#THANKS ABBY for all your help on this!!!!!!!! you're a real one. i hope it turned out at least a little bit like you wanted!!

[pocketgalaxies]

It feels good to be able to help. (for @overnighttosunflowers)

[abbysbasement]

(Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader)

 — PAPI BONES

A/N: Hi, this is the formerly scrapped, 3x longer, 2 months writing project that I had because I wanted to fuck abby in a closet! this was actually supposed to be my first post on tumblr, but i got mad at it and sent it to the dungeon for two months :/ but yall wanted it, so I'm super happy i got to finish it, even though it took multiple days and cups of coffee to power through. sorry for the wait, hope you fuck wit her.

content tags (can you tell i don't want to write anymore ;w;): college au, childish antics at a big age, drinking, cool, ellie and dina are in this! kind of abstract sexual descriptions, assplay, cunnilingus (r!receiving), boob... touching? small mention of drugs because dealer!ellie, drunk sex, enthusiastic consent! :D, reader is kind of annoying sorry, men being assholes, reader catching feelings for a girl she fucked once, real.

wc: 7.6k ;w; (send help)

proofread?; barely.

tl : @clearheartgreyflowers, @oatmilkchaii, @ghostfacebunny, @ellsbclls (thank you to the sweetest deb @ellsbclls for helping beta read this, i appreciate your suggestions and encouragement and this would probably have been scrapped TWICE without your help ;w; )

synopsis: your best friend dina drags you to a college frat party. you hate shit like this, and you're painfully shy but when she does those puppy dog eyes you can't say no, so in a cruel twist of fate you end up in the closet with abby Anderson, and lose your virginity. yay college! (apart of the 'jackson university' thematic!)

Your idea of a Saturday night well spent wasn’t squeezing through a sea of sweaty backs; but like many things in your life, it wasn’t up to you, because you were easily swayed. Everything was overstimulating, the waves of bodies on bodies that pulsated and threw you between different poses and balances to keep on your feet, the ringing of laughter, of music, of every sound echoing in your head, around your body, vibrating through your very core. The smell of liquor and drunken antics and that one guy puking in the corner made you sick. But somehow, you were here, spurred on by peer pressure friendship and goodwill, trudging through the blackened room to your target; the snack table. 

Dina, your roommate, and determinant best friend held a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you through the crowd and causing a small jolt to run down your body as she steered you around every obstacle and corner in the room. She was a woman on a mission, and the one who dragged you out of bed, convincing you - against your better judgment- that it was fatal that you accompanied her to a frat party. You knew she was good-natured, and your first friend when you moved 500 miles away from home to college. It was an instant click, but you were opposite best friends. 

Dina, ever the social butterfly, had connections in all different spaces; she could party with the sorority girls –hold the coke, please,– out-cram everyone, even the National Honor Society kids, all the way to the top of the class, hell, she was on the damn debate team, which was probably why it wasn’t a struggle to get a ‘yes’ out of you. You, on the other hand, were uncomfortable at bars, school sporting events, and parties, and one time you even thre– fuck, never mind. It was all effortless to her, in almost an enviable way. Dina loved to go clubbing, loved to hang, out, and she had been near-begging you to come out with her and her cool friends for months, not that you’re not cool, I mean. 

And somehow, despite everything, it worked. 

You could almost remember how you got there if you put away the sticky crunch of coke sticking to your shoes with each step, and reached back into the recesses of your mind. Or at least, back three-and-a-half hours ago. 

“They’re all great people, no weirdos, promise!” 

It was the emphatic plea made to you as you lay on your bed, queuing up the next episode of the apocalypse show you watched each week, watching her make Dina list off every reason why you just had to follow her out tonight. It was clearly very life-or-death shit to her, but you were unconvinced. It was just a party but there was going to be a smaller, more intimate kickback in a friend-of-a-friend’s basement. She was in the middle of getting ready, sitting at her school-issue desk and looking at herself in the mirror, dark hair coned over her head in a bun as she sat in deep concentration, words slurred and simple as she applied mascara, her mouth slacked into an O position.

“So you’re gonna like, fucking go, yeah?”

She said it as though it was obvious, like it wasn’t a question, but one look at you, –curled up in covers, laptop on chest, martini glass pajama pants and teddy bear teeshirt ON, unbothered– showed her that it would be a tall order, and that big guns would be needed. 

“Not interested, sorry.” 

“Not even a tinyyyyy bit?” Dina squeezed her fingers together for emphasis, throwing her head back in mock exhaust, a theatric groan rumbling out of her throat. “Not even a little bit.” You echoed, your roommate cutting her eye at you through her handheld mirror, but it was what it was. You weren’t into all of that stuff; the bump and grind of sweaty bodies wasn’t alluring, listening to someone else’s shitty music at ear-bleeding levels felt like hell, and if you wanted to get pitifully drunk and throw up all over yourself, there was a garbage can right under your bed. But your friend really, really, wanted your company and it made you feel, really, really bad to always blow her off. 

“Why are you going so hard on this?” You bemused as you propped up on your elbows, watching as she stalked around the room in her newly painted face, quickly rummaging through her drawer for a spare outfit. 

“Maybe because it bums me out to see my super cool roommate wasting away in her dorm every weekend?” In Dina’s mind, she was making a lot of sense. She was waiting for you to chime in, to say you know what, Dee? You’re right, I get it. But instead, you stared blankly, and she threw down her arms in exasperation. “You’re in fucking college, man! You don’t even wanna have one night of fun?”  She punctuated the ‘fucking’ with a wild gesture around her head, which made you chuckle to yourself.

“I mean, I was planning on wa–”

Your body was jostled by an insane amount of weight, almost turned completely over by two roughhousing dudes– a mess of limbs and arms, who looked at you and then at each other, as though they had spontaneously sobered up. You didn’t even have the time to start to be angry when they prattled off a blended, slurred apology and thrashed somewhere away through the mass of hands and faces in the dark room.

Fucking assholes, ruining the flashback sequence. 

The room was lit only by haphazard mood lights; soft LEDs and gaudy, flickering Christmas baubles, a solitary television, camped by stoners who laughed madly, and the dim auburn glow of the odd ceiling lamp nestled in the far back of the house. You were out of your element; you couldn’t dance, weren’t the most social, and even though you were with a friend, all of this made you feel very alone.

Dina cut through the crowd with her elbow, bellowing out “Ex–cuse me!” while she pushed you through gaps as they formed. Her voice fell to mutter again, barely audible, chunked and cut by the music bouncing from wall to wall, grumbling that she had places to be, and if E*&^$ didn’t get her off at least once, there would be hell to pay.  She was determined to get to the other side of the room, where it was arranged that by the chips, as smokers usually are, she would find her current fuckbuddy and her friends, waiting to hotbox and pregame a bit more before the room peaked. She was driven by horniness and selfishness, as one typically is after four shots of Tito’s vodka, and getting smoked out and ‘taken care of’ upstairs was half the reason she even came.

You’d never met her most recent suitor, and the question of her girlfriend was always met with a ‘no, she’s just my sneaky link.’ but you didn’t question it enough to know more. She was just the girl who Dina would go off campus to meet, and as long as she wasn’t a slasher, and her pre-rolls knocked you on your ass, it would be what it was. You were carried away by your friend’s excitement, by her heavy hand nearly lifting you off of your feet as she beelined to the kitchen, wrangling your twin bodies every which way. 

“Ellie! Ellie!” She yelled, jumping up and down a bit to compensate for her voice being swallowed by the bass. She burrowed through the wave, pushing you towards a girl leaning against the sink, nursing a red cup and low, hazy eyes. Her auburn hair was swallowed by a black docker, and a dark-coloured backpack jutted out from behind her as she smiled and waved the two of you –mostly Dina, into her orbit. She looped her head under your shoulder to be pulled into the strong hug of firm biceps, and Arms looked you over, offering a friendly nod. 

–

“It’s on streaming. You can watch ‘Many of Them’ literally whenever!”

“Live tweeting is a part of the experience.” You chided matter-of-factly, sitting up cross-legged. It wasn’t like the brunette was wrong, exactly, but you couldn’t give up too much at once. Going soft was not a part of the plan.

“Fuck, whatever– You know the girl I’ve been hooking up with, right?” Her eyebrow raised at your dispassionate ‘not really.’ “Well you know her fucking joints, she sells– weed, shrooms… pills?” Dina listed off with her finger, mulling over the last detail for a second, then confirming in her head with a nod. It’s fine, you’re cool, and the two of you had always bonded over your love of recreational joy anyways. “So, if you wanna smoke orsomething– I got you, all you have to do is show up.” Her hands were up almost sheepishly as she tested the waters, but you weren’t super convinced, and your idea of fun wasn’t exactly playing wingman while she got tongue-fucked by a drug dealer, and the pregnant pause was enough to cue her into having to bring out the big guns. 

“-And, and!  I'll wash all our dishes, and cleanyoursideoftheroomforaweek.” 

Damn, she practically ran through that last part, so under her breath you knew she was hoping that you didn’t hear. But you did, and for a second you could almost see a smirk play on her face as your eyes lit up. She was always up for a good bribe, and even though she would act annoyed, it was great for breaking you out of your shell. She would offer to watch the zombie show if you came out to the bars in your college town with her, pizza if you confessed to your crush instead of instastalking them three times a day, even though it didn’t work, –oh well, shooters shoot– and tonight? A week free from chores if you just spent a couple of hours in your own personal hell. Yeah, you would give her this one. 

“Now we’re talking. If you want someone to be the lookout while you and Jesse Pinkman go at it, who am I to deny?” You teased, kicking your legs over the edge of the bed. 

Your roommate craned her head up, momentarily stopping her mission of rifling through her clothes. “Who said that?”

“You’re in your ‘good panty’ drawer.” You whispered cheekily. 

“Well, you got me. Someone has to get fucked around here.”

“Oh fuck you, bitch!” You laughed, throwing your pillow, hitting smack in the center of her chest. 

Dina bounced around the room, practically billowing with glee. There was a descending, barely audible ‘fuck yeah’ as she traipsed down the hall towards the bathroom, rounding the corner and disappearing from your periphery. 

“By the way, you know Jesse’s last name is Huang, right, not Pinkman? And we’re uh– not together anymore.” Dina shouted through the silence.

“That’s a character from Breaking Bad. It was a joke– because he’s a drug de–” You stopped yourself midway. “Never mind. It’s not funny if I explain it.”

“Oh– I never watched Breaking Bad. Too Long.” She deadpanned. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you slid your way off the bed. 

That’s how you found yourself in a dimly lit bathroom, missing the comfort of your memories as ‘Ellie’ rolled a blunt. You stood leaning against the door and Dina sat on the closed toilet seat. The dealer sealed the last of the leaf with a flick of the tongue and a lick of spit, maintaining direct eye contact with Dina so she could not-so-subtly show off. She passed it to the brunette first, who mimed a cheeky, ‘why thank you’ and drew poutily. You three sat there for a while, smoking and talking, steam from the hot shower wafting above your heads as music pumped through the foundation of the house. 

There was laughter outside of the door and it soon became awkward for you, Ellie and Dina finishing the blunt, –you were a lightweight– and chatting idly as Dina traced a fingertip against the outline of the tattoo Ellie was showing off. 

The temperature of the tiny room ran hotter between their reddened eyes, and it was as though you were being banished by a galactic force. You couldn’t mistake how the red-haired girl’s glance caught an extra second or so at the way Dina’s body was hugged just right in her party dress, cleavage strained against the fuchsia PVC of her neckline, and how she bit the corner of her lip when her eyes hooked on a dark mole on Dina’s breast that was framed by the feathers of her black hair.  

It was time to go, unless you were interested in seeing your best friend get dug out on the countertop.

You were already a little bit wobbly, hearing a giggle that slipped from Dina’s lips morph into a squeak as you slipped out of the crack you pulled in the door and into the fray, getting carried down the stairs and back over to the drinks. You crossed over a kissing couple, cutting into their makeout and heavy petting session, and through a huddled together group of girls whispering something about seeing an ex across the room. 

You gripped onto the countertop for stability when you finally broke free from the pulsating wave of bodies. There was a bit of everything surfing in deep bowls of ice and water, open bags of chips and snacks bunched up together on the island. You could not be sober for this shit. You wedged up the pop cap on a hard seltzer and brought it to your lips, the spirit coating your tongue and boiling its way into your stomach. There it was again, the familiar warm feeling in your hands and feet, the soft pressure already creeping across the flat of your face. Yeah, now that was it. The anxiety began to melt away, and you leaned against the countertop, flexing your legs. 

Wow, they’re inviting giants to the shindig too. You laughed to yourself as the scarlet-lit ocean parted, and a tall, wide figure walked through and into the darkness of a descending flight of stairs. If only it was that easy when you needed to piss, notwithstanding that you had already been in the bathroom.

 It’s fun being sardonic sometimes. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your roommate coming down the stairs, the dealer’s deft fingers pulling down part of her dress that rode up her ass.  She arched her head up, straining left and right like the eye of a submarine as she looked for you; her eyes lit up, waving to you as she fisted her companion’s belt loop, bouldering through the sea of people. She was high as fuck, if her bright pink eyes were enough to speak to it, and your gaze lingered over the new expanse of a deep purplish hickey on her neck, small indents from teeth glimmering with saliva in the light.  

There was that hotness again that burned in the pit of your stomach, not from drunkenness or anxiety, but the can of fruity liquor in your hand covered up for the embarrassing flush of your wild cherry-coloured cheeks. You peeled your eyes back up to her face and smiled dumbly. You’d never had *that* before. You’ve watched things before at least, and obviously, touched yourself to the thought, but you’ve never had someone to fool around with in bathrooms or hold your skirt when it rode up.

There was your first kiss, but it was in middle school, so it didn't count. It was all clammy lips, two noses that couldn’t get the space between them *quite* right, and an overzealous set of chompers that left you with a bloody lip. Actual horseshit, but somehow, a core memory. It was annoying in a way, how it just didn’t come to you, but you wanted to be wanted. To be lusted over, desired even in that casual touchy way that simmered between your best friend and the girl you didn’t know very well.  Dina was making grabby hands at you, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. Your drink bobbed as she whisked you to her will, you and Ellie sharing a knowing look as she pushed your bodies through the hall and down the darkness of the stairwell. 

– 

“RULES ARE SIMPLE,” some asshole in a hat bellowed as he stood over all of you who sat in the circle, mildly drunk off your asses and looking for easy fun. He held up a black beer bottle, carrying it like a trophy and swishing it around your noses for a closer look. “You kids might know seven minutes in heaven.” You didn’t know him, but according to Dina, this was his house, his party, and his very annoying rules. A light patch of raised skin played against his nose as he scrunched his nose over and over again, hands on hips, clearly trying to steal back whatever thought the liquor took from him. Jason, right? 

Whatever. 

“But we’re all grown-ups here, so I present to you–” He rolled the bottle in hand, clearly soft-launching his bright idea. “Fifteen minutes in purgatory!” There was a deep groan radiating from some, but there was a small minority that exploded in cheers, and whoops. “Pretty self-explanatory, two adventurers venture deep into purgatory, and come out forever changed.

“Two adventurers go deep into purgatory,” He gestured his head at the foreboding broom closet in the back of the room. “And return forever changed.” 

“We’ll use the bottle to choose our unlucky voyagers, and you’ll spend fifteen minutes in the closet.” He explained, dropping the mystique in the second half. “Alright kids, let’s start; and just for the record– If you’re a pussy, get the fuck out of the circle!”

The drunken cast of partiers whooped and cheered, hyping each other up, spilling beer out of red cups as they gestured wildly, entirely too grown for this. The room played ‘not it’ to pick who got the first spin, and the unfortunate soul was a blonde who sat cross-legged, blank-eyed at the black glass handed to her, nodding her head tersely. 

“We got our very own Abigail Anderson– !” Her eyes narrowed. “Andddd….” Hat praised, cueing her to spin. She took the bottle, pointing the tip towards herself and then spinning it, the glass doubling, tripling the circle, making you dizzy chasing it with your eyes, and everyone sat with bated breath. It slowed and slowed and slowed, until, like ugly fate, it stopped at your feet.

“Our newbie!” He got up to cheese, leaning over you, placing his hands over your shoulders, and rocking you from side to side. You laughed awkwardly, putting your palms up defensively at nothing. 

“Um– uh…” You were at a loss for words, only cut off as his head shot into your field of view, hot, hopsy breath tanging your nostrils. “What, you scared?” He taunted, all eyes on you, watching as you nursed a deep discomfort about the whole thing behind an uneasy smile.  

“You’re a fucking asshole, Jordan.” The girl, Abby, groaned. She looked up at you from her downward pointing head, swishing her bottle of hard cider in the hand propped over her knee. Jordan, that was the name of this dickhead. Yeah, fuck him. “If she doesn’t want to get in the closet, she doesn’t want to get in the closet. I’ll just spin again.”

Dina cut in, the redhead still leaning lazily against her. “Yeah, don’t–dont be a dick, Jordan.” Her face was tight, and Ellie was annoyed because Dina was annoyed, and the room held a pregnant silence, and even though it wasn’t your fault, you felt all too responsible and all too uncomfortable with all of the eyes watching you.

“It’s fine, guys. Let’s all– eh, chill out, okay? I’m going to take the dare.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, trying to steal back the vibe, trying to replace the tension with playful drama as you circled your head around, wiggling the fingers slightly of your held-up palms. “Because I’m not a little bitch.”

The crowd exploded in raucous laughter, each voice clashing together and mimicking the sound of a pipe bursting. You looked over at your partner, who seemed pleasantly surprised, a smirk playing on her peach lips. She placed down her bottle and stood, and as she towered over you, you realised that maybe you were playing with fire. She was scary and nonchalant, but the outer workings of her face were soft and gentle. She didn’t look like the girls in the videos you watched at night; she was something different, uncharted, and before you knew it, a nervousness, and something lower, darker, ran through your body. 

Then it was time to go, you piling in first, looking around at some of the half-darkness in the room, barely enough to fit two people in. 

The asshole patted the girl’s back, corralling her into the closet behind you. Blood rushed to your head, the pressure was too great, like getting skullfucked through your ears. show her a good time, you could hear him say, and then something that you couldn’t quite understand over the bass. The mountain’s eyes narrowed, but before she could shoot back, her large body crashed into yours and the space became tighter and tighter, just enough for the two of you to put your arms out to either side or turn around. For a split second, you could see Dina’s face from over Jordan’s shoulder, tightened in concern, a timid thumbs up at the side of her head. Then, he closed the door, and the last of the light slipped out through the crack in the wall. 

There was a deep silence, and somehow, like the hazy feeling you get right before you wake from a dream, you were chest to chest in the darkness with her blue eyes staring back at you, damn-near bioluminescent. You’d seen her around, because everyone sees her around, but it hadn’t registered that the giant who had parted all of those people in the crowd like they were just water, was standing right in front of you. Outside you could hear the rumble of the music, vibrations of the bass wrapping around you and shaking you from the inside out. The closet was too tight, too warm, too filled with smells from towels and coats and folded blankets and dusty boxes of light bulbs and two cramped, awkward bodies. 

Suddenly, you felt all too intimidated.

“You’re Abigail, right?” You questioned. “Off the rugby team?”

“Abby.” You couldn’t read her face in the dark, and though she spoke pointedly she didn’t seem angry, but the accidental overstep was enough to make you want to dig a hole through the floor with your bare hands and die in it. “And yeah– captain, of the rugby team.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” You yielded. “So… what are we supposed to do? In here, I mean.” You gestured at nothing, knocking some washcloths from a top shelf down in the dark. “Ah, damn it.” You cursed under your breath, bending down to pick up the small stack. You could hear Abby behind you, sucking her teeth with a judgy hum.  Her brows were almost touching her eyelids, captured in secondhand embarrassment, and she almost felt bad for how awkward you were, scrambling to pick them up from the floor.

  If you could see her face, you’d be able to tell how her eyes flicked up and down her body, taking everything in. Your black skirt slid slightly to bunch at the front, uncovering portions of your doughy thigh and the ever-so-tiniest range of fabric hiding your prettiest secret. She had to tear her eyes away, almost. She jumped, even, glad you couldn’t see as you popped back up. 

You were cute, holding the disheveled stack in your hands, a look of sheer pride on your face. You looked over to the side, tossing them unceremoniously on a free shelf, gravity taking a couple back to the ground. Your sated chuckle, the way your tits pushed up slightly, illuminated, almost framed like art by the neckline of your cream cardigan made her hungry. She pushed the ideas of what she wanted to do with them out of her mind, but damn, she could think about some things that would make the devil embarrassed. She stomped down her desire, stoicism crossing her for a second, only for her to open it back up on second thought.

“They want us to fool around, fuck, ideally.” She started, analysing your expressions for any hint of discomfort at the conversation. “But– we don’t have to do anything.” She tried to cut some of the thick discomforts with a placating smile, almost lost in detail in the low light. She was huge, more so than you, or most anyone else you knew, the jutting-out edge of a shelf knocking the back of her head every time she leaned her head back in the tight space. The hard washboard of her torso was framed by an opening of a grey hoodie and barely much else, just the thick band of her boxers peeking from her sweatpants, and the black of a cropped tank top that stopped right below her bra line. 

“Jordan… is typically a good guy, but when he gets drunk he’s a total POS.” Abby was sallow-faced, pursing her lips, tension running through her jawline. “I shouldn’t have let him put you on the spot like that. So… I’m sorry that you got pressured to get in here.”

“It’s fine, I just.” You started, ready to say that big phrase, the one that slightly burned your back to admit. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“What, played seven minutes in heaven? Yeah, kind of a jackass thing to suggest in your twenties.”

Shit. She was going to make you say it. 

“No. I mean I’ve never–” and you thought your tiny voice couldn’t get any tinier. “had sex before.” 

Abby breathed in the deepest sigh, pure anxiety crossing her face for a split second, before she was feeding you apologies. “It’s fine, we don’t have to do anything we can just sit here and talk. Or be in silence if you want it’s alr–”

“I want to do it.” You said doggedly, pressing yourself into a tiny corner. Her brow perched, and there was something in those narrowing blue eyes that said she didn’t believe you. You were pigeontoed, legs shifting against one another, declaring in your firmest voice that you wanted her to take your virginity. 

“Are you sure?” She breathed out, stepping a bit closer. “You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything because you think they want a show.”

“Oh, my god.” You were pouting, annoyed. “I can choose if I want to have sex you know, and I want to have sex right here right n–”

She kissed you, softly as possible, testing your waters to see how far you were willing to go. Her hands were patient, one lightly knotted in the woolen knit of your cardigan to lightly pet your lower back, the other making gentle grips on your sweatered arm. Her fingers were barely bruising, gripping around your wrist almost tight enough, and a tiny shockwave coursed between your thighs and convinced you that you wanted more. In this low light, in this dark room, in this place between space and time, you wanted to be her conquest. To be taken, touched, manhandled, to be made to weather the storm of her overwhelming strength against you, lost in the middle of the ocean.

It was perverted, almost, how the idea of her showing restraint raised hairs on your skin, how you deepened the kiss like you were being overcome with an insatiable, bloody hunger. You had to take back the moment, to steal her attention in a way she couldn’t deny before she thought you were all talk; you stepped closer, positioning yourself so that her thigh hovered right below the heated space under your skirt. Her hand was warm, soft as you grabbed it, moving it lower, deeper down the divot of your back and where the fat of your ass connected. She caught on, groaning into your lips as she kneaded around your body, her tongue sweeter and heavier against yours, working that one damned hand up your skirt to cup bare skin. 

You jumped. 

As fast as it had come, her hand slipped back from under your skirt and the touch was lost completely, awkwardly hovering for a second until Abby pulled it back into her pocket and stepped back. You were miserable, eyes welling up in frustration like a lost dog at the lack of feeling. She was pulling you into insanity but was too chivalrous to drown you in it, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she looked down at you.

“Fuck– didn’t mean to be aggressive like that. I–” The redness bled across her cheeks, freckles on full display as her fingers met the wet spot that you were hiding, your hands guiding hers to the space between your thighs. There was a pause, a knowing, a challenge between the two of you as an unknown heat spread throughout your bodies, and you collided once more. The blonde’s mouth sucked a nasty pressure into your throat, agitating it with bites and licks as her head traveled deeper, hands playing at the front of your sweatered torso to undo the buttons that held your breasts hostage. 

Her entrance was assured as she popped the loops open, fingers gripping the fabric of your camisole and lifting up, taking your bra with it. She nipped at the exposed flesh, heat from her mouth traveling directly to your vagina, clit throbbing hard with need. Abby engulfed a nipple with the wetness of her tongue, closing her lips around the rapidly hardening bud to pull it to full attention, chuckling as she scraped the flesh with her teeth. The wet head was replaced with her palms, each thumb and forefinger rolling one or the other. The sensitivity of the tiny flesh was insane, enough to make you whine out loud as she continued, better than anything you had ever done to yourself. 

You were biting your lip, eyes big and doe-like as you waded through your pleasure, soft pants heaving your chest. She fished it out from between your teeth and hooked it within her own, popping the plump flesh into her mouth as she pared yours with her tongue. You swore the room was spinning, a wetness slicking between your thighs, a drip positioned between two pairs of hungry lips. You could’ve spent all fifteen minutes– or an eternity, in this beautiful hell, giving and taking and relishing in a different, sort of strange type of want.

“Don’t stop.” You moaned in between stolen breaths, the blonde chasing your mouth each time you pulled away.

“For you, pretty?” Gripping you tighter for emphasis, pressing you closer into the wall, angling further between your spread legs. “Never.” 

It was like you were some weird intoxication to her, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. How your ass molded right into the divots of her palms, those tiny moans that rang through the cage you two were in, the rapid beating of your heart rippling through your body. She wanted to peel your cardigan from your shoulders, wanted to shred your clothes from your body and take you however she liked, and make you feel better than you knew what to do with. Needed to make you scream and fuck you until you cried. But it was your first time, so she resigned to being gentle and soft, like you were a little deer in the forest, and she was trying to get close without scaring you off. so she would give you only what you needed. 

She didn’t have a lot of strong feelings about that nickname she had earned in sophomore year, War Machine, from all of the pretty girls she ran through and left unable to walk, unable to talk for a couple of days or more. but when Jordan said it, in front of you, in front of sweet and innocent, pretty and tiny *you* she could’ve reeled back and torn him apart. But she still didn’t want to scare you. So she had forced an alright, the one a child forces when they get scolded, and hid the burning in her palms that made her want to fight in the pocket of her pants. 

Your eyes bored x-rays through her formidable thighs as she bent her knees to squad before you, strong hands rubbing up and down your thighs with contrasting gentleness to the hard angles of her face, the brow that was crooked down slightly in concentration, the slightly parted lips playing with mischief as they took you in. You were frightened for just a second, until Abby looked up at you with sympathetic eyes, a hand leaving your thigh and linking with your fingers, guiding you to the base of her skull to envelop her honeyed strands. 

She was back at you, the darkness in your stomach leaking out as you palmed her head, and she ran her hands upward, more upward, until the ruffles of your cotton skirt were overturned in her palms. From the waist down, you were completely exposed, a wet spot working itself into your panties from your innermost recesses and a musky scent betraying your shyness. 

Abby pressed herself gently into the fabric, her fat lips creating a cool pressure against the hot flesh, her nose itching lightly into your pubis. You bucked your hips unconsciously, nearly fucking her face in your abandon. A vibration from her laugh traveled through you, nestled inside of you, and more wetness began to slick your channel. That friendly ache formed in your rapidly hardening clit, and a similar pain throbbed in your pinkie and middle finger. Her other hand moved up, gripping fistfuls of your ass, less forgiving now, and forcing a squeak from your lips. 

You were dumbstruck; a stranger’s hands all over you, mouth nearly on top of your sacred place, nearly leaking from sheer lust. She had barely done anything. Your jaw slacked, and in your mind you felt like a fool, lamenting how you thought your first time would be special. Soft circles rubbed into your inner thigh as she pulled your legs apart, peppering angel kisses throughout the little divots. 

“S’okay, baby.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a tiny encouragement that calmed the buzzing in your mind. “Tell me how you want me. I’m yours.” 

and you thought that declaration would destroy you,’ I’m yours.’ and it felt very, very real. 

“I want you to touch me.” You said, barely a whisper, nodding as she pressed her face to your thigh, sliding down your panties to about knee-level. It was as though she had seen heaven’s gate open, awestruck at the blood rushing to engorge your lips, how your clit stood on end without even being touched. The thatch of hair curling between your thighs and around your depths. She had to have a taste, and there wasn’t much room for second-guessing as she pressed her mouth to the hot spot and flattened her tongue directly against the wettest space.

Juicy noises slid from her mouth as she rolled your clit between her tongue and sucked sharply with her lips, and it was as though you could’ve sunk to the floor, the way your legs became distinctly not yours. It was enough, enough, not enough, then too much. It was like you were an endlessly gushing fountain as Abby’s wet, firm tongue parted your lips, dipping ever so lightly into your hole as she licked out a string of nectar from your drooling cunt. It was as though you were animated, possessed even, as your hands flew into her hair, pushing her head down further and further, to that release you chased violently and madly. 

Abby was humble, letting you guide her where you needed her; she was soft at first, but you didn’t want soft, you wanted more. 

She obliged. 

The blonde slipped her fingers between your thighs and parted your slit, opening up an endless, waiting tightness. She was intrepid, pressing through your clenching muscle and opening you up more than you had ever done; thick digits tearing through you, fucking your pussy at an unforgiving pace, concentration forming in the muscles of her neck. You hid an inhuman growl in the pit of your throat, in the crook of your sweatered elbow, and she moaned out, satisfied with that which she had created inside of you. You were fucking her face in a tight, dirty closet, calf propped over a muscled shoulder for support, the heel of your booties pressing into the wall, locking her in.

 It was as though the two of you were fighting, every roll of your hips she chased with her head, every time you shied away from the pleasure she held you harder, taking you even hungrier, diving deeper to a spot you didn’t know was there; every taut pull at her scalp met with an even tighter grip into the flesh of your plush ass. The pads of her fingers violated the sopping warmth of your cunt, and you clenched your stomach unwittingly, walls flexing, holding her hand there. Drool dripped from between her lips, pooling and soaking down into the fibres of an old shag rug, caked with dust and whatever else. 

Your own slipped between your lips before you could suck it back in, and the silver trail bounced, the way it does when it breaks, and the thick drop cascaded down her temple, getting lost in your brow. The piece that was yours snaked down your collarbone and between your breasts and somehow, you felt a connection. 

Abby snorted, sucked in a breath as her fingers left you empty. Fuck. She didn’t go for her face, wiping them on the skin of your pussy, they traveled upwards, firm grips on your ass. She rubbed the flesh as though she was throwing clay, stretching the skin between her rough fingers, calluses on her palms coasting over every bump and groove. She had found what she had wanted, craning her neck lower, lower, until you could just barely see her eyes. Her fingertips prodded, greedy, opening your lips, tongue leching against your soft fruit as though she was funneling the juices directly into her mouth. You thought your thighs would give out but she held you, stronger, and you fed her willingly. 

Her middle finger dipped down into the slit, collecting juices, stealing a breath from your lungs, you wanted to scream her name but it was caught inside of you, so you stood slack-jawed, fuck drunk as she abused your walls, fucking every ridge painfully slow. The tight hole stretched around the meatiness of her finger, and she hooked it as though she was searching, retreating from the warmth, slick with your nastiest of liquids. Again, she split your ass with one hand, and you clenched your tightest hole without thinking about it. 

“Don’t worry,” She said, muffled against your mound as she latched against it once more, “gonna help you so fucking good.” You were confused, but you trusted her, a complete stranger. For a second you began to ask what there was to worry about, but your mind was pried away from you as you felt the pressure of her coated fingertip tracing around your asshole. A gentle kiss played at the head of your pussy, comforting you as you nodded your head wildly, something of a ‘yes’ flying from your throat as her middle finger parted that threshold. 

Your mind exploded, head shooting straight up into the air, a small yelp burning into a silent open-mouthed cry. You were spinning, the room was spinning, your body heated up instantly. Then, the wet warmth traveled back to your clit, her opposite hand nestling two fingers into your aching, needy twat, her tongue lapping as her fingers resumed digging and that one damned finger fucked in and out of your tightest hole painfully slow. 

She fucked you like an animal; you cried out like a bitch in heat. The music trembled through your ears, and you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough, that everyone would hear, everyone would know. You were both drunk and this didn’t matter, didn’t mean anything, but she was bottoming her tongue out in you and you wanted it to mean a lot. Girls talked and you fucking hated them all. She was loose, she got around, and you wanted to be hers. 

You wanted to capture her and be interesting to her and walk with her hand on your lower back around campus. Wanted her callused fist in your hair, around your neck as she took you every night. Wanted badly to fucking cum, to open the portal, to wash her face with this unholy water, wanted to kiss wet lips and taste everything. Wanted to know if she could ever like you, after you gave it up, quickly, bellowing like a foghorn against a rack of coats. You wanted to be kept, to keep her spit inside of you like a keepsake but she sucked it back in a quick second, before you could even feel her cheeks hollow between your thighs, and felt dirty for even thinking of it. 

A sweet pain formed between your thighs and you couldn’t stop the groan that rose from your throat, every muscle in your face clenching and unclenching, your eyes crossing as your orgasm came quickly into view. Abby fucked you through it, fingers slow and forgiving. It was as though a stream of slowly descending tidal waves were crashing against you, and you needed more, it hurt but you needed more. Something deep burned inside of you, endlessly hot, and you wondered how she could stand the heat as she hit it over and over again.  You sobbed, and swore that you could feel a tear roll down your cheek, feeling the need to rub your eyes for good measure.  

She looked up, entranced, face softening for a second, watching as you gave up your mind to your body. There was a hard knock at the door, the music lowered a decibel, silence filling the two of you, her fingers still deep inside of your two holes. A sing-song voice bellowed out ‘five minutes!’ and the darkness ridged her eyes. 

For the first time, her voice was hard, removing her hand from your cunt, making sure to curl the one in your ass tighter in compensation. She slammed the door twice with her fist, the frame bulging in a way that made you fear the whole thing would just fall down. “Fuck off.” Her voice was loud enough to tear through the uncomfortable tension. There was an apprehensive, ‘woah man,’ that you could barely hear, and the music regained, the party rejoiced, and hopefully, the fear of God being struck enough in your host to leave well enough alone. 

Her lips were still slick, soft, kissable with your juices. She flashed you a genuine, pretty smile.  Her hands gripped a little too tight but you wanted it all. She looked down at the mess between your trembling thighs, then at your heavy, panting face. She leaned back on her heels as a wide smile played on her face, satisfied with herself. A windy chuckle passed through her glistening lips, wiping her mouth and chin on the inside of her hoodie. “Fuckin’ insane.” She breathed out in between pants. 

“Abby.” She said, as though the strength of your orgasm traveled through your brain and made you forget the events of the last 15 minutes. “Constance Hall. Dorm 425 on the second floor.” It was as though your heart skipped a beat, but you punched it down, a weak smile playing against your lips. 

She was fucking disheveled, almost inhaling the last sweet smells of your pussy, creating a memory of the flavour and filing it away in her mind for safekeeping. She was delicate, pulling your white panties up to your thighs again, soothing a finger where those soft, curly pussy hairs were hidden again. She let down her hands, skirt furling down, covering the marks of dark possession that she left behind. “Come see me again sometime, ‘kay?” She chuckled, giggled even, and that glint in her eyes was enough to make you faint. 

She stood up, waiting for you to compose yourself and straighten everything out before she pushed open the now-unlocked door and peeked her head out.

Jordan was already on her as the door flew open, and you could hear his hushed nosiness as you hugged the wall and tried to act casual, eyes locked on her retreating back as she reentered the room, light haloing her. ‘So what happened?’ you swore his lips read, and your stomach dropped. But she cut through his questions, loud enough for you to hear, convincing enough that he wouldn’t have anything to run his mouth about later on. 

“Nothing man, we were just talking.”

Maybe she was actually just that charming. 

Yeah.

[tfyoulookingatgiuxs]

Bunny

Mike Schmidt x Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: !!ǝɯ dlǝɥ 'ououou ˙ǝsǝɐld 'ǝɔɐld sᴉɥʇ uᴉ ,ǝɹǝɥ ǝq oʇ ʇsoddns ʇou ɯᴉ !dlǝɥ ǝsɐǝld ǝuoǝɯos (𝙸𝙼 𝚂𝙾𝚁𝚁𝚈, 𝙰𝙽 𝙴𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁 𝙾𝙲𝙲𝚄𝚁𝙴𝙳, 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚃𝚁𝚈 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚁) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: angst, blurb, violence, themes about murder, chasing, blood, death, bad ending, creepy images, heavy themes, dismemberment, reader gender is not specified, use of Y/N, your surname is Torres, investigation. (Please, if you're so sensitive, i ask you not to read this. Thank you.)

𝐀/𝐍: Just to say that I love FNAF in all its beauty and ugliness. If the images or themes disturb you, I ask you please not to read. Got inspired by Battington's video called "BUNNY BUNNY BUNNY", you can find on youtube. Sorry for my english this is not my native language. Please support and reblog. Hope you enjoy this one! (DIVIDER NOT MINE)

PLAY ➤ 19 / 11 / 1997

You ran as fast as you could, your breath was short and your tears did nothing but fall. He was behind you...

A large yellow rabbit was chasing you throughout the pizzeria trying to kill you. You entered one of the rooms decorated for a birthday, but now full of cobwebs and dust due to abandonment.

You were an investigator. You had been working with the police for years now due to your young age, but you were the best they could find.

One day you learned of the big scandal that happened in Freddy's pizzeria: five children who disappeared and were never found. When the disappearance of the little ones was reported, panic broke out. The parents were desperate and the police found something that also destabilized the police force. From the security cameras it turned out that someone from the staff, disguised in an animatronic suit, took the children into an abandoned room and then emerged from it with a knife.

So the conclusion was reached that the children did not disappear, but were killed by someone who worked at Freddy's. Unfortunately, however, even though it was defined as a case of murder, the children's bodies were never found again and after various investigations, nothing more has been heard. The owners of the place, then realizing the bad reputation their pizzeria now had, decided to close and abandon their plans. You were sorry. When you met one of the owners you could see that he was a good man. His desire was to entertain children with his new robotic projects, idealized something that would also make adults happy, entertaining them properly.

But you couldn't lie that he didn't care about the people he hired. He was a good person, you could see it. But perhaps too good to unknowingly hire an assassin. The other one, well you rarely saw him, he spoke to the police several times but you never spoke to him directly.

They immediately hired you to investigate the case and find the possible killer from Freddy's pizzeria. You were happy to be able to participate in this investigation, it seemed like a difficult task and you liked challenges. Every night you went there together with the local night guard. His name was Mike.

You had met him for the first time right in front of Freddy's. He desperately needed a job to support him and his little sister Abby, and they offered him a job as a night guard.

He was a good boy and did everything for his little sister, and it made your heart melt. Every night you met there. He did his job and you did yours. You told him about the case and he even offered to help you. Not that he was a real detective but he said he would do the bare minimum even if he didn't have the right skills.

You were getting closer and closer and you couldn't lie that deep down you didn't mind him. He was handsome and determined when he wanted to be, even if he seemed a little impassive, in reality he was a real big boy. He was young too, so it was fine. Hand. You couldn't think these things at work!

After at least four nights of investigation, you found that the abandoned robots in the pizzeria seemed to still be working, and even more shocking: you found the killer's suit, a yellow rabbit, now dirty and dusty. You wasted no time recording this on your video camera so you could have proof to show your superiors. You had quite a few recordings where you talked about what you had found and what was still happening in the pizzeria today.

The electricity was still there and every now and then it gave some problems to the robots which every now and then started singing without you or Mike doing anything. Noises roamed the place, and what was even stranger were the songs that occasionally played on the speakers. Mike thought for a moment that the place was haunted, but you didn't believe in such things. You found that there was a malfunction in the robots, now abandoned, and the same thing in all the electronic objects in the place.

That night. The fifth night. You accessed your camera again as you set out to reconnoitre the place, while Mike was at his usual desk checking the cameras.

Everything was going well. You were double-checking where you had already been, so you wouldn't miss any details.

You were calm until you summarized everything you had found. The children were taken to a room, an abandoned room where only the staff could enter. When you went in there you found an uncleaned dried blood trail behind a box with various wires and mechanical tools. It was very hidden, and it was understandable that they hadn't found it. But you found nothing else.

What the police kept asking was "What's still in that room?" But the real question you actually asked yourself was "Why did he kill there? But moreover, where did he hide them?" If your killer was an intelligent person he surely thought of a place where no one would look...

Exact.

There was no need to focus on the room where the murder occurred. Because the place had been cleaned even if it left a small stain, a sign of haste and distraction for having hidden it behind a box. But rather the bodies of children, so that we could begin to carry out accurate analyses.

So, if you were a murderer, where would you hide bodies as small as those of children? Where no one would have suspected finding them in that exact spot?

You turned to the three main animatronics: Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie. Then you looked at the one placed a little further to the left, in pirate cove: Foxy. You had an idea, but you hoped it wasn't right. You approached Freddy the bear, walking slowly with anxiety rising to your hair. The animatronic was very large, but you had no trouble opening its mouth, standing on tiptoe and bringing the camera into the bear's mouth, revealing the face of a rotting child with gouged out eyes and dismembered limbs.

At the sight of him you immediately pulled away putting a hand over your mouth. The sight had been horrible, and the image of those poor children placed inside the animatronics while the endoskeleton together with the springlocks slowly destroyed their flesh gave you shivers.

You made sure to record the thing so you could show it to the police force. Then a scream. Mike.

You ran screaming his name and the thing you saw shocked you. It was him. The yellow rabbit was slamming Mike's skull repeatedly into the desk, finally cracking it as the blood spread across the table. You screamed in fear but you couldn't let that bastard claim any more victims. You grabbed the first contending thing you found and hit the assassin knocking his mask off. You threw away the object you used as a weapon, remaining speechless, it was William Afton...one of the owners of Freddy's. You didn't want to believe it. Had the owners agreed to kill the children? Or was Afton just the one who did it by leaving his friend, not that coworker unaware of what he had done? You didn't know...but you were going to find out.

You took the camera you accidentally left on the ground, recording his face so you could have proof of who William Afton was, the killer of the five children at Freddy Fazbear Pizza.

Afton, however, was conscious and you certainly didn't knock him out. He immediately got up and there was a lot of music playing and you could hear the animatronics singing. You saw the killer put the now very disturbing rabbit mask back on and started chasing him.

You screamed and cried running towards the exit but it was strangely closed. You opted to hide, so you ran around the entire pizzeria trying to outrun the yellow rabbit. Everything that was happening was devastating and horrible, you didn't want it. Mike was dead and maybe soon you would be dead too, but you couldn't let him get the better of you, you had to avenge the children, you had to avenge Mike, and you were the only one who could do it.

But apparently in this game Afton was the winner. You were trapped. You had injured your leg during the run, and now you were limping as you headed into one of the birthday-decorated rooms. You did nothing but cry "Please..." You begged the man not to kill you while some children's music played in the background. Your back was pressed against the wall, no way out, he was in front of you, looking at you from the half-open door, torturing you as your sobs increased.

He would decide when to kill you, and when he did, he would make sure to make your death as painful as possible. The jingle made the scene creepier than ever, and you earnestly prayed for someone to come to your rescue. But no one came.

"Please no—NO!"

The camera was thrown into a remote corner of the room while strangling screams filled the room.

"Bunny, Bunny, Bunny, you're so funny with your twitching nose. Bunny, Bunny, Bunny you're so funny from your head to your toes"

STOP ➤ ERROR

Today at 7:55 am, the police were called and found two bodies in Freddy Fazbear Pizza. One of them is Mike Schmidt. Local night guard, some witnesses say that the boy should have presented himself to the police to hand over the keys to the place, which is still under investigation following the unpleasant incident that occurred years ago. The other one is Y/N Torres, an investigator sent to investigate the case further.

Their bodies were first stabbed and then crushed. The first victim, Mike Schmidt, was stabbed five times and then his skull was smashed, while the second victim, Y/N Torres, was stabbed seven times and then the killer crushed the arms and broke them.

The police searched the entire pizzeria for any evidence that could find the killer, but nothing was found. We will update you with further news on the case.

[cielles-random-vault]

HIIIII MLLL! I would love if you could write a Mike x reader following the FNAF plot? I haven’t ppl write anything like that! Maybe the reader being forced to go with Abby when Freddy comes to get her and Mike saving them and being protective? Smth angst WITH A FLUFF ENDING BC AHHHV I LOVE FLUFF WITH SOME ANGST! (also nothing with smut bc everyone’s been writing Mike smut and it feels so ooc for him 😔)

HAIIIII THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR REQUEST <33

you're so real asexual mike canon!!

also the angst part is a bit rushed i'm sorry i'm slowly getting out of writer's block and it truly ain't shit 🤧🤧 BUUTTT HERE WE AREE

gender neutral reader!!

wc: 1141 🦦

find the fic on ao3 here! || link to my ao3 profile 🦇

“Give me the vest.” Mike tried to command to his sister, but it was to no use.

“No. Me and Y/N are coming with you.” Abby replied on a taunting tone.

“ Are we?” you said, looking up from your book, and the death stare Abby gave you left you no choice but to follow her.

“Please.” Abby begged, doing her signature puppy eyes.

“No.” Mike replied sternly.

"What?! You can't say no to her, especially not with those puppy eyes!!" you chimed in, doing puppy eyes as well, hoping it would persuade him.

“Fine” he sighs, and you and Abby exchanged a hearty high five. “But only if you come with us as well, Y/N.”

“Fine by me!” you reply with an eager smile. “Come on Abby, let’s get ready!”

The happy trio then found itself impatiently sitting in the car, while the radio was silently playing Talking in your sleep.

A few moments later, you all three arrived n front of the abandoned pizzeria.

“Don’t get your hopes up, okay?” Mike warned as you were entering the building. “Just… Do whatever while I’m watching the cameras. Y/N? (you turn your head to look at him) I’m counting on you, you’re the adult, you take care of Abby, okay ? (you nod) And you, Abby, don’t be too much of a trouble, okay?”

“Mhm!” she agreed excitedly.

A few moments later, you and Abby found yourselves discovering all the oddities of the ancient pizzeria, but one in particular caught your eyes.

“Look at that muffin!” you say to Abby as you point your flashlight towards a muffin with a pink icing and some gloomy yellow eyes. “Imagine if it started chasing you here, what would you do?”

“I sure wouldn’t want that to happen” Abby chuckled as you switched rooms, not paying attention to the now moving muffin.

On the other hand, boredom seemed to have gotten the best of Mike. After all, if nothing tragic happened in this pizzeria in over 30 years, the bite of 87 aside, why would it change now?

That’s how our dear camera monitor ended falling asleep, the soft noise of the cameras’ static slowly lulling him, but he shouldn't have…

You and Abby kept on exploring the various and numerous rooms, and found a room full of blanket of pillows and blankets.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” you ask Abby as you give her a mischievous look.

“If you’re thinking about building a pillow fort, then totally!!” Abby replied cheerfully. “We should do it in the main plaza!”

“Yes!! Start off with bringing these there, I’ll take the rest!” you say as you hand her a few blankets.

A few moments later, you and Abby started running out of blankets, so you decided to take the ones who were covering some oddly tall figures.

“What the- oh my god this is awfully terrifying” you say as you uncovered a strange purple bunny looking animatronic.

Should you have left? Of course. But you somehow couldn’t take your eyes off of the strange creature before your eyes. Its red eyes were staring back at yours, and something felt off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. It’s as if the creature in front of you was…

Alive.

“Help!!” you tried to scream, but nobody could hear you.

Strange, Mike thought as he noticed one of the cameras stopped working. I should check what’s going on there.

“Abby?” he asked as he headed towards the main plaza. “Do you know where is Y/N?”

“They’re in the storage room, we are going to build a pillow fort!” Abby replied cheerfully.

Mike then rushed to the storage room where he thought you were, where he noticed you silently studying the purple robot-looking bunny.

As you tilted your head in curiosity, the robot did the same, and you couldn’t help but to find it endearing.

"Oh my God, I thought something bad happened to you," Mike sighed, relieved to see you alive and well. "Are you the one who screamed earlier?"

“Yes” you admit with a sheepish smile. “That’s because he didn’t want to put me down.”

“Okay...” Mike replied, slightlty doubtful.

“By the way,his name is Bonnie! Bonnie, this is Mike, my best friend!” you said with a smile. “He can be of good use for taking all the pillows we need to the plaza!”

A few hours pass as the night comes to an end, and time to head back home arrived.

Both you and Abby fell asleep in the car, lulled by the smooth roaring of the car.

“Y/N?” Mike called you after Abby went to sleep. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure, but what’s with the serious face?” you ask him, starting to get worried.

“Nothing I just…” Mike sighed. “I’m just glad you’re safe. The animatronics can get dangerous at times.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” You point out. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, I’m your best friend, I won’t judge.”

Mike sighed deeply before saying:

“If I got so worried about you, it’s because I thought I would lose you. And I couldn’t bear losing the one I love.”

“Is that… A confession?” you ask, not wanting a misunderstanding.

“What else do you want it to be” he replied, smiling awkwardly.

“Well” you chuckle, “I’m surprised you beat me to it. It’s been a while since I wanted to confess as well.”

“Wait, really??” (you nod with a soft smile) “So, does that mean that we’re, you know, dating?”

“I don’t know” you chuckle softly, “We’ll have plenty time to disscuss it later, okay? Let’s just say we’re lovers for now, okay?”

[wonderofasunrise]

Dozens of Songs: Tag Game Meme

Thank you for the tag love @thebiwifeonao3 💜

Rules:

12 songs you've recently listened to (include a lyric that you like maybe)

12 ships (can be solo or platonic) that the songs loosely remind you of

Tag 12 people to do the same

Whether you've been tagged or not, you can send an ask with the song and pairing to create a work based on the idea. The theme is 12, so could be 12 characters, words, paragraphs, chapter - anything!

See my playlist below the cut:

1. "Shadows of the Night" by Pat Benatar - B'Elanna/Seven (Star Trek: Voyager)

You said, "Oh girl, it's a cold world when you keep it all to yourself." I said, "You can't hide on the inside all the pain you've ever felt." Ransom my heart, but baby don't look back 'Cause we got nobody else

2. "Islands in the Stream" by Dolly Parton & Kenny Rogers - Mark/Susan (ER)

But that won't happen to us and we got no doubt Too deep in love and we got no way out And the message is clear This could be the year for the real thing

3. "Snow on the Sahara" by Anggun - Beverly/Picard (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

If your hopes scatter like the dust across your track I'll be the moon that shines on your path The sun may blind our eyes, I'll pray the skies above For snow to fall on the Sahara

4. "They Don't Know" by Kirsty MacColl - Kerry/Susan (ER)

I get a feeling when I look at you Wherever you go now I want to be there too They say we're crazy but I just don't care And if they keep on talking still they get nowhere

5. "In My Life" by The Beatles - Harry/Tom (Star Trek: Voyager)

But of all these friends and lovers There is no one compares with you And these memories lose their meaning When I think of love as something new

6. "Chasing Shadows" by The Corrs - Philip/Elizabeth (The Americans)

Nothing simple anymore He said to me, "Can we go back to before?" The child appears Hate this girl that I've become Needy apparition Wring my heart like a dishcloth

7. "The Whole of the Moon" by The Waterboys - Data/Tasha (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

I spoke about wings You just flew I wondered, I guessed, and I tried You just knew

8. "Power Over Me" by Dermot Kennedy - Stan/Nina (The Americans)

So we hide away and never tell You decide if darkness knows you well That lesson of love, all that it was I need you to see

9. "Little Lies" by Fleetwood Mac - Tom/B'Elanna (Star Trek: Voyager)

Although I'm not making plans I hope that you'll understand there's a reason why (Close your eyes, close your eyes, close your eyes) No more broken hearts We're better off apart, let's give it a try (Tell me, tell me, tell me lies)

10. "Freefall" by Sharon Corr - Luka/Abby (ER) hehe help me Zoë

I am half-asleep and dreaming I'm awake but I'm not breathing I am shooting out the lights And I'm drowning in the lies I am flat against the surface I am scratching on the ice And I am fighting for my life I'm fighting for my life

11. "24 Hours" by Andrea Corr - Riker/Deanna (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

I'm not the only one that loves you Hey, everyone does You've got a map of your past Engraved on your face But your strange heart is the heart of a boy

12. "A Memory" by Doppler - Alicia/Jason (The Good Wife)

You're crying out for lightning All I give you is rain I'm the gloom in your afternoon Waiting for the sun to fade I'll take the West and you can keep the East

Tagging @sapphicsandscience @cloudsnbones @artificialconditions @everybodyknows-everybodydies @laura-elizabeth-legaspi-weaver @flutter2deceive (let me cheat by tagging just half a dozen here ok lol)

[lonelyvomit]

Hi, lovely Abby, I hope you are okay! I wanted to stop by to say hi and also to talk a bit about Niko. I was at Forum last week for the gig/meet & greet. Since it was possible to get the album that day, I got my copy and I decided to have it signed during the meet & greet.

I was using Finnish to greet them. When it was Niko's turn, he took my copy from Aleksi and we greeted each other, as he started signing. And he asked me: "Mitä kuuluu?" This was so unexpected! It was only the second time we were meeting each other. The first time was very brief and over a year and a half ago! So, I was trying to find something positive to tell him but, huh...

The thing is that I have been suffering from a very serious case of nerve pain since January. I was on sick leave for almost a month and had returned to work just 2 days prior the gig/m&g. I have to take a strong medicine several times/day to be able to leave almost normally - I still get bad aches, so I have to pay attention not to overexert myself.

So, yeah, sadly nothing positive to tell him. I settled for "hyvää" and dared returning the question, "entä sä?" He paused his signing to look at me with a little smile and finished his signing, happily telling me what he had lately done. Then, instead of giving my copy to Olli, he gave it back to me, while looking at me in the eyes and I thanked him. This wasn't much but it made me feel appreciated and it helped, considering the situation I'm currently in.

He and Joonas have been the kindests. Olli was totally sprawled over his chair, seemingly happy to be there, when I greeted him. It was nice to meet Aleksi again and to finally meet Tommi. He couldn't be there when I first met them, so my copy of LOTSAD is missing his signature, but I'm okay with that. Getting their signatures is actually just an excuse to meet them.

It's probably not helping to tell you nice things about Niko, but you're the only one "I know" who can get it. 💐🌸🪷🌼🪻

- your flower anon, who often thinks about you and who hopes life is treating you well ❤️

I'm going to SCREAM

first of all HI it's so good to hear from you again 🥺🖤 I'm sorry for what you've been going through but I'm happy the medication helps and you can at least do some normal life stuff 🤲🖤

now pls whyyyyYYYYY does Niko have to be so fucking cute 😭💔 like I am trying so hard to move on with my life and every time he takes a social media break I think this is it this time it's for real and then. he dares to show his dumb face again and be adorable and I'm right back where I started down horrendous for that man 😔💔😭 mf simply will not leave my frontal lobe without a lobotomy

[stranger-nightmare]

okay okay, so like Matt Murdock comes home after a long night of legal work. to help him unwind you do everything for him. undress him, kiss him, blow him, ride him even. but you're teasing him the entire time, while you're on top he can't take the teasing anymore, flips you two over and just uses you to take out his stress 🥴🥵🥴🥵

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

Pairings: Matt Murdock x (female) Reader

Summary: Matt’s had a long and stressful night at work, you decide to make him feel better

Warnings: fluff, smut, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex (m+f), cockwarming, the tiniest mention of injuries, minors DNI

A/N: ummm not me reading this ask whilst I was in the middle of dinner with my parents and nearly choking on my lasagne, Abby are you trying to kill me??😮‍💨🥵💀 Umm so yeah I just had to turn this into a full oneshot bc omfg yes this is so hot! Everyone say thank you @mothdruid for the idea😌 hope you all like this, it’s my first time properly writing for Matt!!✨🖤💫

This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. If you click ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.

You’re woken up by the sound of keys rattling in the front door. You hear a deep sigh as Matt crosses the threshold of your shared apartment. You hear him toss his keys aside before slamming the door shut harshly and heading into the living room. He slumps on the sofa, loosening and removing his tie, letting his head fall to the back of the sofa. You come sleepily padding out from the bedroom wearing nothing but one of Matt’s shirts. Matt doesn’t even lift his head as you walk in.

“Hey” you greet him.

“Sorry,” he huffs, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You were used to him coming home at any hour of the morning, whether it be returning from work or from daredevil-ing around the city.

“It’s alright. You okay baby?” You ask as you move to sit next to him on the sofa.

Even from here you can feel the tension, the anger sitting in him, his muscles tensed and coiled despite his seemingly relaxed position. You reach an arm out to caress the back of his head, stroking his nape gently. He sighs again, but this time a little more contentedly as he revels in the feeling of your nails scratching at his scalp lightly, his body relaxing the slightest bit.

“Just been a long night” he mumbles. “A long, infuriating, and stressful night.”

You hum an acknowledgment as you continue to play with his hair. You knew he’d only tell you as much as he wanted to so there was never any real reason to keep prodding him. So you decided the best thing you could do was just to provide comfort and help him relax. You move your hand from his scalp to his face, gently brushing over his cheek with your knuckles. You trace the bruise on his cheekbone from a few nights ago. Your fingers trail over his face, to his lips, outlining them gently.

You then trail down his neck, you fingers moving in a haphazard swirling motion over his skin. You trace the skin exposed at the top of his loosened dress shirt.

You then shift on the sofa, swinging a leg over until you’re straddling Matt’s lap. His hands immediately find their way to your hips.

“What are you doing?” He grumbles.

“I’m just helping you relax a little” you shrug. “Helping get rid of some of that stress."

He just responds by squeezing your hips slightly, his thumb beginning to rub small circles on your hip bones. You reach up and gently take the red glasses from his face, carefully placing them aside. You then lean forwards and begin to cover every inch of Matt’s face with the softest of kisses. You kiss all over his forehead, his temples, his cheeks, his nose, your lips ghosting over his eyelids as they flutter shut. Your hands return to his hair as you comb your fingers through it softly, again scratching his scalp with your nails. He sighs, so quietly you almost miss it. You start to feel the tension in his body ease up slightly beneath your touch.

You continue to attack his face with kisses as you slide your hands down his neck, tucking in underneath the open collar of his shirt. Your hands glide over his collarbones before you reach the top button of his shirt. Your hands move swiftly but softly as you undo the buttons, opening his shirt. You rake your nails down his chest, a small groan. eliciting from him. He takes the opportunity to move his head so his lips are angled with yours, pushing them lightly against you. You kiss him back slowly. It’s a light and gentle kiss, your lips just barely brushing together.

But you don’t let him kiss you too long before you’re moving your lips back to kissing his skin again, this time moving to kiss along his jaw towards the skin beneath his ear. When you get to his pulse point, the point you know just makes him weak, you nip at the skin lightly, smoothing over your bite with your tongue. He groans again beneath you. You carry on kissing and nipping all over his neck as you push his open shirt and blazer off his shoulders. His arms leave your hips briefly as he manoeuvres himself out of his clothes, his hands quickly finding their way back to you, this time to push against your back, pulling you in closer to him.

He rubs up and down your back with his palms as you litter his skin with kisses. Your hips begin to rock ever so slightly against his. You can feel him getting semi-hard beneath you. Your hands are roaming all over his bare chest. A sharp inhale sounds from him as you brush over one of his most recent cuts just below his ribs on the left side.

“Oh shit, sorry” you whisper quickly whilst sitting up, your actions freezing whilst you assess if he’s okay. He just shakes his head, his grip on your back tightening again.

“No it’s okay, it’s fine” he reassures you, pulling you down towards him. His lips find yours again briefly. This kiss is more sure, still soft and slow, but not quite as gentle as before. Your hips start to grind into him again as he groans into your mouth.

Before long though you break the kiss again, this time to rid yourself of your, well his, shirt, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Your lips then return to their movement across his neck and collarbones. His hands find you again, roaming over your newly exposed skin, groping and squeezing at your breasts.

You sink lower, your lips ghosting across his chest, kissing along the scars that cover his pectoral muscles. You move your hips back, sliding yourself down and off his legs until you’re kneeling on the floor in front of him. You just keep kissing him, every single inch of his exposed torso making contact with your lips at one point or another. Your lips move across his chest, his stomach, kissing each ab as they flex with his ragged breathing. You kiss the lines on either side of his hips where they angle towards where you know he wanted you most.

You can see he’s fully hard now as his cock tents in his suit pants. You kiss just below his belly button and feel him rut his hips against you. You then spread his legs with your hands as they slide up his thighs. His head is thrown back again, his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation.

You undo his belt, swiftly followed by his pants buckle. He lifts his hips as you tug his pants and boxers off him, freeing his hardened cock and leaving him completely naked on the sofa. You kiss his thighs as you move upwards now. You can hear a groan mixed with a sigh leave Matt when you finally place a kiss to the tip of his dick.

You swirl your tongue around his head, flicking your tongue into his slit. He hisses and pushes his hips up again. You oblige his silent request and finally take him into your mouth. You feel satisfied at the loud moan that sounds from him as you push your head down as far as you can on his dick, his tip hitting the back of your throat. His body sinks into the sofa as you bob your head up and down, sucking as you go, your tongue flattening against the underside of his dick, swirling around the vein that runs along his length. His one hand finds its way to your hair, wrapping it in a makeshift ponytail in his hand as he guides your mouth up and down his dick.

You take your hand and stroke the base of him, any part that you couldn’t fit into your mouth you pumped with your hand. You hum as you increase your pace, Matt groaning in response, the vibrations from your mouth rolling through his body deliciously. You enjoy the way his stomach is pulled taught with every ragged breath he takes, his hips jerking up into your mouth as he fucks your face softly.

“Fuck baby” he sighs. “Uhh, you feel so good” he whines, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

You can tell he’s getting close, his hips jerking more haphazardly, his fist tightening in your hair. You suck him a few more times before you pull your mouth off him, leaving him on the precipice of release.

“Fuck” he swears harshly as he releases your head, his fists pounding into the sofa on either side of him. “Why’d you stop?” He whines.

“Shhhh” is all you whisper as you stand to pull your own panties off. You begin to kiss your way back up his body, settling yourself back in his lap. His aching cock digs into your inner thigh as you pepper his face with kisses again.

“Shhh baby, I’m gonna take care of you” you murmur against his skin. You reach down between your bodies and grab his dick in your hand. You gently guide him towards your entrance before slowly sinking down onto him. The two of sigh in sync as he finally sheaths himself inside you.

But you don’t move, not yet. You simply sit with him inside you as you kiss him over and over and over again, all over any and every inch of skin that you could reach. He whines beneath your touch, his hips writhing under yours, desperate for you to move. But you don’t, not for a while, you just keep him sat inside you. You slowly start to feel the anger and frustration bubble up inside him again, the muscles of his chest going taught, his jaw tightening.

And that’s when you finally decide to let him have his way. You begin to rock against him the tiniest bit, just the slightest of movements, enough to feel pleasure, but not enough for it to actually get either of you anywhere. You then move your lips to his ear.

“Use me, baby. Take out your stress on me” you purr.

You feel the muscles in his neck go taught as he attempts to restrain himself, his fingers digging roughly into the flesh of your thighs.

“No” he says shortly. “I don’t want to hurt you."

You shake your head, trailing kisses over his neck again.

“It’s okay Matt, you can use me. Take out your frustrations, it’s okay” you encourage him, nipping at his neck a bit harder. He groans again, his hands tensing on your hips with the effort of restraint.

“Come on, it’s okay” your lips trail up to his ear again. “Just use me. Fuck me, Matty” you whisper huskily, biting and pulling at his earlobe.

And that’s all it takes for him to lose the last of his resolve. His hands grip you painfully tight as he flips you over, pinning you to the sofa. He towers above you as he slots himself back inside you in one fluid motion. You cry out as he begins to set a ruthless pace, his body dwarfing you, his hips colliding with yours over and over harshly. His grunts are loud in your ear as he fucks himself into you, letting out all the anger and stress of the night as he loses himself in your tight cunt.

He pulls your one leg up, hooking it over his back, angling himself even deeper inside your cunt. You gasp at the sensation of the new angle, his cock hitting that sweet spot hidden inside you. Now it’s his turn to have his lips all over your neck and throat. His kisses are sloppy and rushed, a clash of his teeth and tongue on your skin. Your nails are raking down his back, leaving long red marks in their wake. His hisses at the sting of air that whips over your fresh scratches.

His pace quickens even further as he starts to feel your walls tightening around him, knowing your climax wasn’t far off. He shoves a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing you as you’re pushed over the edge into pure bliss. He covers your mouth with his own just in time to swallow the moans that escape you as you clench over his cock. Your moaning and whimpering is like music to his sensitive ears, aiding him in reaching his own climax. He shudders above you as his pace finally comes to jerky halt as he spills inside you. His mouth hangs open just above yours, your breathes mixing as you both revel in your highs.

Matt has the faintest of smiles on his lips as he collapses on top of you, his head resting on your bare chest, his cock softening slowly where it still sat inside you. The two of you lay like this for a while, a fine layer of sweat on your bodies, your breathing heavy. Your hands are playing over his skin again, tracing swirls and patterns over his back, his face, your hands running through his hair again. Neither one of you daren’t move, both of you relishing the sheer softness and intimacy of the moment. You smile to yourself as you feel his entire body relax, you knew it wouldn’t be long until he was asleep. And honestly you’d let him, you’d let him fall asleep here, on the sofa, still on top of you, still inside of you.

“You feel better now?” You murmur after another short while. He twists his head upwards, humming into your neck, kissing you softly.

“Much” he confirms.

Masterlist

A/N: if I made a taglist specifically for Matt would anyone want to be on it?? Let me know!🥰 also oops this was much longer than I intended it to be but oh well, I hope you guys liked it🖤💫

Join My Taglist

Join My Hive

(General) Taglist: @ratcatcher2world @rosie-posie08 @dreamcatcher121 @justifymyfeelings @bookfrog242 @hybrid-in-progress @captainrexstan @nikkitc0703 @dopeqff @thelightinmyshadows @stardust-galaxies @wannabevampire @minxsblog

[softstraykidshours]

I love it! I love it so much! It's exactly what I didn't know I needed! If you are up for it I would love a part two!!! Thank you so much for this!

aaahhhh yay i'm so glad you requested a part 2 because i was actually really excited to write it! here it is! i hope you like it! (there is also still a healthy amount of content about the other members, because i just feel like they would be so funny and so not subtle if they found out you liked one of the members lolololol)

-courtney & abbie

---------------------------------------

this is part two to this post

pairing: felix x male!reader

"ok, we need to figure out what you're going to wear," hyunjin states. you, hyunjin, chan, changbin, and jisung have spent basically the whole day brainstorming how you're going to woo felix ever since you told them about your crush on him.

"i mean obviously he has to wear a tank top, we've gotta let him see the arms," changbin states, chan and jisung nodding in agreement.

you then begin what can best be described as a fashion makeover montage from an early 2000s movie as you try on outfit after outfit until the guys (mostly hyunjin since he's the one with real taste) decide on the perfect outfit.

a few hours later, you're nervously pacing around the apartment. chan told you the guys would be here any minute. you're practicing what you're going to say in your head over and over again when suddenly there's a knock on the door.

chan walks over and opens the door, letting the group of men in. it's a little chaotic as they all seem to be talking, or rather yelling, over each other. you stand back a little as everyone makes their way in and sets down their stuff. suddenly seungmin's eyes land on you.

"hey!" he says with a big smile as he comes over to introduce himself. jeongin follows suit and then minho, though minho's introduction is a little brief as he mumbles something about needing to get dinner ready for everyone.

then your eyes finally land on him. suddenly all the things you practiced to say vanish from your mind.

'of course he would be last' you think to yourself. 'save the most nerve-wracking for last.'

he makes his way over to you, reaching out his hand to shake yours.

"it's nice to finally meet you. in person, i guess. i'm felix," he states, deep voice resonating through the living room.

"y/n," you respond with a timid grin.

he smiles back at you, and you swear his smile could power a thousand cities with how it lights up the room. you find yourself inspecting every miniscule detail of his face. did his eyes always sparkle that much? were his freckles always that pronounced? did his hair always look so soft?

you quickly glance away from him as you feel heat rising to your cheeks.

changbin walks over to you and pats your back. "hey, felix, he was gonna help you hook the switch up to the tv."

you glare at changbin, eyebrows slightly furrowed. you definitely had not promised to do that, so you know he's setting you up.

"right?" changbin asks with a nod, eyebrows raised, silently prompting you to say yes.

"oh! right! yes!" you exclaim, pretending as if this was something you previously agreed to. "how could i forget?"

"sweet, i appreciate the help!" felix replies as he makes he way over to the tv.

you let out an awkward laugh as you once again glare at changbin.

"you're welcome," he whispers in your ear, winking at you as he walks away.

you approach the tv, stopping next to felix.

"so how long have you known, chan?" he asks.

"forever," you begin. "we've known each other since elementary school."

"oh, that's awesome!" he says with excitement. he smiles once again, and you swear your world stops.

you both fumble with the cables for a little bit. you're too proud to admit it (and you know one of the guys would never let you live it down if they found out), but every once in a while, you would purposefully try and move your arm a certain way to get it to flex, hoping that felix notices.

you continue getting everything all set up as you make small talk. time seems to pass really slowly when you're talking with felix - he makes conversations so effortless and easy.

"do you listen to a lot of music?" he inquires.

"oh absolutely," you respond. "i love music. i love a lot of different kinds of music, too. it's so relaxing but it can also be so energizing. i also love that music brings people together. like, people from all different backgrounds can like the same kind of music, and it's sort of this amazingly unifying thing. there's nothing else like it, in my opinion."

"that's such a cool way to put," he replies in awe. there he goes with that cute little smile again! "i love music a ton, too. i'm always looking for new artists to listen to though, so i'll give you my number so you can send me some music recommendations."

you feel your heart skip at beat as the tips of your ears grow red. he wants to give you his number? already???

"yeah, that sounds cool," you say, trying to remain calm. "and you can send me recommendations, too."

your grateful that minho finally yells at everyone to come get dinner, you weren't sure how much longer you could last in felix's presence before exploding.

after dinner, you all make your way back into the living room to play super smash bros. changbin, of course, finds an excuse for you and felix to sit together. although the conversation between the two of you was going really well earlier, it seems a lot more awkward and tense with the guys around, so you find yourself hardly interacting him. suddenly you get a text from chan.

chan: changbin just texted me. he wants to know if he can tell the other guys you like felix.

you: sure, why not

changbin then gets a notification on his phone. he stands up. "ok, everyone except felix, follow me."

seriously? could he be anymore obvious? you appreciate his efforts, but he was probably the most obvious person you have ever met.

changbin leads the other members into his bedroom and closes the door.

"ok," he starts. "i've got something to tell you all."

"that y/n has a massive crush on felix?" minho asks. "jisung already told me."

changbin looks at jisung with defeat.

"sorry," jisung says sheepishly.

"so is that why you've been trying to get them to do stuff together all night?" jeongin asks. "if so, you weren't being very subtle."

"yeah..." changbin trails off as he also realizes he hasn't exactly been subtle.

"so is that why we left them out there all by themselves?" seungmin asks.

the whole group looks at him with wide eyes.

"oh my god, i didn't even realize that we left them out there alone again," hyunjin says with a gasp.

the seven men quietly make their way out of changbin's room and slink down the hall to peer into the living room to watch you two. they notice you two are both playing the game, but you are sitting much closer together than you originally were when they left.

"ok wait, can you show me one more time?" you ask felix in the most flirty tone you can possibly muster up.

he giggles. "of course."

he reaches his hands across you to place his hands on top of yours on the controller, guiding you on which buttons to press. you were admittedly not the best at super smash bros, but you were also using this as an opportunity to get closer to him, and it seems to be working.

the other members glance around at each other from in the hallway.

"i think he's got this," chan whispers, motioning the guys back to changbin's room. they figure it might be best to let you two have your moment.

now that you're alone, you find the conversation with felix to be flowing much more naturally again. you continue to play video games while you chat back and forth about hobbies, interests, and life in general. you don't even realize that the guys have just left you two out there by yourselves for hours, because you're too busy being in your own little perfect world with your favorite person.

[averagejoesolomon]

Hi, hi, hi—here's the kids. This chapter has, once again, exceeded the expected word count. These kids are CHATTY and I refuse to cut any of it, because it all makes me happy. Fanfic is a magical place. Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy. If you're new here, you can read all of Full Circle on Ao3.

Chapter Five

“Absolutely not.” Rachel rejects the sight before Matt can fully step out from behind the curtain. It’s the third protest of its kind and he must have reached his final strike, because he’s still got one shoe in the dressing room by the time she starts to wave him back in.

“Aw c’mon.” He steps out anyway, straightening his lapel and rotating on his shiny new heels. “Pinstripes are cool.”

If she twists her nose up for much longer, there’s a chance it’ll become a permanent feature of her face. “Not with a paisley tie, they’re not."

She sits just beside Abby, the two of them lounging on the curved edge of a velvet couch at the center of the Hutzler’s men’s section. Where Rachel wears disgust, Abby wears a pleased little grin that settles right into its usual place along her lips. She slips her Tootsie Pop into the side of her cheek and crosses her arms. “I think he looks sharp,” she says, shooting him a wink.

“He looks like a linebacker,” Rachel sneers. “Look at the size of the shoulder pads.”

Matt tries not to slump in the shoulders, but he’s suddenly all too aware of his stance. “I’ll switch the tie,” he offers.

“You’ll switch all of it,” Rachel corrects. “This isn’t 1932 Chicago.”

“But—”

“Try again, Matthew.” There’s no give in her voice, and they’ve been friends long enough for Matt to know better than to try and take it. As he slinks back behind the curtain, Rachel calls over his shoulder. “And try one of my picks—clearly Abby’s careful selections aren’t getting us anywhere.”

“Hey,” says Abby. “He looks great. It’s not my fault Maryland High Society wouldn’t know fashion if it crawled straight into their fruity little cocktails.”

Matt’s not aiming for fashion—he’s aiming for camouflage. This outfit should help him blend in at the kind of function where everyone intends to stand out, which is exactly the sort of mind-twisting, layered espionage that is best left in Rachel’s calculating hands. Abby may know what he looks best in, but Rachel knows what he looks most natural in. This time around, it has to be Rachel.

He strips down to his undershirt, neatly hanging the discarded clothes and casting them aside. It takes too long to rifle through the collection of blazers, sweaters, scarves, and pocket squares that Abby chose for him, but eventually he sorts it down to the bare bones that Rachel laid out at the start of their trip.

It’s a pair of plain black slacks, which definitely beat the corduroy bell bottoms Abby had him try on earlier. She’s paired it with black shoes, black socks, and a black belt. So far, Matt’s in familiar territory. This outfit sticks pretty close to his usual Sunday best, straying only at the shirt. It’s black like the rest, but it’s printed with bright, bold flowers in pink, red, and blue. She’s brought it all together with a solid black bowtie and Matt can only manage one thought—Rachel is damn good at what she does.

Over the top of his curtain, he hears Rachel call out, “How’s it going, Joe?”

And from three dressing rooms down, Joe grumbles, “I never agreed to this.”

Each piece of Matt’s newest ensemble slides on easy, exactly the right size and cut. The pants are crisp and hemmed to just the right length. The shirt is softer than anything in his closet back home. He buttons, tucks, and tightens, rolling up the cuff of each sleeve.

“I see,” Rachel says, every bit as condescending as she’s known to be. “So you don’t think that adequate preparation is critical to success in your line of work?”

“Boy, you’ve got a real way with words, huh Ace?” Joe responds. “That’s not what I said, and you know it.”

If Matt had a nickel for every argument exchanged between the two of them, he might actually be able to buy the clothes he’s got on right now. At least he’s tucked away for this round, with an excuse to step back from his seemingly permanent position as a referee.

“Joe,” Abby whines, bringing a merciful end to the mounting tension. “I’m waiting with bated breath. My breath couldn’t be any more bated. If I bate my breath any longer, I’m gonna pass out right here on this horrifically uncomfy couch and then you’re going to have to carry me to the car.”

“Alright, alright.” Metal rings scrape against their rod as Joe slashes the curtain aside. Matt can’t see the outfit from his place behind a curtain of his own, but the sisters’ following silence speaks volumes. Joe’s dejection tells Matt all he needs to know. “Is this what you wanted?”

Rachel is the first to break the pause. “For you to look like a Kennedy brother?” she says. “No, not exactly.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Abby says. “The Kennedy look could work—it just needs some tweaks. What if we mix the Kennedy brothers with those boys from The Outsiders?”

Joe groans. “What in the hell are you—?”

“Hush,” she says before he can finish. “Come with me.”

There ain’t many people in the world who can get away with hushing Joe Solomon and still have a functional jaw afterward, but curiously, Abby seems to make the list. In a matter of seconds, Matt hears the curtain close again, and Joe’s dressing room dissolves into an indistinguishable series of excited suggestions and disgruntled disagreement.

Matt wraps the loose tie around his neck and folds his collar into place. The untied ends stick out from each side and his fingers fumble around until he manages a dirty, crooked knot. He stares at it in the mirror, debating, before he ultimately decides that it will never meet the infamous Cameron Sister standards. “How do I do this bow tie?”

Abby, amidst her campaigning to see Joe in an oversize polo, can’t resist the urge to respond from three rooms away. “What—they don’t have bow ties in Spring Lake, Nebraska?”

“I dunno about Spring Lake,” he calls, matching her tease. He threads a finger through the center of his knot, then splits it into two once more. “But the humble people of Hay Springs don’t prefer ties of any kind—always getting stuck in all of our tractors.”

“Seriously?” says Abby.

He smiles. “Not even a little.”

“It’s just like tying a shoe,” she tries again.

“Thing is,” he says, “my shoes ain’t usually around my neck.”

There’s distraction in her voice as hangers click and clack against one another. She must be shuffling through all of Joe’s selections, mind fully occupied, but the multitasking capabilities of Abigail Cameron know no bounds. “Just fold the fat parts until they look like a bow,” she says. “Then cross the long end over the short end.”

He holds the two identical ends of the tie. “Long end?”

She sighs. “Make one of them longer.”

“Is that before or after I fold the fat parts?”

“You do it all at the same time.”

“See the problem with that is that I’ve only got two hands and both of them are”—his curtain rips open once more and he freezes in front of his own reflection—“occupied.”

The first thing a fella has to learn about Rachel Cameron is that she always gets what she wants. The second thing to learn is that she’s not likely to wait around for it. Matt’s seen this exact expression on Rachel’s face at least fifty times over the years—the determined glare of a woman who’s ambition so thoroughly outweighs her patience. 

So it’s no surprise when she says, “Give me your neck.”

But the third thing to learn about Rachel is that sometimes she needs someone to remind her how to slow down. “Well gee, Rachel,” he says, his easy grin growing. “Ain’t you gonna buy me dinner first?”

She does not relent entirely, but something about her softens at the sight of him. Without breaking eye contact, she takes a great big breath through her nose, then lets it fall out of her mouth in a long, slow huff. She’s already reaching for his collar when she asks, “Do you want your tie done up right or not?”

Matt doesn’t fight her. He couldn’t possibly. Sometimes it seems as though Rachel has more knowledge at twenty-six than Matt could amass in his entire lifetime. From her brilliant mind, to her impeccable gut, and straight through to her nimble fingers, which tie a bow tie as though it’s second nature. “My pops taught me how to tie a half Windsor.” He’s not sure why he tells her, except in some halfhearted attempt to prove that he is trying. That he is learning. That one day, he might stand a chance at catching up to her. “Then the Army taught me how to tie the full Windsor—but when it comes to the bow ties, I never seem to get it right.”

She doesn’t lend a word in response, focus impenetrable, but she hears him. She always does. As she loops one end over the other, each step begins to make sense in a way it never has before. Matt watches her with a careful purpose, knowing with the utmost certainty that next time, he’ll fix up his tie all on his own.

She pulls the final loop through and straightens the ends out. She takes everything so seriously, but the severity suits her. It weaves through the even tempo of her breath. It lingers in the lines along her jaw and shapes her lips into something strong and stubborn. Brown eyes turn to stone and Matt reckons there’s not a force on Earth that could stop her from doing what she wanted to do, whenever she wanted to do it.

Satisfied, she lands a hand at the center of the bow, right at his chest. Her severity crawls up her arm, into her palm, and straight into his pulse. “You clean up pretty good, Nebraska.”

He has to clear the spot in his throat where her touch blossoms. “You sound surprised.”

Her shrug is simple and small. “Only a little.”

And she’s got that rare little smile on her face, so he pulls out one to match. “I’m a good looking guy, Rachel Cameron—don’t you forget it.”

Not all silences are made equal. Some are the long, dull result of a misplaced bug. Others are the quick, fleeting panic of a missed phone call. Matt has spent hours, days, months of his life listening to silences both crucial and not, so he knows this one when it comes. He’s heard this particular silence in between dignitaries making decisions. He’s heard it at underground card games, just before someone folds. He’s heard it in all of those split-second stutters in critical conversations, between two people with too much to say. When it really comes down to it, Matt’s listened to enough important words in his lifetime to know when some of them go unsaid.

But Rachel doesn’t give him the chance to investigate, because Rachel is far too talented for that. “Yes, well,” she says, letting her hand fall. “Maybe if you didn’t spend quite so much time looking like you just got done slinging a bunch of hay around, it might not be so shocking to see you in a shirt and tie every now and again.”

He blinks. Raises his eyebrows. Despite every effort—and it is a mighty strong effort—he can’t pin back a devilish grin. “You’ve seen a lot of that, have you?” he challenges. “Hay slinging?”

It ain’t often Rachel’s left speechless, so it’s worth relishing when she is. Her eyes search his as she fights for some sort of rebuttal, but she comes up short. “I’d like to take this moment to remind you that I’m a lot smarter than you in a lot of different ways.”

He holds up his hands in a low, uncommitted surrender. “Don’t gotta tell me twice,” he says, now straining against an all-out laugh. “But this conversation has me thinking that I at least know more about hay.”

“Congratulations,” she says.

He beams. “I’ve gotta take ‘em where I can get ‘em.”

“Wipe that smile off your face, Matthew.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

He bites his grin into his teeth and throws his gaze toward the floor in an attempt to collect himself. He ain’t quick about it, but it’s made easier by Joe’s voice, suddenly soaring through the dressing rooms. “You’ll have to send me to the depths of hell before I try those pants on.”

Before she can say anything, Matt has already cast a warning look toward Rachel. “Easy.”

And while he does keep her from charging the dressing room in a full sprint, there’s not much he can do for the furious heat that rises straight into her face and roses up her cheeks. “He’s been a pain since he got here,” she snaps, tone hushed. “Barking at our staff, condescending to our driver, and now yelling at Abby—his mother would be ashamed if she heard the way he speaks to people.”

Matt tucks his tongue into his cheek. “I promise she wouldn’t.”

Rachel looks up at him. “Wouldn’t yours?”

The expectation in her eyes steals his next few breaths from his lungs. For years, Rachel has known more, seen more, and understood more about this business than he could ever hope to. She has answers to every question and she is always the first to find new information. She’s an expert, which might be why it feels so strange to stand on the other side of the conversation for once, holding on to a secret that she hasn’t already pieced together without him.

He’s not sure he cares for this newfound feeling between the two of them, so he fills her in and sets the world on its axis once more. “Joe grew up in the foster system,” he tells her. “Bounced around Manhattan like a pinball.”

Evidently, it’s not a feeling that Rachel is used to either. “I didn’t know that.” While most people might have the good sense to sound apologetic, Rachel doesn’t quite make it there. In fact, she sounds more impressed than anything else. There’s not much in this world that squeezes past her, but Joe is the exception. He always is.

Matt just nods. “I know you didn’t.”

When he says it, her expression softens again, just as it did before. He watches a single thought inch its way through her features and she opens her mouth to say something, but they are interrupted by the sight of Joe, stomping out from behind his curtain.

Matt can’t believe his eyes. “Oh c’mon,” he says, throwing a hand out toward Joe. “How come he gets pinstripes?”

Abby has dressed Joe up in a more formal shirt than Matt’s ever seen him wear, with stripes that race straight down his front. The fabric flows at every seam and she hasn’t even looped the top two buttons into place. It’s all tucked neatly into pants that roll up at the ankles, and he’s sporting some sockless loafers. “I look like a sailor.”

Abby pops out right behind him, a pleased look on her face. There’s a dance to her step as she comes up behind Joe and crowns him with a finishing touch—a pair of sunglasses tucked atop his head. “You look great!” she squeals.

She must not see the grinding pulse of his jaw, so Matt intervenes before smoke starts curling out of Joe’s ears. “Does it help to know you look like a very cool sailor?”

“Cool and sailor are not two words that can coexist in a sentence,” says Joe.

“I’m serious,” says Matt. “You’d have the biggest boat in the marina—that’s how cool you look.”

“I don’t want to be any kind of sailor,” Joe says, throwing his hands in the air. “I want a leather jacket, and a cigarette, and—”

“Rachel!”

It’s clear that Joe has plenty more moping he’d like to do, but he doesn’t get the chance. An unfamiliar voice joins their informal group, calling to the girls from the other side of a half dozen racks. On instinct, Matt drops the tease in his tone and scans the area. Only when his guard is down does he realize it should have been up this whole time. They’re here on business. They’re here because of the Circle.

He’s tired. He’s getting sloppy.

When a young man, not much older than him, weaves his way through the men’s section, Matt kicks himself for not having seen him sooner. He blends in perfectly with the rest of the crowd, dressed in a neat, navy button down without a hair out of place. He waves them down, flashing a chunky, silver watch and when he approaches, he brings the entire cologne section with him.

Matt looks to Joe, and Joe is already looking right back.

“Michael.” Rachel is hardly ever surprised, so it's easy to notice when she is. She doesn't have enough practice covering it up. “What are you—?”

Michael cuts her off with a hug that’s big enough to wrap around her two times over. She’s stiff at first touch, but loosens into a hug of her own, more delicate than any movement Matt's ever seen from her. “I knew you had to be in town for the picnic,” he says. “But none of my calls have been getting through.”

With Rachel compromised, Matt looks to Abby for something to go off of—a hint, a history, or some sort of extraction signal. When her eyes finally meet Matt’s, she holds up her hands in the shape of a heart, then splits it into two.

Matt's pretty good at reading signals, but this one leaves him with more questions than answers. Boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend? Failed heart surgery?

“Oh,” says Rachel. “I’m sure the line has just been busy. Daddy’s all over the place right now. You know how it is.”

Michael pulls away, but he doesn’t let her go. Not entirely. His hands stay latched to her arms, holding her in place as he takes her in. Rachel takes it with grace as his gaze travels up and down her body, as though seeing her for the very first time, but she’s rigid. She’s stiff. She’s an agent, caught someplace she doesn’t want to be and searching for a way out.

Matt’s just about to give her an out, but Abby beats him to the punch. “Michael,” she chirps, words crawling with a disingenuous delight. She reaches out her own arms, and forces a hug of her own. “Long time, no see—what a surprise to find you here.”

Abby’s grip is more purposeful than Rachel’s, giving Rachel just enough time to slip away. Maybe it’s on purpose, or maybe it’s entirely on accident, but it doesn’t escape Matt’s notice that Rachel falls right between Matt and Joe. She takes a moment to straighten out her shoulders, but she spares no other movement. She is composed. She is confident. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Rachel Cameron is exactly where she intends to be.

Over Michael’s shoulder, Abby rolls her eyes at the rest of the group, then pulls away. He lets Abby go quicker than Rachel. “Yes, well,” he says, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I was just looking for an outfit to wear to the picnic—I swear it’s the event of the season, everyone’s so excited to be back.”

Michael’s already wearing an outfit that’s plenty suitable for a party and he’s probably got twenty more just like it at home, but Matt doesn’t say so.

“We’re excited to have you,” says Abby. “We’re going to have those shrimp puffs you like.”

“Something to look forward to,” says Michael, but it’s not long before his eyes are drawn to Rachel once more. “Maybe we’ll resurrect our annual trip out to the boathouse, and stuff our cheeks with them until we’re sick.”

Rachel’s smile is demure and dainty, as Michael steps closer and closer. “Wouldn’t that be something?” she says.

“It’s good to see you, Rachel.” He sounds wholly sincere, right up until he catches sight of Matt and Joe, as though it’s the first time he’s noticed their presence. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

It’s all the invitation Matt needs. “Matthew Morgan,” he says, stepping forward and extending a hand. “We’re—”

“Friends,” says Rachel, too quickly. “They’re friends from school. Matt and Joe.”

Matt shakes Michael’s hand, and Joe reaches out to do the same. “Ah,” says Michael. “Georgetown men. You know, I tried my damndest to get Rachel to come up to Harvard with me, but she had her sights set on DC.”

“DC’s pretty hard to resist,” says Matt.

Michael’s eyes keep giving him away, because now he sizes up Matt with a single glance. “I guess so,” he says, and his tone gives him away, too. Without much more trouble, he looks back toward Rachel with a smile that belongs in a magazine. “Listen, my mom will lose her head if I’m not back in time for dinner—I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll save you a dance,” Rachel tells him.

And that’s the only answer Michael needs. He turns away with a slickness to his step, then makes his way back to the main floor. “Abby,” he says as he goes.

“Mike,” is Abby’s only reply.

Matt’s not sure when, exactly, he and Joe ended up in front of Rachel, rather than beside her. It’s one of those instincts that only comes with years of closely-guarded secrets and long nights in the field together. When Matt turns around to look at Rachel, she’s still not herself, standing straight with tight shoulders, looking smaller than she ever has before. “Are you—?”

“You forgot the jacket.”

It’s a quick enough shift in the conversation that Matt can’t help but think he’s missed something. Skipped over a handful of seconds in time. “I did what, now?”

“The jacket.” She heads back toward Matt’s dressing room and flits behind the curtain. A stranger might think she was back to her usual, commanding nature, but Matt knows better. He knows her. This is a retreat, through and through. “I set out a jacket to complete the look—the outfit is ridiculous without it.”

How Rachel could be thinking about his outfit right now is beyond him. Matt hardly remembers putting these clothes on at all, his mind reeling with questions about Michael and his shrimp puffs. He looks back toward Abby, requesting some sort of backup, but she only shakes her head. As she takes a cross-legged seat back on the velvet couch, the message is crystal clear: drop it.

So what else can Matt do? He drops it.

When Rachel pops back out of the dressing room, she’s holding a solid black blazer, accented at the seams with matching silk. She doesn’t waste a breath before she holds it out to him, and he doesn’t waste what little patience she has left by resisting. He threads each arm through the sleeves and lets her do all of the straightening, swiping, and adjusting she needs.

When she's done, Rachel grabs him by the shoulders and turns him around to face the couch, dressed from head to toe in her finest selection. “Oh!” says Abby. “Wait, I love this.”

Rachel makes her way to Abby’s side. “See?” she says. “Way better. I just wish…”

They both cock their heads to the side, and Matt’s never seen a more terrifying sight. “Huh,” Abby huffs.

Rachel nods. “Yeah.”

“It’s just not—”

“Nope.”

“But he’s not gonna—”

“He might.”

Abby cuts her a downright daring look. “Wanna put money on it?”

And Rachel seems to know something she doesn’t. “It’s worth a shot.”

It’s a sisterly benefit, to have entire conversations without the need for complete sentences or thoughts. Matt’s no stranger to the unique Cameron language and while he would usually let the conversation fall to the wayside, he can’t shake the feeling that this time, they’re talking about him. “What?” he says. “What am I missing?”

Over their shoulders, there’s a streak of revenge in Joe’s smile, which ain’t really fair, considering Matt’s not the one who put him in a sailor suit. Regardless, Joe has somehow cracked the sisters' code, on the inside of their unbreakable back-and-forth, and he's entirely too happy about what he's hearing. “I hope you aren’t too attached to your hair," he says. "Because Abby's about to lose a bet."

[randomfandomimagine]

Hey there dear! I'm so glad that you're better and back to writing. Now, since you've fallen into TLOU2 fandom I've been thinking of this: headcanon about a fellow WLF female soldier that sided with Abby and is traveling from Seattle to Santa Barbara with Lev until they met the fireflies (Rattles who? They never existed)

I just love this two 🥰 I hope you're good. Bye!

Thank you so much for requesting, sweetie! I’m so excited to write about TLOU and I do love those two myself! I just want to hug them both 😍 

GOING WITH ABBY AND LEV TO SANTA BARBARA

You have known Abby for years and are closed friends

You were there during what happened at the hospital

Being a member of the Fireflies yourself as well

You understood Abby’s obsession with Joel but didn’t share it

Still, you supported her because that day gives you nightmares too

You were with Abby when you came across Yara and Lev

Ever since that day, you couldn’t forget about those kids either

You only fueled Abby’s need to go back to help them

They were just kids and you felt for them, even if they were Scars

During everything that you went through, you stayed together

Even after losing so much, especially so because of that

“We don’t let anyone stop us, okay?” is your mantra

Ever since Abby started saying it, you never forget it

And you are just as determined as her about surviving

And about protecting her and Lev with your life

It had been hard, especially losing Yara as well

But your new family gave you strength, and you them

When you started traveling to Santa Barbara, things felt different

You weren’t just looking for the light, you were chasing hope

Things were looking up, it felt like there was no more danger

Things began being more light-hearted, and you felt safe to be more lively

You had lots of fun with Lev, teaching him new things

He was curious and asked lots of questions

And you also taught him to play games to pass the time

After all, traveling so far could be a little tedious sometimes

"I spy with my little eye... something gray” “Is it the pavement?” 

“You’re a smartass, Lev” “A what?” “Don’t teach him bad words, Y/N”

“Fuck you, Abs, I’ll teach him whatever I want” 

You and Lev had this little secret bet going on too

That you assured you could get Abby to laugh out loud

Lev didn’t think you were that funny and refused to believe you could

It’s little things like those that make you forget about the real world

You have a wonderful dynamic and often joke around 

Lev also feels completely safe around you two to be himself

You’re like a family, for the good and the bad things

And you take care of each other as you make your way to Santa Barbara

When you make it there, it feels like a fresh start, a new life

One in which you can be happy with Abby and Lev as your family

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @wonderlandfandomkingdom / @the-mechanical-angel // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

[the-lincyclopedia]

🔁📚💖

Thanks for the ask, @jonsaremembers!

🔁 A fic you’ve re-read several times

Okay, I answered that here, so I feel like I should pick a different fic, and I will. I also feel like I should pick a different author, but . . . see, angsty fics by @fozmeadows have somehow become my comfort food. When it comes to the Scar Tissue series, the recordings by @khashanakalashtar have specifically become my comfort food. My phone doesn't keep track of how many times I listen to downloaded audio tracks, at least not anywhere I know how to access, so I don't know how many times I've listened to the end of "Scar Tissue (That I Wish You Saw)" or the middle of "Lick Your Heart (and Taste Your Health)," but please know it's many, many times.

What the series is about: Kent Parson was abused as a kid (it's really bad; mind the tags). Now he's in his mid-twenties, sort of maybe kind of coping, and a bunch of things happen in quick succession that turn his life upside down but ultimately lead to him facing his demons and getting to a much better place. That's super vague because I'm trying to avoid spoilers, but Foz does such a good job (here and elsewhere) at going from very heavy angst to very earned hope and goodness, and I also appreciate Foz's choices in this series about where to write a redemption arc and where to definitely not. (In case you're worried by abuse and redemption arcs being mentioned in the same paragraph, the redemption arc is not for the abuser, I promise.)

📚 A fic you wish you could display on your bookshelf

Okay, this feels a bit like cheating, because I someday WILL get to display this on my bookshelf, but: "Like Real People Do" by @xiaq. This fic is fantastic, and I am so proud of xiaq for finding a publisher and writing an original version! (The link will take you to the AO3 page for the fic, but the text of the fic is no longer there because a version of the fic is being published. If you haven't read it, I, uh, definitely can't help you with that. Nope.)

What it's about: The story follows an OC named Eli who was Bitty's childhood best friend and is now attending college in Las Vegas, where he meets Kent Parson. After quite the meet-ugly, Eli and Kent become friends, fall in love, etc., etc.

💖 A drabble that made you want 100K more words

I take it we're using "drabble" here to mean anything short-ish, rather than something that's exactly 100 words (since the Check Please fandom isn't, to my knowledge, abounding in true drabbles). I've got three answers to this one:

Anything @weneedtotalkaboutfic posts on Tumblr but not on AO3, including all those headcanons and bullet-point lists. (Maybe literally not every single one, but most of them, by far.) I'm including @parvuls in this list item as well, because Lau and Pav seem to feed off of each other sometimes (and Pav has excellent headcanons of their own!), particularly when it comes to those soft dom!Bitty ideas. (Note to anyone who likes the soft dom!Bitty idea and likes/doesn't mind PB&J: the series you're looking for is Directionverse by Khashana.)

"all i need is a life in your shape" by @zimms. It's a short Olliewicks fic where they're both NHL players (and didn't go to Samwell) and they get together during the 2020 COVID pause, and I told Abby in my comment that I would read the fuck out of a companion piece from Wicks' perspective. But also, the fic is basically made up of several vignettes that take place over the course of a few years, so there's plenty of room to flesh it out even more.

"Without Expectation" by @alocalband. It's a short Zimbits fic about Bitty's checking issues translating into issues with physicality in his relationship with Jack. It's so painful and lovely (Jack, especially, is so lovely) and I'm not sure what a much-longer version would look like, but I would read it.

Get in on the ask game!

[joshua-flipping-washington]

EllieDina Week- Day 3: Trouble.

Oh boy, this came out much more different than I was expecting. But I hope it reads alright! I'm late as always, apologies.

Rating: Teens and up.

Warnings: Pregnancy talk, nothing too serious. Just thought I'd add that as a warning.

●°○•

After the events that carried out in Seattle, Abby leaving Ellie and Dina battered and bloody on the floor of the theater. Ellie's mind, though her head was pounding with a vengeance. Was only focused on getting to Dina, on making sure that she was alright.

Ellie rolled onto her side with painstaking effort, managing to push herself up onto her knees. She crawls over to Dina, the arm that Abby had broken hanging uselessly at her side. " Dina. " Ellie says in a frantic tone, her voice is thick with emotion and she can taste her own blood as it coats her throat.

Ellie carefully pulls Dina close with the arm that isn't injured, she knows that she shouldn't move her because of the arrow in her shoulder, or the fact that Abby had beat her within an inch of her life. Tears fill Ellie's dull green eyes as she holds Dina close to her chest. " Babe… You're alright. Come on, wake up… Please, I just need you to be okay. "

Ellie's eyes flicker down to stare at Dina's chest, it is faintly rising and falling as she inhales and exhales. She let's out a soft breath of relief at knowing Dina was still breathing,pressing a gentle kiss to Dina's bloody temple.

Ellie's heart ached at knowing that if it hadn't have been for the boy with Abby, Dina could be dead right now. Just like Jesse and Tommy were. They both would be alive right now if it wasn't for Ellie, it was the same with everyone in her life that she cared about. Riley, Tess, Sam, Henry and… Joel. They all ended up getting killed because of her.

She refused to let that happen to Dina, she was going to make sure that she made it. Ellie was going to keep her safe, to the best of her abilities. She was in fact, only human after all.

《 》

It had been about seven months since they had left Seattle, one of the biggest shocks they'd had was finding out that Tommy was in fact, still alive. He was royally fucked, though- In terms of mobility. But he was learning to get along just fine with the help of Maria, and his good friend whiskey.

Ellie and Dina had moved to the outskirts of Jackson, into a small two-story farm house just like Dina had mentioned way back when, on their first day in Seattle. It had a huge yard, which some of the guys from Jackson helped Ellie fence in. And a decent sized barn for their sheep, most of which had comical or pun-y names.

Dina was standing in the kitchen in front of the sink, washing the left over dishes from the night before. Ellie was notoriously known for leaving the dishes soaking over night in the sink, not liking to deal with them in the moment. She hummed softly to herself as she scrubbed a plate, a fond smile making it's way onto her face as Ellie enters the room.

Ellie stepped up behind Dina, and gently wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. Her hands rested lightly on the growing bump of Dina's stomach, she was already almost eight months along. Ellie pressed a tender kiss to the side of Dina's head, slowly trailing butterfly kisses down her neck. " Babe, why don't you come and relax upstairs with me for a bit? The doctor did say for you to start taking it easy. "

Dina laughed softly as Ellie pressed close to her, hands resting gently on her baby bump as she wrapped her arms around her. Dina craned her neck slightly as Ellie kissed softly along her neck. But then came the one thing Dina had really began to hate hearing. She sighed heavily, giving a good natured roll of her eyes. " Ellie, I'm fine. Besides, if I didn't do these dishes, they'd just sit here until we have more from dinner tonight, and you know it. "

Ellie snorted sheepishly and she nuzzled her face into the crook of Dina's neck, her breath tickling the other girls skin as she spoke. " Yeah, I can't even lie about it. You know me too well, but come on. How about- I finish off these dishes, and you go upstairs and rest. You've been on your feet all afternoon, Dina. "

Dina let out a reluctant sigh, but as she did she set down the rag she'd been using to clean the dishes with. She turned around in Ellie's embrace and couldn't help but smile at the loving look on Ellie's face. " Alright- I relent, I'll try and relax for a bit. You are such a sap, you do know that, right? "

Ellie couldn't even feign mock hurt at the comment, she knew that it was true. She leaned forward and pressed a loving kiss to Dina's lips. " I know, but only a sap for you, babe. Now go- I got this. " Ellie released Dina of her embrace, and gently shooed a laughing Dina out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.

Dina was more thankful than she was letting on as she walked up the stairs, she had started to feel the beginning of a headache ebbing it's way in. Being pregnant was more of an experience than she could even imagine, turns out you feel gross a lot, your hormones are all over the place, your back aches and because of the baby pressing down on your bladder- You had to pee almost all the time. And pregnancy brain was definitely real.

Dina entered their bedroom and immediately kicked off her boots, relief washing over her as she sank down onto the mattress. " Okay, maybe Ellie was right about relaxing. Yeah, what do you think, huh? " She said softly as she gently rubbed her hand over her stomach, she smiled happily at the light bump against her hand. " I can't wait to meet you, little one. "

Her brown eyes widened slightly at the sudden tightening feeling of her abdomen, she knew that she shouldn't panic, but that was her minds first instinct. " No, no- I'm not ready to meet you yet, it's too early. " She said with a whimper, and then immediately called out for Ellie.

Dina's tone had enough of a panicked edge to it as she called out to Ellie, that she had dropped the final plate she'd been washing on the kitchen floor with a crash, rushing up the stairs and to their room without a second thought. She stood in the doorway, eyes wide with confusion and fear. " Dina? Dina, what's wrong? "

Dina was sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes are closed and her hand is resting on her stomach. She opens her eyes with a shuddering laugh, tears glistening on the surface. " I don't know if it's just because I'm panicking, but swear I just had a contraction. "

Ellie stepped into the room and stopped in front of Dina, gently cupping her face. Her eyes were filled with concern, but then the things the doctor had told them and the stuff she'd read in one of the pregnancy books came flooding back to her. " Babe, it's okay. Come on, sit with me. Let's wait and see if the feeling comes back, or gets more intense or close together. "

Dina gave a small nod of her head, moving up towards the middle of the bed. Her mind still racing, the unshed tears threatening to fall. Ellie climbed up onto the bed, and gently pulled Dina into her lap. She gently brushed her fingers through Dina's curls, humming softly. " Just tell me what you feel, I'm thinking it might just be Braxton-Hicks. "

Dina and Ellie sat there for thirty minutes, the tightening coming and going, getting weaker as time went on. " I think that they are done now… " Dina placed her head in her hands, and laughed in disbelief. " I can't believe I forgot that can happen, and I'm the one who's pregnant. "

Ellie kissed Dina's shoulder and gently rubbed her back. " Hey, you have a literal human being growing inside of you. I think you are allowed to forget a thing or two. "

Dina smiled softly at how sweet Ellie could be, when she wanted to be. " Well, I'm glad to have you by my side. I was… Seriously freaking out at the thought of having this baby early. " She turned her torso slightly and pressed her lips to Ellie's.

They soon went to sleep, holding each other close. Dina feeling more at ease knowing that Ellie had her back.

[marisakage]

Hi there, Abby! @yunsoh I think this is my first time ever talking to you. Technically, this is a recommendation-turned-into-an-analysis post (I hope you don't mind).

So the other day, I came across a vocaloid music video called Bitter Chocolate Decoration.

Now that came outta nowhere, right? It has been ages since I've last listened to a vocaloid song but surprisingly enough this one resonated with me to a big extent.

You'd wonder why would this particular video hits real close to home. Well, that's simply because I regard this as Yuki's perspective towards society and his toxic relationship with his mother/Akito.

When you look into the lyrics, it clearly visualizes impossible-to-express emotions and emphasizes the arduousness of fitting into the world.

The kid in the MV was basically taught by his mother/caretaker to be a flawless person despite him not being comfortable with it.

He tried so hard to be what society always expects us to be, humble, altruistic, social, and selfless.

But being perfect made him unable to express himself which pushed him into shutting down his emotions, bottling up his feelings and suppressing his own thoughts. He ended up imprisoning himself and as time passed by he grew to accept the collar that has been choking him as a reality of his life resulting in him losing his identity.

There are instances in the MV where you can spot the kid wearing a VR headset and wires basically scattered everywhere. It's my own interpretation but I think they might signify the fact he has always borne the thought his whole life seemed real but in fact it was fake all along. The wires are what keeps the VR functioning and metaphorically speaking that might represent our society.

The visuals reminded me of how abusive Akito was towards Yuki. This might be not subtle at all but it's almost as if the caretaker in the MV is stuffing food into his mouth against his own will. Food represents what society expects us to be, in other words idealism. The kid was reluctant at first but later he felt so hopeless and gave up.

He followed everything meticulously in order to become an 'adult' while trying to the best of his abilities to maintain his sanity. Because being an impostor drives one insane and being someone else other than yourself is suffocating. This has turned him into a controlled puppet, a marionette or for a better choice of words a slave.

I'm not trying to imply that Yuki is like the kid from the MV but rather the noxious relationship both parties share.

Yuki has been abused by Akito all his childhood. The stuffed food you see in the MV represents that kind of sick and ill treatment Akito has been displaying.

Being ostracized, having to endure harsh and discouraging words on a daily basis, getting rejected by your mother and your brother when you especially seeked help from them. All of this has caused Yuki to have a very low self-esteem. No matter what he does, he remains convinced that he's a good-for-nothing person.

So faking his own personality while suppressing his needs and keeping a distance from others is what he resolved to do.

The only authentic and real feeling he's been expressing so far is his jealousy towards Kyo. He probably didn't want to end up being a shell devoid of emotions so the only thing he wanted to hold onto is what he feels towards Kyo. Kyo has always been a scapegoat after all (I feel so bad for him). But besides the point, Yuki's been trying so hard to please everyone in fear of getting rejected the way he did by his mother and his brother. Just the thought makes him feel nauseated. He's been not only bound by the curse but also by society and how it regards him.

The scars and the wounds made by Akito and his actual mother prohibited him from moving on. Almost getting an anxiety attack in a closed space is proof that he's always been haunted by them which shows how nasty and agonizing their kinship is.

It's been obvious how he tries to escape from the shackles; Akito; by picking his highschool and later deciding his future career. Normally, everyone would want to fit in but in his case it drastically went for the worst aggravating his self-deprecating. That's why being a perfect version of yourself can drive you insane and having to shoulder expectations coming from every corner is torture to say the least.

He didn't snap or anything because he thinks he has no rights to express himself, after all he's a pathetic and a worthless person who doesn't deserve people's attention and empathy let alone the affection everyone craves for.

Yet witnessing before his eyes the way Kyo and Tohru interact with each others made him realize how superficial and fake his life is (throwback to VR and the wires) and how his efforts will never bear fruit.

He struggles to please everyone but at the same time he thinks he's undeserving of feeling loved. It really is lonely but what makes things worse for him is that he; a despicable being; strives to have that kind of connection. That goes to show the depth of his wounds and how emotionally scarred he is. To belittle himself to that extent really proves how traumatizing his experience with Akito is.

And frankly speaking if it wasn't for Tohru, he would have ended up like the kid from the MV a lifeless "puppet" dominated by both society and Akito. He attempted everything in order to break free from their grasping fangs but his efforts were futile leaving him in a rather exasperated state.

But you know what, that's one of the many things that I appreciate about Yuki's character and that's because he didn't want to lose hope. He struggled in his own way to find meaning in his existence even when he knows that he's not worth it, he's human and having such a humane feeling is absolutely normal.

Everyone seeks to find their own purpose and so does he hence he projected a subconscious image that prompts him to do so: "hatred".

He doesn't care so long it serves him as a purpose because he's scared of living meaninglessly but it turned out that what he's been missing out all this time was "love"

Love as in supporting someone else who's as flawed as you. He's been the only one receiving love and he's thankful for it but now that he grew accustomed to this foreign feeling, he started to strive to be the kind of person Tohru is. A person who gives meaning to someone else's life cuz definitely that act in itself will give a meaning to yours.

The act of repairing the other's broken pieces will definitely repair yours in return. That's what love is, it's staying by your most important person's side and helping them chin up regardless of how low they think of themselves while at the same time coming to terms with your tragic past and healing your scars. Loving someone else equals loving your own self, it's an indirect way of pampering your injured soul. An endless cycle.

Sharing that sacred feeling is what gives people a purpose in life and this is what Yuki has realized after receiving it from Tohru. He wants to become that person even if he's scarred and flawed. He wants to support whoever's in dire need and prevent them from falling in the depths of darkness so they don't end up like him, and that person happened to be Machi. Both of them saved one another, Machi gave purpose to Yuki's life and Yuki helped Machi open up and accept the fact that nobody is perfect and that having flaws is what makes us humans.

I don't even know how I ended up deviating so much from the main point but simply put that MV reminds me a lot of Yuki from when he was a child and how sickening and revolting his bond is with Akito and society in general. I apologize for this wall of text but I really couldn't help sharing my thoughts with you especially when you're one of my favorite bloggers.

[w0ahstarr]

Want to know the worst part is I fucking stand up for you, everyone keeps telling me how I'm better off without and how horrible you were and I fucking defend you till I'm blue in the face. I still have your family on Facebook because I care about them, I viewed them as good as family when we were together yet you block my family at the soonest opportunity you get. Okay, I know my faults and mistakes but you can't seem to think you did anything wrong. Well, you pushed me to my breaking point. You treated me as an inconvience rather than a girlfriend. So when someone else started giving me the attention I wanted it fucked me up. I didn't know how poorly I was being treated until someone showed me how I should be treated. You spoke to me like shit, to the point sometimes where even my mum would cringe. The night my niece was born 15 weeks premature and we didn't know if she'd make it through the night, I came home and asked for a cuddle and you rejected me in front of my own mother. You wanted to break up with me last summer because I phoned you and wanted to see you when you was busy. And I still think the sun shines out of your arse. I'd still pick you, even after everything. You could do so many unspeakable things and I'd still want you. I guess I was the one who loved you more. Even now when I was the one to break up with you. Really shows how much you actually cared about me. So let everyone fill your head with shit about me, but they don't fucking know me. Not even Abbie, she hasn't the faintest idea who I am anymore. The worst part is she fucking egged me to leave you, she told me you treated me like shit and she thought it was disgusting but now you two are all pally. You hated that girl but now you're friends? So you can forgive her but not me? People change Louis, I'm completely different from who I was 3 months ago. I grew up, maybe you should take a leaf from my book. It's easy to be bitter at someone, even after 5 months and you're clearly viewing it from one side and won't accept that maybe you were to blame too. So stay salty, whatever helps you sleep at night, but good luck finding someone who will love you even half as much as what I did and do now. You'll never find anyone who will love you as much as I do. So good luck or whatever with your life, all I wanted was to be friends. Regret me, whatever I don't care, but I don't regret you. I won't forget you either. Please treat your next girl better than me, we all make mistakes and I was clearly one of yours so learn from the mistakes you made with me and I hope you make the next girl feel like a million dollars, I know you've got the love inside you Louis, just learn to show it better. Thank you for the last four years, my idiot brain will still hope that one day we can be friends, but let's be real that will never happen. What I can't get my head around is us speaking Wednesday and now I'm blocked so why don't you just tell me to fuck off and that's what I'll do, instead of playing the childish games? Did it give you a kick or something. I know I'd be better off dead, no need to remind me.