT... I know videos. Let me see what I can think of! ♡

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Summary: When Noah and Jolly picked up Y/N after their wisdom tooth removal, they didn't know what they settled for.

Warnings: fluff, adorable little y/n, nothing else ♡

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

"Do you know the muffin man?" You asked tiredly when your eyes finally opened after your wisdom teeth operation.

"WHAT?" Noah exclaimed while Jolly was laughing his ass of behind him.

You instantly forgot, what you wanted to tell him with that, so you just giggled. Noah's eyebrows rose. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"Aren't you afraid the snake on your neck will strangle you?" You than asked while looking at his neck tattoo and than noticed how your vision was still slightly blurry. When you were honest to yourself, you didn't even know where you were.

"Please help me, Jolly." Noah than exclaimed and looked at his friend behind him.

"THE SWEDE!" You suddenly screamed in excitement and reached for your fellow friend, who couldn't contain his laughter anymore.

"I wonder if they were ever this excited to see me." Noah said to his friend and band mate, causing you to shoot him a look.

"Who even are you and why are you holding my hand, my dude. I have a absolutely perfect boyfriend that waits for me at home, mister." You mumbled and crossed your hands before your chest, when the doctor stepped in and told the boys, you could go.

They helped you into a wheel chair and drove you to Noah's car, while you slightly dosed off again.

The next thing you knew was about ten minutes later, when you started to mumble again. "Jolly?" - "Yes." - "Do you know how gorgeous Noah is? Literally every time I close my eyes, I see him right in front of me."

Noah quietly laughed while driving the car.

"No, go on. Tell me more." Jolly almost was full on laughing again, while your boyfriend's cheeks turned pink.

"I think he's a siren. Literally how can he woo someone this fast. I look at him and I feel like I'm an object." You muttered. Jolly tried to contain his laughter, causing him to tear up. "Like... HOLY HELL, HOW HOT CAN A SINGLE PERSON BE."

"Yeah, he's pretty hot, Y/N." Jolly cried out under his laughter.

"FACTS." You screamed and started to feel dizzy again. "When we come back imma kiss the shit outta him."

Noah rose his eyebrows to how oblivious you were to his presence.

"Fuck, I love this man." You exclaimed, before falling back into a "half-sleep".

A couple of minutes later, you only partially noticed Noah carrying you out of the car and into your bed, and the last thing you heard before you finally fully fell asleep was him planting a kiss on your forehead and whispering, "I love you too, silly."

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

(only a short one but i hope you like it)

[random-thot-generator]

Dirty Little Secret + Pt. 4

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH x FEM READER

-

Summary: You think the worst is over until you go on your morning walk and realize your troubles have just begun.

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, angst, explicit language, light dub con- Soap steals a kiss, reader is feelin' it, but she's pissed about it, Johnny's a cheeky git, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Sprinkled just a wee, teensy tiny bit of spice in this one, but nothing to clutch your pearls over. Aunt Rue's just settling in to enjoy the show now.)

Word Count: 1.5K

-

You were shaking with barely contained rage as you let yourself in the bakery the following morning. Aunt Rue called out to you, as usual, then came out of the back when you didn't answer right away. You couldn't. You were choking on your own fury.

"What's the matter, love?" she asked, eyeing your flustered state.

"I ran into bloody Johnny this morning, that's what!" you snapped, marching back to the office.

Rue trailed after you, watching as you stripped off your jacket with angry, jerky movements and threw it at the coat tree. "He didn't leave, then?" she asked, tone mild.

"Apparently not," you gritted out, stomping past her and back out to the front.

After that little scene with Johnny the day before, you had finally come clean with your aunt about him, so now she knew all the sordid details, but to your surprise and dismay, her only advice had been, "Talk to him, lass. 'S the only way you'll find peace."

You thought, at the time, that her advice was useless. You thought Johnny would go back to Hereford after confronting him about his other bird. You thought wrong.

Still fuming, you started prepping behind the counter, banging and slamming things around, muttering under your breath as your aunt watched on in amusement.

"The lad's certainly got you riled up this morning," she commented, which did nothing to improve your current disposition.

"He's bloody infuriating," you snarled, banging the lid back on the water urn. "The fucking cheek of him!"

Rue pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. She waited until your back was turned before asking, "Well, what did he do to get you so, um... worked up?"

Your shoulders tensed, hands stilling as you felt heat creeping up from your chest. "Nothing," you eventually muttered, then stomped off to hide in the stock room, away from your aunt's keen eyes.

-

In truth, you were incensed the moment you spotted Johnny jogging along the boardwalk that morning. Almost twisting your ankle on the loose pebbles of the beach, you'd stomped your way up the stairs, scattering a small group of seagulls pecking around a trash bin. Your voice sounded similar to their high-pitched squawks when you confronted him.

"Why are you still here?"

Johnny stood panting in front of you, sweat trickling down his brow and cheeks, his tee damp and clinging to his thick chest and arms. He huffed at you, pulling up the tail of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, exposing his firm abs, happy trail on full display.

"An' good mornin' to ye, too, bonnie," he replied, looking you up and down with a crooked grin. "Yer lookin' good t'day."

"Don't start with me, Johnny. Why are you still here?" you demanded.

He sauntered over to the railing and braced his hands against it, extending a leg out behind him as he started doing his post-run stretches. Muscles bulged and flexed beneath a layer of fine, dark hair, distracting you despite how angry you were.

Damn him.

He peered at you over his shoulder, grinning. "Place is sorta growin' on me. Quiet little village, ocean views, good people. Beats the hell outta Hereford, tha's fer sure."

You leaned a hip against the railing while he continued with his stretches, crossing your arms over your chest. "Shouldn't you be gettin' back to your lass? I'm sure she's missing you by now," you snarked, tone bitter.

He huffed again, shaking his head. "Christ. Dunno wha' ye thought ye saw, hen, but I've no' been wi' anyone else. Not since you," he added, the look in his eye heated. Hungry.

"Bullshit!" you hissed at him.

There was a momentary flash of anger in his blue eyes, but then he smirked. "Think yer the one bullshittin', hen."

"Fuck you and your bullshit! I saw her with you!" you snapped, jabbing a finger at him.

He was on you in the blink of an eye, caging you against the railing, hands gripping the rail on either side of your hips as he leaned into you. "Describe her to me, then," he purred. "Tell me 'bout this new bird o' mine."

"Fine," you gritted between your clenched teeth. "She's taller than me, slender, long, curly dark hair… pretty. You took her to the coffee shop near that Thai place."

He gave you a quizzical look, then recognition dawned in his eyes and a smirk curled up his lips. He reached for the small pack at his waist and took out his phone. Tapping at the screen a few times, he turned it around for you to look at a pic he'd saved. "This the bird yer talkin' 'bout?"

You stared at the image of the same young woman you'd seen him with him all those months ago. You'd never forget her face; it had been seared into your brain like a brand.

"Yeah, that's her," you mumbled, looking away.

He turned the phone to look at her pretty face himself and sniffed in amusement. "Aye, Sorcha's a bonnie lass. Looks jus' like our mam."

'Our mam'???

Wait...

You snatched the phone out of his hand to scrutinize the image up close, a sick feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Her hair was a shade lighter than Johnny's with auburn highlights, but the eyes… the same shape, the same Prussian blue shade. The longer you studied her pic, the easier it was to see the family resemblance. Looked like that devilish little smirk was hereditary, too.

Ah, bloody hell…

You couldn't meet his eyes, embarrassment making your whole body flush hot. You handed his phone back, all that righteous anger pumping you up now deflating like a balloon. Slanting a sulky look at him, you gave in with begrudging acceptance. "How would I know that you had a sister?" you muttered, averting your eyes again.

Johnny sighed, putting his phone away. "Ya could no' have kenned it 'cause I never tol' ye," he admitted, his tone contrite, not gloating, like you expected. "There's a lot I should'a tol' ye, bonnie. A lot I should'a asked, too."

He tipped your chin up to look into your eyes, and you knew he was about to kiss you; you had seen that same look on his face a thousand times. You turned your head, hands pushing at his chest. "No. Don't," you whispered, voice wavering.

"Sweetheart, dinnae be mad," he cooed, cupping your cheek. "Now that ye ken the truth, we can—"

"We can what, Johnny? Go back to how things were?" There was a distinct warble to your voice now, tears already pricking at your eyes. You huffed out an exasperated breath, shaking your head. "No. I can't go back to that. I won't."

You pushed past him and started walking at a clipped pace, steps hurried. You needed to get away from him, get your head clear.

"Bonnie, wait!" he called, jogging after you. "C'mon, hen," he pleaded, taking you by the arm. "We can work this out. Jus' give us a chance."

You yanked your arm out of his light grip and glared at him. "I gave you two years of my life, Johnny. I can't do this anymore," you sobbed out, breath hitching.

He drew his hand away, a pained expression on his face. "Bonnie…"

"It's too little, too late, Johnny. Just… go home."

You again tried to walk away from him, but then his hands were at your waist, spinning you 'round and tugging you against him. You pushed at him, tears now slipping down your cheeks. "What are you doing?"

"Testin' a theory," he murmured, then his hand was cupping the back of your head, and he crashed his lips to yours.

Say what you want about Johnny MacTavish, but the bastard knew how to kiss. He had you melting against him in an instant, overwhelmed and clinging to him, no longer pushing him away. His tongue licked into your mouth, and he groaned, arms tightening to mold your body to his.

When he finally broke the kiss, he peered down at you, eyes hooded with desire. He took in your dazed expression and smirked, looking smug as hell. He then let you go and stepped back, wiping the spit from his bottom lip with his thumb, the look in his eye pure sin.

"Best get on t'work, bonnie. Yer goin' t'be late."

You blinked, head still a little hazy, brain slow to process what he had just done. Oh, but when it finally sunk in, you were spitting mad.

"Ooh! You— You bloody arsehole!" you seethed. Growling, you spun on your heel and stalked away, a string of profanities left in your wake.

Johnny laughed, elated after that telling kiss. "Be seein' ye soon, bonnie!" he called after you.

You threw an angry glance over your shoulder, only to see him blow you a kiss and give a cheeky wink before turning and jogging back the way he came.

Fuck!

You'd never get rid of him now, you thought, as you hurried towards the bakery, trying your best to ignore the dull ache in your core and the damp patch in your knickers.

-

part 3 part 5

[gifti3]

Arranged marriage au with asmo

I need asmo to be in some type of royal otome slowburn manhwa

ramblings ramblings

the drama guys....the DRAMA! dont tell me a bunch of nonsense wouldnt happen

remember the post where i was like indifferent/passive aggressive asmo becoming curious about the MC fics are peak

similar thing is happening here! honestly i think theres some resentment coming from asmos side at first but mc is like ay....you do ur thing and i do mine

im not gonna make u do anything u dont want, i dont have any expectations from this arrangement. lets just try not to make each of our lives hell u know

lol i bet when asmo first meets MC after finding out that hes supposed to marry them he's like thinking "......ig theyre not that bad looking"😒 (he literally would have been flirting with them in any other circumstance)

hmmm mc needs to be apart of a pretty influential family i think since this is gonna be a political type marriage

and asmo,,,,i feel like he doesnt really engage in the specifics when it comes to politics or anything. it's just not something thats important to him. he has his side hobbies and business endeavors that cares about. But topics outside of those things are left up to his family

so perhaps one day, the head of the family (i wanna say lucifer but since i want the person in this role to give off more a mysterious vibe, where his word is final michael might be a better choice) is like... this specific family...theyre kinda important and we want them on our side so get married to their eldest who has rejected every other person ever but has agreed to marry and since u dont do much when it comes to political affairs im gonna have you do this whether you want to or not

and asmo is just like....HUH he tries to get lucifer to help him out here but lucifers like...yea dads not budging sorry lil bro (he doesnt say it like that but similar sentiment lmao)

now mc never really wanted to get married cause they didnt wanna have to go through the motions against their will and they like their life as is but their parents have been breathing down their neck about marriage for years now. And now that this BIG opportunity has present itself to their parents, it feels like the pressure is really on now! at first mc is like shit...idk if i can weasel my way outta this one

and then......they realized that maybe this could probably work out in their favor actually.....

mc agreed to married him cause asmo has a bit of a reputation as a partier and a playboy

with asmo they feel like things can stay as they are for the most part if they let him continue to do as he pleases (not like they could have stopped him if they wanted to lol)

everything can be the same, they can still live their own separate lives, just now they have the title of spouses!

and thats the plan, like i said before asmo comes in being a bit rude at first but it kinda changes to indifference and a little passive aggressiveness once MC is like...yo chill im not gonna shit on ur parade. i just wanna be left to my own things. you do you sir

yes thats the plan...thats supposed to be the plan and it was going as mc expected for a good while

but as we know if u put something or someone in front of asmo enough times hes gonna get curious