#THE LAST FRAME I LITERALLY THREW MY HANDS UP IN THE AIR

[hanninope]

shhsjsjsjs wTFFF

i have not seen an episode of tv that has sHOOK ME TO MY CORE

like thE SEVERANCE S1 FINALE

[toji-bunny-girl]

bartender toji fucking the living daylights out of us after a nasty breakup ? also have a nice day

ON THE H★USE !!

#𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆 ⟢ bartender!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader #𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 ⟢ riding the hot bartender after a break up is the least expected thing you’ll ever think of #𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⟢ alcohol, pet names, foreplay, fingering, teasing, grinding, pre-cum, no protection, creampie, car sex, nipple play, squirting, size difference, big dick toji papa, alpha toji with xxxxxxxxl dick, multiple orgasm, one-sided drunk sex (?), power play, I’m so lazy to do tags, who even reads content warnings tbh #𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 ⟢ 4k #𝑨/𝑵 ⟢ don’t let this flop guys I spent way too much time on this when I should be studying for my exam 😭

“Plus, he literally had to beg me to act like I was cummin’ when he stuck his sorry excuse of a dick in me!” your eyelids hung heavily over your eyes as you exclaimed, brows shooting down in a frown. “Get a load of that guy, am I right?”

“He doesn’t pay for your stuff, and he can’t fuck good?!” Toji teasingly mirrored your tone as he manoeuvre behind the bar, uniform taut from the way he natchly flexed his arms; the bottles clinking as he worked deftly to craft out the beverage you ordered. “What a man.”

It has been 2 hours since you’ve been rambling on about your ex-boyfriend, and the ravenette felt like he’d known this stranger for years—all of his secrets and traits aired into his ears. Albeit, it was getting a bit boring, with the same repeated stories tumbling out of your voluble mouth. But still, he enjoyed chuckling at your adorable insobriety, fuelled by drunken mania. 

“Here you go, princess,” a small tug lifted the ends of his scarred lips when your eyes patently glimmered at the newly served alcohol. “It’s the last I can give you, we’re closing…” Toji’s eyes momentarily flickered to his watch, “in 7 minutes.”

“Oh, okay!” you deliriously yawped, downing the beverage into your liqueur-brimmed system before handing him your card, which you aimlessly threw at him, not even lucid of your motions. “Just swipe it.”

Toji simply brushed it off, taking it towards the other side of the counter. He's used to unintentional antics like yours, as long as the tab was paid off he has no problem with them. 

15,900 yen. 

The digits flashed past his eyes like stars, igniting a luminous glint in his dark emerald orbs. Hell, was it a sum to casually splurge on at some mid-high bar? He’s got a pretty girl with probably an equally pretty amount of personality in her wallet, sprawled on the bar top wailing about her broken heart. 

Oh, how he would love to play saviour. 

“Here, princess. Time to go home,” he tapped your card onto the counter after the successful transaction. His gruff voice was low as you drifted further from your haywired consciousness and towards a delicious drowse. You didn’t move when he neared your face, attempting to marshal up your scattered coherence by calling into your ear. 

Toji sighed as he leaned back onto his feet, and crossed his bulky arms, pondering the ways to get you out of the otherwise empty bar. 

It was 12:58 am and the other inebriated customers had gone out by themselves or with their friends dragging them along. Except for you, softly snoring on the sticky counter. 

His coworker shrugged at him when the ravennette glanced at the shorter male for help. “Just get her out of here. I’ll clean up the rest, and you owe me this one,” always so kind—how Toji wished he could smooch that man right then. 

“Thanks, man,” Toji’s eyes curved in moon crescents, before settling his sight onto your dozed frame. His finger pressed against your temple, and your head lolled to the side in suit of a light push; a trail of drool slipping past your plump lips. You were completely and utterly out of it, huh?

Grasping onto your arm, the male lightly shook you awake, the warmth from his calloused palm stimulating your nerves vivified. “Hey, Mr. Bartender…” you had an uneven smile on your crooked lips, sleepiness bubbling into the air with every laggard blink as you breathily chuckled. “Are you gonna bring me home?”

“I don’t know about that, princess,” his tone was syrupy sweet and it licked the ends of your lips upwards into a velvety grin. “But we gotta go now. Come on,” Toji’s hands came to yours, gently pulling you off of the bar stool. You followed after his guide, slipping your card into your pocket before frisking behind him like a lamb to the door. 

The burly male turned to his wrist after the door swung close in the wake of your exit, checking his watch; it read 1:04 am. The train station is closed and it’s going to kill his conscience if he leaves you by the streets like he always does with intoxicated male customers. He has no idea where you stay anyway—best to call a friend of yours to take you home. 

“(Y/N)?”

A grating, vexatious voice called. The two of you swivelled your gaze to the source to find your cheating, insipid creature of an ex with an arm thrown over some chick’s shoulders, chortling at the unstable mess you were. Your eyes were puffy and tumid from the hours of crying slash ranting session, and you were anything but lucid from the way you looked. 

How fucking lucky.

“What you got going on here? Getting kicked out of a bar?” your ex taunted, nearing his face to yours as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Y-You…as—”

“Have the lady some of her space, buddy,” Toji’s authoritative voice prevailed over yours as he pushed the male away, rendering him to helplessly stumble backward into a fall. The woman in his arm hid her giggle with a gasp before helping his fuming ass up, his face beet red from his ignominious tumble. 

“Who are you?” he barked, eyelids flying open to show the hidden whites and teeth bared in belligerence. 

“A man who can make her cum, without begging her to fake it,” the woman burst into a half-concealed snicker when the ravennette broke the air with his unanticipated words. Your face grew to be saturated with ardent red, from both the intoxicant that coursed through your veins and the sentence you thought you had heard.

“I call it bullshit,” your ex spat with his upper lip pulled up in disrelish. There’s a flash of humiliation in his glare—he knew Toji seemed better than him and it killed him to know you’ve got suitors who are way out of his league. 

“It’s true,” you tapped Toji’s metallically stiff chest with a twisted, satisfied smirk on your rat-arsed face. “He toootally didn’t just stick his dick in me and call it a day, y’know?”

“Fucking whore.”

“What d’ya say?!” you screeched, ready to pounce on the asshole. “I sent you to the ER once, and I’ll do it again!”

“Alright, that’s enough, princess,” Toji tenaciously held onto your arm, and you’re stuck by him even without him using much strength. “We don’t want you dirtying your hands, do we?” 

A nasty shove met the male’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs when he hit the ground. It was merely a fraction of Toji’s force, and it already had the male choking to breathe on the ground. 

“Speak to her like that again, and it’s not going to be just a push,” you could hear the rise of a dour, serrated threat in his tone, and it begot the asshole to cower back in trepidation. 

Pussy, Toji grimace. Albeit he was no saint himself but he absolutely despises the ilk of guys your ex filtered into—boisterous and a bully to women, yet nothing but a trifling mutt in front of men.

A tug of his arm, and your limbs wrapped around his wretched him out of his state of visceral contempt. “Take me home!” you ineptly exclaimed, a gruntled grin on your adorable, roguish face. 

Briefly riveting his baleful gaze onto the splayed male on the bitumen, Toji steered you uphill towards the parking lot as you clumsily tottered aside him. 

The encounter with the small-dick fucker sure rendered him more understanding of your evening of outburst. Plus, for you to be cheated on that piece of work was truly the icing on the cake. “Poor you, huh?”

“Forget ‘bout him! You were so cool I almost cummed right there and then,” you teasingly giggled as you peered at him through your heavy eyelids. 

Fuck—it’s no good for you to be saying that with that look on your face. 

His eyes rest ahead the road as you soon come to near the bright red C8 Corvette the woman he’s estranged with had previously gifted him, the car standing out amongst the parked vehicles like a sore thumb. 

Your eyes scintillated in awe when the car luridly flashed and beeped in the night, “That’s yours?!” you cried aloud, frisking all the way to the car, before stumbling over thin air and nearly jolting forward into a fall. Luckily, Toji was quick enough to catch you by your arm, saving your knee a painful event of bloody excoriation. “Oopsie daisie.”

Cute, Toji chortled. 

Jumping into the vehicle, the potent roar of the engine cut through the midnight air after you’ve settled neatly in the passenger seat, the only thing missing was the safety belt that was supposed to secure your form. Reaching to your side, Toji’s hand briefly brushed over your exposed thigh, the hem of your short dress riding up to merely cover your panty. 

A soft, almost inaudible noise fled your lips, and his eyes laid on your face, the faint, intimate gold beam from the street lamp illuminating your glowing features. Your orbs were luminous through the dark, and it roused an innate lasciviousness that lay dormant in his core. 

The liquor that flowed through your blood vessels had not quelled through the lapse of time, but it did not take away your clarity to feel the tension that electrified the air molecules into sweltering magnetism. And gosh do you want to snatch the constriction in the atmosphere and tear it through your canines. 

“Touch me,” you whispered, so soft and vulnerable Toji could seemingly snap you in half with just a touch. 

“You’re drunk, princess,” he reminded, yet he remained unshifted over your smaller frame, his hand merely a molecule from your tempting flesh that sang for his warmth. 

“No,” you were firm. Something in you purled, bubbling a heavy, demanding need to have him devour you. “I want you,” your breath was hot, scorchingly so; airy and desperate. 

“You want me?” his hand fell to your wrist, grasping your soft skin under his heavy hold, and guiding you over to his seat, straddling his lap. His gaze cut through your eyes, daubing pressure against your jumbled nerves, his intensity threatened to slice through the silky jugular of your vulnerability. And you nearly moaned under his eyes.

You gingerly nodded at him, and you thought the knit between your brows was enough to speak for your neediness. 

His grip on your wrist tightened a fraction before you missed the heat radiating from his palm. “Careful, princess. You might regret this,” he had paved a way out, it’s a leave it or fuck it situation served beneath your fingertip—and all the atoms in your body leaped into the growling blaze in the abyss residing in his essence. 

“Please,” your voice was barely a note above a mumble, yet the weight of your single word mitigated any marshalled resistance in him. 

His hands slid up your thighs, inching under your dress, sending tingles to your throbbing core. The intensity that radiated from him ceased to waver as he leaned against your neck, brushing against your skin as you gulped. Dark, ashen clouds drew above the emerald forest of his before he spoke, almost threateningly against your throat, “I want you to remember every single detail of this in the morning.”

With a breathless nod, you had swung the floodgates of your amenability open to his guttural thirst. The heavy, rapacious waves of your desires crash into superposition. You were the fuel and he was the fire, together the air detonated into space. 

His wet lips met yours in a whim, sucking onto your flesh until it stung, greedily tasting every crook and cranny of your wet cavern with the bumps of his tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your hands flew to clutch onto his head, deepening the kiss to reach his insides while his rough fingers sank into the plump flesh of your ass. 

Your lips burned with his saliva, and his tongue fluttered with yours. The atmosphere felt all-consuming, gripping onto your throat and restricting the air from flushing down your windpipe. Yet, your core pulsed between your thighs, an excited blaze slowly roaring into something bigger than you could handle. 

Your chest rose and fell in a quick tempo when you snatched your lips away from his, grasping as much air as you could within a second before you dove right into him. Albeit your sight was hazy, you caught sight of the luminous flush that panned over his cheeks. 

Pretty, pretty. You chanted in your head as your hands slid down to his clothes, clumsily popping the buttons off of the garment that kept the warmth of his skin away from your touch. You want him, you want him. 

Your fingers nearly melted when they met his hot, sinewy chest, and Toji’s teeth sank a little too hard into your bottom lip when you teased his nipples under your touch, innervating them hard with every flick. The salient bulge in his pants rolled against your folds, merely separated by an annoying piece of your underwear, and your moans jumbled into each other’s mouths

“Fuck, princess. You’re driving me crazy,” Toji breathily groaned when your sloppy lips sundered apart, a hot string of mixed saliva connecting your swollen, red lips together. His large hands lifted your ass up into the air as he palmed them, the warmth from him sending a snuggly sensation through your body. “It’s no fun when only you get to tease.”

Your eyes playfully gleamed, before the light shot out of the crater of your orbs—his finger pressed against your sodden panty, damp with arousal. The tingles shyly reached through your belly as he rubbed your hardening bud, and your body shuddered against his. 

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured against your jaw, leaving trails of bruised kisses down your jugular. His hand left your heat just as the high came close to your clutch, leaving you with nothing but the lingering cold touches of his. 

With a defeated sigh, you ground your knee against his growing hardness, your finger shyly rubbing against the clothed tip of the constrained mount, the spot slowly growing dark from amativeness. 

Toji sunk deeper into the headrest as you touched him, his exposed chest ceaselessly rising and falling. His breath hitched in his throat when you twirled his sensitive nipple between your fingers; your heated exhales warming the side of his neck as his grip almost painfully firmed onto the fat of your ass. 

You didn’t allow his peaking orgasm to come through, forcing yourself off of his sore, throbbing erection, and your teeth bared into a dirty smile. “I am playing fair.”

“You want to test me, princess?” he chuckled, the bassy timbre of his scratching the knot of an itch inside your ears. A gasp leaped out of your throat as your body jolted forward, his seat clicked backward to its maximum taut, “I’ll make you cry for more.”

You found your back nestled in his stead, your thighs spread open with his calloused hand slipping down your supple flesh. His fingers tapped nearer and nearer to your heat, before slipping off your soiled panty. 

“So fuckin’ wet,” Toji sucked an inhale through his teeth as he leered at your dripping sex—thick, rough thumb fluttering friction on your clit once again. Your eyelids flitted shut as you softly moaned against the air, the smell of your arousal filled the confinement of the car; the scent nearly making him growl when it panged hard against his nostrils. 

You watched as Toji slipped a thick finger into your velvety folds, feeling it trodding past your walls. Your heat snugly enveloped him as he filled your inside with another digit, his two fingers pressing, and running themselves over your slick cunny. “Gotta stretch you good for me, princess.” 

Your back inched into the seat with a contented sigh, enjoying the build-up of ticklish pressure stacking up your tummy. Toji was ridiculously dexterous with his fingers—deftly stroking your cunt, and quick to find the spot in you that innervated your pure senses with a ting. 

“S-Shit—” your body was subservient to his touches; your spine curved into an arch, your toes curled tight and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm. “M’feel so good. Toji—fuck,” it was as if his fingers were gilded in Eros’ heavenly blessing, the godly grace spilling into your pleasure. Tears began prickling at the sides of your eyes from how hard you were squeezing them, your flailing legs kicking against the dashboard of his car. 

“So pretty when you cry,” Toji groaned under his breath, his damp restraints painfully throbbing from the way your squelching walls tightened around his fingers—oh, how he fucking wish it was his cock in you right there and then. 

His touches were singing your walls into melting squirts of drool, pearls of arousal weeping between your thighs in the wake of his careful strokes. Never were you touched in such a way, and you felt like balling from how good it felt. “M’ close! M’gonna cum! Oh my gosh—!”

“Come on. Cum for me, princess,” you could hear his smirk in his voice as pleasure kissed your senses, fluttering through your electrified nerves and sending a jolt of tingles all over your body. Your mouth was lax open into an ‘o’, nails marking his skin as they sank deeper into his arm, and your walls tightly spasmed with a wave of rough euphoria cracking your bones weak. You fucking came from his mere fingers. 

Your eyes bat open with your lips sundered from your pants, your face ardently glowing from your subduing high. “Fuck…” your wet thighs quivered from the sheer force of your orgasm, and you blinked in disbelief. 

Over 2 decades of living and it was the first time cumming from a real man, not your fingers nor toys. But the brawny, sex-dripped male slipping your dress off of your spent body. 

You almost fell in love. 

Pushing him down the driver’s seat, you crawled over Toji’s firm thighs, running your finger from his chest to his muscle-packed abdomen, then down to the wristband. You were flickering to take charge, and he sank down to your guidance, rough palms resting on your hips. 

Your dress was off, divulging the bare curves of your body, sweat-glazed skin iridescent under the moonbeam and your sex-flushed features were begging for him. You look so, fucking, perfect that he had to bite down the need to ruin you on the spot. 

His hips impatiently thrust upwards into your sticky cunt, grinding his pack against you, urgency in his essence demanding your heat. “Don’t keep me waiting now,” he purred, with a silent warning tagging behind his words. 

Your fingers tugged the waistband of his pants along with his briefs, a drive in you matching his pacing hastiness. His shaft sprang out of its painful confinement, and your eyes nearly popped out from the sheer look of his cock. 

He was oozing with sticky pre-cum from his angry, red tip, throbbing veins ran from the base of his length to the curved head—the size of him bigger than any you’ve seen. The smell of his masculine essence hit your senses and a new pool of arousal began drawing in your tummy, your pussy walls squeezing in empty neediness.

“There’s no backing out now, princess,” Toji’s fingers firmly gripped onto your ass, lifting you over his cock, hovering.

“Who said I’m backing out?” you gulped, before lowering yourself down, his fat cockhead kissing your pussy lips before your hips greedily sank down his length, oblivious to the crackle of tingles it would send to your nerves.

“Careful there,” he teased with a chuckle as you let out an instinctual gasp from the way his girth stretched past your velvety walls, the slick sound of your arousal-dripped cunt, and his heavy shaft bubbled into the air, and scorched your cheeks red.

“M-My gosh…” you cried as your hazy gaze fell to the bulge jutting from the inside of your tummy, your walls taut with his heavy cock buried inside you. “I’m s’full, Toji.”

“Mhm,” he cooed, brushing his hands over the sides of your smooth thighs. “But you gotta start moving, baby.”

Gingerly, you lift your hips up before slowly inching them down his length. Your walls clenched as your sex rubbed friction, and you could feel every pulsing vein of his just as he could feel your fluttering warmth.

“Feel good, princess?” Toji asked breathily, your head faintly nodded, but there was a hint of a dubious glint in your fallen gaze, your knees lifting and sinking your weight.

“I need your help…” your voice cracked in disappointment as you paused, tears of frustration edging by your eyes. You couldn’t seem to grasp a steady pace no matter how long you painfully rode.

“What d’ya say?”

Your orbs looked as though they were melting off of your sweat-glazed skin, blinks of fervourish plea clawing from your drunken gaze into his. “Please, Toji,” your voice hitched, and you’re humping his pelvis. “Please…I want to feel good.”

Aww. How fucking adorable.

You yelped when you felt yourself being raised and slammed down his cock, your folds burning with every stretch of your walls. And it feels so good. “Y-Yes…” your eyes closed shut, fingers scrambling to grip his locks. “T-Toji—mhaa!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute screaming my name,” the curve of his tip perfectly kissed your g-spot with each piston of his hips, and every time the twitching head of his meat met your gummy part, it sent a flash of electricity up your spine.

“S-Sho good—” you slurred through your words, weighed head lolling idly to every thrust of his fat cock.

“No one can get you dripping off their cock like this, huh?”

“Mmh—yes!” the space between your brows was crumpled into a tensed frown, your hips bouncing up and down his thick girth with his hands guiding your pace. “I love it! I love your cock!”

Toji let out a low groan when you cried, bucking himself deeper into your sloppy mess of a cunt and kissing the surface of your cervix. “Fuck—I love an honest girl.”

Your muscles nearly melted off of your bones as he continued to fucked himself deeper than you’ve ever felt, reaching the parts you didn’t know could be touched and your features dropped with his touches on your deep intimacy. A fierce sear of heat burned through your tingling womb, and it threatened to consume your body whole. “M’ cummin’! Toji—!”

“I know, I know, let it out f’me. Come on,” he grunted, keeping his grip firm on your arms as he fucked himself hard and deep into you. He could feel your squelching cunny clench, so tight as for the purpose of milking him on the spot. “Keep bouncin’ on my cock, yeah?”

“Nngh—No more!” you squealed. “N-No—” his thumb drew between your shaking thighs and greedily swiped over your blushing clit. Your fingernails sank into your palms as you gripped for dear sanity, his cock continuously violating your fluttering spots until they grew sore.

“I can make you feel better, princess,” he mumbled tinglingly against your neck, sinking his teeth down your flesh to hold back a shaky moan. His pleasure was inching to fly to release, and your tight clutch onto his shaft was nothing but a catalytic lure.

“S’ hurts—please!” your babbles were almost indecipherable as he rammed into your sore cunt, his fingers digging into your soft flesh holding onto you tenaciously; pushing you right to the edge of oblivion as he clung onto his nearing release.

“Cum f’me again, baby?”

“M’can’t! Still sensitive—!” you cried before another orgasm shot through your core. You felt as if you were sent up into the ether, stars teeming through your body as the waves of pleasure sent you on a vertigo ride. Your gasps dragged through your lips, your eyelids hung heavily over your bleary eyes, with tears slipping down your hot cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—M’close too, baby,” Toji swore through his bared teeth, his cock painfully twitching as thick semen surged through his tip—his hips rolled as your cunt squeezed his remaining sanity, popping them like fireworks before they burst into nothingness.

Your essence squirted out of your tensed cunny, shooting with his mixed cum that dripped down his belly. Your breaths shaky and hot with heightened senses, your sticky sex pulsing in overstimulation.

Exhausted, you fell prostrated on top of his hard muscle-built body, head undulating with the ups and downs of his heaving chest. And slowly, your cognisance drifted back into your mind, the aftermath of everything—the alcohol and the sex, pummelled into you like a heavy truck. Unforgivingly so.

“Toji…I really feel like pukin—”

© toji-bunny-girl ― all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, plagiarise or repost my work

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

somewhere in the haze got a sense ive been betrayed

pairing: ethan landry x reader

WC: 1.3K

warnings: blood mentions, stabbing, this is a scream fic its a little violent and graphic. SPOILERS LIKE ACTUAL CHARACTER SPOILERS DONT READ UNTIL YOUVE SEEN THE MOVIE

summary: people aren’t who they always say

A/N: i freaking loved scream6!!!!! literally wrote this the day after i watched the movie. gonna try and pop out a mix of angst and fluff for ethan cause i love my nerdy boyfriend. lowercase on purpose, sorry if that bothers you. if the chase scene sucks... mind your business, just skim the words.

masterlist

“hello?”

“hello… y/n. i’ve missed the sound of your voice.”

it was like you heard the stereotypical horror movie music play in your mind. your blood went cold and your body seized up from the bucket of ice water that just splashed over your whole body at the voice of the horrific ghost face. the way he spoke your name made you feel even sicker.

“what is it now? gonna sweet talk me for a second before you start saying vile words and then pop out from a corner ready to stab me?” you took slow steps through the living room, trying to scope out where the killer could be lurking.

he just laughed, “well you do know how this works. after all, you already went through round one in woodsboro, somehow surviving multiple stab wounds to your stomach. impressive.”

the deep drawl of his voice only caused nausea to roll over you in waves. with quiet steps as you listened to the narcissist as they just talked and talked, you hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife from the wooded block.

“honestly why don’t we just do this dance, huh? i was in the middle of a very good book and i would like to get to the part where the love interest resolved their differences and had hot sex. plus i’ve done this before and i’ve been working out.” you just started to blurt things out, your anxiety kicking into high gear.

ghost face didn’t say anything back and it only caused your fear to grow. so you just hung up and speed-dialed sam knowing she always answers her calls.

“come on, sam. please please plea-“

“y/n? what’s-“

“he’s in the apartment. please get here fast… i love you guys.” you hung up placing your phone in your back pocket. you hoped to make it alive again, but as mindy said, you're all expendable in sequels.

the noise of something crashing to the ground made you flinch high in the air, a small gasp slipping from your lips. the grip on the knife readjusted to get a firmer hold as you peeked around a corner, seeing nothing suspicious. so you started to make your way towards the front door, hoping you could escape the killer before he gets you.

as just as you passed quinn’s room you stepped on a creaky spot. you froze for a second before running to the door, fumbling with the five locks. and just as you were on the last two, sweat causing the metal to be slippery, your roommate's door burst open and ghost face, dressed in his black cloak and the dirty mask came dashing at you with the classic knife held high.

you screamed and ducked away needing to circle back to the door. you were able to get a quick swipe to their bicep before running to sam’s room and closing the door closed. you took a breath until loud banging slammed against the wooden frame, almost bending the door in half from its weight.

with ghost face distracted on the door, you ran through the shared bathroom, shutting and locking each door as you entered quinn’s room. you pushed her dresser against the bathroom for extra hold. when it was in place you ran, knife still in hand, and went back to get the last locks on the door free and ready for your escape.

just as you pulled the door open, ready to dash down the steps, you were pulled back with arms around your waist and pulled into a solid chest. you screamed and kicked, the knife falling to the floor. ghost face threw you to the ground, back hitting the living room chairs. you turned to your stomach to try and go for a push-up into a run, hands tight on your ankles pulled you back. your hands scrambled for purchase on something solid.

then suddenly the most blinding white hot pain shot through your right thigh pulling a high-strung scream from your vocals. then he gave the knife a twist making the pain shoot to your spine, you felt frozen. he pulled the dripping knife out and his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you further down before flipping you over and straddling your waist making you immobile.

you tried to push his arms away, but his strength was must higher than yours as he plunged the knife into your stomach then pulled out then back in. in and out, in and out. multiple more times that you knew you wouldn’t survive this one.

you tried using your last bit of strength to push his looming face away. with a solid hold, you ripped the stupid mask off the killer's face and the sight before you taking the last bit of air from your lungs.

“e-ethan?” you rasped out, blood dripping from your mouth.

your loving, sweet, handsome boyfriend of five months now stared down at you with a sickening twisted grin on his lips, teeth poking out like fangs. his thick head of luscious curls that you would run your fingers through when making out or just laying with each other were matted down with sweat, and the urge to touch them came back on instinct.

limply you lifted your left arm from the floor and cupped his cheek, you saw the look in his hungry eyes switch for a second before snapping back into place. “e-ethan… wh-why? i- i thought you lo-loved me.” with a gentle swipe of your thumb over his skin, his eyes involuntarily slipped closed at the comforting gesture.

“i do love you, sweetheart. but i have to do this.” a gloved hand held the one on his face, you were scared and confused by everything.

“i- i don’t-“ “i need to complete my brother's movie.”

you decided if you could keep ethan talking maybe the others will show up soon and save you, “br- brother? you- you said you were an- an only child.”

“sorry sweetheart, but i lied. had to get close to you and your friends somehow, and having a fake identity helps.” he whispered, “landry isn’t even my real last name.”

your anger was spilling over the brim. ethan used you to get closer to your friends, you were just a pawn in this stupid fantasy of his. and it hurt because you thought he was the one, the goodness that you needed in your life.

with both hands you held his cheeks then slid them slowly up into his sweaty curls, nails dragging over his scalp pulling a groan from his throat and usually, you loved the noise but now all you saw was red. so with a good fist full, you pulled his hair hard and then slammed your head together.

it caused ethan to fall back, dropping his knife. with the last of your strength, you tried to slide away from him, tried to grab your phone and call sam or chad, anyone at this point. but your luck had run out and ethan gained back his upper hand.

he grabbed a chunk of your hair, head pulled back with your eyes pointed at the ceiling. ethan leaned over your left shoulder and whispered in your ear, “i did love you. but family is family, gotta stick by them. so, any last words, y/n?”

with tears streaming down your face, and blood closing off your throat, you sniffle out your last words, “i loved you too,” you said with every bit of honesty, “but you're gonna get killed like the pussy you truly are.” you seethed with a blinding anger.

and the last thing you heard was the roar of ethan’s cry as you felt the cold metal slice your throat open and your head slumping hard on the wood flooring. you died at the hands of the first boy you truly loved in this twisted world.

love does kill you in the end.

...

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of both worlds (part 7)

Tw: vomiting, sick reader, implications that the housemates r jerks before, imo boring chapter just some comfort for sickness times

Vote the poll down below n im gonna start making the next part after 20 votes

part 8

You can barely get out of bed.

That means you didn't get to clean up your post-exam clutter. Making the entire room miserable and almost unhabitable. You couldn't sleep because you had a terrible fever, needing to eat a couple of paracetamols to cool yourself down.

Anything that goes in your mouth comes back up. You wouldn't want to waste your food anymore, so you simply stopped eating.

You woke up to loud knocking, borderline banging on your door and to the voice of your housemate. She's yelling about someone being here to see you.

That can't be right. Why would anyone want to visit you? You're not asking this in a self depreciating way, but in a logical sense where you knew no one knew you're suffering from food poisoning.

Except...

Realization dawns upon you when you hear a series of softer knocks. You heard Yves's muffled voice from the outside, asking you to open the door for him.

You checked your phone. It's four in the afternoon. He should still be at the library, why is he here?

Then your focus went to the notification banner about the four missed calls he left.

"(Name)? It's Yves. You haven't been answering my calls. I'm worried about you."

The last person you want to see now is goddamn fucking Yves. Yesterday already took a toll on you, having him over is going to worsen the illness- if the fever didn't fry your brain, the stress would.

You refused to answer, covering your head with your pillow as he continued to knock.

Eventually though, he stopped. The walls are thin so you could hear him ask your housemate about you. She said you were hurling all night, keeping everyone awake. They witnessed you trying to eat a cooked packet of instant noodles, but you immediately threw it all up the moment you swallowed a forkful.

"I see." You hear him reply. "May I see the kitchen?" He asked.

She was taken aback by the request, a kitchen shared by 7 other students isn't going to be the cleanest. There was a pause before she told him that it was messy.

"That does not matter." He responded. You heard a sigh and she verbally told him to go ahead.

You're sure he knows what the condition of it is. He was there yesterday for the trash bags. You wonder what business he has there.

When you hear him walk away from your bedroom door, you force yourself and your aching muscles to creep out of your room. Planning to eavesdrop on his conversation.

"Is this all they eat?" His voice echoed through the hallway.

"Yes. I literally have never seen them eat anything else. Maybe the occasional cold pizza slice or two, but that's it. I don't think they even own a frying pan. Sometimes I wonder how that bastard is still alive." Ouch. A simple Yes would suffice. Why did she have to air your dirty laundry like that?

You heard the fridge open.

"Yeah, this was supposed to be their side of the fridge, but it was always empty. So we used it as a spare." Yves hummed in response.

You rushed back into your room when you heard his heels begin to strike the floor. Quietly shutting the door and tucking yourself into your bed.

Perhaps he's giving up, you're not coming out of your-

You stared wide eyed as the knob twisted by itself.

You forgot to lock your door. Shit, you fucking forgot to lock your door.

You heard one last set of calm knocking and Yves voice: "(name), I'm coming in."

He pushed it open and you see his tall, slender frame coming into view. His hair is flowy and luscious as usual, clear skin and pristine makeup on his beautiful face. While you look like crap. And your room looks like crap, you can barely see the floor.

You gape at the square of translucent hydrocolloid dressing on the back of his hand. Looks like his burn yesterday started to blister.

"Damn! You live like this?" Your housemate expressed her disbelief when her eyes landed on the clothes, indiscernible between used and washed, strewn all over the place. The opened drawers and stacks of empty cups.

You hid under your blanket, you told her to shut up and get the fuck out of your room.

"Alright, you're a grump cause you're sick. But just so you know, you're still on garbage duty this week." She responded.

You groan, telling her that you knew that already. You told her to go away. But she doesn't respect you, none of your housemates do.

"Could you excuse us, please?" Yves politely dismissed her. She agrees and leaves your room immediately. Yves closes the door to maintain some privacy.

You remained hidden under the sheets, not wanting him to see you so vulnerable.

"You poor thing." He sighed. You felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge. He gently peeled the blanket off your head, using the other hand to stroke your hair.

"You haven't eaten today, have you?" The fingers running through your grimy hair was... comforting. Too comforting, perhaps. You involuntarily started tearing up and crying, being reminded of a simpler time in your life. It brought back the feelings of security and safety, which you haven't felt in such a long while. You forgot how it felt, and it felt extremely good.

He stopped his caresses, but rested his hand on your scalp.

You told him you didn't mean to weep. You had no idea what has gotten into you. However, you're sure you're crying because of the state of your room and how two people had to see it- which includes someone with opinions you value very much: Yves.

He continued his affectionate touches as tears kept falling from your eyes.

No further words were exchanged between the two of you. Yves kept you company until you fell asleep from his rhythmic stroking. He pressed a kiss on your forehead before standing back up.

Yves sets his bag on your bed, he gets to work picking up stray articles of clothing from the floor. He dropped them all into your laundry basket in a messy pile.

Yves picked it up with no effort and carried it on his hip. He left your room and headed towards the basement, where the dryers and washing machines are kept. He knows where it is despite no one ever telling him.

--

You woke up with a jolt, thinking that Yves intruding your room was just a crazy fever dream.

Except, the presence of his unique luxury bag is right next to you. Scanning your surroundings, you definitely can tell Yves made his mark here.

You can see the floor again, you didn't know that it's that shiny and clean. All your clothes are missing and the corners are clear of any old trash. Everything you own is organized neatly, the shelves are displaying their respective categories in order. Your desk was wiped down and your textbooks arranged by colour.

Your room is unrecognizable, it wasn't even this nice when you first moved in.

Yves is nowhere to be found. You weakly got up and dragged yourself to the door. Locking yourself in and Yves out.

You always wondered what is in that bag. It seems to be carrying an impossible amount of items. Though, he uses a briefcase for his laptop and notes on weekdays, it's impressive that he managed to fit an umbrella in this small bag among other things.

You opened it and began rummaging through.

A lipstick, a compact mirror, disposable wet wipes, a hydrating facial spray, dry facial tissues, a hairbrush, his phone, a tin of breath mints, his oddly thin wallet- it made sense, the rich wouldn't carry around wads of cash. Only cards; An army Swiss knife, bandaids, a rectangle of a foldable grocery bag...

A set of keys attached to his car fob, a pen, some unidentifiable medication; it's printed in a foreign language, a case containing his reading glasses, another case that contains his sunglasses, portable eating utensils, a bottle of hand sanitizer, disinfectant spray, a power bank, charging cables, a portable fan, a hand fan, electronic ear buds, ear plugs...

Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you kept finding more things; perfume, a scrunchie, a couple of hair ties, sun screen, ointment, his reusable stainless steel thermal cup, lip balm, a face mask, portable paper soap, a stack of sticky notes and of course, an umbrella.

You dug deeper and found out that he's also hiding a scarf in there!

All that with heaps of space to spare, it doesn't look bulky from outside or in. You tried lifting it up by the handles, but it felt like you were trying to lift a barbell with one hand. It was bizarre how he could find what he wanted in the nick of time with all these things. Granted, it was neatly partitioned before you searched through it- oh. You messed up his system.

Shit! You're going to embarrass yourself again!

Well, you still have time. The door is locked and he isn't here yet, you could try putting it back.

You heard the door knob rattle. That must be him, he can't possibly get in right?

Your blood turned to ice when you heard the jingling of some keys. Of course, it's Yves. He would know to take your own keys with him. You heard him unlock your door.

You panicked and tried to hop out of bed, so you could barricade the door with something. But while doing so, you knocked the bag off the bed and made the contents of it spill out.

You let out a distressed yelp, his ten million things spread out all over the floor, some rolled under your bed.

"Did I startle you? I apologize." He came in with a laundry basket filled with freshly washed clothes. They're dry and warm to the touch. The basket looks noticeably clean too. Did he scrub it down? The dust and mold are gone, it went back to looking brand new.

You began apologizing, saying that you didn't mean to knock his bag down. You saw that as a potential escape from getting caught snooping around.

"No, it was my fault to leave it near the edge. It was bound to fall." He set the basket down and calmly began picking his belongings off the floor.

You let out a discrete sigh of relief. You're off the hook.

But obviously he knows what you did. His scarf shouldn't even be out of his bag, as he packed it at the bottom. His keys, lipstick and wallet should be the first to leave, yet it remained safely in the toppled bag because you flipped everything upside down while being a nosy person.

Plus, it was zipped up in the first place.

If he didn't want you peering in, he would have hidden it under your bed.

You got down on your knees and helped him collect the items. You dumped it back into the handbag, but Yves nonchalantly pulled it all back out to organize them himself.

"Thank you." He stood back up and securely placed it on your nightstand.

He turned to you and crowded you against the bed. Yves slid his hands under your chin, where the pulse is, checking your temperature by touch. You flinch and squirm because you're ticklish, but he paid no mind to it.

"You're having a fever." He noted. You release a baited breath when he lets you go, reaching for something inside his handbag.

You watch him unscrew the lid of his thermos cup. There isn't any particular Colour to the liquid. But there was a faint fruity scent emanating from it. The ice cubes bob around the mystery fluid. He also produced a metal straw which he plunged into the drink, you must have missed it when you were rummaging through.

He popped two tablets of paracetamol out of a blister pack and brought them to your lips. It's better to just let him feed you, so you took it in your mouth.

"Take small sips." He brought the straw to you.

The beverage is... salty. And sweet. It's sickeningly fragrant for a drink that's supposed to be enjoyable. Except it's not, it's an electrolyte solution he prepared to make up for the ones you lost. The coldness saved it.

You didn't realize how thirsty you were, he placed the cup in your hands before walking back to the laundry hamper. He opened a drawer and began folding your clothes into a neat stack.

You're starting to think he just likes silence. He has a perfectly functioning pair of expensive earbuds, but he doesn't use them neither does he want to initiate a conversation with you.

You put your drink away and flopped down onto your bed. You picked up your phone and decided to check your notifications.

You received a number of messages from the group chat with your housemates.

"(name) u gotta get ur bestie to visit more cuz this is the cleanest the kitchen has ever been!!!"

Attached to it is a series of before and after pictures of the entire house. You almost couldn't recognize the place, it was tidy and sparkling clean.

The rest of your housemates agreed in text, telling you that he was such a pleasant conversationalist.

"oh ya idk if hes still here but he made a massive pot of congee for u, its a fuckin banger u should try it" "Damn u lucky as hel to have him take out da trash on ur behalf, that shit was nasty and he did it without gloves too" "His car is still outside, he has got to be here." "oh shiiiittt hes gotta be LOADEDDD with a hot ride like that. where did u find him??" "Omg!! I need his recipe!! Can you ask him for it, pretty please, (name)? Maybe his number too??" "lawlz not u being hornyz on main" "lmaoo fuckin simp" "im not!! :(( he's just so sweet and handsome, im not stealing their man or anything, i just wanna get to know him!! you guys are just mean!!" "whatever u say president desperate"

You read all their text messages that devolved into banterings, looks like all your housemates know him now. You wonder what he talked about with them. What was there to talk about?

You were brought back to reality when you heard him shut the draw. He left your room once more to retrieve something.

Your phone pinged, alerting you of another text message.

"BRUH hes really still here"

Shortly after, you received a picture taken in the kitchen. Looks like the photographer tried to be subtle from its angle.

The photo showed Yves's back as he scoops something from a pot into a bowl, using a metal ladle.

"shit (name) how did u pull such a fine man It's literally 9pm rn" "What time did he come here tho?? Ik i came home at 6 and i saw him mopping the floor" "like 4pm" "FIVE HOURS ?? (NAME) TELL UR BESTIE HES WELCOME HERE ANYTIME WE WILL OPEN THE DOOR FOR HIM"

At least they seem to be less of pricks to you than before, all thanks to Yves. But it's such a shame that it took a good-looking servicing stranger to get them to act nice towards you.

"(Name), you have to eat something." You looked up from your cracked screen to see Yves holding a bowl of steamy congee. He pulled the chair from your desk and sat next to your bed.

"Sit up straight." He caressed the small of your back. You complied with his command while he stacked your pillows to make a backrest.

It has a mild, pleasantly savoury aroma.

He fed you by the spoonful agonizingly slow, you're horrified that you're now used to this gesture. It isn't something you feel flustered about, it just feels... right. It feels normal and it's as if he's done this for your entire life.

You're getting more comfortable with him and that scares the fuck out of you.

You're surprised that it's not making you want to hurl, the meal is actually bettering your stomach and you wanted to eat more even after finishing the entire bowl. It's definitely bland in your dictionary, since it's only seasoned with salt, pepper and freshly made chicken stock. But it was heavenly. And its the only thing you can stomach now.

You asked for more. You were shocked when your request is denied.

"You're full. You are going to vomit if I give you more. That's enough for now, I'll give you another bowl an hour later." He dabbed the corners of your mouth with a facial tissue.

You froze.

He is right. You are full. You wanted more because it tasted great, but you would have thrown it all up again.

It's eerie how he knows you better than you know yourself. And this is only the third time you have spoken to him. This doesn't seem right, does it?

Yves left your room once more to keep the dishes away. Predictably, the group chat blew up with astonished reactions that Yves appeared right before their eyes again.

You massaged your forehead, wondering if you should have been a bit more firm in saying no to Yves. But he just makes you so weak against him.

You checked the time and the digits turned from 9:59pm to 10:00pm.

It's getting very late.

[annasinterests]

I See Fire

|| main masterlist ||

a/n: i'm dedicating this to my love @tinygarbage because the percy brainrot has been unreal for both of us. i thought this up after watching a tiktok (pls don't ask me i literally watched it once, swiped out of the app, then threw my phone across the room) and so this is what we got fellers. ALSO, one line is directly inspired by/from the D&D movie, so i give credit to my boy edgin because honestly the scene about him being so unapologetically honest about his mistakes was everything to me (i also guessed his dialogue word-for-word that entire time and was RIGHT). honestly thinking ab whether or not if i wanna make a part 2 to this..

divider by @saradika ! ❤️‍🔥

word count: 682 words (who knew i could actually write under 1k)

pairings: percy de rolo x reader

warnings & tags: angst, past trauma, arguing, cursing, miscommunication, unresolved ending

“No!-” You seethe, hands balling into fists at your sides, “Don’t you get it?”

Percy scoffed, “You ask that like I should know, and I don’t!” He raised a pointed finger to you, “How can I when all you ever do is leave us in the dark!”

Your jaw clenches as you turn away. White-hot anger blazed your body and blotted out everything else, even the tears that brimmed your eyes and streaked your cheeks.

“Always putting yourself at an arm’s distance, acting like you have the biggest burden to carry– well, guess what? We all have shit of our own!” His rigid tone made your face scrunch up. “You push away every single person that tries to get under the surface, including us! We’re supposed to be a team, damn it!”

You hated him. His pompous attitude and sense of entitlement, as if he’s somehow better than everyone else, or deserves explanations for things that don’t concern him. You hated his stupid glasses that made him look pretentious as hell, and that unnecessary trench coat he wore at all times. And the way he constantly whips out some sort of contraption that leaves the others in awe, stroking his ego, but you wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction.

But what you really hated, arguably most of all, was that he saw you. Right through all the acts and walls you put up to protect yourself– a promise that there’d be no more pain and tears for as long as you lived out your days.

A promise now shattered.

“Without trust, we are nothing.” The words are venomous, so full of exasperation that it strains his voice on the last word.

A sigh and some shuffling follows a moment or two after, and all you can think is how he’s undeniably soothing the crease between his brows while his other hand rests on his hip, a classic pose of his in high-stress situations. Not that you ever paid attention…

“Believe me, it’s not worth living life that way.” His voice was softer, almost apologetic, “It’s… lonely.”

Had you been completely blinded by your own emotions, you would’ve taken the opportunity to tell him to shove it and kick rocks, but you spared him.

“I, too, thought it was easier. I’d seen my loved ones hunted like game, my own sister betrayed our family name, Whitestone had been–”

“Whitestone still stands,” you snap harshly, abruptly cutting him off. “My home does not.”

It’s then you finally turn back to him with a chilling glare and darkened features. His expression drops to widened eyes and slightly raised brows, clear that he’d not been expecting that response. But now it started, and you couldn’t stop.

“My friends do not– my family does not.” The words are registering at higher decibels that burn your throat after each word, “My life– everything!”

You march up to him, squaring up before his infuriatingly tall frame, locking eyes with his. You were shouting in his face, reaching a point of zenith you didn’t know you had, your vocal cords raw and sore that you were sure they could snap at any moment.

“I’ve lost everything that ever mattered to me and it was all my fault!”

Your body is trembling from the sheer force of the confession, and the air isn’t getting to your lungs the way you need it to right now. Your eyes, narrowed and fierce, fight to maintain their focus, but that buried, broken part of you is clawing its way out with a strength you can’t compete against.

His eyes flicker between yours, his face softened by a frown. You force yourself to look anywhere but his pitying gaze; you don’t need or want it, especially from him. You hastily wipe away the tears with the back of your hand, take a sharp breath in, and then exhale deeply. Out of all people, you couldn’t believe the one person to break you down would be none other than fucking Percival Fredrickstein von Mu—

“You don’t really believe that… do you?”

Yes, of course I do.

[themsource]

Crime N(ever) Pays

Rating: M Pairing: UF!Sans/Frisk TW: Smoking

Sans frowned as he searched a pocket of one of the many basketball shorts littering his bedroom floor, his crimson colored eyelights glancing up at his ceiling with growing irritation as he dug around only to feel a few crumpled receipts and random G lining the inside.

“ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me…” He grumbled as he threw the shorts down and went over to his dresser to search his barren sock drawer.

And of course, even that was empty too.

He slammed it shut. “the fuck does a guy have ta do to get a damned smoke around here!?”

Sighing, Sans ran a hand over the top of his skull. He could have sworn he’d bought more than one pack last week, three at most the last time he’d gone out shopping on his day off, but from how it was looking he hadn’t.

Unless he was finally losing his mind.

of course i’d lose my marbles after gettin’ out of the underground… just my fuckin’ luck…

Letting out a huff he stomped out of his room, not bothering to hide his frustration as he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him. Predictably his brother’s voice echoed out from the kitchen as he made his way grumpily down the stairs, “DON’T SLAM THE DOORS! I JUST REPLACED THE FRAMES!”

Sans rolled his eyelights as he ignored him.

“i’m goin’ ta the store! be back in a sec!”

“DAMNIT SANS, DINNER IS ALMOST READY! I SWEAR IF YOU AREN’T BACK IN TEN MINUTES I’LL—”

The rest of his brother’s diatribe was forgotten as it faded in the background, Sans’ eyelights honing in on and dilating as they locked on Frisk seated on the couch. She’d come over to spend the weekend with them as was tradition since they came topside six years ago, the skeleton brothers being her second favorite friends to visit aside from Alphys and Mettaton, and she never missed a visit much to Sans’ amusement and Papyrus’ joy.

But the fact she was there wasn’t what drew the older skeleton brother’s attention.

It was what was dangling from his lips, piping red at the tip as it burned crisp and hot before a gentle plume of white smoke drifted up into the air.

At first, Sans was shocked.

Ever since she turned eighteen Frisk had been trying more daring things and sampling more questionable vices, experimenting, as all teenagers and young adults should. However seeing her dare to do that in his and Papyrus’ house was mind blowing. 

Frisk knew how Papyrus could get, he didn’t like anything questionable going on in his home, especially one of the habits he found the most deplorable: smoking. Sans actively had to make sure he stepped outside every time he wanted to light up. It was the very reason he’d even built their doorless balcony, as a place he could go without worry about upsetting his bro and to avoid being an open target for other monsters back when they were still a hundred feet in the dirt.

But then he quickly became amused as he smirked at her.

Sans went to make a cheeky comment about Papyrus’ latest gardening hobby and how that might tie into a pretty little plot with the Frisk’s name on it, before he narrowed his sockets.

There was a gold band with the MTT insignia on the filter.

…was that one of his cigarettes?

Frisk glanced up at him just as his eyelights flickered up, and their gazes locked.

A sweat drop ran the side of her cheek.

this little shit!

Well, she wasn’t so little anymore, in fact she was taller than him now by about an inch, but that didn’t change the fact that stealing his smokes was such a bratty move he wanted to literally bend her over his knee and spank her.

…his eyelights drifted down to her small chest, perky beneath her sweater dress despite its modest size.

On second thought, doing that probably wouldn’t have been the best idea. He knew the moment he felt any supple part of her press against him he would more than likely try to push the envelope. It was no secret how attractive she’d gotten or well developed. 

Sans was a man, a skeleton monster, but still a man, and he’d noticed a long time ago now before many others had, the surprising and captivating changes Frisk had gone through.

Admittedly, he couldn’t help still feeling tempted to teach her a lesson though. One in a way that he knew he would enjoy the longer he stared at her and took in her beautiful figure and increasingly worried and guilty expression.

While Sans was feeling more and more tempted, Frisk was becoming more nervous.

She didn’t like that cold and calculating look in his gaze.

“is that mine?” He drawled, his voice a dark and menacing pitch as his eyelights gave a soul piercing pulse of maliciousness with how they brightened and dimmed.

Frisk instantly regretted her actions.

She hadn’t seen that look since the underground when they’d first met, his voice harsher and words acidic.

Truth be told, Frisk hadn’t wanted to steal his cigarettes, but she’d been just so curious to try them, and she’d known both Toriel and Asgore wouldn’t have allowed her to buy them when she was just seventeen.

‘It’d only be one cigarette’, she’d promised herself back then, and then one had turned into two, and then three. Before she knew it she’d been stealing Sans’ packs on the regular and had developed a habit by the time her birthday rolled around a week later.

Not a habit really… she didn’t smoke every day, maybe twice a week, but she did start hoarding when she did take them.

And this time she had to admit that maybe she’d been a bit too greedy, otherwise Sans wouldn’t have come down so unexpectedly to go get more and seen her. She knew this was typically when he’d be out on the balcony, he always went for a smoke before dinner, and she’d ruined the nightly ritual.

Five minutes was all she usually took, and apparently all she needed to get caught.

It was just bad timing that Papyrus was currently in the middle of having the bathroom cleaned and she’d been forced to try and sneak it in the living room while the younger brother stopped to make the evening meal.

Frisk would've gone outside to smoke, but she knew that she’d have gotten busted for trying to go out in the snow based on suspicion alone. The brothers knew she hated the cold. It was why she always wore sweaters and the like.

She swallowed thickly the longer Sans pinned her in place with his glare. Frisk did NOT want Sans to get angry. He still scared her to this day with his temper even if it wasn’t nearly as bad as all those years ago.

“U-um…” She pulled the cigarette away, trying to speak through a lungful, “Sans I—”

Frisk didn’t get a chance to speak and explain herself.

Sans was across the room in one moment, and right in front of her the next, his hand cupping her chin. 

Right before he leaned in and captured her mouth with his.

Frisk jolted, the ridges of his grin coming down to lock with her lips in the facsimile of a kiss as he held her in place and pried her pliant lips easily apart with his tongue in a single brush. A whimper almost slipped out but died where it rose within her filled chest.

He stole her breath, literally.

Sans gently drew the air from her lungs, as if a caress, with a single soft and deep inhale.

Frisk was frozen, her heart hammering as her cheeks flushed and her eyes opened to reveal their golden hues in stunned silence.

Sans’s SOUL gave a spine-tingling thrum at the sight. 

Frisk rarely opened her eyes, if ever. How she managed to navigate with them closed he never knew, and had often thrown it up to the fact that she carried more magic within her than the average human nowadays, allowing her to see without seeing.

Those honey colored irises did more to him than the kiss did.

He pulled back, his hand still cupping her chin as he brushed a gloved thumb along the side of her jaw and slowly blew out a breath, exhaling the smoke that’d been shared between them with another fiery pulse of his eyelights.

Sans' tone was rough, an octave lower from the tainted air with thickened accent, “shouldn’ smoke sweetheart, it’s bad fer ya.”

She was still frozen, locked in place like a statue, as he casually released her chin to reach down into her sweater’s right pocket and pulled out one of the two missing cigarette packs. With a glance he saw there was only one missing from it.

He was willing to bet she’d already smoked the other one.

With a hum he straightened and tapped the pack against his palm, causing one of the sticks to shoot up right before he plucked it free with his teeth as he pulled out his lighter and lit it. Sans took a deep drag and closed his sockets, savoring it.

It was relieving, but not as satisfying as it’d been when he’d stolen Frisk’s.

He glanced down at her as he blew out another billowing cloud through his sharp teeth. 

“stay away from my smokes, capiche?”

Frisk could only nod, her hands trembling as she looked down and timidly bit her lip.

cute.

“hey boss! c’mere, somethin’ i wanna show ya!”

Frisk jolted, and gasped in shock and betrayal as Sans took another drag and filled the air with more gray tinged vapor, before abruptly shortcutting to his balcony and leaving her to her fate.

“WHAT IS IT SANS—”

Sans leaned against the wall of the house and chuckled as soon as he heard the realization and offence in Papyrus' voice.

“FRISK! HAVE YOU BEEN SMOKING?! IN MY LIVING ROOM!?”

Sans glanced up at the starry sky as he listened to the chaos inside, his thoughts all circling back to how Frisk’s lips had felt against his. He secretly hoped she did steal another pack from him.

He welcomed her to try.

[canyonkingdom]

on top

cw: ooc

tw: swearing

The good-for-nothing citizens of Broomstown were fortunately not in trouble, and the rescue team can finally have some time for themselves. All alone.

All...

alone...

Oh, well, it's not as bad as last time.

Right?

Once again proven wrong when Poli walked into the room with a can of gas in his left hand. He seemed to not give a shit about the dire consequences of his actions and gave even less of a shit when he accidentally tilted his can to Roy. The firetruck gasped in utter shock.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Roy shouted, desperately wiping off the gas on his frame. You could've used a towel, but no, hands are way better.

"You got in the way, asshole," Poli said callously. Helly then walks in with an AK-47- wait, an AK-47?

Poli and Roy looked at him with horror. Poli drops his can of gas. "PUT THAT DOWN-"

Helly uncharacteristically shoots the gun, pointing it at the calendar. His resting bitch face didn't budge. Poli dodged and Roy miraculously skims himself out of the situation.

"DUDE!" Roy screamed at Helly. "Didn't we tell you literally this morning not to use any of the weapons-"

Suddenly, Jin bursts through the room. Her laugh was deafening, and a machine gun was in her hands. The gun was pointed at the roof. Poli and Roy screamed.

"This is not normal." Poli muttered. No shit, Sherlock.

"There's nothing to do!" Jin shrieks as the ceiling filled with roles. Music to my ears.

"We're gonna spend a fortune on reparations-"

Jin threw Roy a machete, which didn't help as it landed on the ground helplessly.

"What-"

"Let's gang up on Poli!" Helly suddenly shouted. All faces turned the police car.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Poli said defensively, backing up against the doorway. "Who said that-"

"Let's just get on with it," Jin said.

Wait, what-

CHARGE!"

Poli ran for his life as gun sounds and metal clunking filled his ears.

Not as bad as last time, they said.

Poli makes his way out of the room. The hallways confuse him.

Then he thought.

Think faster bitch three idiots are literally ganging up on you-

"Alright! Alright! I'm going to the storage room!" Poli shouted. Footsteps get closer.

"It's him!"

Poli drives faster.

He transformed and stared at the door to the storage room. What a great time to stare into nothingness when you're being hunted down. Eventually, Poli shakes out of his trance and opened the door.

Weapons all around.

Poli zoned out. Only a glowing purple light shown.

"it's about time."

"Why are we doing this again?"

Roy was a pussy for cowering behind the two far superior human and helicopter holding weapons that could bust your fucking ass.

"The author made us do it, man." Jin replied in a joking manner.

The trio saw a purple light emitting from the storage room.

What a great way to loathe.

"We're fucked." Helly said.

"What?"

Suddenly, the ground started shaking like hell. Glass started breaking.

"What's happening?" Roy's naivete said, terrified.

Jin kept laughing like a maniac as she reloaded her gun. "He actually used it! Fuck!"

Poli, unnaturally swift, zoomed through the hallways. In his hands, there it was-

The Immortal gun.

"Oh God no." Helly muttered, "He's possessed."

"Dude!" Roy butted in, the machete in his hands almost swinging to the helicopter. "He literally owns the thing, we all know what happens when-"

"I'm on the top of the world!" A purplish laser shot out from his immortal gun. Amber and Helly dodge as they reload their own weapons. But Roy screamed as the laser shot through his face.

"AHHH- WHAT THE FUCK-" Roy started glowing in purple, dropping his machete as he floated in the air, still screaming horribly.

"Is... is that what it's supposed to do-"

Poli then shot the gun to an unobservant Helly.

"What-

-the-

FUCK."

Jin watched as her two allies went fuck that shit and left her with a rogue Poli.

"Let's battle." Poli said to the remaining person.

Jin hissed as he pointed her gun at the robocar. "Will do-"

Helly screamed like he was in pain. "Why am I in hell?"

...

What did the bitch just say.

"Are you stupid?" Poli laughed, but it will never replicate Jin's amazing evil laugh.

"Yes you are." Wads of bullets shot at the car.

Amber returned from Cleany's fiasco over an irremovable stain spot she sighed as she drove into the gate of the headquarters with her eyes closed, blissfully unaware of the chaos the team had created.

"I'm ba-" she opened her eyes to the burning remains of the headquarters.

They are all gonna die, aren't they?

-///-

this is for @light-everything-in-pink

the crack is not cracking lmao

and idk how the immortal gun is supposed to work so-

[moeitsu]

Number 7 pls!!

Also, who is that in your profile? If ya don’t mind me asking.

My profile pic is of Tamino Amir. He’s a Belgian-Egyptian artist and makes beautiful music. I would recommend him to anyone. I saw him live in February with Mitski and literally cried the entire time. He’s also drop dead gorgeous the man literally looks like a god.

I’m rambling.

Number 7: what tattoos i have and their meaning.

I’m actually really happy you asked that one because I have so many tattoos and i love them ALL!

Okay, I have 12 tattoos. I’ll try to keep it short tho.

1. “Spirit Lead Me” on my bicep. This was my 1st tattoo I got for my 18th bday. It’s from Psalm 143. I’m not really a religious person anymore, but I still appreciate the message. The whole verse is “Teach me to do your will, for you are my God. Show me what you want me to do, and let your gentle spirit lead me in the right path.”

2. A small bouquet of flowers on my hip. This one doesn’t have much meaning. It was a last minute tattoo i got because my friend was getting one and the artist was really chill and was like “you want one too?” And i just said sure and let him pick the art. Looking back, i don’t know why i did that😂

3. A Luna moth on my shoulder. I’ve always considered myself more of a moth than a butterfly, if that makes any sense. I took a picture of a Luna moth was i was 16 and i was obsessed with them ever since. Fun fact: the day i got it tattooed i got a Snapchat memory that i took that moth photo 3 years ago on the same day. It was just meant to be.

4. The master sword from Legend of Zelda on my arm. This one is kinda self explanatory. I just fucking love the games. I played my first was i was 9 years old and it became my entire personality for the rest of my life.

5. A soot sprite on my ankle. This one also doesn’t really have a meaning. A friend of mine had finished her tattoo apprenticeship and was doing small pieces on people as practice. So i asked her to practice on me and she gave me a cute little soot sprite.

6. “Set your heart ablaze” on my rib cage. I got this after the demon slayer movie. It’s one of my favorite animes, and Rengoku was such an important character to me.

7. An evil eye with a tear drop under the back of my neck. I’ve always worn the evil eye since i was young. I don’t remember when i started or why, but I’ve always had a necklace or a keychain or earrings with it on. I liked the idea of it on my back bc in my mind it wards off any negativity that people might send me when my back is turned.

8. A cecropia moth on my other shoulder. Not so much meaning behind this one. My other shoulder felt naked and i wanted to add symmetry with another insect. I chose the cecropia moth bc I found one in the woods one time and I felt like some kind of woodland fairy. It was literally the size of my hand.

9. 333. It’s my Angel number. I see it everywhere, and at least once a day. I was also born on the 3rd day of the 9th month and 3 was always a prevalent number growing up. (I was on bus #3. My childhood apt was #3. Me and my sibs make 3, ect)

10. A maple seed. I got this tattoo for my current partner. We’ve been together 7 years and on our second date we walked a nature trail and we had talked about watching the notebook later and I made a comment about “how romantic would it be if we kissed in the rain”, it was not raining that day. So he picked up handfuls of maple seeds and threw them in the air. They rained around us and he kissed me under them. It’s probably one of my favorite memories.

11. Peter Rabbit hugging his momma. This tattoo was dedicated to my mom. My nursery as a baby was Peter Rabbit themed, and I still have a lot of the decorations still in my room 24 years later :’) I also love my mom a lot.

12. A heart locket with my childhood cat in the frame. Pretty self explanatory. It was dedicated in his memory. He was literally the best cat ever and i miss him everyday. He passed on my 19th bday.

Thank you so much for asking Anon!!! I really enjoyed diving into this :)

[sublimecatgalaxy]

the little thing you wrote about Eddy comforting reader was so cute!!! sooo naturally my mind wandered off to Billy immediately and now I would like to request the same prompt, but with him :))

But like, this is Billy we're talking about, he's probably not very experienced with comforting people, but it would be SO cute to see him try!

anyway hope you had a good day! Love your writing!

I like literally can not stay away from this request since my love for Billy is like...pathetic and desperate and I love writing him more than like anyone right now😭

Angry tears flow down my cheeks as I take a breath in, the cool air of Indiana soothing my aching lungs, my eyes watching the cars go by and my ears tune into the teens raging inside. It was the annual Christmas party, the one that seems to come together every year by some random chance of fate, thrown by a random teen with rich parent.

And for some reason, I was invited to go.

But the minute that a drink was thrown at my white shirt, the group of men that cornered me joking about wanting to see what's going on 'underneath', I was out as quickly as I came in. There's only so much groping a girl could take in one night while trying to have a good night.

I wipe at my shirt with the sweater I brought, ruining it in the process of trying to dry me off. I groan loudly, tossing the sweater to the steps and I hear a door open, someone stepping onto the porch behind me.

"Occupied." I mutter, my face falling into my hands but I can still sense someone take a seat beside me. My head tilts to see Billy Hargrove with a shit eating grin on his face, my shoulders deflating. "I don't need you making fun of me right now." I huff, his tongue sweeping out to wet his lips and he bumps my shoulder with his.

"Come on, sweet-cheeks, tell me what happened." He sighs, resting his elbows on his knees as he leans over, pretty curls falling to frame his face. My lips part and a shuddered breath leaves me, my hands reaching up to wipe my cheeks. The last thing I need right now is for him to mock me or make fun of me for crying at one of the only parties I've ever attended in all of high school.

So do I tell him or do I just brush him off?"

"C'mon, don't tell me you're crying over some dumbass who broke your heart?" He laughs shallowly with a shrug and suddenly I realize that he thinks I was dumped or something, crying over something so trivial and stupid to someone like him, a serial romantic and a serial heartbreaker.

"It's not about a guy- I mean it is, but not for the reason you think." I sniffle, catching his attention as he suddenly realizes the sweater laying at my feet and my makeup that's running down my cheeks. His eyes flash with anger, his back straightening as he turns to me.

"Who did it?" His question is simple but the way he says it makes my head spin, the way his jaw grits when he asks, almost in a low, threatening tone. He's angry at the thought of someone hurting me.

"Billy-" He cuts me off quickly, holding a hand up to silence me as he leans towards me a bit.

"I'm not messing with you. What'd they do?" I'm confused at his concern, or maybe it's worry, especially since him and I are not the closest of friends. We've studied together here and there, but only because our teachers assign me as a tutor for him. I'm closer to his sister Max, spending a lot of time with her at the arcade so nothing would actually give him a reason to want to help me or care for me.

"Some guys came up to me and they were just messing around, grabbing me and stuff and when I refused to, uh- you know- they threw punch on me so they could see through my shirt." I explain slowly, disgusted by my own words, my eyes fluttering shut in frustration.

He's eerily silent, his shoulders pulled back in taunt anger and I can imagine his blue eyes gawking at me in shock. When I take the time to look at him, he's exactly how I would've imagined him, face red and blue eyes wide in anger.

"You got any names? Cuz I'll make sure they don't fuck with you." He offers and even though his words are menacing, his voice has a hint of softness to it. With a laugh, I shake my head, brushing his concern off, not wanting him to become homicidal over a few ugly perverts.

"No, it's fine. Just too mortified to go in there again." My head cranes back to look through the front door, looking at the teens who dance and smile, wondering why it's so hard for me to just blend in and follow along with my peers. It makes me nauseous to think that they can do such inappropriate things and just move on, not caring about their actions and how they impact people.

"Wanna get outta here then?" Billy's offer makes me break out in a cold sweat, my heart fluttering at the thought of being alone with him. He notices my apprehension and pauses, his normal smirk dropping and so do his eyes, gaze skimming along the skin of my bare legs.

"With you?" I stutter out, clearing my throat and he nods, leaning back to rest his elbows against the concrete step. "You're not gonna try to cop a feel right?" He bursts out laughing at my jest, my body relaxing a bit at his calmness, not completely used to him being so human instead of being revved up and angry.

"God no." He chuckles, moving to stand and he reaches out to hold a hand out to me. I pause before slipping my hand into his, loving the feeling of his skin against mine. He smiles, helping me down off of the porch as he leans in to whisper in my ear. "Haven't you heard? I'm a gentleman now."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr

[whatthetumblfck]

That’s My Girl

Summary: You want nothing more than to go on missions, but being sidelined leads to disastrous consequences.

Word Count: 5810

Warnings: swearing, torture, injuries, whump, whump, whump

Content: This is another Bucky x reader whump fic. Some angst, some fluff if you look hard enough. Use of Y/N.

Please don’t claim my work as your own. Enjoy!

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You stiffened in your seat, your body becoming tense with anger. So, this is why they called you into a last-minute meeting.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You shifted your gaze from the table up to where Steve and Tony were standing. You suddenly felt like a child that had been sent to the principal’s office. You were being punished. You stared at them awkwardly, almost waiting for them to break and tell you this was just a joke. But the silence continued.

Steve averted his eyes first. “Y/N, you’re still healing.  We don’t think it’s safe for you to be--.”

“The doctor cleared me for active-duty last week, Steve!” You almost felt bad for yelling, but this was completely unfair.

“I know, but we can’t ri--.”

“No, Steve! I’m going on this mission!” You said decisively, even though you knew you were losing the argument.

“I’m sorry, kid.” Tony chimed in. “But you’re benched for now. Wanda and Clint are handling this one.”

You opened your mouth to press your case, but quickly closed it. There was no changing their minds, especially Tony’s. You pushed your chair back from the table with both hands and stood abruptly.

You took a deep breath to compose yourself, wiping all emotion from your face and voice. “Fine.” You gave them each one last look before turning and walking quickly out of the meeting room.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

You made your way back to your room and slammed the door shut. You can't believe they're doing this to you. You were dressed in your tactical gear, literally about to leave for the mission and then they pull this shit. You changed out of your tac suit and into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. They may be able to stop you from going on missions, but they can’t stop you from training.  You heard a gentle knock on your door. Trying to pull on your sneakers, you hobbled over to the door and opened it, surprised to see Bucky standing there, leaning against the frame with one arm. He brought his gaze from the floor and a gentle, lopsided grin appeared on his face as his eyes met yours.

“Hey…” He entered the room, eyes taking in your appearance.

“Hey. Since when do you knock?” You replied, defeat becoming apparent in your voice.

He shrugged. “How did the meeting go?”

“They’re fucking ‘benching’ me.” You were trying hard to keep your emotions in check.

“For how long?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know. They didn’t say.” You said, starting to feel completely dejected.

Bucky stepped closer to you, brushing a few lose strands of hair out of your face. “Maybe it’s for the best. It has only been 6 weeks. This gives you a little more time to heal.”

“Bucky! I’m fine! The doctor cleared me last week!”

“Y/N, sweetheart, you took a major hit to your head—”

“I know, Bucky, but I’m fine!”

“You were unconscious for 2 days!” Bucky threw his hands in the air for emphasis.

“I can’t believe you’re taking their side on this!” Your anger started bubbling to the surface.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side.” Bucky tried to bargain. “You’re not ready yet. Just a few days ago, you barely bumped your head while we were sparring and ended up with a migraine!”

You paused, staring at him in disbelief, finally understanding. “Oh my God. You’re the one who’s benching me,” you accused.

“Y/N….”

“You’re the one who told them I’m not ready! How could you do this?! You know how much this means to me—how hard it’s been sitting on the sidelines, mission after mission! Feeling completely useless!” You were screaming now, your anger forcing tears into your eyes.

“I know going on missions means a lot to you, but your health and safety are far more important. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you, especially because you went back into the field too soon. I love you. You mean everything to me.” Bucky reached out to take your hands in his, but you pulled away, backing away towards the door. You shook your head at him, tears now streaming down your cheeks.

“If that were true, you would believe me when I tell you that I’m fine. You would give me a chance to prove myself. You wouldn’t try to take this away from me.” You grabbed your coat and purse, turning back towards the door. You felt his hand grab your wrist as you reached for the doorknob. “Let me go, Bucky.” You demanded without looking at him.

“Where are you going?” He sighed, sounding exhausted.

“None of your damn business. Let me go.” You ripped your arm from his grasp, and he let you.

“Y/N, please don’t leave.”

You barely heard him as you slammed the door in his face.

It was getting colder, and the dry fall air nipped at the exposed skin of your face. You flipped up your collar and shoved your hands into the pockets of your coat. You had been wandering the streets of New York for a few hours now, fruitlessly trying to clear your head. Even though your anger had dimmed, you couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of your own worthlessness, and you couldn’t bring yourself to go back to the tower, to your home, and face Bucky.

As you continued to walk, you allowed your thoughts to take you to the past. Every once in a while, they liked to remind you of your insecurities; reopen old wounds and rub salt in them. It wasn’t like your parents ever abused you. You always had clean clothes and food on the table, but they weren’t the most supportive people on the planet. Nothing you ever did was good enough. It didn’t matter how hard you worked or how perfect your grades were in school; it would never be enough to earn a simple ‘good job’ and certainly not a ‘we’re proud of you’. But there were occasions when you would forget to do the dishes or sweep the floors before they got home from work, and they would call you ‘worthless’ and ‘good for nothing’. They were simple words and if they came from anyone other than your parents, you would simply let them roll off your back. But you were born and raised with the mindset of pleasing them. As you grew up and moved away from them to go to college, you slowly learned how to place value in yourself and not at the hands of others. But sometimes, no matter how hard you tried to avoid it, you couldn’t help feeling like you weren’t good enough. Worthless.

You couldn’t help feeling that same worthlessness for the past 6 weeks following your injury. You were very fortunate not to have any lasting neurological damage after taking a significant blow to the back of your head. You barely remember what happened, but apparently you were outnumbered in your section of the base and Bucky couldn’t get to you in time. You became overwhelmed in the fight, and a random HYDRA thug got the upper hand and threw you off your feet, forcing your head to collide with a cinder block.  The story is barely glorious, and the goon wasn’t even a super-soldier. When Bucky recounted the events for you, you remember thinking: if you were going to almost meet your untimely demise, you would at least want a cooler story to go along with it. He wasn’t amused.

As your thoughts circled back to Bucky, you felt anger again, and something else you now identified as betrayal. It was terrible knowing that Steve and Tony didn’t trust you to go on missions anymore, but even worse was that Bucky didn’t either. He didn’t think you were capable after the events of the last mission. How are you supposed to get past this? This is your job, your life. If you can’t do this, then what good are you for anything? You pulled out your phone to find 6 missed calls and 5 text messages, all from Bucky. Choosing to ignore them, you texted your friend instead. She had always offered her apartment to you if you needed it and she often traveled for work. This seemed like a perfect opportunity to take her up on her offer.

It was only 6:30pm, but it was already dark outside when you slid the spare key into the lock of your friend’s apartment. You were greeted with silence and the soft glow of city lights peeking through the curtains. For the first time that evening, you felt like you could take a deep breath.  You helped yourself to a glass of wine (or two) and settled in front of the TV, searching for the first thing you could find that would sufficiently keep your mind off of things.

It wasn’t quite 7:30pm when you heard an urgent knock at the door. What in the actual fuck? Your friend lives alone and is hardly ever home. Who randomly shows up like that? (Except for you, of course) Being a paranoid person by nature and profession, you stealthily moved from the couch and approached the door. You didn’t have a sidearm due to your hasty and unplanned departure from the tower earlier. You mentally cursed at yourself but proceeded to look through the peephole. Steve?

A look of clear annoyance and partial disbelief washes over your face as you open the door.

“What are you doing here, Steve?”

“We have been looking for you for hours.” He almost seems apologetic but mostly relieved.

“We?” You shift your focus to peer behind him, seeing no one else.

“Bucky and me. He’s not here. He’s checking that bar across town you like to go to.”

“How did you even know to look here?” You said, crossing your arms without spilling your wine.

Steve looks guilty now. “Well…uh…SHIELD kept records of all your contacts….”

You were confused now and narrowed your eyes at him. “I never listed this friend or location as a contact…”

“Yeah….” Steve trailed off, scratching his head, hoping you would connect the dots and he wouldn’t have to say it.

“Jesus Christ. So, what? They have agents tracking agents now? Why the fuck—how do—” You were at a loss for words and wanted nothing more than to end this conversation quickly and get back to your solitude.

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry about earlier, but Bucky has a point. If you’re still having headaches, you should see the doctor again. It would be in your best interest if—”

“It would be in my best interest,” you began, gritting your teeth, “if you left. Tell Bucky you found me and I’m fine. Both of you can go home.”

He sighed in defeat. “Okay. Okay. Just…be safe. He just worries about you, you know; we all do. And I can’t guarantee that he won’t show up here.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile.

You moved to close the door. “Good night, Steve.”

Approximately 45 minutes later, just when you thought you were in the clear, you hear another knock on the door. This time, it was gentler. Bucky. You rise from the couch, wine glass in hand, foregoing the stealth and paranoia you employed earlier. You fling the door open, fully prepared to tell Bucky off, but you can’t. He isn’t here. Instead, you’re met with a fist flying towards your face. It happened so fast; you didn’t have time to react.

The fist angrily makes contact with your mouth, splitting your bottom lip and knocking you to the ground several feet back. The wine glass shatters on the floor, splattering its contents. You’re stunned and can’t seem to make yourself move. It feels like your mind is running in slow motion and you can’t keep up with the events happening around you. Your vision catches a large, dark figure moving towards you and, suddenly, you’re back up to speed. You spit out the blood that was pooling in your mouth and wiped your chin with the back of your hand. Glaring at the figure approaching you, you prepare to defend yourself this time. You pull up your knee, priming yourself to deliver a kick, when you feel someone else grab a fistful of your hair from behind you. What the fuck? How did I miss a second attacker? You’re jerked up by your hair until you’re barely on your feet before feeling your body being hurled across the room, your abdomen slamming into the corner of a coffee table. The pain exploding from your mid-section is making it harder for you to right yourself. You barely have time to wonder who the hell these guys are and what the hell they want before you feel the familiar sting of that fist in your hair, once again pulling you to your feet. This time he brings your face close to his. His hot breath invades your nostrils, almost making you gag. It only gets worse when he speaks.

“Fucking Avenger? My ass. This is too fucking easy.”

So, you were targeted. That was your last thought before your face struck the wall and everything went dark.

 It was 9:30pm. Bucky had debated going to the apartment to see you. He knew where you were and that you were safe. He kept telling himself that you just needed some time to calm down. But he hated not having you there with him, especially when you were upset. His resolve broke and he needed to see you.

As he approached the door to the apartment, he noticed it wasn’t completely closed, leaving a few millimeters of space before it would have clicked shut.

“Y/N?” he asked cautiously before slowly pushing the door open and peering inside.

It was dark, but the TV was still on. He stepped forward and froze when something crunched beneath his boot. Panic rose in his chest when he saw the broken remnants of your wine glass. Crouching down, his eyes scanned the floor until they landed on something much more terrifying. Blood.

“Y/N?” he tried again, praying you would answer. When you didn’t, he leapt to his feet and began frantically searching the apartment for you. You weren’t there. The only indication you were actually there was your purse and your cell phone untouched on the couch. Fuck. FUCK! His thoughts were racing. What happened? Where were you? This couldn’t have been a robbery gone wrong because everything else is untouched, including your purse and phone. You must have been a target, but for whom? And why? Who else could have possibly known you would be there? Bucky whips his head towards the kitchen when he hears paper rustling. A breeze. The window is open, and, in his panic, he hadn’t noticed. As he cautiously approached the window, he cringes as he sees more blood smeared on the windowsill. Bucky swallows hard, pushing down the bile that had risen in his throat. Suddenly, his phone rings, startling him.

“Steve…she’s gone.”

“I know. Buck…you need to get back to the tower. Now.”

“What?” How could he possibly—

“There’s something you need to see.”

 Bucky felt sick. Again. Tony pulled up a holographic view of the video, showing you in an empty room made of concrete. You sat in a chair with your hands tied behind your back. Your hair, messy and damp, hung down in front, obscuring your face. As the video played, everyone was silent. They didn’t know what to say. They couldn’t even tell if you were alive. But you had to be, right? They wouldn’t have sent a video if you weren’t. They wanted something.

Steve broke the silence. “So, what do they want? Is there anything else to the message?”

“No, that’s it. Just this video. No demands. Nothing.” Tony said, nervously tapped his fingers on the table.

“We have to find her.” Bucky finally spoke. He sounded distant, detached. His knuckles were white from clenching his fists. “Tony, can you check footage from traffic cams? Local businesses?”

“I already have FRIDAY on it,” he replied. And as if she were responding to a cue, she alerted them to her findings.

“Boss, I believe I may have found Miss Y/L/N’s location.”

They all rushed to the location FRIDAY had indicated, but you weren’t there.

 The first thing you noticed was the sound of water dripping. The steady rhythm was soothing, almost enough to lull you back to sleep, but the cold biting at your bare feet brought you all the way back to consciousness. Your eyelids were heavy as you tried to look around the unfamiliar surroundings. It was dark, but you could tell the walls were concrete and the air smelled damp and musty. It reminded you of an old dirt basement. What the hell? You struggled to remember what happened. Your head was pounding, and you couldn’t think straight, couldn’t remember…anything about how you got here. There was a metallic taste in your mouth, and you squeezed your eyes shut, fighting off a sudden swell of nausea.

The sound of footsteps brought your attention to your right. A sudden bright light assaulted your eyes, your head feeling like it was splitting open. Shadows violently danced around the room as a single light bulb was switched on, swinging back and forth over your head. It was too much. You twisted your body, fighting against the restraints that held you to the chair, and emptied the contents of your stomach onto the floor.

“It’s nice to see you’re awake, Y/N.” The foreign voice echoed in the empty room.

Your chest heaved as you tried to recover your dignity. You now noticed the pair of boots standing next to you and wondered how long they had been there. “Who the fuck are you?”

“My name isn’t important. We are one. We are everywhere. Cut off one—”

“Yeah yeah, I’ve heard this before and I don’t care. What the fuck do you want?”

Then you heard a noise cut through the air and you knew exactly what it was: the static crackling of electricity from a stun gun. Fuck. Oh fuck. You tried to maintain your bravado, but your stomach squirmed in anticipation of the pain to come.

You forced yourself to relax your facial expression. “Torture? That’s it? That’s your game plan? Because I’m going to be honest with you, it’s been done before and if you think—”

“I WANT YOU TO SUFFER! Every. Single. One of you. They’re going to watch you die. And after they’ve buried you, I’ll move on to the next. One by one until all the Avengers are dead.”

You fought back a chill and then heard a click. Turning your head, you saw a blinking red light in the corner. How long have those bastards been recording you? The door opened and three burly men entered, encompassing you, awaiting the signal to begin.

You shut your eyes and tried to steady your breathing. You were no stranger to pain. This wasn’t even the first time you’ve been tortured. You can handle this. They will find you. You can handle this. You can handle this. You can ha—

Your mantra was interrupted by a sudden burning pain in your stomach as the stun gun was jammed into your ribs. It stole your breath away as your body convulsed. It stopped only long enough for you to take a breath before it started again. This time lasting longer. Your stomach lurched at the smell of your flesh burning.  They shocked you repeatedly; you lost count how many times. The burning pain became unbearable. You could barely catch your breath and dark spots began to coat your vision like splotches of ink until they overcame you completely and the pain faded into the background.

You awoke again some time later. You couldn’t tell if it was night or day. If it had been hours or days or weeks. You honestly didn’t know. What you did know is that you were cold and tired and in pain. Why weren’t they coming for you? Did they even know you were missing? Why would they? You told them to leave you alone and now look where you are. The flashing red light in the corner caught your attention again. Could they see you now? Or would they only know what happened after they had already killed you?  Your reverie was broken by the sounds of whispers just outside the door. A shiver ran up your spine and you braced yourself as best you could when the door swung open.

The onslaught began quickly this time, with no words being exchanged. The first blow landed on your stomach, knocking the wind out of you. More blows landed on your arms, thighs, and face. Your head hung weakly. You could barely comprehend the pain and yet it was all you knew. This was different from any other torture you’ve ever endured. They didn’t want information. They didn’t want anything other than pain and suffering and death. You felt yourself slipping into unconsciousness again; you welcomed the reprieve, but suddenly there was a new pain. The sharp pain of a knife sliding under your ribs, and it made you gasp. You wanted to scream but you couldn’t. No sound would come out as you opened your mouth, the pain stole the air from your lungs.

When they felt they had sufficiently beat you into a weakened enough state, they cut the ties that bound you to the chair and you hit the ground with a sickening thud. Your hands immediately found their way to the stab wound that was already trickling blood into your shirt. You pulled your knees closer to your chest in an attempt to relieve the pain and laid your head back against the cold, hard floor. Your vision swam as you looked in the direction of your attackers. You were barely holding on as it was when you saw a large boot appear in your vision. The kicked landed on the side of your head and you were out before you even realized what had happened.

 “This doesn’t make any sense. They should have given us demands or something by now. Anything!” Steve slammed his fist onto the table. It’s been 48 hours since you were taken.

“We reviewed the traffic cam footage and flagged the vehicle we think she was taken in. FRIDAY has been scanning everything in real time. When she gets a hit, she’ll let us know,” Tony offered.

Bucky didn’t say a word as he sat leaning forward in his chair, his head in his hands. He couldn’t help but assume the worst. He knew why there weren’t any demands. They already had what they wanted. He fucked up. He never should have let you leave the tower. Hell, you would have been better off going on that mission.  

Without warning, the various screens littered around the tower flickered to life. All of them playing the same video: you, being burned and beaten. Tears gathered in Bucky’s eyes. He couldn’t stand to watch you suffer, yet he couldn’t look away. You’re still alive.

Tony didn’t miss a beat. “FRIDAY, find the source, now!”

“I’ve got it, boss. It’s coming from an abandoned business warehouse, 6 blocks from here.”

Bucky shot up from his seat with renewed hope. They weren’t able to trace the last video. Someone made a mistake. This must be it. He spared one last glance at the screen; at you, strapped to the same chair as 2 days before. He rushed out of the tower with Steve at his heels.

Bucky and Steve quietly approached the back entrance, finding a steel door with a padlock. Steve broke the lock with his shield. They’re not sure what they expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. There was nothing. It was a large empty room. It wasn’t even concrete as the video had depicted. Bucky’s heart sank. It was another dead end.

“No. No no no. She has to be here,” Bucky pleaded, his eyes desperately searching the room.

“Buck….I’m sorry.” Steve put his finger to the comm in his ear. “Tony..there’s nothing here. It’s empty.”

Keep looking. We’re still getting a signal from that location. There has to be something there.

Bucky and Steve exchanged glances before surveying the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. They were about to give up and head back to the tower when Steve took a step that sounded unusual, hollow. He kneeled down and gently tapped the floor with his knuckles. His eyes widened.

“Psstt. Buck- c’mere,” he whispered.

They were both kneeling now to examine the floor, finding a section of musty carpet that was ruffled up in one corner. They pulled back the entire section to reveal a wooden latched door with a sliver of light leaking through the cracks.

“Tony- we found something. Have medical on standby,” Steve ordered.

Already done. Keep me posted.

Bucky was breathing fast. He wanted nothing more than to rush down there, to find you and kill anyone who stood in his path. With a pointed look, Steve grounded him, and they lifted the door. They silently dropped to the floor below, taking in the cold, damp concrete and dank odor one would expect from a moldy basement. You had to be close. He prayed he wasn’t too late.

Everything happened very quickly. They were rushed by half a dozen men armed with assault rifles but even then, the guards didn’t stand a chance against the two pissed off and determined super-soldiers. With every enemy lying on the floor, Steve ordered Bucky to find you while he searched the rest of the basement.

It was a few minutes later that Bucky came across the room you were held in. With one swift motion, he kicked down the locked door. He scanned the room. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he spotted your form, eerily still, lying in the center of the room. He reached up and pulled the light on overhead, letting it swing as he dropped down next to you.

“Y/N? Come on, doll.” he reached down to rub his thumb across your lip where blood had dried and caked. You were cold. “Shit. Shit!” He gently moved you onto your back and this is when he saw the blood soaking into your shirt and leaving a puddle beneath you. His breath caught in his throat. With shaking hands, he put his fingers to the pulse point on your neck. When he felt a weak pulse, barely registering on his fingertips, he leaned down and held his ear close to your mouth. A soft whisper of a breath escaped your lips.

Bucky heard Steve’s footsteps approaching, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He lifted your shirt to reveal the source of your bleeding. He pressed firmly down on the stab wound, but you didn’t even flinch. He recognized how concerning this was, how the pain from this alone should have elicited some kind of response from you, but you remained just as still as before.

“Oh God.” Steve knew you would be in bad shape, but he didn’t want to believe it would be this bad. You were so pale and still, like you were already gone. “Tony! We found her! We need EMS now!”

Already on the way, Cap. ETA 2 minutes.

Bucky scooped you up in his arms and they made their way to the surface, exiting the building to the waiting paramedics and helicopter.

 Bucky held your hand as they loaded you into the chopper and flew you to the trauma center. He heard voices around him but remained focused on you.

Looks like it missed any major vessels.

Multiple contusions across the abdomen and…these look like burns…

She’s bradycardic; give her a milligram of atropine.

Her pupils are sluggish…Prep for CT.

Sir, does she have any significant medical history?

Sir?

Bucky snapped out of his daze. “Uhh…she had a head injury…. a couple months ago. But she was cleared.”

Bucky was guided to the waiting room while the trauma team worked on you. You still hadn’t regained consciousness.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Hours had passed in the waiting room. Eventually, Bucky was joined by Steve.

“Heard anything yet?”

“No.”

A few moments passed before Steve spoke again. “It was an ex-SHIELD operative.”

“What?” Bucky turned his head to look at Steve.

“A couple of years ago, a mission went south. All the agents were killed. Except one, they never found the body. Turns out, he was captured and tortured by HYDRA.”

“I never heard about this.”

“I didn’t either. SHIELD must have swept it under the rug.”

“Why her?” Bucky’s voice shook with anger, his eyes red and glassy.

“Apparently, before he was captured, he sent a distress signal, but help never came. He adopted HYDRA’s ways with the intent of getting revenge on SHIELD, on us. He blames the Avengers for the deaths of his team.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. “Where is he now?”

“In SHIELD’s custody.”

“Steve- WHERE is he?”

“Buck….you don’t want to do this.” Steve tried to reason with his friend.

Just then, they were approached by a physician.

“She’s stable. There was internal damage, but we were able to repair it.”

Bucky let out a shuddered sigh of relief.

“However,” the physician continued, “it appears she suffered a traumatic brain injury.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. He knew. Yet, hearing it out loud hit him even harder. “What- what does that mean?” He could feel Steve’s hand rest on his shoulder.

“We’re not sure yet. We’re still waiting for her to wake up.”

“How long will that take?” Desperation lingered in Bucky’s voice.

“We don’t know. We’re not sure if she will wake up. I’m sorry.” The doctor provided an apologetic smile and walked away.

Bucky collapsed back into the chair.

“Buck. I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have let her leave the tower. I should have gone after her sooner. Fuck- I should have just let her go on that damn mission!”

“Don’t do that to yourself, man. This isn’t your fault.”  Steve tried to console him.

Bucky suddenly rose from his seat, pacing with panic. “I don’t know what to do, Steve. I don’t—” He finally broke down. His body trembled as tears streamed down his face.

“Let’s go see her.” Steve guided his friend to your room.

  Three weeks later and you were still in a coma. The doctors said if you weren’t awake by now, it was unlikely that you would ever wake up. But you were now breathing on your own. Your body had healed, and Bucky refused to give up on your mind. Another two weeks had passed, and Bucky still sat by your side, holding your hand. That evening, he sat by you, reading one of your favorite books to you when he heard you groan. He looked up at your face, seeing nothing had changed. He thought he had imagined it, but you did it again. He put the book down and brought his hand up to caress your face. Your eyes fluttered.

“Oh my God. Y/N? Can you hear me, baby?” He smiled for the first time in weeks.

You opened your eyes and blinked slowly several times, trying to focus.

“Y/N? Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Your eyes immediately shifted to Bucky.

“That’s it, baby! Oh my God.” He was overwhelmed with joy. He laughed, actually laughed.

“Bucky?” Your voice was weak, words slurred. You hadn’t spoken in weeks.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”

The following day, you began physical therapy. It was exhausting, but you felt yourself getting stronger and making progress as the weeks passed.

Bucky never mentioned what happened and you never brought it up. He was so consumed with your recovery; you couldn’t find the right time to say anything about it. Until one day, your feelings just slipped out.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered, after a particularly difficult therapy session.

Bucky was genuinely confused. “For what, doll?”

“You were right. I wasn’t ready to go on missions. I’m sorry I got so mad at you. I never should have left that day.” Tears gathered in your eyes. “If I hadn’t been so damn stubborn, you wouldn’t have to waste your time with..with this!” You motioned at your weaker form.

Bucky kneeled down in front of you, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Sweetheart, no. This isn’t your fault. I should have talked to you about my concerns, instead of going over your head about it.”

“I just hate feeling worthless and look where I am. Steve will never let me go on another mission again.” You clenched your fists and shook your head, frustrated that you got yourself in this situation once more.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. We’ll get through this. We always do.” Bucky embraced you, rubbing circles on your back.  “You’ll go on missions again. In fact, I think Steve is planning to personally accompany you on every single mission from here on out.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes. “Between you and Steve, I won’t have to lift a finger,” you teased.

“Nope,” Bucky grinned proudly.

Your playful smile quickly faded as cynical thoughts intruded on your pleasant moment. Now they really don’t trust me. Won’t even let me go on missions without them. But Bucky seemed to read your mind.

“Don’t worry, doll. You’ll be doing solo missions in no time. We know you’re more than capable.”

“Yeah?” you asked, with hopeful eyes.

“Of course! You kick more ass than the rest of us. But I am curious about one thing…” Bucky baited with a smirk.

“What’s that?” you asked cautiously.

“How the hell did those thugs get the jump on you?” Bucky asked, his expression incredulous.

You closed your eyes and sighed. “They knocked on the door,” you admitted as quietly as possible.

“They what?!” He was almost laughing.

“I thought it was you,” you said more loudly, almost accusingly. “I was going to tell you off.”

Bucky shook his head, a wide smile plastered on his face as he attempted to stifle more laughter. Seeing Bucky like this ignited a fire in you. You wanted to wipe that stupid grin off his face, but the joy he was emanating overtook you. Two can play this game and you liked playing this game with Bucky.

“Don’t worry, Buck. Next time I think I’m opening a door to you, I’ll take the ‘punch first, tell you off later’ approach.” Your eat-shit grin was now wider than Bucky’s.

He burst out with laughter, and you joined him.

“That’s my girl.”

[spyderlady]

Patch me up, my love

(gif by dailymarvelgifs)

note: i have had zero motivation as of late as uni has been destroying me so i wanted to write something cute that wouldn't take up my entire brain so enjoy <3

ꗃ pairing: kate bishop x fem!reader

ꗃ warnings: teeny tiny bit of gore but mostly fluffy kate <3

ꗃ word count: 1.8k

summary: a wounded kate shows up at your house and you patch her up

─────────── ୨ ♡ ୧ ────────────

It was an awfully warm October night. The sky was murky, the pale, silver moon hid behind a blanket of grey rain clouds. The smell of damp earth in the air hinted at a downpour arriving soon. A small yawn escaped your lips as your eyes shifted to the clock on your desktop. It was quarter to two in the morning. You sighed, looking down at the binder beneath your palm. You had finally finished drafting the layout of an essay that was due tomorrow. Now it was time to type it all out. Your fingers slowly moved towards the various keys on your keyboard as they started typing a variety of letters one by one.

The past week had been rather slow and quite boring to say the least. Your Avenger girlfriend was off to a mission and you weren't thrilled about it in the slightest. You weren't delusional like the rest of the world who romanticised superhero life. You knew the risks that came along with being one and the sole thought of Kate never returning home from a mission has always terrified you, even though you knew for a fact that Kate was capable of quite literally anything. However, you mostly kept your thoughts to yourself as you didn't want to come off as the selfish, clingy girlfriend. And before these thoughts could consume you further, you quickly shifted your focus back onto the essay, but that didn't last long either. Your attention was swept away by a tap, almost like a knock on your window. You turned your head towards the sound and flinched at what you saw but were quickly comforted when realisation settled upon you.

Kate's dark, raven hair, the same shade as the inky night sky behind her, glistened under the silver moon. The glow from the white orb reflected against her dazzling sapphire eyes. The corners of her pale lips were lifted upwards into a shy smile. Her brows were upturned, the inner corners puckering a little. Your gaze moved to the thin stream of blood that dripped from the massive gash wound on her forehead. She lifted her right hand a little to wave at you while her other hand held the windowsill tightly so she wouldn't tumble down. Kate seemed awfully unbothered for a cut that deep in the front of her face.

You quickly rushed to your window, pressing the latch down to slide it open, "Kate, oh my god!" you cried out, grabbing her arm in your hands. You felt the rigid muscles of her bicep tighten even more under your grip as you pulled her in.

"Hey," she whispered in an apologetic voice while carefully standing up on the narrow windowsill as you helped her in. She stepped into your room, leaning down a little so she wouldn't hit her head on the wooden frame. Once inside, she threw her bow on the floor and her body slumped onto the couch by the window. A groan left her lips, "Patch me up, will you, my love?" she said in a dramatic tone, scrunching her nose at you a little.

"Katherine Bishop, how are you so calm about this?" you questioned, authoritatively as you simultaneously shut the window behind you.

"Because you're here, my love," she murmured, a subtle grin appearing on her blood smeared lips.

You groaned, rolling your eyes at her. You made your way to the kitchen as you quickly filled a bowl with lukewarm water and a few spoonfuls of sea salt. You opened the cupboard above the sink and pulled out the small white first-aid box that you had solely prepared for a situation like this. Deep down you knew a day like this would've come, regardless of how much you despised the thought of a wounded Kate showing up at your doorstep...or your window. But as of this moment, patching up Kate was your priority so you quickly rushed back to your bedroom.

You couldn't help but smile a little as you saw Kate lie so comfortably on your couch, her legs crossed as her hands rested on the armrest. You walked over to her side with the supplies and crouched in front of her, placing the supplies on the table beside. Kate opened her eyes slightly to look at you. Her rough, blood stained hand reached out to grab your arm as she tugged onto it lightly, signalling you to sit on her lap. That's when you noticed a cluster of tiny cuts all across her arm.

"No, Kate. Not now, you're hurt," you said while you dipped a cloth into the bowl of water. After pulling it out, you squeezed the excess liquid and looked up at her.

"Please, trust me," she insisted, tapping your arm with her fingers.

God, Katherine. You're so stubborn. You thought to yourself as you slowly got up and gently sat on her lap. You didn't want to put all your weight on her, it didn't feel right to but it was Kate and nothing would stop her if she had made up her mind. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you closer as she leaned towards you, nuzzling her nose into the crook of your neck.

"Careful. Let me see your face," you ordered, cupping her face lightly and turning it towards you. Her eyes were shut but a very faint smile was visible on her bruised lips. You patted the moist cloth on the cut as Kate moaned softly every now and then. You dipped the cloth in water frequently and repeated the process a few times to clean the wound.

"I've got a door, you know?" you finally broke the silence as you picked up the bottle of antiseptic solution and a few cotton pads from the table.

Kate's eyes slowly fluttered open, a subtle smirk now accompanying the mellow smile from earlier. "Yeah, I know," she whispered, her hand reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear as she gently cupped your face, "I like the window better. Much more thrilling," she added, smugly. She leaned forward a little to tenderly press her lips to yours. You very gently reciprocated the action for you didn't want to hurt her but you realised how desperately you missed this. The way she held you ever so gently, the way her warm breath pecked your skin before her lips found yours, the way you felt her grinning as she parted from the kiss.

The corners of your lips had lifted up to form a gentle smile. You exhaled softly before pouring the antiseptic onto the pads. You dabbed the pad gently onto Kate's wound and felt her suppress a groan under her breath.

"This may sting a little," you whispered, examining the cut.

Kate nodded, squeezing her eyes shut but quickly threw her resolve away as you patted the wound with a little more solution. "Motherfu-" she paused but you noticed her fist on your waist that had tightly scrunched up the fabric of your shirt in it. You pulled the pad away but you couldn't help but smile at Kate's gesture. You leaned forward to blow some air at the wound to cool the stinging down a bit. After the wound was clean, you placed a piece of gauge on the cut and held it in place using surgical tape. Finally, you applied an antiseptic ointment on the minor cuts that were scattered all over her face and arms.

Once you had finished patching her up, Kate wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer as she buried her face in the hollows of your neck.

"You've got to be more careful, Katherine," you whispered, caressing her cheek with the tips of your fingers.

"I know," she mumbled into your neck, tightening her grasp on your waist.

"As much as I love what you do, I really don't want you to do something reckless. I don't care what the stakes are," you added, wrapping the roll of gauge back into the casing. The words sounded extremely selfish once you repeated what you just said in your head but now you didn't care. Kate mattered to you and you were going to voice your concern before it was too late.

Kate sat up straight, her sapphire eyes meeting yours. The reminiscence of a deep sorrow was visible in them. Her hand reached up to touch your cheek as she caressed it. The rough surface of her palm gently stroking every inch of your skin.

"You know, people out there need me, love," she smiled a little, trying to hide the sadness in her voice. It had always pained Kate to choose between the two things she adored so dearly in her life. Her work and you.

You simply nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat. A sigh left your lips before you spoke up, "I know, but...I need you too," you whispered, shyly.

A bright smile spread across Kate's face. Her hand cupped the back of your head as she pulled your face closer to hers. Her lips lingered over yours for a while before she broke the silence, "And you have me, love. You always will, I promise," she whispered against your lips before finally pressing her lips to yours. The warmth of her breath felt enticing and pulled you right in. Your lips weaved together as though they were meant to be.

A delicate smile was now visible on your lips as they parted away from Kate's. She giggled before gently touching her forehead to yours. The two of you stayed silent for a while before you spoke up, "Now rest. I'll get you something to eat," you whispered, slowly trying to get up but Kate grabbed your hand and tightly intertwined her fingers with yours.

"No. Stay," she whispered back, squeezing you gently in her arms.

"I won't be long," you replied with a faint smile while cradling her face in your hands.

A sigh left Kate's lips as she loosened her grip on you. She pressed her back on the couch and nodded gently. You smiled before getting up and letting her hand go. You were about to walk out of your room but that's when Kate called out to you, "Y/N," her raspy voice echoed through the confined walls of the room.

You paused in your tracks and turned around. But before you could reply, she continued, "I love you," her eyes were gleaming, her mouth curved into a pleasant smile.

Your face lit up at her words. "Oh, sweetheart, I love you too," you whispered, your voice slightly breaking.

Kate smiled widely at you before dropping her head back on the headrest and closing her eyes. You glanced at her one last time before walking out of your room as you bit your lower lip, trying to hold the tears that had welled up in your eyes from spilling out.

[thegettingbyp2]

Green Cardigan

Johnny Knoxville x reader

Summary: You get cold on set of Jackass so Johnny warms you up.

‘Hey guys,’ I said as I closed my car door and was swept into a hug from Steve-O and Pontius, both of whom had a death-grip around me. ‘Can’t breathe,’ I gasped, laughing and hitting their shoulders lightly until they let me go.

‘Honestly, (Y/N), you need to reign him in,’ Steve-O said, clearly referencing my boyfriend, ‘he’s on a rampage, no one’s safe.’ As he finished speaking, I heard Johnny’s manic laugh quietly in the distance and laughed softly.

‘What’s he doing?’

‘He’s pranking literally everyone, earlier I caught him with that fucking mini-canon he had made for the third film,’ Pontius said which made me laugh again because of how excited he was about the mini-canon when he first had the idea.

‘Then why are we just standing here? Let’s see if we can go and sort him out.’

The three of us started walking towards the set, having a brief catch up as we went. The closer we got, the louder we could hear Johnny laugh and I hid behind Steve-O so Johnny wouldn’t see me straight away. My heart leapt as soon as I saw him; a grin on his face as he was stalking Jeff with a cattle prod, clearly excited.

‘Knoxville!’ Chris yelled over to him, causing Jeff to turn around and catch Johnny in the act and ran out of reach, laughing as Johnny turned to Chris, cattle prod aimed at him.

‘’You’re next for that Pontius,’ he said as she started stalking Chris, grin still on his face.

‘Yeah don’t think you want to do that dude,’ Steve-O said, trying not to smile at his best friend clearly having the time of his life, ‘never know who you could hit.’

‘Between you and Pontius? I’ll take either as a win.’

‘Oh yeah? And what if you get me?’ I asked, stepping out from behind Steve-O. I watched as surprise filled Johnny’s face before he laughed, threw the cattle prod to the ground and ran towards me, sweeping me up into his arms as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

‘What are you doing here doll?’ He asked once he put me down.

‘I finished work early so I thought I’d come and surprise you on set, perfect timing by the sounds of it,’ I said, failing to keep my own smile away as he looked down at me.

‘Just having a bit of fun doll, need to make sure we get good footage after all,’ he grinned before yelling out and slightly falling into me as Jeff shocked him with the cattle prod.

‘Shouldn’t be so distracted Knoxville!’ He called out walking away.

---

I sat next to Jeff as I watched the guys film a few stunts, not noticing the air getting colder until he called cut and everyone got up to set the next stunt ready. As soon as I felt the air around me, I shivered slightly, regretting leaving my jacket in the car as I got up and started toward my car.

‘(Y/N), where are ya going doll?” Johnny called out as he ran after me, dried blood still on his face from the last stunt.

‘To get my jacket from the car,’ I said as he caught up with me and linked our hands together.

‘Why, you cold?’

‘No, actually I’m boiling so I thought I’d go and get my jacket on to get even warmer,’ I replied, sarcasm lacing my voice. Johnny tugged on my arm, bringing the both of us to a standstill.

‘You don’t need your jacket then,’ he said, shrugging off his green Jackass cardigan and wrapping it around my shoulders. I sighed as my nose was instantly filled with the scent of cigarettes and Johnny’s cologne. When he was satisfied that the cardigan was wrapped around my frame tightly enough, he pulled me into him and started rubbing his hands up and down my back and arms, warming me up even more. ‘There, perfect,’ he said, bringing me into a soft kiss.

My hands, covered by the sleeves of his cardigan came up to gently cup his face before pulling away, ‘but now you’ll be cold.’

‘Nah, I’m fine, don’t feel it,’ he said as we made our way back over to set.

‘What were you two kids up to then huh,’ Dave said as me and Johnny came around the corner, hand in hand. They had clearly given up with filming for the day as they were all sitting around a fire, beers in hand.

‘He’s taken off the sacred cardigan,’ Steve-O said in mock horror, walking over, handing Johnny a beer and me a coffee, knowing I’d be the one driving home.

‘It’ll be the sunglasses and converse next mark my words,’ Jeff replied.

‘Fuck off all of you, my lady was cold dipshits,’ Johnny laughed as we re-joined everyone, Johnny keeping me close with his arm around my waist for the rest of the evening, keeping me warm.

[shipperneko]

So uhm…I wrote a fic for what happened to Bakugo after he collapsed on the battlefield. It has a few theories in it and it was mainly just a way for me to calm down and get some fluff.

So here you go.

‼️ Manga spoilers ‼️

Note: :0 means a curse word lol

“Kacchan?”

Katsuki felt a small tapping on his shoulder.

“Are you awake?”

Crimson eyes struggled to open, blinking in the sudden bright light that surrounded him.

“Oh good. I was getting worried.”

Bakugo looked around. They were sitting on a large mossy log above a running river. As he glanced to his left, he saw curly green hair perched on top of a chubby, freckled face.

“I-”

He cut him off, hugging him so tightly as if Izuku was the last thing that dwelled in Bakugo’s soul. In fact, maybe he was.

His voice came out raspy and pained. “Am I dead?”

“In a way. Your heart stopped.”

Izuku smiled so that his freckles scrunched up and made Kacchan’s heart flutter.

“But you can come back. I need you.”

The blonde’s eyes welled up with tears. “Is he-I mean you-are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay, why would you think I wasn’t?” His happy smile came across as morbid and sad.

Without another thought, Katsuki grabbed his hand.

They sat like that for long minutes, fingers interlaced, solemnity weighing the air around them.

“When you go-”

“What do you mean?” His brow furrows. “When I go?”

“Well…yeah. You have to go back.”

“I don’t see why! It’s perfect here. I have you.”

“Katsuki.”

Oh :0. This can’t be good, he thought.

“Right now you’re laying on the ground in the middle of a huge war.”

“So what? They can win without me.”

“And what about me?”

Bakugo threw his arms in the air. “What the :0 are you talking about, Izuku?!”

“I’m not real, and I desperately need your help.”

“Hold on a minute, I asked you if you were okay a while ago!”

“Oh I thought you meant me as in me in your head.”

Bakugo cursed under his breath. “I have to go then.”

“Yes. You do.”

“How?”

“You’ll figure it out. I trust you.”

His grip on Bakugo’s hand tightened.

“He’ll never know this ever happened. Right?”

“Right. Unless you tell him, but knowing you, you never will.”

Deku’s emerald hair bounced in the breeze. With a sudden burst of confidence, he blurted out the words,

“I love you.”

Even this Izuku who didn’t even exist, flushed bright red at the soft words of the boy next to him.

“Promise me something, Kacchan.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll tell him. After the war is over, after everything is done…tell him. Please.”

His head lowered. “He’ll take it well?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.”

The blood red sun set in front of them, framed by huge trees. This place, although magnificently beautiful, brought back painful memories.

“I’m so sorry for not taking your hand back when we were kids.”

“That was a long time ago, Kacchan. It’s okay.”

“Time doesn’t erase.”

“But it heals. Scars just show how much we’ve grown, and I think you’ve grown the most out of all of us.”

Katsuki opened his mouth to thank him, when the echoey sound of a voice calling to him reverberated around the false world.

“It’s time.”

“But I-”

“Tell me. Go back and tell me.”

The world dissolved into a blank reddish black right before his eyes. The voices got closer and closer, and his blood began to boil. Literally. Something was happening inside of him. Something new. Was this a quirk awakening? Was this what Izuku had told he’d figure out?

Bakugo didn’t have the answer. All he had was one phrase. One word. The word that had consumed his entire life.

Izuku

Thank you @skelle404 for being my beta ^^ I rlly appreciated it

[cowboyb1ues]

Bowl’n’fun

I don’t know any bowling terms, so I’m sorry if I’ve offended the entire bowling community but this is literally my dream date so idc.

P.S. it’s kind of a hot mess so I’m sorry in advance lol. A fic about tipsy bowling with your new boyfriend and finding it hard to concentrate with how good he looks under the fluorescent lights. Mason Mount x fem!reader (3.1k)

My masterlist :)

The fluorescent lights were shining brightly over your heads as the sound of laughter, balls hitting the wooden floor and pins falling over sounded through the room.

You were sitting slumped over in your chair while watching Mason do a little pump into the air with his fist as he got his second strike in a row. You could feel a small scowl making its way on to your face as he turned around and spread his arms out confidently to the sides as he walked back to where you were sitting.

“Two times in a row baby,” he proclaimed, his bowling shoes squeaking on the shiny floors.

“It’s just dumb luck,” you countered before standing up and taking a sip of the drink you had standing on the small table. You moved over to the machine to get your blue bowling bowl before getting into position by the line.

“Whatever it takes to make you feel better,” he boasted as he sat down in his seat, his jeans clad legs spread as he sipped his beer.

You turned back to look at him and gave him a slight roll of your eyes before turning back to the lane. You rolled your shoulders back slightly and let out a deep breath. You rolled the bowling ball and jumped in joy when you only missed the three pins at the very top.

“I’m coming for you,” you said to him as you waited for your ball to return and he only shrugged in response while drinking from the plastic cup.

“I’m not too worried,” he hummed as you turned back to the lane. He leaned further back in his chair with a cocky smile on his face.

You mimicked his words and let go of the ball and shrieked with joy when you got a spare. You threw your arms in the air and turned back to your still fairly new boyfriend. He just pursed his lips before downing the remnants of his beer and stood up to take your spot at the end of the lane.

He gave your ass a gentle tap and you threw him a small glare over your shoulder. He just smiled innocently at you as he shrugged his shoulders. His cheeks were covered in a dusting of pink and you couldn’t pinpoint if it was from the heat of the bowling alley, his hoodie or the beers he’d been drinking all night or a solid combination of all three. His hair was fluffed up slightly from his hands running through it when he had missed the pins or when you had gotten a particular good round.

You finished the last of your drink and leaned back against the plastic table instead of taking a seat in the chair you had claimed as yours for the evening.

Mason grabbed his ball and got into position behind the line. He lifted the bowling ball up to his chest and took a deep breath and scrunched his nose as if he was about to do a penalty kick.

Just as he was about to let go of the ball you let out a big fake cough and watched in silent glee as the ball landed in the gutter and rolled down to the end at a slow pace.

Mason slowly turned to you, eyebrows furrowed and a light glare forming in his eyes. He lifted his hand and pointed his finger at you as he took slow steps towards you, his frame looming over you as he got closer.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he said and shook his finger as he pointed at you.

“What?” you shrugged your shoulders innocently and smiled the closer he got to you. You turned around and gathered the plethora of plastic cups the two of you had gathered over the course of the evening.

You felt him come up behind you and place his head right next to yours over your left shoulder.

“I never took you for a dirty cheater,” he grumbled and pinched slightly at your waist, causing you to shriek and jump away from him to escape his nipping fingers.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said and threw the tower of cups in a nearby trash can. You walked back over to him and planted yourself firmly in front of him.

“Oh really?” he asked incredulously, eyebrows raised at your antics.

“I’m as innocent as can be,” you moved to wrap your arms around his hoodie covered waist to bask in warmth that seemed to constantly radiate off of him. He took a step back when he saw you raise your arms and he rolled his eyes at your innocent behaviour.

“So that conveniently loud cough you let out when I was about to fire the ball was a complete accident?” he took another step back when you tried to move closer to him.

“Of course baby,” you said with a small smile on your lips. You finally got your arms wrapped around his waist and leaned your head against his chest.

You waited patiently for him to wrap his own arms around you, and smiled contentedly and closed your eyes when you felt his strong arms wrap around your shoulders.

“You’re a little tease,” he muttered into the material of your own knitted jumper. You turned your head and pressed your nose softly against his cheek. He turned his head from where it was buried in your shoulder to look into your eyes and you were sure he caught a quick glimpse of the mischief running through them.

You tipped your head slightly to press a small kiss to his lips all while being tangled up in his embrace. You pulled your head back and smiled to yourself when he followed your lips and seeked them out to get another small kiss.

“A little tease who’s about to beat your ass,” you hummed against his lips. He pulled away abruptly, distangeling his limbs from yours and changed his expression from one of adoration to a scowl of discontent.

“In your dreams sweetheart,” he said as he straightened up and squared his shoulders slightly.

You just shook your head at his competitiveness and leaned back against the small table that you had previously abandoned. “Do you want another drink?” you asked as he picked up a ball and got back into position.

“Yes please,” he said without turning around to look at you. You left to get the drinks but rolled your eyes when you heard his celebratory yell.

You looked over your shoulder to see he had managed to knock down nine out of ten pins. You ordered the drinks at the small bar and turned back to him as you waited and saw him throw you a mocking look as he pointed to the scoreboard to show you that he was in fact still far ahead of you.

You just sent him an unimpressed look before flipping him off before thanking the bartender as you grabbed Mason’s beer and your own drink.

“Maybe I should have pursued bowling instead of football,” he said as you came back to your small corner. He took his beer from your hand and took a rather big sip before setting it down on the table.

You scrunch your nose at him and patted his stomach softly before moving past him to take your shot. “It sounds hotter to be a professional footballer than a professional bowler though,” you said as you stuck your fingers into the three holes.

“You would still have agreed to that first date if I was a bowler, don’t lie,” he smirked as he sat down in his chair, one of his legs folded over his other knee. He placed his hands on the back of his head and took you in as you prepared to throw the ball. He smiled a little to himself at the size of your sweater and how it completely swallowed your upper body and how the horrendous bowling shoes in no way shape or form matched your outfit. The fluorescent lights were making your eyes glimmer in a way that he desperately wished to photograph and stash away forever.

“Would I though?” you teased as you fired your ball. You watched with anticipation as it took down all of the pins and turned around to look at him. He was still looking at the bottom of the lane where the pins were being set up for his turn and he shook his head slightly. “I think it was the footballer part that convinced me.”

He huffed and puffed his chest out slightly as he got out of his seat once again. He walked up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist and turned you slightly so the other people at the bowling alley couldn’t see how he hid his hands in the back pockets of your jeans.

He squeezed you into him and looked down at you with his deep honey eyes. You let your own hands rest on his hoodie covered chest and rubbed comforting circles over the soft material. You closed your eyes slowly, the smell of his aftershave and the smell that you had now catalogued just as Mason washed over you like tidal waves under the bright lights.

“How do you manage to look pretty under these lights?” he asked softly as he tilted his head slightly to the side and you opened your eyes to see his own brown eyes mimicking those of a puppy.

You reached a hand up and rubbed your thumb over his booze flushed cheek, smiling at the way the flashing lights were dancing in his glassy eyes. He hummed slightly and tilted his head a bit towards you as you leaned up and pressed a kiss to the skin you had previously been caressing.

“I could ask you the same question,” you said and moved your head back so you could watch his face once again. “You’re making it hard to concentrate.”

“Good,” he teased and slipped one of his hands out from your back pocket so he could snake it under your jumper and rub soft circles on the bare skin of your back. “I don’t feel like losing, I still have to impress you.”

You laughed at his words and threw your head back and squeezed your eyes shut when you felt him rub his face against your neck, the bristle of his beard tickling the soft skin.

“We’ve been dating for two months, I don’t think you need to impress me anymore Mount,” you jabbed back but moved your hand up to softly run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Who knows,” he shrugged with his head still buried against you and you felt his lips brushing your skin as he talked, “maybe you’ll up and leave me for the next professional bowler you stumble across.”

You slapped your hand against the back of his neck making him pull away abruptly with a small frown and a look of disbelief painted across his handsome features. “What the fuck was that for?” he laughed and snapped the band of your bra as revenge causing you to cringe away from him but to no avail.

“I’m not leaving you for a professional bowler idiot,” you mumbled and still tried to get away but were trapped by his strong arms that were still wrapped around your frame. “I’ll at least wait until after our three month anniversary.”

“Oh lucky me,” he said before finally letting you go and moved to retrieve his designated bowling ball for the evening.

He sent you back over to the seating area with a pat on your ass and you gave him a small innocent smile as you sat down. He turned back to the lane and fired his ball and threw his head back in a groan when it landed in the gutter.

“What was that about becoming a professional bowler again,” you teased over the rim of your cup and laughed loudly at the glare Mason threw your way as he prepared himself for his second go.

“Shut it,” he mumbled and turned back with his penalty face once again in place. This time he managed to get three pins but he still let out a string of swears as he moved to slump back in his chair.

“Baby,” you cooed and pressed a kiss to his pouting lips. “It’s okay, you’re still hot even if you suck at bowling.”

He pulled at a lock of your hair as you stood up for your go and grinned satisfactory when you let out a little yelp. He laughed a little when he heard you mumble ‘fucker’ under your breath.

He took a big drink of his beer and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees as he watched you fire the ball only for it to also end up in the gutter just like his.

You turned around with a scrunched up face and Mason laughed loudly as he watched you trudge over to get the second ball.

“Aw baby,” he mimicked the tone you had used just moments before, a mocking pout replacing his teasing grin, “it’s okay, you’re still hot even if you suck at bowling.”

You rolled your eyes at him before firing the second ball and taking out eight of the pins this time. You turned back to him and pointed to the scoreboard above you, Mason’s shoulders sagging the slightest bit when he saw that you were hot in his heels. “I’m both hot and good at bowling,” you boasted before downing your drink, the bitter taste resulting in your nose scrunching up.

“People don’t like people who gloat,” Mason grumbled before getting up and taking his ball from the machine.

“Ha!” you exclaimed sitting back as your boyfriend prepared to make his tenth and final shot, “you’re one to talk.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said with his back still turned to you, “I’m the most humble person ever.”

“Oh right,” you said and watched him fire his ball and knock out most of the pins, “so who was it that tried to impress me with his football accomplishments on our second date?”

He turned to you and raised his hands in fake confusion and his eyes wide with innocence, “I don’t know, must have been your other boyfriend.”

“Nah, he just brags about being a professional bowler,” you fired back as he positioned himself to take his last and final shot.

He scoffed at your words before taking a few steps and let go of the ball, successfully taking down the remaining standing pins.

“Soon this boyfriend will as well,” he said as he came to sit down next to you and pressed a small kiss to your shoulder before you moved to finish the game.

“I prefer when he talks about football to be honest,” you mumbled softly to yourself and took a deep breath before letting go of the ball. You held your breath as you watched it roll down the lane and you jumped and shrieked in glee when you got a strike. “Ha ha!” you laughed at Mason before rushing over to get another ball to shoot again.

You knocked down quite a few pins on the second round and you raised your arms up in the air and threw your head back in elation when you saw that you had successfully beaten Mason, even with only a few points.

“I think I’m the professional bowler in this relationship,” you smiled around your words and it only widened when you saw Mason walk over to you with his shoulders low and a slight frown.

“Whatever,” he said and hugged you around your waist, “I let you win anyway.”

You wrapped your raised arms around his neck and swayed the two of you slightly from side to side, “whatever you say baby.”

You stood like that for a few more moments before you parted and started to pack up. Mason led you with his hand in yours over to the place where you returned the God-awful bowling shoes and he helped you with getting your arms through the sleeves of your coat in your slightly drunken state.

You walked out of the bowling alley hand in hand, cheeks ablaze from the alcohol and the ever growing adoration between you.

The evening wind outside helped to cool you down a bit as Mason ordered an Uber to take you home while you were leaning against him while watching the cars pass by.

“Uber’s here in about ten minutes,” he whispered, not wanting to startle you in your intoxicated state.

“Sweet,” you mumbled and twisted around so your back was against his chest with his arms clasped around your shoulders with his head resting next to yours.

“You’re still coming to the game on Thursday?” he said quietly in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You nodded your head and lifted your hands so you could give his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “I managed to get someone to take my shift, so I’m all yours.”

“I like the sound of that,” he growled in your ear and you jolted when you felt his teeth bite slightly into the skin of your neck.

You stood in silence for a while, softly swaying along with the breeze that danced around you. You leaned your head back to rest against Mason’s shoulder and closed your eyes, letting yourself be consumed by the ever growing affection that you felt for him.

“My parents are also going to the game,” he suddenly said and your eyes opened quickly and you turned your head to look at his profile as he continued to look out onto the barren street. “And they have asked if they can meet you,” he mumbled ever so slightly, a blush you couldn’t contribute to the cold or the alcohol dusting over his cheekbones and the tips of his ears.

“I would love to meet them, Mase,” you reassured him and pressed a kiss to his flaming cheekbone.

“Really?” he asked and turned so that he could look into your eyes. You knew how much his family meant to him, having heard an uncountable amount of stories about his childhood and how they almost did everything together. He even went ahead and sent you pictures of Summer every time they had been together over the past few months.

“Of course,” you hummed and pressed a final kiss to his cheek before turning your eyes back to the road, “I have to tell them how shit their son is at bowling.”

“Oi!”

[salazarslytherin]

winner, loser. (j.p x y/n)

summary: james is determined to prove he is anything but a loser (ft. brother’s best friend james, the hockey player 😁)

🃛 masterlist

cw/tw: smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, overstimulation, slight dumbification

word count: 2.5k

a/n: inspired by me and @acosmis-t's convo about the best friend's brother/brother's best friend trope. also i literally NEVER proof read so please do not roast me if there are mistakes <3 reblog to boost please xxx

tag list at the bottom ☯︎ join tag list here

“Imagine losing a game when you’re only a point off. Not a very good goalie, are we, James?”

“You suck, loser.”

Famous last words, huh.

That simple teasing quip spiralled into your brother’s best friend angrily rebuking you in the middle of their hockey team’s afterparty.

Your brother had long left the pair of you, instead, gone to play beer pong with a couple of the others. None of their friends was able to dissuade James from his chastising.

“…I’m an excellent goalie by the way! It’s just not my fault that Snape is a cheater…”

The bespectacled boy could tell that nothing he said was convincing you. You leaned on the kitchen counters smiling at him, almost mockingly. With every upturn of your lips, the brunet’s eye seemed to twitch. With every exhale of near-laughter, his fists clenched.

James Potter was anything but a loser.

And he was determined to prove it.

⚔︎.

You weren’t sure how it ended up this way, from James angrily gesturing and yelling about hockey plays, splashes of his scotch and soda spilling onto you with each exaggerated movement, to you sitting atop the granite counter in the guest bathroom, the hockey player tucked between your legs, devouring your lips as music thrummed throughout your house.

Calloused fingers pushed your t-shirt up, exploring your torso carelessly as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, teeth clashing against teeth, but the boy didn’t care.

Anger fuels tonight’s expedition.

James’s lips detach from yours for a brief moment, muttering a slightly breathless “take it off” as he lets go of your shirt.

His own came off in return, your eyes scanning his chest as he did yours, both of you reaching out to feel the other.

Muscles like detailing in a sculpture, the boy was David in glasses, only, his marbling was littered with specks of scars, left behind from games and fights with opposing teams.

Your bra fell from your shoulders, James tossing it haphazardly behind him as the padded cotton was replaced with warmth, his large hands cupping your bosom instantly. A moan echoed off the walls as his lips latched onto your collarbone, biting down hard as he squeezed your tits. It’s like you were made for each other — the flesh perfectly encapsulated in the goalie’s large hands.

Swarmed with nips and growls along your shoulders and beyond, there was no way you were wearing anything more revealing than a t-shirt for a few days, your hands found their way to James’s jeans, hooking your fingers into the belt loops as you pulled at them, trying to undo the denim.

In an instant, all contact was lost, James’s toned body pulling away from you as you whimpered, suddenly feeling the cold from the granite and the aircon seeping through the cracks under the door tenfold.

The thumping bass from the music was the only indication of time passing as you and James simply watched each other, memorising the way the hazel swirled in those irises.

Warmth returned as a hand landed on your thigh, squeezing it slightly as the hockey player hooked his other hand into your shorts, eyebrow raising as he awaited any protest. Finding a lack of any seeming disagreement, his hand moved from your thigh to your ass, pushing up slightly as you followed suit, lifting your hips so he could pull your bottoms off.

Sinking down onto his knees, James gripped your thighs tight, the calluses on his palms rubbing your inner thighs as he spread you open. You blushed as he saw you, all of you, the cold air in the room shocking your nipples juxtaposed by the warm air of James’s breath on your cunt.

You could feel yourself getting wet at the feeling, turning impossibly red as James chuckled, teeth grazing your inner thigh. Fingers caressed your lower lips, and you scrambled for the edges of the counter in shock as the goalie’s tongue darted out, the tip dragging along your slit. Gasping as James’s tongue dragged up to your clit, your fingers fumbled along the smooth surface to find something, anything, to hold onto. Sucking on your clit, the bespectacled boy hummed along to the song playing outside, his forefinger slipping inside of you.

Your hips bucked as James fucked you with his finger, your walls somehow already stretching around the long appendage. His lips detached from your clit as he removed his finger, feeling your slick flowing out of you as you whined at the loss of contact.

“Relax, princess.” The goalie’s tone was mocking, but you found yourself growing wet at the hypocorism, pouting at the tall boy as he grinned at you.

“Now, pay close attention.”

What the fuck is he talking about-

Oh my fucking god.

James’s lips landed back on your cunt, his tongue landing flat on your lips as he licked a wide stripe upwards, sucking tightly on your clit with a slurping sound so loud you were certain that people would have heard it if the music were just a tad softer. The appendage quickly began flicking at your clit, seemingly drawing shapes on the bundle of nerves. With each flick and each movement, your hips bucked upwards uncontrollably, hands unable to find a grip on the counter and threading the fingers in the boy’s hair instead.

In the midst of your lust-filled daze, you realised that James wasn’t just tracing aimless circles on your cunt.

Instead, he seemed to be drawing something.

Maybe this was what he wanted you to pay attention to.

You tried your best to figure out what exactly James was doing, but three strokes in you were gone. Your eyes shut close as you threw your head back, hitting the wall slightly but you couldn’t care less.

James Potter’s head was between your legs right now. You highly doubted you’d care even if the house collapsed on your heads right now.

Actually, you would. Because that meant you wouldn’t feel James on you anymore.

Your legs began to shake as your walls fluttered around nothing, faintly registering James drawing something like a snake on your cunt. Blubbering incoherently, your thighs closed around James’s head, fingers gripping the hairs as you pulled on the strands, orgasm rippling throughout your body.

Licking his lips, James pulled away from your cunt, a brow raised at you.

“I was barely halfway through.”

Your chest heaved as you recuperated from your orgasm, head leaning against the ornate mirror frame as you felt each and every thump of the heavy bass ring out through the house.

“Do you know what I told you to pay attention to?”

In the midst of a post-orgasmic fog, you barely caught onto the words that James had said. Instead, you noticed the way the boy’s lips glistened with your slick, nodding despite yourself.

“Well then princess, what was it?”

The question caught you off guard, your eyes blinking rapidly as you tried to figure out what James had been doing.

“Um, were you drawing something?”

Your voice was timid, clearly uncertain of your answer, aware that it was either wrong or not what he wanted you to say.

The goalie cooed mockingly, his hand coming to tilt your chin and face him, a kiss landing on your lips, smearing you with the taste of your own nectar.

“All shy now, princess? What happened to the smart girl telling me how ‘m a bad player earlier? Dumb girl can barely take my tongue without falling apart, hmm?”

You whined as James’s hand travelled down to your tit again, squeezing it as he kissed the sweet spot behind your ear, sucking gently. Satisfied with his handiwork, James pulled away, nibbling on your earlobe before whispering,

“Pay better attention this time.”

Fingers trailed from your bosom down to your cunt, rubbing against it as his lips traced a path down the valley of your breasts, your slick drawing a line down your front as your hips bucked, James’s finger pushing inside of you once more.

The feeling of his tongue back against your clit made your back arch, all thoughts in your head evaporating at the contact. Your eyes fluttered shut as James went back to drawing, no, writing?, the inane puzzle he so desperately wanted you to unravel.

A second finger joined the first and you squealed, unintentionally joining the music outside in harmony as your hands flew to grip onto James’s hair once more, the stretch in your walls a welcomed stranger.

You could feel the rim of his glasses grazing your pelvis, the cold metal a jolting reminder that this was James, your brother’s best friend here in all his glory.

Flesh and blood, his heat became yours with every movement.

Your cunt was already sensitive from your first orgasm, and the goalie’s fervent movements didn’t help at all.

His fingers pumped in and out of you relentlessly, curling at the boy’s leisure as you let out a scream with each movement. His tongue flicked at your nub, each stroke reminding you that you had a ‘task’ at hand, but the pleasure rendered you incapable of completing it.

The boy was right. He really had fucked you dumb already.

Your walls clenched around James’s fingers as your orgasm peaked, his tongue moving inhumanely fast as every move taunted you. Your legs shook as James pulled his fingers out of you, gripping your thighs as his canvas enlarged, writing whatever he had to say all over your cunt as you rode out your orgasm.

Your eyelids felt heavy as your legs twitched around James’s slowly retreating body. In your blurred vision, you could see his handsome face nearing you, tongue skimming his bottom lip as your nectar dripped off his chin.

Your heart beat in rhythm with the bass rumbling under your body, James’s brow lifting, almost as if he was bored of the whole ordeal.

“So, what was it? I almost finished this time, I’m sure a smart girl like you can figure it out.”

Your mouth ran dry as your fog riddled mind scrambled to come up with an answer, opening and closing as you fought to expel some sort of coherent thought.

“Um, you were, um, writing something?”

The hockey player huffed in amusement, fingers swiping at his chin as he collected your slick on them, one hand cupping your jaw as the other prodded at your lips. Your mouth fell open at the slight contact, too far gone to even consider what James was doing.

You’d take anything he gave you at this point.

The boy cooed as you welcomed his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them amenably.

“Princess is taking my fingers so well, hmm? But poor dumb Y/N can’t even figure out what I was writing.”

James’s grip around your chin tightened at his words, making your jaw fall open.

“Guess you need to feel it again. And pay even better attention.”

The words made your hooded eyes snap open, whining around his fingers as you shook your head, the thought of a third orgasm making you shudder.

“N-no, James no more. Can’t take it, please.”

A calloused thumb rubbed circles on your jaw, the boy’s eyebrow raising and the corner of his mouth turning upwards at the sound of your pleading.

“Need to prove to you I’m not a loser though, princess. You were so adamant that I suck, gotta prove to you that I don’t, hmm?”

His hands traced down your body once more, settling on your thighs as he spread them, ready to prove himself to you. But you kept your thighs together as best you could, shaking your head beseechingly.

“Please, I-I’m sorry James, I didn’t mean it, I was wrong. You don’t suck. Y-you’re, um, you’re a winner. Not a loser. A winner.”

James’s eyes glinted from behind the dark frames, his hands stopping their prying at your frantic words.

“Say that again.”

Your thighs slackened, looking into the brunet’s eyes.

“You’re a winner.”

A smirk grew on James’s lips, pink tongue darting outwards to wet his lips, not that they weren’t already drenched in your nectar.

“That’s it, princess.”

His face moved back closer towards yours, breath ghosting your lips as his body hovered over yours, one hand moving to the band of his pants.

“James Potter is a winner.”

The taste of the goalie’s lips was addictive, maybe the fact that he was covered in your arousal made him more desirable, but you were entranced by it. Your hands came to cup the sides of his face as his pulled at his pants, unbuttoning the jeans and pulling them down to his midthigh. James’s tongue slotted deep within your mouth, swallowing your moans as his hands tucked under your knees, gripping tightly as he pulled you flush against him.

“D’you think you can take one more, princess?”

You whined at the brief loss of contact, pulling the goalie’s lips back against your own, the older boy chuckling at your desperation. James’s hand pumped at his shaft as he kissed you back, lip teasing your bottom lip as his tip did your lower lips.

You gasped around James’s tongue as he pushed into you fully, your cunt unbelievably sensitive from your previous two orgasms. The goalie bottomed out as his hand came back to catch your thigh, your legs wrapped around the hockey player’s toned waist. You bit down on James’s bottom lip as he pulled out of you slowly, his arms holding the bulk of your body weight, the veins in his arms protruding like strokes on a canvas.

As James thrust in and out of you with steady strokes, you could distinctly feel the cold granite digging into your lower back, a bruise definitely to be left behind in the morning. But you couldn’t care less, your mind only occupied with the feeling of James’s cock inside of you.

With each thrust, all James could hear was the sound of blades against the ice, sticks hitting sticks, spurring him to move his hips quicker.

James Potter was a winner.

And no one was allowed to say otherwise.

Your walls tightened around James’s cock, unable to hold out even a second longer, the overstimulation quickly pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your nails dug into the boy’s shoulders, his digging into your thighs as your walls fluttered, eyes rolling back as you came on James’s cock.

You collapsed around the boy, his hips still thrusting as your arms slung around his neck, head lulling as you felt him groan, cock twitching inside of you as he spilt his seed. Your eyes remained half-closed as James shifted you to sit properly on the counter, pulling out from inside of you.

⚔︎.

“Now that’s what we call a hat trick. Three goals in one game, pretty impressive, wouldn’t you say?”

A laugh bubbled out of your mouth, proper judgement escaping your fog-riddled mind.

“You’re such a loser.”

A hand gripped your chin tightly, tilting your face up to face his.

“I’m a winner, do you need me to prove it again?”

You shook your head at the boy, spluttering and speechless at the thought of anything more.

“You’re a winner, I’m sorry.”

James let go of your chin, petting your jaw lightly.

“Good girl. Now, do you think you can go back to the party, or do you want me to carry you to your room, princess?”

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[berryflops]

" history " | part two

masterlist | word count: 1330 | warnings: fluff, angst, brief mentions of an accident?

authors note: fair warning, the series will be based off scenes in the show with elements of the books. every single scene will come from the show unless it is a made-up flashback, and if something is mentioned that you don't understand please let me know, so i can let you know if it was a mistake or if it was in the book :)

I picked up my empty suitcase and threw it onto the top shelf in my closet. I wouldn’t need it for a while. I brushed my hands together to remove any dirt before jumping on my bed. I was splayed across the newly spread comforter and I closed my eyes for a moment.

Being in Cousins again was always the same. The little feeling of giddy nostalgia when I opened my bedroom door. Feeling a stab at my stomach when I looked into the family room, old pictures hung up all over. I hadn’t been back in two years, yet everything here was frozen in time.

Only the people weren’t.

I sat up and crawled towards the window, looking out to see two figures I would have recognized to matter what. A brunette and a blonde were racing towards the sea, both of them carrying towels that flew behind them. Belly ran into the water, Jere tackling her as he joined. I remembered when Jere had woken me up for an early morning swim one time.

My heart stopped, quite literally, when I felt someone shake me awake. I opened my eyes, ready to start screaming, and yet the face in front of me was familiar. Blonde curls framed a small face, blue eyes glittering no matter the early time in the morning.

“Can you swim with me, Sammy?” Jeremiah asked, his lips curling up into a smile when he saw I’d opened my eyes. I groaned, falling back and pulling my covers over my body. “Please,” he stretched out the word, a little sing-song tone taking on his voice. Even a ten-year-old Jeremiah knew I would do anything for him.

I threw the covers off me. “Five more minutes.” I grumbled, letting him fall next to me. I curled up towards him, my legs tangling with his. I remember his laugh, a twinkling sound, almost magical to my ears. I loved Jeremiah’s laugh.

“Come on, let’s go.” He’d hauled me up, given me a few minutes to change, then quietly helped me creep out. Houses in Cousins were never locked, but only Jeremiah would actually use my back door.

We’d ran towards the sea, adrenaline pumping through me at the cool air. It was the perfect summer morning. The breeze was light and the sunrise had melted into orange and pink. The weather was warm enough that we wouldn’t freeze the moment we got out. Jeremiah had picked a nice day to ruin my beauty sleep.

We played games in the water all morning until breakfast, and even when we walked into the Beck house soaked to the skin, the smiles on our faces were irreversible, because they had spread to our eyes.

Susannah had invited Tate and I over for dinner that night, and we accepted happily. Angela held my hand even while sitting at the dinner table, but I didn’t mind. She was my little princess. Our dad was still out shopping, but he never really came over unless the dads were here. Talking to Susannah and Laurel reminded him too much of our mom.

Steven and Jeremiah were laughing over something on Steven’s phone, and it was getting on Laurel’s last nerve. “Steven, I swear to God, if you don’t put that phone away this instant I will put it in the screen basket.”

I’d always liked Laurel. She was no-nonsense, always stating facts and truths. I loved her for it. My mom had adored Laurel the same way Susannah had. Everyone who got to know her did. Laurel did most of the parenting when it came to us all, and I don’t think any of us except for Belly and Steven would have wanted it any other way.

“It’s just, we want to see your beautiful faces.” Susannah flourished. Susannah had a way of easing tension, making everyone believe what she said. She had a way of talking that was almost magical. “Can dinner be a screen-free zone. You know, like the olden days?” She joked in a way we would understand, taking a sip of her wine. Angela smiled at her and Susannah grinned back.

Jeremiah looked over at Steven. “Steven!” He stole his friend’s phone, grabbing it and over-exaggerating as he shot like a free throw. His form was pretty decent, put I would never tell him that.

“Dude, are you kidding me!” Steven exclaimed.

Jeremiah laughed. “Boom! Nailed it.”

I looked over at him. “Watch your supporting hand.” I pointed out. Jeremiah grinned at me, sitting back down as a smile overtook his features. God, that smile.

“Okay, okay we get it. You’ve been working out.” Steven rolled his eyes, always jokingly bitter that he was probably the weakest out of us all.

Belly chuckled. “Oh, you’re just jealous because Jere has a better body than you.” She winked at me and I kicked her foot under the table, easily finding it.

Steven made a face. “Uh, no, it’s actually all about the lean look now. Otherwise you can’t wear tailored suits.” He gestured towards his body and Tate laughed under his breathe.

“Sure, buddy, sure.” He patted him on the shoulder. I smirked at the two as everyone giggled at their nonsense. I’d missed them, these people that were my family.

“Tailored suits.” Conrad smiled for the first time all night. He’d been off recently, acting weird. I could tell, although I didn’t know if Belly or Steven had noticed.

Steven glanced at him. “When are you leaving for training camp, man?” I winced. Conrad had quit. I remember he’d texted me that night. It was the first time I replied in a long while. Everyone went silent, awkwardly.

Jeremiah looked down at his plate. “He quit football.” Everyone was in utter silence now, Tate, Steven and Belly taking in their information.

“Wait, really? You quit?” Steven looked lost as he gathered his words. Conrad nodded. “Are you kidding me, man. I’d kill to play collage ball.” Angela tugged on my hand, and I knew she wanted to leave. I looked down at her, holding up a finger to give me a minute.

“He can always change his mind.” Susannah said meaningfully, looking at her eldest son.

Conrad’s face went blank. “I’m not gonna change my mind.” He looked at Steven. “I was just gonna sit on the bench all season anyway.”

I started piling Angela’s food on top of mine to stack the plates. Tate looked at me questioningly and I gestured to our sister. I knew he’d stay, but he would worry if he didn’t know why we left.

Laurel attempted to fix up the conversation. “Well, if you’re not playing football anymore, what are you gonna do all summer?” Before Steven could add a bit of information, I stood up and picked up Angela.

“We’re gonna go, Angie’s tired. Thanks so much for dinner, Susannah.” I kissed the top of her head, waving goodbye at everyone before hurrying out. I could hear the arguing as I left but I’d spent too much of my energy. I didn’t think coming back to Cousins without her would be so hard.

I opened my phone up to our group chat with Conrad, Steven, Tate, and Jeremiah. A few years ago, the boys always left Belly out, because she was a girl, and she was younger. I was Jere’s age, a bit older. Steven and Conrad didn’t mind me tagging along, and I was friends with everyone they knew. We hadn’t talked much recently. We mostly used it because we lived next door, but the two years we hadn’t come our crew had stayed in the same house.

sam

first bonfire night?

jeremiah fisher

like always, princess

tater tot

quit flirting with my sister

we'll meet you at the house in ten

I put down my phone and opened my closet, twirling around. The first bonfire of the year. I guess our first real summer in a while would start with a bang.