#and Michael would be beaming just as hard as he is here

[ingravinoveritas]

Starting a petition from now for David and Michael with their dyed vibrant Crowley and blond Aziraphale hair to walk on the red carpet of the BAFTAs next year exactly like this...

[rindreamery]

to be loved is to be seen.

the little things that the blue lock men do for you as their way of saying, "i love you." featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, oliver aiku ─ content: fluff

note. spreading down bad bllk men agenda 🫦 finals is this week, so that means i will not be able to write at all for 3-4 days, so i just wanted to pop this out rlly quickly (event fics will be written as soon as i wrap up this sem, PROMISE)

itoshi rin picks out the things you don't like in your food.

not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but rin has a folder in his notes app about you— things you like, things you dislike, and every little thing you’ve mentioned to him in passing. he wants to know every little detail about you, to write it down and memorize it until the knowledge becomes stuck in the back of his head. to the point that it becomes like common sense to him (if there were ever a pop quiz on facts about you, he would pass with flying colors.) at the end of every date, or every time he hangs out with you, he’ll update his notes with another little thing he’d learned. you will never catch him admitting it out loud, but it definitely shows in how he treats you.

there is one thing he’d memorized about you, by now, though. it’s written in bold, italicized, and underlined in his notes: you hate mushrooms. 

rin catches himself looking at the ingredients of certain meals whenever the two of you would eat at a new restaurant, or order food from an unfamiliar place. it’s not that he’s necessarily a picky eater because, frankly, he really doesn’t care. but he wants you to enjoy it, he wants you to be able to eat without stressing about having to pick it out. his eyes are always scanning through the print, actively checking if mushrooms are one of the ingredients listed. 

but, there are times when the ingredients aren’t listed, and there are times when you end up ordering something with mushrooms in it. 

he may be dense in certain aspects, but it’s hard for him to miss the disappointed look on your face. the way your expression falls ever so slightly, and your smile falters for half a second. before you could dig in, before you could even put yourself through five minutes of digging through the food— he’s swiftly grabbing it from you. 

truthfully, he does it without thinking. he’s acting on his thoughts before he could even process what he’s doing. rin tries to fight the blush that threatens to form on his cheeks, the way the heat crawls up his neck and to his face at the realization of what he’d done, and he fails. but he’s committed to the act now, and he’s not going to give it back to you until he’s done what he needed to do.

he tries to ignore the somewhat perplexed look on your face, and the way you watch him closely as his fingers make quick work of moving the mushrooms from your plate to his. (he tries to sneak in some of your favorite food from his plate to yours, but he’s not slick, and you definitely notice.)

“here,” he says, pushing the plate closer to you after a few minutes. “you can eat it now.”

he sees you glance at the plate, and then back up at him— he looks away as you beam at him with a grateful smile, trying to ignore his ever-increasing heart rate. 

itoshi sae remembers the small details about your routine.

it is almost guaranteed that sae will wake up before you do. his alarm is set to go off at the crack of dawn, right as the sun starts to peek through the horizon, and he's starting his day while you're still in deep sleep. there’s a set routine that he follows, to a tee: wake up (and then contemplate staying in bed, just to cuddle with you a little longer), stretch, do morning yoga, and then go on a jog. it’s something he’d been doing for years, and he has never gone out of his way to add anything new to his routine— that is, until one morning. 

at first, it started with a random thought. as he was getting ready to leave the house, to go for his morning jog, he had unsystematically decided to set out your favorite mug and go-to morning snack. 

sae didn’t think it would be that significant to you, and he, initially, had no plans of doing it again. he simply had extra time to spare, and he knew that making your morning drink was always the first part to your routine, so he decided to get the first step out of the way for you.

truly, he wasn’t planning to make a habit out of this. but then, you told him, “that was a sweet way to start off my morning,” with that sleepy, morning smile of yours. he tries to not pay attention to the way his heart softens at the sight, and the realization that that had made him happy. yet now, he does it every time.

from then on, his alarm was always set to go off two minutes earlier. it’s rewarding, in his opinion, to come home to you— sitting at the dining table, messy hair and still in your pajamas, eyes half-lidded from sleep, with a smile on your face as you take a sip from the mug. and then you greet him with a thank you and a kiss, without fail, even when he tries to lightly guide you away because he’s sweaty.

it never works, because he folds the second you tell him, “g’morning. i missed you.” and he finds himself adding another part to his schedule. 

before sae’s even aware of it, much of his daily habits had been molded to fit with yours. 

on days where he’s far from home, in another country, he finds that his morning just never feels right without you. it feels weird not having to set out your favorite mug, and it feels even weirder not having you there to smother him in kisses. his routine had always determined his mood, and without you, he’s extra sour. 

“i miss you,” he ends up texting you. (that, too, becomes part of his routine when he’s far from you.)

michael kaiser has all your subtle behaviors memorized.

if kaiser were to be asked to name one annoying habit of yours, it would be the fact that you, sometimes, say things that contradict how you truly feel. he calls you pesky, he tells you that he’ll take your word for it and not read too deeply into whatever you’re saying— but, in a way, he’s contradicting himself too by saying that. he’ll always read into it; he’ll always analyze you, gaze narrowed, and watching for every subtle sign in your body language. he knows you, all too well. 

but there’s one thing you always say, one contradictory statement that you always make, that he’d memorized at this point. “it’s okay, i’m not cold,” even when you visibly are.

it irks him to no end. he doesn’t understand why you would say that even when there are goosebumps scattered all over your skin, when you have your arms wrapped around yourself, and you’re visibly trembling. he can practically see the bones under your skin, rattling, making some comical, cartoony noise in his head. you know that he can see you, and yet, you still lie to him.

and, at times, he does this on purpose— he puts the air conditioning in the car on full blast, all vents pointed at you, just to see how far you’re willing to go. and every time, it’s always the same, with the same answer.

kaiser isn’t completely cruel, however. he’s tucked one of his spare hoodies (your favorite, actually) into the backseat, existing purely for your use. first, he’ll scoff at you, roll his eyes, and let you suffer for a few more minutes. but eventually, the guilt will catch up to him, and he’ll constantly be glancing at you through his periphery, shaking and looking absolutely miserable in your seat.

he’ll think to himself for a second, as if contemplating whether he’ll actually help you out (he always does, he does not want you to actually suffer). and then, he’ll internally sigh, before speaking up. “stupid,” he mutters under his breath. “i have a spare hoodie in the back, take it.”

it’s almost laughable, the way you quickly turn your body around to reach for the backseat, visibly seeking warmth. he sees the look of pure joy in your eyes when you realize that it’s your favorite, and he smiles to himself.

“you’re the best,” you always tell him, as you pull the fabric over your head, and he's content. 

he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t reprimand you— he lets you do this, every single time.

oliver aiku is always willing to listen to you ramble.

it doesn’t matter if aiku’s had an exceptionally long day, it doesn’t matter if he feels as if he’s on the verge of succumbing to sleep— he will always make time for you. he will never pass up a chance to call you, to listen to you talk about whatever you want, whenever you want. you could talk for hours, going on and on about something that he doesn’t quite understand, and not a single complaint will slip past his lips. then again, he thinks to himself, why would he complain? hearing your voice is the best part of any day, good or bad. and every night, he finds himself waiting by his phone, waiting for your contact to appear on his screen.

he finds no shame at the speed in which he accepts your call, which is immediately, nor does he try to mask the anticipation in his voice.

and if he were to look into a mirror at that exact moment, he would also see the lovesick smile that had started to tug on the corners of his lips. you can’t see him, but he’s sure you can hear it in his voice. the way it softens, the way it loses its rough edges and lightens up ever so slightly, when he greets you. you probably know he’s grinning from ear-to-ear. (he doesn’t think he is, but when it comes to you, he’s completely transparent.)

it doesn’t take long before you’re divulging into another one of your endless tangents. but aiku’s attention remains undivided, only for you. he sits on the other side of the phone, silently, only responding when you want him to. it doesn’t matter if his own thoughts are clouded with exhaustion, his mind racing with the weight of the day—when you call, everything else fades into nothingness.

“did you know that venus is an evening star for 263 days out of the year?” he can hear the excitement in your voice, he can practically see the sparkle in your eyes, even without seeing you. it’s been three hours, and he’s sure that he should’ve been in bed one hour ago. but you’re still as energetic as ever, so he fights the way his body craves for sleep. he locks his jaw, and bites back a yawn, and listens. “and then, the fact that it disappears from the sky for 50 days, before returning as a morning star?”

there’s silence on your end, and aiku takes that as his cue to talk. “no,” he responds, and there’s an amused lilt in his tone. “i didn’t, actually. you should tell me more.” and you do. 

one look at the clock to his side tells him that, at this point, he won’t be getting enough sleep. he’s sure he’s going to be exhausted when he wakes up in the morning— though, he doesn’t really care, and he’s sure he won’t regret it. he’ll let you ramble about the stars for as long as you want, even when the stars themselves start to fade into the morning sky. 

© rindreamery, 2024

[disneyprincemuke]

the schumacher problem * femdriver

pairings: mick schumacher x femdriver, logan sargeant x femdriver, oscar piastri x femdriver

notes: hi i skipped 2022 cause i was too lazy to write it <3

-> 2020

“come here, we need to introduce you to some people.”

“if you’re gonna jump scare me like that one time with david beckham. i’m not going to stand there like an idiot again. i’ve practiced and grown.”

“no, fuck face. we’re introducing you to your team next year. you know… prema? the team giving you a fighting chance in motorsport?”

“i will kick you out of my house, you know.”

“guys, this is the best friend we keep talking about!” oscar beams, jumping over to grab her wrist. he pulls her away from logan and puts a hand on her back, urging her to step forward. “she’s joining prema next year for her f3 career.”

“right, hi,” she smiles with a small nod. she takes a step back and one more towards oscar. “i’m really excited to work with you guys.”

“oh, hey! we’ve met before.” frederik steps forward and smiles. “at one of oscar and logan’s races.”

“how come i’ve never met her before?” a disembodied voice makes her lean slightly forward to peek over oscar’s shoulder. a wide smile and a pair of blue eyes are now looking at her. “you guys are hiding her from me or something?”

“yeah, mate. because we totally keep her in a dungeon cause she's not allowed other friends but us,” logan scoffs. he puts a hand on her back and pushes her a step forward. “you know mick, don’t you, (y/n)? schumacher.”

her back straightens. “oh. the schumacher?” she whispers, turning to logan with wide eyes. “like the man, the myth, the legend: michael schumacher’s son? mick schumacher?”

oscar raises an eyebrow. “i told you we were in prema with mick. what is wrong with you?”

“i don’t know. what do i say to him?”

“mate, i thought you said you practiced?” logan snorts, one hand over his mouth to contain his laughter. “why are you freezing up now?”

“nepotism goes kinda hard. i’m a big fan of him and his dad. this is not the same as the david beckham situation.”

“you’re kinda cute, aren’t you?”

simultaneously, the three best friends turn their head to the german with his head tilted to the side. “me?” she asks, pointing a finger to her chest. she looks around for any other person he could be talking about before settling to look at him again. “you think i’m cute?”

“pretty sure,” frederik smiles with a nod. “it would be kind of awkward if he was talking about oscar, right?”

oscar shrugs. “my girlfriend tells me i’m pretty cute.”

“not the same, dude,” logan mutters. he looks down at her and smacks her shoulder. “hey, snap out of it!”

frederik glances at mick, whose smile has grown a lot more since the redness on her cheeks crept up and she’s resigned to hiding behind oscar’s shoulder. he’s just about to say something when another figure walking into the room catches his attention.

frederik beams and throws his arm up into the air. he grabs her shoulders and forces her to turn around. “oh, robert’s over there! robert! we want you to meet somebody!”

“hey, great qualifying run.” she turns around and unclips her helmet.

“oh, mick,” she smiles with a nod. she puts her helmet between her legs and fixes her hair. “thank you. i didn’t know you were watching — i thought you were preparing for your own race.”

“i had some extra time,” mick smiles at her. he points to the helmet. “do you need some help? i can help you with that.”

“no, it’s ok-“ she smiles when mick presses his lips into a thin line. “yeah, i need some help. thank you.”

she reaches between her legs and offers mick her helmet. he takes into her hands and steps back, gesturing towards the end of parc ferme.

“so, uh,” she sighs, looking around. “where’s oscar?”

“getting ready for the race.”

“so why aren’t you doing the same?” she shrieks, brushing her hands through her hair. she tries to untangle her hair as they walk. “complacent?”

“not complacent. i know i’m good,” mick grins with a soft giggle. “anyway, are you doing anything tonight? um, after the race?”

she hums, brushing all of her hair over to one shoulder. “ice cream with logan and oscar.”

“you quite like your ice cream, it seems. i heard you guys always get ice cream after your races,” mick grins. “what’s your favourite flavour?

“rocky road with marshmallows.”

“but doesn’t rocky road already have marshmallows?”

“yeah.”

“interesting.”

“it’s really good. if you want, you can join us tonight. i’m sure they don’t mind.”

"really? are you sure?"

"yeah! then tell me your verdict on my favourite ice cream pairing. you'll love it, i swear."

"good luck on your race!"

logan looks up from his phone, scowling slightly at the driver in red standing outside the garage. he raises an eyebrow, watching her beam and walk over towards the entrance.

"hey, mick," she laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "wow, i'm starting to see you a lot in my garage. i'd say it's becoming a habit."

"just wanted to wish you luck in person," mick smiles, leaning against the wall. he folds his arms over his chest and leans his weight on one leg as he looks down at her. "confident to make it into the top 10?"

"hopefully. i'm feeling good today," she nods, wide eyes staring up at mick. she has her hands clasped behind her back as she converses with the older driver. "who knows? i might even win the race."

"oh, definitely. i'll be rooting for you."

"thanks, i need that." she takes a step back. "i need to finish my race prep. i'll see you right before your race? the least i can do is wish you luck in person too, since you came all this way."

"okay. make sure you're there - else, i won't start my race without your luck."

she laughs, stepping back and waving as the german walks away. she turns around with a roll of her eyes and a giddy grin on her face. logan, having watched the entire interaction not too far from them, has put his phone down on his lap.

"you know he likes you," logan says, pointing a finger at her. she looks down at him, clueless clearly written all over her face. "you know that, right? there's no way you don't know that."

she hums, raising her eyebrows and then furrowing them. "what are you talking about?"

"he literally has an f2 race to prep for and he walked all the way here to wish you luck," logan explains, unsure of how she's oblivious to the fact. "he could have just texted you. he has your number, doesn't he?"

"i don't think it's as deep as you make it out to be, logan," she shrugs. "you would've done the same."

"yeah, but we literally have been racing against one another for years. we live together!" logan throws his head back, smacking his forehead in frustration. "that's different!"

she presses her lips together and looks off into the distance. "i don't think it's that serious, mate."

logan just shrugs, sinking into his seat as he rolls his eyes. "whatever you wanna believe."

"hey, wait up!"

oscar turns his head before her, raising an eyebrow as he watches mick run towards them with something in his hands. "hey?" oscar mutters in confusion.

"hi," mick greets him quickly, before turning to the girl standing next to him. "i was at the interview table and they were giving out popsicles. i thought you might appreciate it more than me."

she looks down at it. "oh, thank you. are you sure? i mean... mick... this is yours."

"i don't really like popsicles," mick shrugs, continuing to offer her the cold refreshment. "it's grape. it's really good."

"if it's really go-"

"just take it."

"alright," she nods, taking the popsicle into her hands hesitantly. "do you want something in return? i've got a twix bar in my bag, but it's-"

"i'll see you later! i have an interview i'm late for, actually. just wanted to give you that," mick says hurriedly. he pats her shoulder before he turns and darts off from the direction he initially came from.

she slowly turns to look at oscar, who's got an equally confused stare, looking down at her with a small scowl on his face. "what was that about?"

oscar shrugs. "i don't know, but you should eat that popsicle before it starts melting."

the resume their walk in silence, not fully processing the event that happened too quick for them to consume. she's eating the popsicle now, eyes still squinted in confusion.

"i've been looking for popsicles everywhere and no one can tell me where to get one! everyone in the prema garage has one for some reason," logan screams, approaching her with his hands on his hips. "where did you get yours? why do you have one? is this a sick prank someone is pulling on me?"

she shrugs. "mick gave this to me."

logan slumps his shoulders. "mick gave that to you?"

"yeah," she nods. "interview table or something, he said."

"i was just there! there were no popsicles there!"

oscar looks between his best friends as he sports a growing smile. slowly, he starts bubbling with laughter, clutching his stomach as he points at her. "oh, my god! you're so stupid!"

"what?"

"mick has a crush on you!" oscar screams. "you've got the epitome of nepotism crushing on you! that's so cute!"

"that's what i told her like weeks ago!" logan points out. "give me that popsicle - i deserve it more than you do."

"oh, piss off!" she screams, swiftly running behind oscar and swatting logan's hands away from her. "i'm sure there's a freezer filled with popsicles in the garage somewhere. you'll find yours."

"no way! mick definitely has a stash dedicated for you! i've only seen red popsicles. i want the grape one!" logan runs around oscar, eager to take the popsicle in the younger girl's hands. "give it to me - he'll give you another one!"

-> 2021

"hey, congrats on the podium."

"thank you- oh, mick! don't you have your debut race to be preparing for?"

"i just wanted to drop by and congratulate you," mick grins. he steps back, scanning her new look in the red race suit he used to sport as well. "red looks good on you."

"it does, doesn't it?" she smiles, twirling with her arms stretched out. "i have to admit - i'm not sure haas colours are yours."

"hey. that's mean."

"maybe i'm just not used to it," she shrugs. she swings her helmet in her hands. "can i watch the race from your garage? you reckon gunther would let me?"

mick laughs, waving off her concerns. "of course, he loves you! just meet me in the garage when you're done? i'll get you a spot."

"okay!"

she waves as he turns to walk away, making one last comment about how he'll be waiting for her before disappearing into the crowd.

"oi, fuck face."

"will it kill you to be nice to me for once, logan?"

"are you sure about this?" she raises her eyebrows, looking down at the white car with her lips pressed together. "what if i crash this? it's your car."

"don't think so much about it," mick shrugs, hands on his hips as he watches her clutch onto her helmet for dear life. "it's just another car. you've driven an f1 car before, haven't you?"

"once during crash testing. that's not the same!"

"not much of a difference." mick pushes her towards the car and grins. "come on, free practice is about to start. get inside - i didn't beg gunther for nothing."

she looks at him from the corner of her eyes. "okay, but if i crash, don't hold it against me."

"i did kinda force you to test drive my car. no hard feelings if you crash," mick shrugs. "just don't die."

"oh, we'll see about that last part," she sighs, pulling her helmet down her head. "i think about that often - you know, cause i've lived with oscar and logan for like almost half of my life at this point."

"oh, you're leaving the paddocks alone tonight? did the powerpuff trio get into a fight or something?" mick teases, catching up to her as she taps her card against the reader.

"no, um," she laughs, "lily is in town for oscar and logan's got a date. no way i'm third-wheeling oscar and lily tonight."

mick nods, pressing his lips together. in his head, gears are already turning in his head. true, he finds her cute. but it's not like he can do anything.

she seems very dead set on her racing career.

"i don't actually have anything planned for tonight," he clears his throat. he takes a deep breath, unsure of how she will take his offer. "do you maybe wanna grab some dinner? there's this restaurant nearby that seb always raves about."

he sighs in relief when her face lights up. "really? can we get ice cream too? i was gonna drop by this store near my hotel and eat it while i watch a show - i always have ice cream after my race. i'm not stopping today."

"yeah, there's this ice cream parlour close by," mick nods. actually, he looked into spots in the area when he saw oscar leaving the paddocks with lily and logan rushing to leave by himself 20 minutes ago.

he had it all planned out. "so, what do you say?" he lifts up his car keys. "you can drive if you want."

she gasps, reaching out for the car keys in his hands. "seriously? i get to drive your super expensive car that i know, for a fact, you never let anyone else drive?"

mick nods. "is that a yes?"

she nods excitedly, hopping slightly as she follows him towards where his car is parked. she puts her hand on the door handle right before she goes in. "you must like me if you're letting me drive your car."

he laughs nervously, eyes widening as he opens the door from the passenger side. it seems that she's catching on somehow. "get in before i change my mind."

"what the hell are you guys doing?"

her and mick, sitting with their backs against the bed frame, merely inches away from the small screen of her nintendo switch in the cramped hotel room turns to the kiwi at the entryway of her hotel room. they've got controllers in their hands, focused on the game on the tiny screen.

"i'm beating mick at mario kart."

"not true," mick mutters. "i'm letting her win after she cried about retiring from her race today."

"you cried?" logan throws his head back, pushing past liam and oscar who are further into the room. he slips his shoes off before jumping on her bed. "are you okay?"

"i didn't cry. i had something in my eye and now mick is telling everyone i cried," she scoffs. "also, i'm beating him fair and square."

"well, uh," liam trails off, holding up two bags. "we got the alcohol you asked us to get on the way back from the track. sorry for your dnf, mate."

"yeah, whatever," she mutters.

"i was talking to mick."

"oh, ok."

"i'm used to it," mick shakes his head. "hey, stop pushing me! you're cheating!"

"it's a power-up!"

"you're pushing me in real life, mate!"

oscar has already hopped over her bed, rummaging her suitcase in silence. "where's the extra controllers? i wanna play too."

liam looks at logan with a small smile, seeing that their friends would be busy with other matters. "tequila?"

logan glances at the pair sitting with their shoulders touching, shoving each other periodically to throw one another off from their game. he looks at liam. "a full shot."

-> 2023

"don't you have a mercedes to be with?" she teases as the door opens, chewing on the inside of her cheek as the german stands at the door. "what are you doing here?"

mick raises an eyebrow. "you literally crashed. i just wanted to see if you're okay."

she smiles. "thank you. i'm okay." she looks down and chomps down on her twix bar as mick takes the empty spot next to sebastian on the couch. "isn't toto looking for you?"

"no, he was asking me to check in on you," mick grins. "is there anything i can help you with? food, drinks, anything?"

"look at the food surrounding her," sebastian laughs, gesturing at the packets of snacks and drinks by her thighs. "i don't think she needs any more food than this."

mick looks at the older man. "i didn't ask you."

she giggles, rolling her eyes. "i'm okay, thank you." she grabs a packet of doritos not too far from her and extends her arm towards them. "snack while we wait for the doctor to come back with my results?"

mick nods, cupping his hands as he awaits the packet. "have oscar and logan come around to find you yet?"

"not yet. these are the ones sebastian brought me from my emergency stash in my garage."

"your what in your garage?"

sebastian sighs, nodding. "she has an emergency stash of snacks in the garage for emergencies. i guess she had a point when she did that because i didn't have to look far for those."

"interesting."

"what are you two kids whispering about over there?"

she straightens her back from her hunched position in the corner, turning to sebastian with a small and guilty grin. the man in white next to her, also turns to him with wide eyes.

"hi, seb."

"what are you doing in our garage? shouldn't you be in mercedes with toto and susie?"

"i'm on my lunch break," mick smiles, wiping his lips from the brown residue of the chocolate they'd been indulging in previously. "i just brought her something."

sebastian narrows his eyes. "then why are you hiding it from me?"

"no reason," she shrugs, moving slightly towards mick to hide what's behind them from sebastian's sight. "you should go for your meeting, seb."

"you're being very suspicious. what's behind you?"

she shakes her head. "nothing." she looks up at mick and taps his hand. "tell him it's nothing."

"nothing," mick says immediately, pressing his lips into a thin line. "you don't wanna find out."

sebastian sighs. "you didn't bring her rocky road ice cream, did you?"

mick's eyes widen, a confession almost spilling past his lips at his guess. she quickly cuts him off and shakes her head profusely. "of course not! you and noah told me to stop eating ice cream before my races, so of course i'm not eating ice cream."

"i literally see chocolate at the corner of your lips."

"i'm sorry! she wouldn't stop texting me about craving for rocky road and marshmallows!" mick sighs in shame, dropping his head to avoid sebastian's stern stare.

"i told you to stop eating ice cream before a race! it gives you a tummy ache every time! what makes you think this time will be different?"

mick lifts his head with a proud smile. "it's lactose intolerant friendly."

"really?" she coos, turning to him with a bright smile. "that's so nice - where did you get that?"

"i found it in the store when george and i were-"

"stop giving her ice cream before her race!"

she follows sebastian through the crowd, keeping her head low to avoid getting spotted by the cameras. she's got one last media commitment to head to before she can follow carlos and lando to the nightclub nearby.

hands grabs her shoulders, prompting her look up. "mick!"

"i've been looking for you everywhere!" mick smiles. "congrats on the podium!"

"thank you!" she smiles, wrapping her arms around him for a hug immediately. "you're joining us at the club after, right?"

"of course. congrats again, mate." he wraps his arms around her, squeezing her and twirling her around.

"kid, come on! we don't have time!" sebastian grunts, turning around to tug her out of mick's grasp. "talk to mick later!"

"okay, okay!" she shrieks, letting sebastian pull her away. she turns around to wave at mick. "i'll see you in the club! get me a drink, okay!"

"i don't get it!" she shrieks, thumbs spamming the buttons of her controller as her eyes fill with tears. "what am i supposed to do?"

"no, just wash the dishes. i'm making the food," mick says calmly, jaw locked as he focuses on the item on the screen. "just wash the dishes."

"mate, are you stupid?" liam screams, one thumb pressing a button as he smacks oscar on the back. "we're losing to mick and (y/n)! we can't let that happen!"

"how about instead of screaming at me, mate, you actually chop up some stupid potatoes! this is why we're losing - you keep micromanaging me!" oscar screams at liam, finally losing his cool.

he had tried to play overcooked as calmly as mick, but it clearly isn't working when he is paired up with liam. logan, sitting at the table, fingers covered in glue with small tears of paper laid around him scoffs.

"thanks for the help, guys. i really appreciate that we're all working on the trophy for the race we're having this weekend," logan speaks monotonously.

"i'm not participating," oscar says.

"in a bit, lo," she mutters, smiling at him momentarily before returning her attention to the screen. "oh, mick, there's a fucking fire! did i cause that? how do i put it out?"

"calm down," mick laughs, his character running around to find the fire extinguisher. "i've got it. just keep washing the dishes."

"oscar! the fucking potatoes!"

"liam, you cunt, you haven't even thrown me a fucking potato! where is the potato? oh, would you look at that? it's in your hands!"

"yeah, i was gonna cut them myself cause you're as good as nothing in this stupid game! next game, i wanna be paired up with mick!"

"no way. i'm having the time of my life," mick scoffs, rolling his eyes as he sends in another order. "we're having so much fun, aren't we, (y/n)?"

"sure."

"what if we just didn't have a trophy for the scooter race?"

liam and her turn to the american, frowning. "no!"

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @inejismywife @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @love4lando

honourable mention: @localwhoore

[barbstail]

The Sunflower Jewel (A Michael X MC fanfic) part 1

(After Devildom falls under a mysterious non-stop snow storm, MC is borrowed by the celestial realm in exchange for a stone that can temporarily save Devildom.)

(MC goes by gender neutral pronouns.)

Mc arrived followed by their usual seven demons who all took their respective seats along the large table. Diavolo and Barbatos were already in their seats. It wasn’t long before Diavolo, with a stern and grim expression, spoke up. “You all know why you are here.”

“Who can I blame for this!” Asmodeus demanded, his hair had clearly fallen victim to the storm’s winds.

“Ya! Who ruined my money makin'! I was going to be rich!” Mammon protested.

“All the restaurants are closed…” Beelzebub groaned.

Before the rest could lay out their complaints they were stopped by Lucifer’s deadly glare. Silence fell onto the meeting room. Lucifer coughed, before meeting his attention back to Diavolo. Taking the small cue from Lucifer, the prince began to speak. “I’m sure all of you are aware of just how serious of an issue this is and just how important it is to find both the solution and source of this issue,” He went on “We have found no leads on where this storm might have come from and if we leave this storm as it is then-.” He was interrupted by a knock at the doors.

Barbatos answered the door and out came a group of familiar faces. There was Raphael, Simeon, Luke, and Solomon. Solomon with his typical smile spoke “Pardon, we can as soon as we heard.”. After being welcomed in by Dia they all took the rest of the empty seats, leaving only one chair left. Lucifer, taking note of this spoke up “Are we expecting company?”.

Diavolo looked over to Lucifer and did a subtle nod. “With this kind of matter, I asked for assistance from the celestial realm.” He answered before adding “He should be here shortly.”. Lucifer raised a brow “Who-?” but his question was already answered when there was a bright golden light outside the door followed by the meeting door being opened and out came a both familiar and unfamiliar face.

Mc gave the newcomer a curious look. It was so odd to see someone who shared so many characteristics of Lucifer but not at the same time. If it weren’t for the man’s white longer hair, blue eyes, tan skin, and outfit then it would be hard to tell Lucifer and the newcomer apart.

“Welcome, Michael. I’m so glad you come and join us.” Diavolo greeted.

“Archangel Michael!” Luke beamed, giving a smile that could practically warm up this entire cold room.

The rest of the crowd gave either a more positive or a more natural reaction to the reveal.

Michael gave a soft smile to the people around him, giving a small wave of the hand. “Hello again, I hope you’re all in good condition despite the situation.” His tone was professional but gentle at the same time. He walked over and took the empty seat beside Luke and Ralphael.

“Long time no see.” Solomon acknowledged. Michael gave a look of agreement. “We simply must meet up again sometime.” He responded but before any more familiar greetings could occur Diavolo cut to the chase. “Arch Michael, has the celestial realm agreed to assist the Devildom?”. The two gazes meet, and Michael is taken aback by the bluntness. “I do not blame you for being on edge, lord Diavolo. I know I would be too,” The Angel started “The celestial realm has agreed to help the Devildom in exchange for agreeing to our conditions.” After Michael finished his sentence there was a wave of annoyance from the demons in the room.

“Of course there are conditions,” Mammon muttered.

“Classic celestial realm,” Leviathan commented.

“What conditions?” Lucifer spoke up. The two shared eye contact before Michael reached into his bag and pulled out something that was clearly wrapped with care. With a careful hand, the angel began to unwrap it to show a beautiful jewel. “If you place this sun jewel in this castle’s tower it should create magic powerful enough to fight off the storm that has taken over the Devildom. We offer this as a temporary solution as I’m sure the answer to this storm will be found eventually.” He explained.

“That is…” Lucifer muttered under his breath.

Michael nodded. “The jewel from all those years ago, you could imagine how long it took to find it again.” The angel had a nostalgic look in his eyes as he looked down at the jewel. “As you can imagine, this artifact is incredibly precious to both the Celestial Realm and to me, which is why I cannot just let the Devildom just borrow the sunflower jewel.” He explained. “In exchange for this artifact, the celestial realm with borrow something or someone of equal value to Devildom.”.

Diavolo spoke up “We have plenty of artifacts to give.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” Michael frowned.

“Of course.” Lucifer scoffed.

The archangel coughed into his fist, getting Raphael's attention. “Raphael, could you please show them how we will ensure that we are getting something of equal value?” He asked to which Raphael stood up from his seat. Pulling out an oddly shaped stone, he began to whisper an incantation. The stone floated in Raphael’s hand, spinning round and round before suddenly bolting in MC’s direction.

MC flinched in response to the incoming rock, mammon being quick to shield them from the incoming blow. But just as the stone was about to hit, it stopped in place in mid-air. Mammon peaks over his shoulder to see the stone floating in mid-air. “Hey, what gives?!” He exclaimed in an irritated tone of voice. He still kept his arms wrapped around MC, not taking the chance.

“The judgment stone has found something of equal value,” Michael explained.

Mammon perked up. “Heh! I know I’m awesome and all but there’s no way I’m going to the celestial realm.” He said, looking ever so egotistical. He finally let go of MC, moving away from them but the stone didn’t move.

“It doesn’t want you, Mammon.” After Raphael said that, one by one it began to click to the crowd what this meant. MC would be the one that would be borrowed by the celestial realm.

“There's no way they’re going!” Mammon exclaimed, turning to look at his dear human. “Right, MC? Ya ain’t gonna agree to this are ya? Who knows how long they’ll keep ya!” MC furrowed their brow at their first man’s words, clearing thinking.

Diavolo, with his arms crossed, looked over to Michael. “Just how long will you be borrowing MC?” The prince asked the archangel. “For as long as you keep the sunflower jewel we will keep MC. Once the jewel is returned so will the exchange student.” With Michael’s words, Diavolo seemed to ponder the idea in his head. “Will MC be cared for?” He questioned. The angel nodded. “Of course, MC will be our guest after all. They’ll be treated like royalty, I presume you’ll treat our jewel with the same respect as well?”.

“I will do it.”

Everyone’s heads turned to MC. “I agree to the deal,” MC reassured with their typical look of determination in their eyes. Some of the demon brothers were about to protest but were quickly silenced by the celestial prince “Does this mean we have a deal?” He said, his blue eyes peering straight through the demon prince. Diavolo narrowed his eyes, before finally breaking his temporary silence “It’s a deal.”.

Next part

[mr-wrestlemania]

He Ate My Heart(EnergyVampire! Shawn Michaels x GN Reader)

A short drabble of Shawn from my monster AU who's looking for a quick snack in a local bar.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59238661

The bar was as dry as a heatwave in Arizona, and you were scanning the floor for anything to quench your thirst. It had been a slow day for you, and you refused to end it on a dud of a night.

Then, the answer to your pleas came walking from the bathrooms. A 6ft man with gorgeous blonde hair and baby blues glanced at you from afar. His gaze sent a shiver down your spine and goosebumps to rise on your skin. The man was downright beautiful, but yet he was only staring at you..?

You shook your head and downed the rest of your drink.

Fuck it, you'd never forgive yourself if you squandered the chance to talk to him. You fixed your shirt before making your way over to him. He was even more beautiful up close, and it made your mouth dry up. The man hardly seemed to mind.

"Well, seems you beat me to the punch. I was gonna walk over and see why you were so alone..looking like that." His eyes drifted to the lower portion of your body, then back up to your face.

Honestly, no one else really caught your eye, so you sat by yourself.

This only made him chuckle, "So you were waiting for someone to notice you? Cheeky. I like that. Though you are so much more than a lamb waiting for a wolf I bet." He waved his hand a little at another taller man with long blonde hair.

A friend of his?

"Yeah, colleague and best friend. But enough of him, more about us." His cat-like smirk was adorable, just another thing about him that was hard to ignore.

Did he have a name, or was he going to keep being a tease?

You smiled back and tilted your head a little. When you asked for his name, his eye twinkled.

He leaned against the wall to look down at you, "Shawn Michaels. If you know wrestling, you'd know me by my face alone."

Not a bell in your mind made a sound at his name. Though you admit he did look familiar. You probably passed sports magazines that featured him somewhere.

"Least I have that going for me." He laughed, "You want another drink, sugar?"

Why not, you haven't had much to drink anyway.

Shawn beamed and sauntered over to the bar with you in tow. While you watched the bartender make your drink, you could hear Shawn talk to one of his buddies.

Looked like a taller man with slick black hair getting dragged away by a smaller man with messy dark hair.

Was he alright?

Shawn rolled his eyes, "My buddy is fine. He just had too much to drink. Sean's got him. How did you get here by the way?"

..why did he need to know that?

"Oh, come on. Don't look at me like that, Sugar. I'm only asking in case you get too drunk. We have a designated driver just in case."

The fact he needed one made you chuckle a little. Shawn playfully stuck his tongue out.

"I play it safe sometimes. Is that so boring of me?"

You shrugged. After sipping your drink, you tell him you borrowed a friend's car. Something about your statement made his eyebrow twitch.

"Oh, okay. You alright to drive though? I don't wanna put you in danger by trying to butter you up with drinks." His eyes scanned your body again. Instead of checking you out, he was looking for signs of intoxication.

It was rather sweet of him to be so concerned. At first, you wondered if he was trying to make a move on you, but he was much nicer than you anticipated.

You guess it would be better to call it quits before you can't drive. Shawn didn't seem too disappointed.

"Tell you what, I'll walk you to your car just in case." Shawn smiled again, "Maybe I can get your digits in exchange..?"

The way he bat his eyelashes made you laugh. You didn't exactly say no, which got him out of his seat.

"You ready then?" Shawn paid for the drink while glancing at you.

You nod and follow him into the parking lot. After you start to walk, you can say that Shawn made the right call. You aren't drunk, but you'd definitely take the back roads home.

Shawn flashed a grin and chuckled, "I have a knack for it what can I say, Sugar? Now uh..where the hell did you park?"

You reach into your pocket and start to hit the lock button on your key fob in an attempt to listen for your ride. He cranes his head until he points excitedly.

"That's her? Damn you are way out here. Not too safe if you ask me. You better carry something on you next time."

You blush as you walk beside him through the parking lot. You promise you will and figure he'd be worth talking to in the future. You tell him to give you a second while you get some paper from the car and he beams.

"Sure thing." Shawn gets closer to the car while you lean inside to grab a loose receipt and a pen between the seats.

When you step back out, Shawn's entire demeanor changed from the moment you took your eyes off him. He was leaning against the car and shut it before you could get back inside.

Instead of running, you froze.

What the hell was he doing??

You demand to know what his deal is, only for him to grin at you. If he didn't answer in the next few seconds, you'd be kicking his dick in.

"Oh, it's not my fault," Shawn's eyes began to glow a ghostly blue that drew you in, "I just need you for a few minutes. Just a few minutes."

He leaned closer, practically whispering in your ear. "Keep breathing for me, Sugar. Nice and calm. That's it.."

His words were like a gentle caress across your face. Your breath began to slow down just as he asked, but you could hardly understand why. The longer you looked at him, the less scared you became.

"There we go." Shawn rubbed your face gently, "See? You're doing such a good job. I just need a taste.. I wonder how sweet you are.~"

Shawn's lips collided into yours. Your gasp was muffled while Shawn only deepened the kiss. God, it was heavenly. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he pulled you closer toward his body. His golden locks got tangled between your fingers but he hardly seemed bothered.

Shawn hummed across your lips and broke the kiss to let you breathe. His vibrant blue eyes staring through you made you quiver.

He chuckled, "I see you shiver in anticipation. I'll fix that, don't worry."

You were pulled into another kiss, but this time, his tongue slid its way into your mouth. One of his hands held your face, and the other rested on your hip.

The way your whimpers barely escaped your mouth made Shawn sigh deeper into you.

Then it felt like heat was building up in your stomach. Your toes curled inside your shoes as it traveled up your body. Shawn's jacket was the only thing you could hold onto as the strange sensation washed over you completely.

Shawn pulled himself away very, very slowly. You tried to whine, but found yourself unable to make any noise at all.

Your eyes could barely widen from the shock, that heat that Shawn built in you was leaving out of your mouth and into his. It had a pinkish hue, almost like smoke, but you could hardly focus. You were tired. So very tired..

Shawn sighed happily, and his eyes returned to normal. "God damn! Mm.. that was as sweet as I thought it would be."

His attention finally returned to you and hummed while he lifted you up. He used his foot to open the passenger door and slid you inside. "Told you, Sugar. You better just sleep it off. I know I can be a handful. Thanks for the snack."

Shawn used the key fob to lock the doors, tossed it inside with you, and shut the door. He turned around and jumped back at the sight of his friend Sean Waltman.

"Shit! I just finished, what is it??"

Sean sighed, "I might have uh.. drank a bit too much off Scott. What did you tell me to do?"

Shawn groaned and paced angrily, "Get him some damn onion rings or something. He's probably dizzy from blood loss and alcohol. Get some food in him."

You could faintly see the face of the shaggy haired man from the bar, peek at you through the car window. "Damn Shawn, did you uh-"

"-No. They're fine. They'll just have to sleep it off. C’mon, before Hunter has an aneurysm over your handiwork." Shawn winked at you before walking off with his strange friend.

You found yourself losing consciousness not long after Shawn left. Maybe he was right. A quick nap wouldn't hurt.

The sun peeked over the horizon, causing you to stir and squint at your surroundings. What the hell happened last night? You remembered a guy walking you to your car the night before but then it was a big blank.

You checked your clothes and they looked almost untouched. There weren't any strange markings on your body either.

Did that guy just walk you to your car and you fell asleep..?

While you stretched your legs out, you felt some paper tucked under your hip. After shifting a little, you managed to pull it out.

Hope you feel better soon. You were really tuckered out. Get home safe Sugar

-Shawn

[harrywavycurly]

It Was Just One Night: Date Night Convos

Masterlist: here

Tag List: @ihatepeanutss @sofaritsalrightt @emma77645 @ietss @1paire2vans @robyn-118 @josephquinnlover0 @mommymilkerfanclub @littlemoon-beam @lodeddiperrodrick @silkholland @shotgunhallelujah @prestinalove @allsortsedits @a1ex-ba1ex @eddiemunson-fanfic @josephquinnsfreckles @hiscrimsonangel @rustboxstarr @idkbbyx3 @silky-luxe @mrsjellymunson

A/N: I thought it would be fun to give y’all some conversations from Eddie and Reader’s date night✨

“Is…is that what you’re wearing?” “You told me it was a surprise and I like to be comfortable especially for surprises so yes…you can take it or leave it daddy-o.” “It’s just..the slippers with the sweatpants are so…-” “Distractingly sexy? Deliriously cute?” “Distracting…is a great word for it but it’s fine because we are just going to go see a movie.” “Our first date and you’re not only taking me to the place I work but…you’re taking me somewhere we can’t talk for two hours?” “Correction sweetheart I’d never take you to your own movie theater….and I know you like the snacks.” “Well then…let’s get going…what movie are we seeing? I hope it’s scary.” “It’s a limited time showing of the original Halloween…” “but you hate Michael?” “Yeah but you love him…”

“Are we having dinner after this?” “Why?” “It’s going to determine what I order…” “oh well yeah..yeah we are gonna go to dinner after this.” “Okay so I’ll just get a large popcorn…can I get a sprite or are you going to make me drink water?” “You can get a sprite…” “okay then a large popcorn and a sprite and some nachos.” “You’re going to get all that after I said we are going to dinner?” “Yes? I was going to add a pretzel and a hot dog but I didn’t…stop looking at me like that you asshole I’m almost eight months pregnant and I’m hungry all the damn time.” “Sorry…order whatever you want.” “Thank you…”

“Feel free to hold my hand if you get scared.” “You’re so annoying…just because I don’t like Michael doesn’t mean he scares me.” “I’m just saying…I’m here if you need someone to cuddle with.” “Do you want me to…hold your hand?” “It’s a date isn’t it? Don’t most couples hold hands and shit?” “Yeah…yeah they do…is this..okay?” “That’s not comfortable…that’s my grabbing popcorn hand…how about this?” “Jesus! You have to warn me…before you just put your hand on…my thigh.” “Sorry!” “But it’s…it’s fine yeah…that uh works for me.” “Look at us doing couple type stuff together…” “I think we actually…make a cute couple.” “Oh the cutest couple in this theater for sure.” “It’s still weird when we agree on things.” “Only because you make it weird Eddie…”

“I just think cheese fries are actually hard to perfect…everyone tries but few are successful..” “but Benny…he’s managed to perfect it somehow?” “Yes…just try one.” “If this doesn’t change my life then I’m going to be upset.” “Oh trust me baby daddy it’ll change your life.” “Oh..wow…yeah okay…I get the hype.” “Don’t get greedy..these are mine.” “I know you well enough to know you’d never share food with me….I’ll order my own.” “I’ll share food with you Eddie just not cheese fries.” “Really?” “Yes…just not cheese fries…or candy…or my secret stash of chocolate.” “What about a bite of your grilled cheese?” “I know what a bite means to you…so here just take half…I told you that the burger wasn’t what you wanted today.” “Next time I’ll just let you order for me.” “Next time? Is that your sneaky way of asking me on another date?” “I think this one is going good enough to maybe do it again?” “Yeah…I’d say so…” “so you’ll go on another date with me then?” “Yes I’ll go on another date with you.”

“So…mind if I come in and tell Dotty goodnight?” “Trying to invite yourself in on the first date? God Edward what kinda girl do you take me for?” “Don’t be annoying.” “Yes you can come-” “I’m sorry I just wanted to do that all night and you-” “who taught you how to kiss like that?…was it Nancy?” “I hate you.” “Sorry couldn’t help myself…come on and help me get ready for bed? I’ll let you tell Dotty your side of the date before I tell her mine after you leave.” “I have to leave?” “Edward James Munson you are not sleeping over on the first date good lord.” “I like it when you say my full name like that….so what nightgown is it gonna be tonight? Smiley faces or peace signs?” “Smiley faces please.” “Good choice…I’ll go make you some water while you go get changed.” “Okay…hey Eddie?” “Yeah?” “I had a really good time tonight.” “Me too sweetheart…me too.”

[therobotmonster]

So many kid's toys these days just. Arn't fun. They're designed to be COLLECTED rather than PLAYED with. Everything is a fucking blindbag. Materials are flimsy and cheap and designs don't hold up to an actual child throwing them around. And it's all so EXPENSIVE, even accounting for inflation.

To expand on my thoughts here, I'm unrolling a Twitter thread I made about this trend. (with some additions)

The Big H's handling of mainline figs is... distressing, of late. Very little push for show mains, oversupport of already saturated legacy characters, and some frankly unsettling engineering and materials choices (esp in Cyberverse).

Increase in overall fragility, thinner parts, styrene-on-styrene joints that will go floppy in a few months of light play, very little "clicks" or locks solidly... the passion is clearly in the collector's end, and that's just bass ackwards.

This repugnus would have been amazing triumph from Mego in 1970s. But for a mainline big H TF line in the 2020s? This is a backslide. And before anyone brings up that it's from the kids' line, that's the point. They're KIDS, they should get MORE care and effort in their merch.

Every toy you make might be a kid's only birthday gift or holiday present. Toys are /given/ to children, and if the work is subpar, you make a chump out of grandma. You won't be there to blame if it breaks or disappoints.

It seriously drives me nuts seeing how far the stuff-for-kids industries have fallen. There's no brands without the work, but as the poet DMX said: "these cats done forgot what work is."

All your blockbuster superhero empires start in the pulp gutters. Compared to the movies toys, games and comics will never be profitable ENOUGH to be worth it on a billion-dollar scale ledger.

"Give me mighty oaks! There's no profit in acorns!"

If you want the stuff that makes the Michael Bay blockbuster, you have to start with the stupid goofy cartoon no one had seen before where anxiety over the oil crisis was acted out by robotic Punch and Judy puppets. How many studios would greenlight TMNT or TF sight unseen today?

If you make toys and cartoons and video games, your job is to make kids happy. How is that not sacred? If anything is sacred it should be that.

Art is the act of evoking emotion, and fun is an emotion (what else could it be described as?) and it is SO IMPORTANT.

I fear that gets lost in the "what to do over next?" rush. Every artist at those companies has a dozen amazing ideas in their back pocket that won't get a chance to become the next Transformers because a studio is terrified they'll make Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors instead.

Since the world is run by Captain Planet villains, I wouldn't bat an eye if we found out venture capital was a ploy by some disgruntled warlock who just hates the goddamn Care Bears.

Just some dick at Bear Sterns singing "There's no room for joy on a spreadsheet" to a weaselly sidekick.

Cuz guys, we've got companies that make GAMES for CHILDREN hiring the Pinkertons. I repeat. Games. For. Children. That's not normal. That's not a normal thing. That is a very disturbing thing.

And its hard to even discuss without sounding like a frickin' Care Bear myself. Because how do you sum up the creeping dread that the support beams are being mined thin, and everything fun for kids will go the way of Toys-R-Us, dragged down like Artax.

I'm not advocating pure altruism here. There's plenty of money to be made giving kids an awesome experience. It's investing in future fandom. Real Brand loyalty. If you want the blockbuster 15 years from now, get them hooked on the fun cartoon now. The value-add always pays off.

For every Transformers or He-Man there's going to be several Robotix-es or Power Lords. That's a risk. A risk worth taking. New ideas should be easier and cheaper to bring to fruition now than ever. But the system won't let it happen.

[superstar-nan]

Fight Tooth and Nail

Day 1

Summary: Your best friend goes missing after working a shift as an overnight security guard for the upcoming horror attraction Fazbear's Fright. You masquerade as a journalist to investigate their disappearance and find yourself with more questions. Questions that only a murderous animatronic intent on killing you has answers to.

Words: 3,586

Fun stuff: Springtrap/Reader/Michael, gender neutral reader, cannon typical violence, vv slow burn and romance is more implied kinda?? I'm very aromantic and the characters have complex relationships. william and michael are very much corpses and very much gross. Uploaded from my Ao3.

Next

───── (\ /) ─────

Your eyes flitted from the hastily scrawled note in your hand to the crumbling building in front of you. You knew it was supposed to look rundown to add to the scare-factor, but even from the back Fazbear’s Fright seemed more likely to receive several health code violations over screams. Maybe it was the broad daylight, or maybe it was the metal beam that collapsed in front of you right at that moment, but you couldn’t imagine the horror attraction gaining as much attention as the newspaper clipping led you to believe.

You hesitantly opened the back door, praying another metal beam wouldn’t collapse on top of you. It was unlocked, just as the man on the phone said it would be.

“Hello?” You said, before reeling back into the fresh air outside. The stench coming from inside wafted in a plume of rotten eggs and sweat. You gagged, taking in a couple gulps of fresh air, and then steeled yourself as you entered the building. The door shut with an uncharacteristic soft click behind you. 

“Hello?” You called out again. You blinked a few times, trying to adjust your eyes to the dark interior. 

“Over here!” A hand waved out of a room to your right with a dim, ghastly yellow-green light spilling from its doorway.

You walked into the room; an office filled with grime (possibly decorational), loose wires (hopefully decorational), and trash (definitely not decorational). A young man with a nonchalant grin swiveled on his chair to face you. He said your name and you nodded. 

“Awesome,” He held out his hand in a wide, informal handshake, which you returned. His grip was loose and a bit sweaty. “I was the guy on the phone.”

“Oh,” You said as you distractedly looked around the office. There were big boxes filled with Fazbear Entertainment merchandise along with character posters plastered on the walls. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“For sure, for sure,” He started clicking through security footage, drawing your attention. 

You noticed there were quite a bit of people throughout the building, all splattering blood stains or grimming-up corners to make the attraction just a touch more spooky. You bit your lower lip. Would any of them be willing to reveal some information to you, or would they keep you from investigating anything useful? 

“Welp,” He clapped his knees and stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t I show you around? You can get the gist of all the best scares of the place for... uh, who’d you say you write for again?”

“Scary Attractions Monthly,” You said, taking out a pen and notebook. It was a fake name for... something. Maybe a magazine or blog. You didn’t put too much thought in it and apparently neither did he.

No, you weren’t here to write a glowing article on a mediocre, somewhat distasteful, and very unsanitary hazard of a horror attraction like you said you were. 

You were here because of a call. A call you received at four in the morning. A call you didn’t pick up, but you wished you did. 

“Right, that,” He said in a way that told you he was going to forget it again. “Well, you’re gonna love the place, we found some real legit relics!”

You just hummed as you followed him out of the room. 

“The attraction opens in like a week, so everyone’s been working extra hard to make sure everything works, and nothing catches on fire.” He stopped in front of a disassembled torso of Freddy. “Uh, not that anything would, that was, uh, “off-the-record” .”

“Right.” You said, pretending to cross something out. 

“Yeah, so when the place opens, people will come in at the opposite end of the building, and work their way towards where you came in; that’s the exit. We’ve got some totally vintage relics, man. Like this foxy head, super authentic.”

You squinted at it. 

“Like, it’s not a crappy cosplay for sure .”

That made you think it was a crappy cosplay.

“But it’s not just these totally authentic pieces that make the place, the whole place is rigged super vintage.”

You stepped to the side as two employees rushed past you, holding a heavy box of miscellaneous mechanical parts, “What do you mean?” You asked.

“Like, the whole place is built like it’s 1987, just like from the missing kids stuff,” It felt a little insensitive to refer to that tragedy as the ‘missing kid stuff’ . “The ventilation, the electronics, even the cameras and stuff, all for that authenticity.”

You swallowed, “So there’s no security footage?”

“Nah, but we’ve got a guard on around-the-clock, even overnight, so it’s perfectly safe.” You already knew that. Your best friend was an overnight security guard.

Suddenly, a pipe burst, spewing some white, cloudy vapor rapidly at an employee who was struggling to get the pipe under control.

“And is the ventilation perfectly safe?” You asked.

“Heheh,” he started to sweat. “Basically, I mean. He’s probably fine. Here,” He turned you around to a different hallway, “Let’s go this way, you gotta see the coolest part of the attraction.”

You followed him to an area with no one present. It was an odd feeling going from a busy part of the attraction to this place of complete emptiness, and you finally found the creeping horror of the attraction. With the molding tiled floor that was once bright, the low-ambient lighting flickering on-and-off, and the decades-old child’s drawings interspersed on the walls, the place really felt haunted. 

Then, the smell of rot and decay hit your nose in a crashing wave. You held your nose and gagged. It was worse than when you walked into the attraction, and then you knew why this area was so empty. 

“You gotta get that pen out because you’re not gonna believe this,” He said. “We got one, a real one!” He looked back at you gagging and coughing. “Oh. Yeah, the smell is, like intense , but you get used to it quick.” 

“What do you mean...?” Your sentence was lost on you as your entire focus was drawn to figure in the corner. 

A very large figure in the corner. A rotten bunny animatronic that towered in the shadows. 

Chills danced up your spine in your visceral fear. You were stalled by some animal instinct you didn’t know you had. 

It was large and lumbering and fully intact—ruined and soiled with time. It had to have been nearly seven feet tall, even as it stood motionless in its hunch. It looked almost half a century old, and even in its decayed state you could still see the design of what it once was: a golden Bonnie suit now corrupted a dingy green by age and rot.

Your heart beat slowed when you realized it wasn’t moving. It was just an animatronic; part of the attraction. Even as you followed your guide towards it, its eyes flashed with reflected light in a way that was perfectly terrifying. This really was a great find for the attraction. 

“So cool, isn’t it?” He said, knocking on the animatronic’s mildewy chest, and though logically you knew that wasn’t dangerous, you couldn’t help the drop in your gut as he touched the thing. “It’s like it was made for this place.”

“No kidding.” You said, and you meant it. Honestly, that animatronic might’ve been the scariest thing you had ever seen, let alone the scariest part of the attraction. You dared to take a few steps closer to it. You weren’t able to pull your eyes away from it, almost as if you did it would lunge at you. 

Its eyes looked too human. You wanted to throw up.

“Yeah, so spooky.” He also was transfixed, but not for as long as you were. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took to find it! We found some vintage audio training cassettes with it. We’ll probably have them playing, like over the speakers while people walk through the attraction. It’ll make the place feel legit .” 

The cassettes didn’t even cross your mind, “Does it still work?”

“Uh, yeah, probably.”

You were finally able to pull your eyes away from the rotted Bonnie. “Probably?”

“Well, I’ve never seen it move, and no one else has either, but nobody moves it and sometimes it’s not in the same place so probably. The cassettes mention something about the suits following kid noises, but I haven’t seen that either. And uh, we’ve got a guard checking the cameras all the time, so it's not dangerous.” 

He said that so nonchalantly you were baffled, “Are you sure about that? Didn’t somebody get bitten by one of these things years ago?”

He started to sweat, “Oh ye-yeah, that’s something uh, we’re working on this week. We’re grabbing a mechanic or... There’s a week until the place opens so, you know.” He trailed. 

Your face blanked. Well, it wasn’t any of your business how dangerous these things were anyway. You were only here for one reason. “Right,” Your eyes wandered back to the animatronic.

Your heart dropped. You held your breath.

Its eyes were looking at you. Eyes that were too human. 

It wasn’t looking at you before, was it? You would have certainly remembered it looking at you. You swallowed as you took a step out of its sight. Its eyes didn’t follow you. You must’ve imagined it.

Turning away from the rotted Bonnie, you put your pen to your notebook, “Having overnight guards is a good safety precaution.” You said, and his shoulders visibly relaxed when you said it. “And it’s pretty authentic to the original Pizzeria.”

“Oh, for sure, for sure,” He said. “That’s what we’re trying for, authenticity and all. Plus, they’ll also be a part of the show to really get that feel of a pizzeria!”

“The place hasn’t opened yet, but do your guards run into any trouble at night?”

“Nah, or at least I don’t think so.” 

His nonchalance irked you, “You don’t think so?”

“Well, nobody’s mentioned anything to me yet, so.” 

“Hmm.” You tapped your pen on your notebook before setting it back down, “I heard a rumor that one of your night guards disappeared on the job, is that true?”

“What?” He started to look nervous again, though whether it was from the pressure of saying the wrong thing or the guilt of having done something wrong, you didn’t know. “Oh uh, I don’t really know anything about that, where did you hear that?”

“Somewhere online.” You said, casually. 

“Well, it’s not true, somebody would’ve said something or—”

“But if there’s only one person on the night shift, how would somebody be able to say something?”

A click was heard behind you. Almost like the sound of a gear. Both you and the man you were talking to turned toward the rotted Bonnie suit. It didn’t move, or at least it didn’t look like it moved. It was still. That didn’t matter. You and the man you were with were deadly silent for a few moments. 

“We should, uh, we should talk in the office, right?” He said, and it wasn’t a balm that he was anxious as well.

“Yes, that’s a good idea.” 

The two of you left the area with the animatronic, and you felt the air around you lighten. It seemed he was right when he said you’d get used to that rotted smell, because you didn’t notice how much it was a relief to get away from that thing. 

“Anyway,” He said as the two of you walked. “I don’t know anything about a night guard disappearing. Yeah, a night guard quit suddenly without any notice a few nights ago.” The two of you ducked as a vent dropped nearly on top of you, barely being stopped by two employees who grabbed it just in time. It didn’t slow either of your gaits, “And yeah, this is not the first time that’s happened and is eerily similar to events that happened thirty years ago. But there’s always a bad string of luck before grand openings, typical exciting attraction stuff. So...” The two of you slipped into the office as a group of employees brought in a string of large boxes, “Probably don’t mention any of the rumor stuff in the article.”

You eyed him head to toe as he sat in the office chair. He was sweating a little under your scrutiny. He wouldn’t give you anything if you antagonized him, so you smiled and he relaxed, “Of course, it’s typical. Especially for haunted attractions.”

“Heheh, yeah, ‘course,” He swallowed and sniffed. “Well, uh, what other questions can I answer?”

“Tell me a bit about the security guards' role in the show.”

He leaned back slightly in his chair, “Oh yeah well, this is where they will be, in this office. When the place opens, people will come in where I told you before, and work their towards this office, and pass them, and out the exit.”

You wondered if your faux-enthusiasm was believable enough, because it felt as stiff as the disassembled animatronic pieces, “Oh, very cool.”

“Yeah! Just like a real security guard from a pizzeria.” He said, “Or well, they are real security guards, but you get what I mean.” 

“Absolutely,” You said. “Can I see the cameras? They’ve got such a neat 80s vibe to them.”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” He rolled his chair over so you could look over his shoulder. “I just click the camera here and... one sec.” He pulled an old panel with a few technical reboot options on it, before clicking one. You leaned your arms on the back of his chair as you watched the cameras fizzle from white static to a poor resolution of video footage. “There,” He said. “Pretty legit, huh?”

“Very legit.” You paid very close attention as he flitted through the different cameras, or rather what the cameras didn’t catch. 

“Yeah, in trying to make the place feel more vintage we have overdone it a bit, heh heh. Some of this equipment is barely functional!” His eyes widened slightly as he held up his hands, “But still functional, of course.”

“Of course,” You said. “Well, I thought I might take some more notes on the attractions and then I can let myself out in the front?”

“All the way to the other end of the building? Sure, if you want.”

“Thanks,” You held out your hand. “It was great meeting you.”

He smiled and shook your hand, and you almost felt bad for lying to him. He was just a guy excited about horror attractions doing his job. Even if he was brushing the dangers of this place under the rug; brushing your best friend's disappearance under the rug... No, nevermind. You didn’t feel even a little bad.

“It was awesome meeting you too,” He said. “Can’t wait to read about us in...” He forgot your fake journalism blog/magazine/whatever. “A few days or whenever you get around to writing it.” What a save.

You threw him one last smile before making your way through the busy preparations. You pretended to take a few notes, gave your best impression of someone interested in an empty Chica head, and attempted to talk to a few employees. Talking to the people who were working was more fruitless than you hoped. They either were too busy to talk to you or were skirting around certain subjects like the man who’d shown you around had. You attempted to find real evidence and real clues as well, but that was just as fruitless. Fake blood and artificial claw marks fooled you every time and you had to pass it off as admiration and journalism.

No, if you wanted to know what really happened, you would have to get into that office. Look at it more closely and see if there were any traces or clues left by them. Or even if you could take a look at the cameras more closely, see if a bird’s-eye-view gave perspective. You could only hope that maybe there would be an hour between the day shift and the night shift that you could look around and do some real investigating.

First, you needed to find a good place to hide. Somewhere the cameras couldn’t see, but employees wouldn’t spot you either. From what you saw, the cameras even extended to the vents, which was insane to you. However, not all of the vents were monitored. In your mind, you imagined some big locker or box you could hide in, but there was nothing like that, so the vents would have to do. 

Your stomach dropped. Hiding in the vents also meant you couldn’t be seen tampering with them, which meant you had to go to the area with the least amount of people. You rubbed your eyes. You were an adult. You shouldn’t have been so hesitant to be around what was basically a giant toy, a decoration. A nearly seven foot, moldy, possibly dangerous decoration that could crush you just by falling on you. You swallowed.

Steeling yourself, you walked toward the area with the rotted Bonnie.

There it was. Unmoved in a way that mocked your fear. Just as horrible to smell (was it really that ruined by mildew? Did someone stuff food in there? Did some poor animal die in there?), but you were getting used to it quickly. After a quick moment of choking. 

You wondered briefly what it must’ve looked like on stage, alive with music and light, warm in color and a delight to children. That must’ve been such an exciting thing thirty or forty years ago. Now it wasn’t even a shell of what it once was, it was a perversion. Twisted and moldy in such a way that its wires looked like guts and its endoskeleton was dulled like bone. Its smile that must’ve been cheery at one point now looked like a permanent, malicious grin. Its eyes—ever too human for your liking—and teeth were nearly the same dingy color of its mildewy fur. You realized this Bonnie was missing his bowtie, and that made you sad for some reason. 

You cursed under your breath, “What happened to you?”

You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to the rotted Bonnie. Not unlike the sickening smell that you had adjusted to, you seemed to have adapted to the initial fear the animatronic instilled in you. Suddenly in a morbid curiosity, you were wanting to poke and prod at it; to test how rusted its joints must’ve been or to try peeking for rot inside. You shook your head of the impulse. 

You turned your head to look at the way you came. There wasn’t anybody passing by just yet. You looked at the camera, which didn’t seem focused but you couldn’t be sure. Lastly, you looked at the vent against the wall. 

In an effort to alleviate the tension beating against your chest—caused by a fear of getting caught, a fear of not finding anything, and a fear of the rotted Bonnie themself—you threw the animatronic a wink and said, “Keep an eye out for me, will you?”

You hurried to the vent, throwing a cautious glance behind you. You knelt in front of it, fully prepared to use a piece of shrapnel you found to undo its screws. However, you found the screws had already been pulled loose, interestingly enough. You briefly wondered who could have the strength for that as you quietly shifted the vent open and slipped in, gently and silently putting the vent back. 

You laid there on your stomach for a few moments as your exhilaration began to calm down. You hoped this place’s ventilation system wasn’t so “vintage” and “legit” that you’d suffocate or get some noxious gas spewed into your lungs.

As your heartbeat fell slower and slower, you cast your eyes downward. You had a long evening of waiting ahead of you. You shuffled quietly until you could get a hold of an earbud in your pocket. You took it out along with your phone, putting the earbud in your ear. You tapped on your most recent voice messages. 

Maybe you’d be able to recognize something in the voice message... or maybe you just wanted to remember why you were doing all of this.

You tapped on your phone until their voice message began playing in your ear.

Silence.

Shuffling.

Heavy, muffled breathing.

More silence.

Your name in a shaken whisper.

“...Come...” Their voice was hushed so so quiet. “...Come to...”

A child’s laughter, not quite right.

“...Hurry...I-”

The sound of the phone dropping.

-Click-

Your finger hovered over the option to play the message again. Your best friend was working at Fazbear’s Frights the night you got that message. They were supposed to meet you the morning after. They didn’t. After giving the message to the police, Fazbear Entertainment reported that your best friend had clocked-out at 6AM that morning and that there was no incident during their shift. You didn’t buy it. Whether there was some big corporate conspiracy, or whether something happened and Fazbear Entertainment just didn’t want to delay the attraction’s opening, you didn’t know. But a body hadn’t been found and that was something . Something to hold on to. 

You would get to the bottom of it.

You rested your head on your arm as you played the message again.

[canonfatbisexualenby]

Fandom: T/he O/ffice

Pairing: P.am B.eesly x Sara

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,500+

A/N: Takes place somewhere between ‘Booze Cruise’ and ‘Valentine’s Day’

For @strawbeaniie’s F/Obruary Event!!!

Sara sniffled and looked out of her bedroom window. Rain pattered moderately against it. She pulled a tissue from the box on her nightstand and blew her nose.

Her Uncle Mike would be coming over soon, along with a few things to help her cold.

She felt terrible for having to call out of work. She was usually happy to have a day off, even if it meant being briefly unwell. But that had changed with her recent, ill-advised crush on her co-worker, Pam.

Ever since the night of the infamous ‘booze cruise’, Sara had been slightly avoiding her. Which she hated. But she knew it was for the best.

It was all because of stupid Jim. He just had to have a crush on her too. And sometimes she swore Pam felt the same way about him, despite being engaged. So she had done something somewhat out of character for herself.

Sara had seen them speaking together, alone. And she had felt threatened, given the way Pam looked at him that night. Her eyes gleaming bright as they laughed together. Her cute giggle floating across the wind. How badly she wished she would look at her like that.

She had hated what realizing her true feelings for Pam had made her do. That she had pushed a metaphorical domino. She tried so hard to stay out of other people’s lives and business.

She suddenly heard a knock at her door. “Come in!” She shouted, hoping she could be heard through the small crack in her bedroom door.

The front door opened and shut. She settled into the bed a bit and sighed.

She heard a knock at her door and furrowed her eyebrows, puzzled as to why he was knocking.

“It’s open...” she mustered as best she could.

“Are you decent?” She heard a woman’s voice ask. “Uh...” she looked down at her pajamas “Yeah.” She pulled herself up slightly and grabbed her glasses off of her nightstand.

The door slowly swung open as she adjusted her glasses. She felt herself flush when she realized who it was.

“Oh...” she muttered. She pushed her hair back and looked at her bedspread. “Hey Pam.” She spoke softly.

“Hey.” Pam beamed “Sorry if I surprised you too much.” she said as she entered the room. “Michael got held up at work and asked if I could cover for him.” She smiled, placing the grocery bag in her hand down on the stool near Sara’s vanity/dresser.

“I see.” Sara mumbled and avoided Pam’s gaze. “It’s fine.” She looked at the bag.

Pam took off her coat and gloves, then walked over to the edge of Sara’s bed. “Michael told me you’re not feeling very well.” She furrowed her eyebrows in a concerned way.

Sara simply nodded, switching to looking at Pam’s hands, which were currently clasped loosely in front of her. Her clean, trimmed finger nails had a pearlescent sheen to them today.

“Do you have a thermometer?” Pam asked. She leaned over a bit and began fluffing Sara’s pillows. Sara still avoided her gaze, despite the fact her arm was now brushing against Sara’s and she could also smell her shampoo. “I’d like to make sure you’re not running a fever.”

Sara nodded in response again. Besides feeling like utter crap physically, she felt embarrassed that Pam was seeing her so vulnerable.

“It’s in the bathroom cabinet.” Sara finally said aloud. Pam smiled and walked out to go get it.

Before she came back, Sara tried her best to peek a glance at her reflection. She knew it was silly, but she still wanted to be presentable despite being so ill.

Pam walked in and to Sara.

“Here.” Pam said as Sara heard the ‘beep’ of the thermometer’s power button. “Open, please.” Pam smiled.

Sara complied and opened her mouth. Pam placed the thermometer against her tongue slowly.

A few moments later, it beeped. Pam pulled it away and looked at the tiny screen. “Well, some good news, you don’t have a fever.” Pam grinned and placed the thermometer on Sara’s dresser.

Sara smiled back and pushed her glasses up. “I wish that made me feel any better.” she chuckled.

Pam leaned over to grab something out of the bag. Sara briefly glanced at her butt.

“I got you some Alka-Seltzer.” She said, turning back to Sara. “Where do you keep your drinking glasses?”

Sara cleared her throat and said “They’re in the cabinet to the right of the stove.” Pam smiled and nodded, walking to go grab one.

She came back and pulled a bottle of moderately priced water out of the bag. “I figured you might want to better water than what comes out of the tap around here.” Pam chuckled.

Sara smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Pam poured the water into the glass and popped in the tablets.

“Here you go.” She walked over, handing Sara the glass. Pam’s fingers briefly brushed her’s.

“Thanks.” she muttered, placing the glass on the table and letting the tablets fizz.

“I got you a few amenities as well.” Pam grinned. Sara raised her eyebrows.

“I picked you up a Cosmo and Redbook, I wasn’t really sure what to get as far as pharmacy available literature goes.” She laughed. Sara chuckled along.

“And...” Pam paused “Michael sent along a friend.”

Sara was curious as to what she meant. She pushed up her glasses and waited. Pam leaned over and slowly removed the mysterious item.

Sara instantly recognized it as an old gift from her uncle. A teddy bear he had gotten another time she had been moderately sick, a few years back. She felt herself blush as Pam turned around with the huge plushie, her arms gently wrapped around his big belly.

She walked over, beaming. Sara felt embarrassed. “Here’s...uh, Constantine?” Sara looked at her as she passed him over. “It’s...” she felt silly as she began to speak “Christ...topher.” She mumbled. Pam said “Hm?” with such a gentle expression Sara thought she’d explode.

“His name is Christopher.” She said more loudly, now wrapping her arms around him. Pam nodded and smiled. “He’s too cute.” Sara smiled back at her comment.

“Thanks.” She sipped the water. Pam sat down on the edge of her bed.

Sara put the glass down, gripping onto the teddy bear. “You ok?” she asked Pam, who was peering down. She looked up and weakly smiled. “I guess.” She sighed.

“What’s up?” Sara asked, hesitantly. Pam creased her eyebrows and bit her lip. “Are we okay?”

Sara nibbled at her bottom lip now. “What do you mean?” She somewhat wondered.

“Like, we’re still friends, right?” Pam placed her hand against Sara’s covered foot. Sara thought for a moment. She had never heard Pam call her a ‘friend’ before.

“Yeah.” She breathed out. “I mean, yes, of course.” she said more clearly. Pam smiled. “That’s good to hear.” Pam leaned back up. “You just seemed kind of, distant, lately.”

“And you’re one of my best friends at the office. So I just figured I’d make sure you weren’t going through anything more challenging than a cold.”

Sara felt herself blush, then cough suddenly. Pam stood up and quickly walked over. She placed her hand on Sara’s back and gently rubbed. “Take a sip.” Pam grabbed the glass and pressed it to Sara’s lips.

Sara took it with both hands and steadily gulped. Pam continued to rub her back. “Good, there you go.” She whispered.

Pam fluffed her pillows one last time and walked over to her humidifier to turn it on. Sara took her glasses off and ran her fingers through her hair, them catching in a moderately sized tangle.

“Could I braid your hair?” She heard Pam ask. She blushed, then thought about it briefly. “Are you sure? I haven’t had the time or energy to bathe yet today.”

Pam laughed. “You’ve clearly never been next to Roy after a long day at the warehouse. Trust me, you’re fine.” Sara feigned a small smile.

Pam grabbed her boar’s hair brush off the dresser. She walked over, Sara shifting her position so her back was facing Pam.

Pam began to brush her hair. Sara sighed softly and shut her eyes. As she braided it, Sara took in the feeling of Pam’s hands occasionally brushing against her upper back and shoulders.

She knew it was silly, to feel so strongly for an engaged co-worker. One who had plenty of male admirers. But she couldn’t help herself.

“There.” Pam said softly, finishing off the braid with a plain purple hair tie. She pulled it behind Sara and walked over to her coat and purse.

“Well, I’ve gotta get back home.” Pam pulled her scarf from her purse. “Please try and get some rest, Sara.” she said as she wrapped it around her neck.

“Will do.” She leaned over to turn off her lamp. “Good night, Pam.” Sara whispered.

Pam smiled and turned the switch to the overhead light off. “Night.” She spoke low and turned to leave the door slightly ajar.

Sara closed her eyes and drifted off to thoughts of Pam.

Taglist: @gideongrovel-reblogs | @deadlock (feel free to ask to be added or removed!!!)

[south-of-heaven]

shawn michaels x mcmahon!reader where shawn and hunter get in trouble with vince and reader has to come get them out of it after an emergent text from hunter?

Pretty please || Shawn Michaels x Reader

Summary: You get Shawn and Hunter out of a sticky situation with your dad.

Dating you, the daughter of Vince McMahon, had its unique set of challenges, and Shawn Michaels had learned that the hard way. On one hand, he cherished the time he spent with you, but on the other, he constantly found himself caught in the crosshairs of your dad's disapproval. It was a complicated dance that Shawn had become quite proficient in.

One fateful day, trouble was brewing, and Shawn and his best friend, Triple H, found themselves on the wrong side of it yet again. Mr. McMahon, your formidable father, had called them into his office, and both men knew they were in for a tongue-lashing of epic proportions.

However, Hunter was known for more than just his wrestling skills. He was a master strategist, and he knew just how to call for reinforcements when needed. As they were escorted to Vince's office, Hunter discreetly pulled out his phone and fired off a text to you.

Hunter: Hey, Sweetheart. We're in a bit of a jam here. Can you work your magic with Vince? Please? Pretty please?

Your phone buzzed with Hunter's message, and you couldn't help but smirk as you read it. They were in trouble again, and they needed your intervention. Your dad couldn't resist your charms, and you'd used that to your advantage more than once.

You quickly replied, "On my way. Sit tight. "

Your dad was in for it, and he knew it when he saw you striding purposefully towards his office. His "sweet little girl" facade was hard to resist, and he braced himself for your pleading, those puppy-dog eyes, and that pout that had broken his resolve many times before.

Without knocking, you barged into his office, finding your dad seated at his imposing desk, a stern look etched across his face. Shawn and Hunter stood nearby, looking appropriately contrite.

"Hi Dad," you began, your voice sweet as honey, "I heard you were giving Shawn and Hunter a hard time again. They've been working so hard, and I hate to see them stressed."

Vince sighed. It was hard to maintain his anger when you were standing there, laying on the charm. "Sweetheart, you know they need to be disciplined when they mess up. It's for the good of the business."

You took a step closer, your expression turning into your best innocent gaze, eyes wide and pleading. "I know, Dad, but can't you go a little easy on them, just this once? For me?"

Vince shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was losing this battle, and he knew it. He glanced at Shawn and Hunter, who were exchanging glances behind your back, clearly relieved.

"Alright, alright," Vince finally relented, waving his hand dismissively. "But this is the last time, you hear me? They need to shape up."

You beamed, rushing over to give your dad a quick hug. "Thanks, Dad! You're the best!"

As you left his office, you couldn't help but grin. It was a dance you'd mastered—playing mediator between your dad and your boyfriend and his best friend. Vince couldn't say no to you, his "sweet little girl," and this time was no different. Shawn and Hunter would escape with nothing more than a warning, and you knew they'd be eternally grateful for your intervention once again.

[leahsflwer]

Miles Maitland imagine “I will miss you my dear” smut || Michael Sheen

Warnings: Adult content, smut, not for innocent people 💀, explicit content (words & actions)

Miles Maitland x masc reader ♥️

Miles spotted men from across the room and smiled hurrying over to me with no thought while the others danced around the hospital room. I couldn’t help but flash a smile in return. Miles was so bubbly. He held my hand and suggested I come over with him, but I declined his offer by shaking my head. He was quick to understand and pulled me outside to my car.

He got inside and so did I. He looked down with his glasses on and I couldn’t already tell something was up with him.

I removed his shades and spotted the tears under them, he sweet, soft face was now red and wet from his tears and sniffles.

The sight broke my heart, I immediately held his hand and looked him in the eyes. He was taken back by my sudden touch but eventually smiled and shook his head.

“I’m sorry.. it’s just that I must go back to France. I am not ready to leave you all. Especially you. I’m will miss you my dear” he fake chuckled, I could hear the pain in his voice and it was horrible

“I’ll come with you. I do not care to live here. I’d prefer to be there” I replied

“But your job? You would lose your job that you worked so hard for?” He shook his head

“No. You’re more important than anything in the world. I care upon you, more than some job that I do not even like.” I smiled and lifted his head up by his chin.

He flashed an adorable smile at me with his blue eyes beaming and glossy from his past tears. He was back to the happy Miles I loved. Miles was giving me butterflies from just a simple stare, he was beautiful.

I didn’t think as I leaned over and kissed him. But his lips felt so soft and warm on mine. I was bigger than him so I could easily hold his face like it was a feather.

He climbed over onto my side and sat on my lap, his body felt so soft and fragile, but I held onto his waist and smiled into the kiss. Deepening it and he didn’t even hesitate to let my tongue explore his mouth. The kiss was growing hotter and more needy.

His hips slowly started to grind down on me, causing a groan to escape my mouth. He was not waisting any time and I loved that.

I could feel my cock harden as he continued to grind down on it. He wasn’t being easy on me today so I wouldn’t be easy on him either. He stopped everything and slide down to the car floor and looked up at me with puppy eyes as if he was asking for it.

He grinned and unzipped my pants, pulling them down alongside my boxers. the cold air hitting my shaft made me grip onto the car seat, his warm hand held onto it and slowly pumped it, making me groan.

“Fuck..” I breathed out as he wrapped his mouth around my shaft as much as his pretty mouth could take.

My hand made its way to his black curls and gripped onto them, gently pushing him down further. I could feel him moan at the action sending electric waves throughout my body.

He was making me moan from just a simple blowjob. Usually I was fine by them, but this was different, I’d liked him for a long time so perhaps that’s why it felt so much better. But Miles was good at it, a natural.

Soon I gripped tighter onto his hair and bucked my hips.

“Fuck Miles- I’m gonna- fuck…” I groaned as I released into his warm mouth.

Miles pulled away and swallowed what he could, using he finger to wipe some off him lip and licked it off. He was dirty and it turned me on even more.

He got back up and removed his pants and underwear that was a deep blue. It suited his figure with his perfect hips and those chubby thighs. He sat back on my lap and gently lined himself up at my cock. I was a bit nervous for him to just take it like that, but he seemed happy with it. So as he slowly pushed me inside him I kissed his neck leaving soft kisses and little marks.

“Shit.. you’re so big~” He moaned out and slowly bounced up and down.

He looked so good jumping on my cock like that, I wanted to treat him like a princess and cherish him. It felt so good I thought it was a dream. But his moans were my reminder, those perfect sounds.

It was music to my ears.

[Now.. this was a late night write so I apologise for how bad it is lmao! But enjoy if that’s your cuppa tea? I’m in the process of writing much better imagines ahha]

[blood--king]

Kauze didn't have many memories of his life free from the angels and Michael, as he ended up trapped in this universe when he was only 7 years old, an incorrectly used power sent him to Nix, where he was found by the angels, but they looked more like monsters than pure beings.

Since he was here, his life was hell, he was imprisoned for being a demon, and soon after he was "adopted" by the ruler of the angels, Michael, which seemed to be the least worse, after all, now he would be locked in a room or in a house, not in a dirty cell starving and cold.

But that became completely exhausting, after all, he only had Michael to talk or interact with, and he wasn't the nicest person in the world for that, Kauze just wanted to go back to his universe and try to start his life over.

Which seemed completely impossible to him, as he seemed to be completely stuck with Michael.

But that changed one day, with a somewhat dangerous proposal, but with a reward that he dreamed of so much, returning to his universe and finally leaving that place.

Being a spy sounded crazy since he had no intention of talking to anyone, but if his homecoming was at stake, he had to.

Walking through that scary forest, he finally arrived at the gates of the Kingdom of Blood, it seemed that now he had to put Michael's plan into action.

— Uhg... Wow, how did I get here? I was training my powers and I ended up in this strange forest and right behind this giant gate, how can I get back to the home?

He says out loud, as if to get someone's attention, if he's going to enter this realm, let it be legally so he doesn't have future problems.

◢【🌌】 Nɪx.

◢【“The way back home”】 interaction w/ @/kauze-bridgerton

The angel species, probably the most overrated, known for being the glorious descendants of the great Goddess of creation. However, the angel’s politic became a strong aspect of their culture, being a bunch of selfish, hypocrites and cruel people of power, building their twisted government from a twisted religion. Poor Kauze was found by the wrong people, and ended up being practically the pet of the leader of the most cruel and despicable angel race. The Creed Angels, born with colorful wings but dying them white to show their commitment with the religion.

Michael, the council of the creeds, he took Kauze and work hard through many years to make him dependent. He didn’t even train him to control his powers, the angel wouldn’t take the risk of a rebellion. One day, with the sunrise, Kauze was sent from the sky with a beam of light, if he could complete this mission, the angels would finally defeat the vampires.

As soon as he approached the gates, they were opened for him, after all, this kingdom was open for tourists. Beyond the gates, there was a guard waiting for him with papers on his hands.

—Greetings mister, may I know your species please?

[justahopelessaromantic]

Upgraded Voices In My Head (Ch. 5: Michael makes an entrance)

Fandom: Be More Chill: The Musical Ships: Boyf riends and Squipemy Links to Chapters 1, 2, 3, and 4 Summary: Jeremy, for the most part, was okay with the effects of accidentally drinking Mountain Dew. Having an upgraded Squip that's no longer a complete douche-bag (okay, he was still a little shitty, but nothing too unbearable)? Cool. Squip playing matchmaker for him and his multiple crushes? Awesome. Falling in love with said Squip? Not exactly ideal.

Dropping down to the final step, Jeremy swiveled around to awkwardly lean against the soda-stained arm of a battered sofa (the Squip would have to convince him to dispose of that later), all while never taking his eyes off the rather uncomfortable advanced AI. He stared the boy down for a few moments in a (successful, if his host’s increased fidgeting was any indication) attempt at intimidation before shuddering, a wave of cold electricity running up his spine, and snapped back in hopes of distracting from his darkening cheeks, air sudden too hot and room too cramped (especially with the gremlin huddled in one of the couch’s corner and gripping the controller so hard his nails were digging into its plastic sides, music blaring from his oversized headphones so loud it was audible even from where they stood as glossed over eyes fixated themselves on crude low poly pixel art). 

“What?” He sneered, practically baring his fangs and catching the human off guard before he mentally scrambled for a reply that didn’t reveal how shamelessly he’d been checking the computer out.

“I, uh, I was just wondering why, um, why you’re human form still looks kinda like Keanu Re-oof!” Before Jeremy could finish, his guest ripped off his headphones, threw them on the woolen carpet, and tackled him in a warm hug, flinging them both into the sofa cushion and wiping the hostile interaction clean from the host’s mind. The Squip, eyeing the home intruder visitor cautiously, silently slipped behind the stairs as Jeremy reciprocated the hug, burying his face in his friend’s soft shoulder for a soft moment before beaming a warm smile at him. “Michael! Holy shit, it’s so good to see you, man. How come you’re home early?”

“Our flight back got cancelled so we took an early one home. The trip was still hella gnarly though. God, you woulda loved it, man! We’re taking you with us next time, I promi...whoooooa, wait...” Eerie silence pierced through enthusiasm to reveal concern as he finally took in Jeremy’s new apprentice in full. The gamer gently cupped his reddening face with one hand, gingerly thumbing over the fresh scar, along with a few stray acne bumps, on his cheek and brushing the soft curls dangling in front of his bandages out of the way. “Dude, what...happened?” Startled by the sudden intimacy, he bashfully turned to the side to avoid his friend’s intense stare and explained what led to the mess that was last night, taking particular care to leave out the face planting like a moron bit and being practically coddled by his dotting Squip before standing back up and bracing himself for Michael’s reaction.

“...Well,...yeah, but...you’re good now, right?” He pried, poking and prodding a now heavily flustered Jeremy’s face in search of any \ injuries he might’ve missed. “‘Cause I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if something serious happened just ‘cause I wasn’t here to, like, nag you about taking care of yourself n’ shit.”

Jeremy's eyes widened before they shifted to the floor, his hands beginning to fidget again (Squip would have to deal with that later). “Aw, c’mon, Micky, y-you know you don’t have to worry about me.” The jet lag from his wonky trip hours ensured that Michael did not have the time, nor the energy, to explain why that sentence took the prize for Biggest Understatement of the Decade. ”I’m totally fine! I mean, my head is givin’ me hell and I’m fucking starving, but, like, besides that Squip says I’ll be fine, so, uh, yeah.” He spat out, earning an overly drawn-out sigh of relief from his player 1 who slumped back into his seat.

“Oh, thank god!” Shoulders dropping, Michael leaned back against his friend and let out a sigh. “Man, you are so fucking lucky you’re not hurt for real, Jer. You pull a stunt like that again and I won’t hesitate, bi-wait did you say squip?” The other nodded casually before Michael shot him a curious look.

“Oh, right! Okay,..” He shot up out of his seat and swiftly grabbed Michael’s sleeve, ripping him up from the couch to reveal a stone-faced, cleanly dressed man that the player 1 could only describe as a stylish and almost threatening version of “chill” personified practically staring into his soul, while Jeremy hooked himself onto the man’s arm, vibrating with an almost childlike excitement. It vaguely reminded him of the joy that the player 2 radiated after finally asking Christine out or finding out about how to silence Squip's excessive internal nagging with a Mountain Dew red binge (the irony between that last example and the situation at hand did not escape Michael) “So! This is my-”

“Squip.” He interjected, extending an arm in search of a handshake while silently bracing himself to touch a most likely greasy and calloused hand. “Shorthand for super quantum unit Intel processor. You must be Michael. Truly a...” Closing his eyes and grimacing, he forced out his best, almost like the words stung. “...pleasure...to meet you, sir. Jeremy has told me many oh, for god sakes, why do you humans insist on throwing things at me today!?” The hologram groaned, bending over to pick up the thrown Xbox controller that had phased through him and place it back on top of its console while Jeremy ran to Michael’s side.

Failing to apprehend his friend due to his less-than-stellar strength (see: noodle arms), he opted for a more reason-based persuasion, muting the voice inside his head nagging on about how the emotion-driven best friend would probably just dismiss anything he said when dealing with something this serious.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem!?”

Micheal gave his friend a baffled look before pointing at the hologram. “That! That thing is the source of like...85% of all my problems.”

“I assume the other 15% stem from your raging idiocy, correct?”

Before Michael could bite back with a “Fuck off, you satanic tic tac!” or something equally unclever, Jeremy glared at his Squip before overprotective wrapping his arms around Michael, whose eyes widened at the sudden contact, and pulling him close, taking a half step back from the program. “Hey, cool it, dude! That’s, like, my favorite person you’re talking about.”

The Squip cringed at the young adult’s poor taste. “That’s your favorite person?” Clearly, he didn’t have much competition for the title.

...not that he wanted it, of course.

“Oh, yeah, uh, sorry about that. I swear, he’s usually not...” Jeremy studied the almost bloodthirsty look in the eyes of his kicking and screaming friend as he clawed frantically at the offending Intel processor. “...like this.” 

“I should hope not. Spending too much time around someone so...” The computer program circled around the calmer yet still scouring teen, combing over every inch of him with his electronic scanners. “...juvenile would hinder my objective.” 

“Suck a dick, asshole!”

The Squip only blinked. “I hope you know you’re only proving my point.”

“I hope you know you’re a defective piece of shit.”

A harsh, palpable silence fell over the room as Michael slumped into his player two’s arms in gradual exhaustion, and said player loosened his grip subtly and unwittingly leaned toward his Squip, his wide eyes frantically picking apart each pixel. Simulated breath hitching, the Squip froze for so long, Jeremy had time to toy with the idea that he might be glitching. The last time Jeremy saw him project glossy, shifting eyes, shaky hands, and a loss for words (God knows that thing never shut up) was during the glimpse he caught moments before passing out from the shock of The Play™. Back then it’d only been there as a last-ditch attempt to draw sympathy out of Jer in vain hopes of reactivation, but there was no reason for it now, considering the lack of real, high-stakes threat (Unless you counted Michael and, quite frankly, he knew the Squip was smart enough not to). The first time was a dull shock to Jeremy’s system.

The second only stirred up a vague sense of concern he was sure the Intel processor saw.

The Squip, of course, couldn’t have that.

[ankhmutes]

Forbidden Fruit (Richie/Berzatto sister)

So I did a thing I never thought I would do.

Wrote a one-shot smutty thing about Richie and a Berzatto sister. I hope y'all enjoy. It is unedited, done under the influence of a big fat beer and pizza. Honestly, I'm half horny for Jon Bernthal (Mikey) not even remotely interested in Richie, but my brain wouldn't let go of this plot bunny.

Minors please do not interact, since ya know, sex and all of that. Proceed at your own risk.

Richie knew he was fucked, when he set eyes on Mikey’s shadow, the youngest Berzatto girl. He remembered her as an annoying tag-along always in ripped jeans and Converse, always trying to chase after him and Michael. He’d chase her away, make her play with Carmy and Sugar. She and Michael shared the same dark curls, dark eyes, with the mischievous playful streak of pure hell and terror for anyone who dared to get close to them. Every family portrait, you could see the chocolate-haired and tattered bookends, with the graceful blonde Carmy and Sugar right smack in between. 

Until Michael ate his gun. 

Carmy flew home from New York. 

Shadow flew home from Seattle. No one knew where she had been, bumming around the pacific northwest, hunting for fucking bigfoot or taking pictures of trees or some bullshit, until sugar called her. 

“you gotta come home.”

Like they knew she’d come hurtling back, as if she heard Michael’s voice asking her to come play. 

There were no more games. There would be no more fights, no more screaming, no more forks thrown at the dinner table. 

It was friends and family night, and he hadn’t recognized her.  at first, at least. He wasn’t used to Michael’s Shadow with long hair, not since she had chopped it short after he and Michael had put gum into it. Her braces had disappeared, her smile a beaming smile that he saw every day in Michael’s face. Michael’s eyes staring at him. 

He remembered seeing her at the funeral, but that was a fucking funeral. His brain had been somewhere else, with Michael, in the ground. Now, he was alive, and his brain was telling him that this, this was something to be happy about. 

“You’re home!”

“What?”

“Shadow! She’s home.” Natalie said, shoving Richie to the side, throwing her arms around the tiny girl. When she had been tiny, thought Richie as he gawked down at the girl, just about Carmy’s height. Wild brown curls tangled with blonde, and Richie shut his mouth as he stared down at the youngest Berzatto. 

He had never seen her in a dress, Richie realized belatedly as he stared at the long legs; a small excuse of a dress wrapped around the soft curves of an actual woman with breasts- Before Richie could mentally compare the breasts in the dress to fruit, Sugar had her turned around, and Fak was in the way. 

Fuckng Fak, thought Richie as he blinked for a minute and concentrated on his job. He had to make the people happy. 

“Sit here, have my seat, keep him company.” Sugar said with a wink as she shoved the girl down in her seat. The younger girl giggled and nodded as she leaned forward, greeting her brother in law and exclaiming in delight over the baby and the restaurant. 

“Did you tell her?” Fak asked, peeking over Natalie’s shoulder, as Shadow glanced up  from her chatter and smiled, fucking smiled, right at Richie with that mischievous spark that he could remember in Mikey’s eye, which meant–She was up to no good. 

Blinking, Richie turned on his heel and tried not to blush, his hard-on trying to blast through his pants. Smoothing down his tie, Richie thrust himself into the work. Chatter in the kitchen picked up once Sugar announced that Shadow was here, and Mom was quickly forgotten. Richie blinked away his thoughts, throwing himself into his work and trying not to remember just exactly why he didn’t like Shadow hanging around so much… 

He remembered the painful hard -ons he had to endure during that last summer, before she left. That tiny little green bikini of hers, and the tank tops that did nothing to hide the pert little nipples he had fantasized about every night for several months, after he had accidentally gotten a glimpse of her breasts when her top came off at the pool.

The sounds of Sugar chattering with Shadow brought him back to reality, as the service ended. Fak was hanging about, his eyes eating her up, just like Richie was, and Richie let out a long sigh, running his hands along his scalp as he moved further away from Shadow, but keeping an eye on Fak.

“Carmy did what?” Shadow giggled, her hand over her mouth as she leaned into sugar, one hand holding on to a wine glass. Fak was at her side, telling her the story of why Carmy was not there in the kitchen, his eyes moving to her breasts every so often, and then darting up after a quick second. Richie scowled, annoyed that Shadow had moved from the dining room into the kitchen- his space- and was leaning on Fak, her breasts moving up against his arm every time she moved. His brain hurt, from trying to suppress the memories of the dusky pink nipples that hid behind the dress.

“Didn’t he have a girlfriend? I thought it was Sydney? I’m so sorry-” the little Berzatto said, blushing as her dark curls got everywhere, flying as she turned her head from Sydney to Sugar. Sydney stuttered, and Sugar giggled loudly, gasping with laughter. Girlish chatter filled the silent echo of the kitchen as everyone cleaned and put away things after service. Memories of watching Shadow at the Beef made Richie scowl ferociously. He didn’t want to remember trying not to stare at her tits too much when she came by on a hot day with ice cream for him and Michael. Fak caught Richie’s eye and shifted back slightly, ducking his head and keeping his eyes off of her tits. 

As always, Shadow was an echo of Michael. It was as if Michael had come back- for a few seconds at a time, with a laugh or twinkle of her eye at a word said a certain way- Richie blinked hard and slunk into the office to escape from the sudden sharp stab of memories threatening to gut him. 

He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to see Shadow, all grown. Shadow was supposed to be like sugar, just like a sister or something. A chick that was pretty, was nice, but you didn’t want to fuck. The word fuck shouldn’t be on your mind when you looked at her. Hell, she was the chick who stuck lollipops on his car windshield, shattering it to pieces. He shouldn't be getting turned on by her.

It was as if his dick had a mind of its own. He tried to tune out the loud chatter from the kitchen. His hand hurt, and he belatedly realized he had been holding his hand into a tight fist the entire time. 

Breathe, thought Richie. You can do this. His eyes darted to the poster, covering up one of many secrets. Richie’s eyes darted to the darkened office door, and he let out a sigh, sitting down in the desk chair and putting his head on the desk. 

He needed to clear his head. 

You know what you really want, his traitorous mind whispered to him. He gulped, his hand brushing along the strained tent in his pants. Heat shot through his body as he tried to think of the reasons why he shouldn’t even be thinking of Shadow in this way. Shadow was Mikey’s little sister, the annoying tag-along that would set off fireworks under his car, or dump all of their beer because they refused to let her have any. Not the girl that ran around in a green bikini top, nipples poking through and cut-off shorts so short you could practically see her thong if she bent over just right....a

“Richie? Cousin?” Shadow’s voice burst through the bubble of solitude Richie had found into the office. 

“Uh- here.” Richie said, leaning against the desk in hopes it would hide him from the waist down; he couldn’t think he could get any harder, as his eyes caught sight of her dress. He had never seen her in a dress, and she had the perfect body for a dress, all curves and softness in the right places. 

“You’re hiding away from everybody- you’re turning into fucking Carmy.” the girl mocked, a flash of Mikey echoing in her taunting grin. Her eyes roved over the office, studying everything with a slight squint. “Got a smoke?” she asked, turning to glance down at Richie, her wide brown eyes glinting. Richie shook his head, not wanting his hands anywhere near his dick, and not trusting his mouth right now. 

“Fuck, I’ve never had you this quiet. Something wrong?” Shadow asked, genuine concern softening her tone. Leaning forward, she opened a drawer, searching for cigarettes in the usual hidey-holes that Michael would have had, or Carmy, or one of the boys. 

“Oh- wait, that’s’ not a pack of cigarettes, is it?” Shadow gasped out in amusement as her hand landed on Richie’s lap, about to lean over to hunt into a side drawer. 

“Nope, ain’t it.” Richie choked out, half-chuckling. Shadow’s eyes blinked and Richie held his breath, unsure of what exactly would happen. He could envision Carmy and Sugar barging in, yelling at him for daring to even have a hard-on near their little sister. Alternatively, Shadow would just laugh and run away, saying something about dick size. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was Shadow to grin that Michael-grin and get on her fucking knees. Richie was at a loss of words, watching Shadow undo his belt, and take his dick out, stroking it gently with her fingers. Richie watched her pink manicured nails gently trace over the vein, and it bobbed in a greeting, begging for more. 

“What are you waiting for? The door’s locked and everything.” Shadow said, eyes moving up to meet Richie’s, a cocky grin spreading along her features, and her hands busily scooting her body up against the desk, allowing Richie to cradle her body between his knees. It wasn’t until Shadow nudged him, that Richie allowed himself to accept that it was actually happening. 

“I accept that.” Richie stuttered out gently, blinking as he stood, still not quite believing that this was happening. “You really need this, don’t you?” he realized as he looked into her eyes, seeing the need and mischief in her eyes. 

“You’ll have to get me dirty, you know- I wasn’t exactly planning on this happening, but I lov–” Shadow said as she tilted her head, dark curls falling over her shoulders. Richie chuckled, and leaned forward to shut her up with a long kiss, his hands moving down to gently stroke her legs. It was a blissful moment that Richie relished, his hands moving up slowly to massage her hips, slowly coaxing the panties down past her knees, and gently spreading her knees. 

“I’ve gotta taste, ya know.” Richie said as he licked his lips, getting on his knees and burying his nose in her scent, taking in each sweet taste and smell, her heat overwhelming all of his senses. Richie moaned as his mouth took over, exploring each slick fold that she presented, holding on to her as she squirmed against his mouth. 

“I think you– you definitely know what you’re doing.” Shadow whimpered, her breathing echoing throughout the small office. “You– you— c’mere, Richie–” 

“No, no- not until I’ve tasted everything.” Richie said, lapping at Shadow, his fingers moving in and out of her, rising to mutter dirty things in her ear, fingering her until she came all over his fingers. Richie moved his hand  up, smirking as he licked his fingers clean of her taste. 

“Finger-licking good, yeah.” Richie leaned forward, lining himself up with her core. “But I still gotta make sure.” Richie slid into her ever so slowly, laying her back along the length of the desk. He slid her dress down around her waist, revealing a strapless bra, sliding it down and leaning forward to suckle on her breasts, he had dreamed of sampling the sweet flesh since he had seen them neatly tucked away in the dress at the start of the evening. 

“Richie.” Shadow whimpered, Richie’s mouth moving from one breast to another, making sure to knead and massage each to keep her panting and whimpering. When he was sure he wouldn’t come on the spot, Richie started moving again. His motions slid the desk ever so slightly. 

Richie fucked her gently and slowly, ever so quietly that the only sounds that could be heard were their bodies moving together and the creaking of the desk. Shadow’s legs held on to Richie, held him close to her as he plunged into her flesh, moving faster as he could feel her tighter than ever, squeezing his cock so beautifully. Richie held on to Shadow, watching her come and his resolve shattered, his movements becoming ragged and out of control, fucking her hard into the desk. The desk ended up crashing into the wall.  Richie slid out, just in time as his come hit the ground, gasping 

“Fuck, if they didn’t hear that–”

“Hurry up, before someone comes.” Richie said, panting as he grabbed his belt and a handkerchief, cleaning up the mess while Shadow righted herself, the two moving the desk back. 

“You okay?” knocks on the door. 

“Yeah, yeah,yeah.” Richie said with a sigh. “Just– letting off some steam. Be right there.” He could hear Sugar asking about Carmy, if he was out of the refrigerator yet. Fak’s voice murmured answers, and the voices moved further away. 

“Well- “ Shadow began with a sigh, running her hand through her hair. “If you ever… need some more stress relief, I may be in town for a little while longer, maybe?”

“I wouldn’t complain, no. I– I didn’t expect you.” Richie said after a long pause as he fiddled with the doorknob, on the edge of leaving. Shadow wasn’t exactly a once and done fuck, he wasn’t sure he was even that kind of guy. It had been ages since he had even thought of doing something like that. Hell, he hadn’t been divorced that long, had he?

“I’m sure you’ll find me if you need me.” Shadow said with a soft laugh, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss Richie on the side of his stubbled jaw. “Give me whisker burn anytime.” she winked, giving herself a last once-over before leaving the office in a whirlwind of brown curls, twinkling brown eyes and mischievous smiles. 

It was as if Michael hadn’t left, thought Richie for a brief moment, listening to the girls chattering to Carmy in the refrigerator, scolding him about his girlfriend; or new lack thereof. 

A jab of guilt shot through Richie as he moved out of the office, spotting a photo of Michael, fully realizing that he had just fucked his little sister, his best friend’s little sister, and– wanted it. Wanted some more. 

“Sorry, cousin.” Richie whispered, tugging at his belt, adjusting his tie as he nodded up towards the photo briefly in an acknowledgement of Mikey. He was pretty sure this wasn’t incest, since they weren’t actually related, but still- 

She was a Berzatto. That came pretty damn close. 

“Watch out!” sparks flew as the saw finally brought freedom to Carmy, and all thoughts of his interlude with Shadow left his mind, his attention swept up in the drama. 

It wasn’t until he was lying in bed, alone in the dark, that he had finally realized what he had done. 

He had tasted the forbidden fruit of a Berzatto, and craved it. 

He needed more. He was rock-hard again at the thought and memory of her tight around him; his hands clutched at his sheets, and he blinked up at the dark nothingness that was his ceiling. 

What was this? Richie’s hand automatically went to his dick, his mind replayed the encounter with more fervor, promising himself he’d call her in the morning….

[shellgrabbingpapa]

I've been writing this horror story for a few months now.

Officially 8 pages in, just shy of 4k words. It's a little long to be a short story at this pace, so more likely to be a novella if I can make it that long.

Going to add in the opening scene here just as a teaser I guess, and to put it out there. The opening is pretty gruesome, so be warned for that I guess.

The McByrne house was built in the early 1910s, by Daniel McByrne as a gift to his wife Eithne while she was pregnant with their second child, James. The elder McByrne child, Margret, was only six when they planned their moved from the first home in New York to this new plot in Southern Connecticut. Daniel, along with his three brothers, had come out to the new McByrne land to build the house from the ground up, having only just heard the news of the new baby.

            The first three months of building were treacherous for the McByrne brothers. Thomas, the youngest brother, got caught in the chipper as they were clearing the land to build the foundation. Daniel tried to pull him out but lost him as the blades cleared through Thomas down to the middle of his chest. There was no time to lose, and these mechanical misfortunes were all too common. What remained of Thomas was put to rest on a pyre by the red oak tree that could be seen through the second floor bedroom meant for young Margret. Michael McByrne had flipped his car that was carrying the support beams that would be used to build the first floor dining room. The accident left Michael’s skull in roughly six pieces, and with one man short and money tight, the blood soaked beams would have to continue on. The next few months it was only Daniel and his eldest brother William who continued on the house.

            William believed they should salt the land and leave. He offered Daniel a place in his home where there were already four screaming babes and a wife who wasn’t the most pleasant woman off the isle. Daniel politely declined and said they would salt the land when the work was done. The brothers continued on for the next few months, building room by room. When it could be afforded, they hired a few other men, mostly strangers from town, to help put up walls. Eithne had sent a small amount of money along to Daniel in their sixth month from the hawthorn branches harvested to local farms and the walking sticks she would craft from the branches of the blackthorn tree behind their home.

            Daniel and William’s work was finally done, and it was time to make their way back to New York. The brothers had parted ways at the state boarder, where William would take street cars the rest of the way until he could get back to his family. The trip was very short for him, as the first streetcar he got on is where he was shot in head by a man who mistook William for his wife’s lover.

            Daniel had his buggy equipped for the trip back to Eithne and Margret, hoping he had not yet missed the birth of his first son. He returned to their home quite late and went to check on his little girl, fast asleep, still holding onto her blackthorn crown she had made earlier that day. Eithne had come waddling into the room in her linen nightgown to greet her husband and bring him to bed.

            The next morning, Daniel awoke ready to pack up the buggy with the trunks that Eithne had been packing for weeks. Eithne and Margret were in the garden, watering the belladonna and henbane. Eithne had instructed her daughter to go into the house to bring her the sheers she had left on the kitchen table. As she bent to point where they would be, she folded over grasping at her belly and began immediately calling for Daniel. She stepped hard one foot after the other, trying to make her way to the house as blood began to soak through the nightgown she was still wearing. Daniel had rushed to her to bring her into the house, ripping off his overshirt to use in the delivery, and shouting for Margret to bring towels and hot water.  As Margret shuffled her tiny feet into the kitchen, she grabbed the chair at their kitchen table to hoist herself up to counter level. She found a large bowl and filled it with water. Slowly bringing herself back down, careful not to spill any of the water that was meant for her baby brother. Frightened by her mother’s screams of pain, she rushed back to the kitchen, realizing she had forgotten the towels above the sink. She climbed back onto the chair to grab them, quickly turned, and fell from her boost. Towels sliding across the floor as her mother’s gardening sheers, now on the floor after all the chaos, penetrating her small chest. No air left in her now punctured lung to help her call her father for help.

            After four hours of chaos, frantic screaming, cheers and tears, James was born still. Not a cry or movement from his tiny grey and red body. Daniel rubbed his son’s chest, hoping to breathe some life into him or evoke a cry, but only silence now filled the house. Daniel’s distraught had distracted him from just how silent his home was now; he didn’t even notice when Eithne closed her eyes to sleep while still bleeding on their living room floor. She would continue to bleed and never wake up.

            As Daniel sit, his lifeless son still in his hands, his daughter’s blood in a small stream coming through the kitchen entryway, and his wife’s blood now pooled to his knees, there was not much left for him to do. Daniel wrapped his son’s body in the shirt he had used to deliver him and placed him in his wife’s lap. He tearfully dragged his feet to the kitchen and removed the sheers from between Margret’s ribs and brought her to sit with her mother, Eithne’s head now resting on top of hers. Daniel grabbed his pistol from the mantel and sat next to his wife, holding her hand for the last time. They would never make it to the house Daniel had built for his family.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Lights

Summary: It's hard for Vanessa, knowing everything William Afton wanted her to be--and also what she failed to be--and even more: what she ended up becoming. But with Gregory and Glamrock Freddy by her side, somehow it's easier.

It was… difficult some days for Vanessa knowing that not only was she William Afton's daughter—something she still didn’t entirely understand, and she wasn't sure she wanted the details on how it was possible—but also that he hadn't even wanted her to be herself. No, he'd wanted her to replace the daughter that he'd lost, Elizabeth.

Vanessa was a misfit if there ever was one. But she wasn't alone. In some twist of fate, she had found her "siblings." The boy Gregory who had been meant to be her brother Evan in some way, and even the animatronic "Glamrock Freddy," that had somehow ended up with Michael's soul.

In many ways, Vanessa supposed she could have despised them… and maybe she should have—in an attempt to shout to the world that she wasn't just some piece to a puzzle. But the truth was that Vanessa loved these two with all her heart. And not because they were supposed to be from her family: Afton’s family, rather. Vanessa would have adored them if they had absolutely nothing to do with that part of her life at all, just for the fact that it was these two who had saved her.

"Do you think Cassie would like this one recipe I found in a cookbook?" Gregory asked now, pulling Vanessa out of her reverie. “It’s an orange cake, but it’s largely made with carrots! And somehow, it still tastes more orange than anything! But there’s still a tint of carrot, I guess,” Gregory said the last, with a thoughtful expression on his face, examining the recipe once more as the trio stood together in their new kitchen.

"I'd think that she would at that, since she loves carrot cake so much. What you're doing for her is really sweet, Gregory,” Vanessa beamed at her, for all intents and purposes, adopted son. But since that thought made her feel too old, she swiftly dashed it and amended it with “little brother,” in her head. Yes, that made her feel better all around. And she handed Gregory a mixing bowl for his endeavors, as she wondered how Freddy might help.

And it was by handing Gregory the sugar right away, which reminded Vanessa of what a sweet boy Gregory and Freddy both were: something she knew well. Because it was through them that she was no longer trapped in the darkness as Vanny, after all.

There were some days that Vanessa didn't think she'd ever be able to thank the boy and animatronic enough for what they'd done for her—she could still distantly remember what it felt like to be trapped in her own head, scratching to get out as the memory of Afton made her do thing she hated—but she knew she'd spend the rest of her life being there for the boys, to try and make it up to them.

But speaking of trying to make it up to someone: even though Gregory had had nothing to do with Cassie's getting hurt at the Pizza Plex—rather it had all been the damned Mimic's fault--since Cassie had been injured in trying to save who she thought had been Gregory, Vanessa knew this was why he going all out to try and show her just how much he appreciated her now.

"I think this is a great idea, Superstar," Freddy said smiling. "And you need butter for the recipe, right? Here, have some exotic butters."

"And next you have to use blood oranges; you can't forget about those. After all, they're the tastiest of oranges," Vanessa told Gregory with a wink, before going to the fridge to grab them for her vertically challenged friend. She had left them pretty high up in there when she'd gone shopping last, after all, since she had left the refrigerator had been pretty packed.

It was only when Vanessa turned back around with the bag of oranges in hand that she noticed that both Gregory and Glamrock Freddy were staring at her. "What-" she started. But then she looked at the sharply colored item in her hands and remembered what she had just said.

Blood red oranges. Yes, Vanessa might not have been Vanny anymore—or the intended Elizabeth replacement—nor was Freddy Michael, or Gregory Evan, but one wrong move was all it took to throw them back into that whirlwind, wasn't it?

As it happened, all three of them had far too many memories where blood was concerned. And those memories would always be childhood monsters in the closet, but they all knew how to turn on the lights now. Together.

"Err… How about clementines?" Gregory tried.

"Clementines sound lovely!" Freddy all but sang.

And as Vanessa set about helping Gregory, and Freddy, help make this cake for Cassie, she knew they were also gladly passing the torch to Cassie, too.

Author’s Note: Happy birthday, Liz! ^_^ Hope you’re having a great one so far, like you so rightly deserve. It just seemed right to me to do something FNAF related for you, since you did something FNAF for me last year. And I also know how much you love sibling relationships, of course.

Obviously, there are quite a few fan theories going on with this fic, and they’re some of my favorite ones—kind of like how these three might be my favorite relationship in FNAF.

I also genuinely don’t know where the “Crying Child’s name was Evan” thing came from, but I just decided to go with it here to simplify the writing of things. Yep!

Happy 10th anniversary of FNAF, everyone! May many good things come our way… but most importantly for me and this fic: happy birthday once again, Liz!

@bluerosesburnblue