#and she just kinda snapped at me and told me i need to ‘try harder’

[nastybuckybarnes]

Coal - One

Pairing: Alpha!Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Omega!Reader

Summary: ...Snapping the folder closed, he tosses it back to Price and rises to his feet. "Since you're just the messenger, you can tell them to send the pup back where it came from."...

Warnings: A/b/o dynamics, military inaccuracies, language, sexual themes, smut, injuries, lowkey mean!simon, kinda strangers to simons a hater to lovers?

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: Y'all really thought i would be involved in the COD waters and NOT do something a/b/o??? y'all thought wrong. Im such a hoe for this shit but enjoy cause i have another a/b/o idea for cod? idk maaaan

A/N2: I literally have like 12 different things written and ready for posting idk why i dont post them. i think im scared of you guys 😣 but im gonna try to post at least once a week until i start getting through my inventory........

~*~

"Thank you for joining me on such short notice," The Captain says, pushing open the door to one of the interview rooms.

The Lieutenant steps in a moment after him, ducking slightly through the doorway, but says nothing.

The Captain sits down first, then motions for the other man to sit across from him.

Ever the good soldier, Ghost obeys, taking a stiff seat while his eyes flicker around the otherwise empty room.

"What's goin' on?" He finally asks, tugging his gaze from the mirror behind Price and focusing on him instead.

The older man heaves a sigh and tosses a thick folder across the table. It thuds lowly upon impact and slides over to Ghost, and the man only stares at it blankly.

"This is done. There's nothing you can say or do that will change this."

Running near a mile a minute, he wracks his brain trying to figure out what's going on as he slowly flips open the folder.

Confusion settles on his shoulders when he finds the contents sealed in a plastic bag.

Eyes flickering up to his Captain, he pauses.

Only after Price gives an encouraging nod does he open the bag, and when he does he wishes he hadn't.

His eyes roll back and a shudder tears down his back.

"What is this?" He grits out, yanking the shirt out of the bag and crumpling it up in his hand as the scent slowly fills his nose through the fabric of his balaclava.

It smells earthy, homey. Sweet and warm like baking with the cool fog of morning dew.

"This is your Omega."

"Try again."

Price sighs, "don't make this any harder than it already is. It's above my head, Lieutenant. These aren't my orders, I'm just the messenger."

Ghost is quiet for a long moment, then he quickly flips the folder open and starts scanning over the words on the page.

There's a picture of a pretty Omega with warm, happy eyes.

Looking past that, he reads her name, nationality, presentation age. He eats up every word, stopping only when he gets to the part about her upbringing.

The Omega they've so kindly gifted is from a Military Omega Shelter.

The shelters are more of a ghost story than he is.

Snapping the folder closed, he tosses it back to Price and rises to his feet.

"Since you're just the messenger, you can tell them to send the pup back where it came from."

He leaves the room, and the walls tremble with the force of the door closing.

Price heaves out a heavy sigh and turns to look at the mirror over his shoulder.

On the other side of the glass, Laswell watches you carefully.

She keeps her senses on high alert for every breath, every tiny change in your scent.

Your eyes, however, are locked on where the angry Alpha was just standing.

You'd been told stories of why Omegas needed to see Alphas in their natural habitat before submitting to a mate. Something about the primitive nature taking over and kicking the Omega into fight or flight when seeing an unknown Alpha for the first time. You were never a big believer in that, you'd openly scoffed at it.

But now? Now you couldn't be more grateful the Shelter enforced it before sending you off.

If you'd had to meet this Lieutenant Riley in person without seeing him from a distance first, you're sure the weight of his glare would've killed you.

The silence hangs so heavily between you and Chief Laswell that a trill starts to ring in your ears.

"That wasn't too bad," she finally says.

Your eyes find your fingertips as your brows draw together.

That wasn't too bad?

If that's 'not too bad' you're positive you don't want to know what 'bad' is.

His harsh words echo in your head and your frown deepens.

A chuckle leaves her lips at the look on your face, and she watches as Captain Price slowly rises to his feet and leaves the room.

"I wasn't sure what they would've told you about this assignment," she confesses, leaning back in her chair with a sigh.

She slides over a folder that bears a striking resemblance to the one that Captain Price gave the Lieutenant.

"They told me I would find out when I got here," you answer quietly, eyeing the folder.

That's not entirely true.

You knew you would be coming here to be mated. That here you would service an Alpha or perhaps a pack.

Everyone in the Shelter knew.

The only time girls leave the Shelter is when an Alpha needs an outlet, a rut bunny to quell his raging animalistic needs. And there's no shortage of those particular Alphas in the military.

On the off-chance an Omega isn't chosen, she stays with the Shelter and goes on to teach the next generation.

You weren't one of those lucky ones.

"By now, everyone who knew you has been led to believe that you died in the helicopter that brought you here. Your funeral will be in two weeks. Empty casket."

Her words shock you so deeply that, for a split second, you bring your gaze to hers.

"The rest of your life will be, from this moment on, highly classified. To be shared with none but those in your pack, with the exception of given doctors and myself. All your medical needs will be met through our facilities, and anything you require will be provided. Do you understand?"

Her voice rings with such authority that all the suppressants in the world can't hide the fact that she's an Alpha.

"Yes."

She gives one firm nod of her head, then flips the folder open for you.

There, on the first page, is a generic photo icon in place of where your new mate's face should be.

"Lieutenant Riley is a private man, required by his profession. If he wants you to see him, you'll see him."

You skim your eyes over the page, breathing steadily to keep your scent even and hide the apprehension growing in your belly.

The document is more redacted than not, and it's a mere two pages long.

Sitting up straighter and casting your eyes down to the floor, you nod your understanding.

Laswell rises and motions for you to do the same.

Like the good Omega you are, you obey, following her as she opens the door to the hallway.

"He won't be on board with this. He'll likely refuse. Vehemently. You must understand that it has nothing to do with you as an individual and everything to do with the situation at hand. No Alpha will admit they need help, fewer still will accept it. Even when it's wrapped wonderfully in a gift like you."

Her words ease some of your nerves, her compliment warming your tummy for the briefest of moments.

Your inner Omega yearns for more approval from this Alpha, hell, from any Alpha, really.

The Shelter gave just the right amount of Alpha exposure to cause a deep craving for their approval.

Surely one of the reasons you were chosen for this particular one.

"You are here to help him in ways he may not even understand. Be patient and know that you're doing what's necessary. You're helping him."

The warmth in your tummy spreads to your chest and you can't help the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth.

That smile vanishes, however, when Laswell turns down a long hallway with only one door at the end. In front of the door is the very man in question.

His eyes bore into yours and you quickly drop your gaze, heart racing in your chest.

Laswell doesn't falter. She continues down the hall with you at her side, and Simon straightens up and starts walking.

"Lieutenant," She greets, pausing her stride.

"Laswell."

He walks right on by the two of you without sparing either of you a glance.

The sound of his voice so close, the deep rumbling growl of it around that one word has your scent permeating the air.

Risking a glance over your shoulder, you catch sight of him as he turns the corner, his glare focused on you.

You suck in a shuddering breath at the menacing look and snap your head back forward, biting on your bottom lip to stop it from quivering.

"I put your bags in here already. I didn't think he'd be that attuned to your scent so soon," She confesses.

The two of you come to a stop outside of the door that must be for your quarters.

"This is a biometric locking system. Right now, you and I are the only ones with access. Once you've been claimed and welcomed into the pack, your pack mates will also be given access with the permission of your Alpha."

You say nothing, only nod your understanding as she unlocks the door.

Respecting the boundary of the threshold, she takes a half-step back to give you enough space to enter.

Slowly, you step into the room, glancing around quickly before flicking on the light.

Though far better and larger than your room at the Shelter, it's still very sterile and military.

There's a bed to the right, with a nightstand on either side. At the foot of the bed is a stack of extra pillows and blankets.

On the opposite wall is a small desk with four folders placed neatly on it. Your bags occupy the space on the floor beside the desk.

To the left are two doors. One that likely leads to a closet and another to a bathroom.

Your inner Omega recoils at the stale stench of the air.

"You'll be okay here for the night?" Chief Laswell asks after a moment.

"Yes." Is your automatic reply. You don't know why she's asking, you both know that you don't have a choice.

She nods, watching from her spot outside the door as you step further into the room.

"The first week or two I won't mind if you ask me for anything you need, but I would like to see you get more comfortable with your Alpha and with the other members of your pack."

You nod your understanding, walking toward the desk and inspecting the other contents.

"Once you get used to them, the team's not so bad. I think you'll get along well with the Sergeants."

Your brows furrow for a moment, but before you can say another word the door closes between the two of you with a soft click and the 'whir' of the lock.

At least no one else can come in.

Slowly, you make your way around the perimeter of the room, taking your time and breathing heavily to cover the area in your scent.

Once you've successfully scented the room, the bathroom, and the closet, you take a careful seat on the corner of the bed and let the silence envelope you.

Ever since the Shelter took you in, you knew that your life would be some variation of this. But you never thought it would be so... alien.

It's almost like you're watching someone else live your life.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you stand up and make your way back over to the desk, flipping open the folders.

Each one has a plastic bag inside, and information on your new pack.

Lieutenant Riley's folder is as bare as the one Laswell slid over to you, however the plastic bag is what really piques your interest.

Carefully, you pull it open, a soft purr leaving you as his scent fills your nose.

He smells wonderful. Like the earth after a rainstorm. The smoke wafting from a dying fire through fresh morning fog. Like destruction and the peace that follows.

After another long, deep breath, you seal the bag once more and hug it close to your chest.

Your mind wanders back to when he found out about you. The anger that filled him, the way he shuddered when he smelled your scent.

Chief Laswell's words ring in your ears as you start to worry.

It's not you. You're not the problem. He's angry at the situation.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you set the bag down and flip open the next folder, shivering when you see another plastic bag, and a photo of Captain Price.

The whole team must be here. A tiny piece of them given to you, to allow yourself to get familiar with them even in their absence.

You're more than sure that Lieutenant Riley didn't willingly provide anything. The others, though? You're a little bit more hopeful.

You open the plastic bag a crack and give it a gentle sniff, another purr of satisfaction rumbling softly in your chest.

The Captain smells more woodsy, with a spicy undertone. Like an old, warmly lit cabin in the middle of the forest, in the heart of the winter.

You keep the bag held up to your nose as you read over what little information there is.

The document is redacted, but still gives you far more information than the Lieutenant's.

Sealing the bag, you move on to the next folder, cocking your head to the side and letting your eyes flutter closed as you open the bag.

This one is fresh and citrusy, like linen hanging to dry in the sun beside an orange tree.

Sergeant Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick.

A Beta.

You had expected the pack to consist of all Alphas.

Truly, you expected the Military to only employ Alphas.

Your eyes scan over the words quickly, greedily devouring all that you can about this Beta as you take deep breaths of his scent.

This is good news. Great news, even.

Sealing and setting down his bag, you move on to the last one.

Your eyes widen when you read the name and presentation.

Another Beta.

Who goes by Soap?

This one smells like the loveliest combination of lemon, jasmine, and sandalwood. Like a Sunday reset, a freshly clean house, and a lover at your hip.

After reading through Sergeant MacTavish's file you set his bag down and take a few steps back, so far, in fact, that you hit your legs on the edge of the bed and stumble back.

Falling onto your back, you take a few breaths and try to clear your head.

Your eyelashes lightly kiss your cheeks as you let your eyes fall closed, basking in the lingering embrace of your new packs scents.

You bask in it so much that you fall asleep right there on your back.

It's hours later that you're awoken by a soft knock on your door.

Pushing to your feet, you take a moment to sniff the air, recognizing the scent from one of the many folders on your desk.

Slowly, you open the door, a little surprised to see the Captain standing in front of you.

"Evenin'," he greets, smiling gently at you.

You bow your head in acknowledgement, refusing to let your eyes stray to his.

"I'm Captain John Price. I... I figured you know that already, but I thought it best to come introduce myself properly."

His scent is so much stronger like this, like a brick wall of woodsy spice that makes you feel cozy and warm.

He must feel you relaxing, your scent easing to something a bit softer, because his shoulders relax and his scent wafts more freely.

"They're serving dinner, if you'd care to join us?"

His words confuse you, but the way he asks confuses you more.

He's your pack leader. He barks orders and the rest of you follow them.

So why is he asking if you want to go with him?

They didn't go over this at the Shelter.

Instead of verbalizing any of your confusion, you just give him a soft nod and take a step out of your room.

The door shuts and locks behind you automatically, something that eases your nerves.

Captain Price leads the way, and you follow closely behind him, anxiety prickling your palms at all the new faces you pass.

Every single person stops to watch as you walk by, their gazes heavy with judgement, intrigue, and some other things that you'd rather not put a name to.

Finally, after what feels like hours of walking in silence, Captain Price pushes open the door to the mess, leading you toward a table in the far corner where two men have already taken a seat.

"Here, have a seat with the boys while I get you some food."

You obey instantly, taking a seat across from the two Beta's as the Captain turns and leaves.

There's a moment of tense silence between the three of you before one of the two men across from you finally speaks.

"S'nice to finally meet the reason why the Lt's been busting his knuckles for the past four hours," The Scottish one says.

You look up as he speaks, your eyes meeting his.

"This is Gaz, and I'm Soap. Or Kyle and Johnny. Or, your favourite pack members. We're not picky with what you call us, really," he continues, smiling cheekily at you.

Something about him has you feeling immediately at ease, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"How are you adjusting so far?" The other one, Gaz, asks.

You glance around the mess for a moment before bringing your gaze back to him.

"It's... a lot. But I'm sure I'll get used to it quickly."

He nods his understanding, his own eyes drifting over your shoulder to where his Pack Leader is getting you food.

Providing for Omega.

The two Betas would be lying if they said it didn't make them feel good to see you already getting taken care of.

Simon's standpoint on the pack needing an Omega (him needing an Omega) is firm. The rest of the pack, however, don't share his disdain.

Soap couldn't be more elated!

A plaything! A toy! A woman with soft hips and a gentle smile. This is exactly what they've been missing, Simon's just too stubborn to see that yet.

That's fine. Even though your mate isn't too keen on making you feel like part of the pack, Soap's dead set on making you feel included.

"Well, anything you need you let us know, yeah? We want you to be happy here," Gaz says.

You nod your gratitude, dropping your eyes when you feel Captain Price return.

He sets a tray of food down in front of you, then another beside you for himself.

"Now, don't feel pressured to eat everything here. I wanted to get you a bit of everything."

"Thank you," you murmur softly.

Price clenches his jaw to stop the shiver that so desperately wants to roll down his spine at the sound of your soft sweet voice.

Conversation picks up between the three men after that. Each contributing their part between bites of food.

You pick at the food on your plate, taking nibbles here and there, but your attention stays focused everywhere but your food.

How could you focus on something like eating when you have a new life to explore? A new pack to learn?

That last part isn't as hard as you had thought it would be.

As they eat and chat, you're able to put together the mosaic that is their pack. Your pack, now.

Captain Price is an Alpha, the lead Alpha, and he leads his pack. He bears the weight of their safety on his shoulders and back, and you're included in that.

Soap has a naturally charming and calming energy about him, as if all the issues in the world couldn't wipe the smile off of his face. More than once has he made a sly remark that has your brows raising and a giggle falling from your lips.

And Gaz is a healthy mix of humour and tender level-headedness that really does make you feel like he may understand what you're going through. And if he doesn't fully understand it, then he certainly can empathize with it.

"All finished there, little one?"

You're snapped out of your thoughts by Captain Price's low voice, and you turn your head toward him, nodding your answer.

He nods along with you then rises, taking the tray from in front of you.

"Well, little one," Soap teases playfully once the Captain is out of earshot, "how about a tour?"

[reidrum]

santa doesn't know you like i do

note: i posted and deleted this a few days ago cuz i didn't like it but i read it again and it kinda helped with how i'm feeling rn. if the holidays are a difficult time for you i hope spencer can help a little, and i'm hugging you super tightly! merry christmas/happy holidays bffs always so grateful to have you around 🎄🫂

summary: in which the holiday blues hit you harder than you expect, and spencer is there for you

cw: angst, unspecified family trauma, hurt/comfort no hurt, indirect mentions of depression around holidays, reader is just kinda going through it

wc: 1.3k

Grief is a fickle feeling. Even more so because you’re not exactly mourning the loss of anyone, but simply a fraction of who you used to be.

There was a younger you who shined with radiance and hope, to only be dulled by the world and its harsh dealings as you grew older. It’s hard to say what you would change if given the chance for a redo, for the causation of it all acted more as a fungus growing through the roots of a tree, slowly spreading and weakening its base unknowingly, rather than an abrupt chop of an axe to the trunk.

You can’t really be blamed for how you feel—wounds will heal but memories don’t.

The snow falls gently on you as you sit on a bench in the park, the flakes dissolving onto your clothes as you gaze off at the families ice skating in the rink not too far from you. In particular, you’re watching a father hold his young daughter’s hand, she can’t be more than four years old, as they skate across the rink. You watch them smile as they both tumble down, giggling and pointing at who was the culprit. It was the daughter’s, but you watch as the father shoulders the faux blame and places her back on her skate covered feet. In the distance you see the mother holding her phone up with a fond look in her eyes as she captures the core memory.

The cognitive dissonance rings loudly within you as your heart clenches at the sight. You were loved. You are loved. There are people who love you—present tense. It doesn’t stop you from wondering how you would’ve turned out if you were loved, past tense.

Your vision gets blurry the longer you stare off. You don’t even noticing the sound of snow crunching getting louder until it stops just an inch from you, a voice speaking up a moment later, “I thought I’d find you here,”

You raise your head up to meet Spencer’s amber eyes, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets and brows furrowed in concern that peek out just below his beanie.

He sits down next to you, “It’s cold.”

You shrug mindlessly. He undoes the scarf around his neck and drapes it around you, removing his beanie to place on your head after.

After a beat you mumble, “Thanks.”

He nods again, “How long have you been here?” 

Spencer knows it had to have been some time. He came home from the office a few hours ago to your open faced phone on the mail table, the screen showing a few missed calls from your family, and your shoes missing from their place near the door. 

You’re honestly not even sure yourself, after seeing the calls your feet started to move on their own and as a form of sadistic punishment brought you to the park to watch the happy families enjoy their holidays.

“Not sure.”

Spencer is no stranger to estranged familial relationships, hell he could have another degree in it if they made them. While he understands the hesitancy you have with opening up, he’s still trying his hardest to show you that you can be vulnerable in his company, that he won’t weaponize your feelings and use them against you.

“You could’ve told me.”

“I don’t need anything.” you whisper defensively, “I can handle it by myself.”

He doesn’t even flinch at your snap. “Angel,” 

“Don’t.” you sniffle.

He sighs sadly, “I know.”

You know that he knows. For all the sorrow you’ve chalked up for yourself, Spencer could and most likely would match you. You suppose that’s why you felt drawn to each other—two birds learning to fly with clipped wings.

The colder days make the loneliness stand out more, so when it was blatantly obvious neither of you had plans for Thanksgiving the year prior, you had decided to spend it together. Unknowingly, you’d both planted the root of a beautiful friendship that turned into a loving relationship. Holiday seasons spent together turned into permanent company on birthdays and special occasions in the future, and warmth to last you for years to come.

He scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders tugging you into him, “Look at me.”

When he doesn’t see you move your eyes from the rink to him, he places two fingers on your chin and gently averts your head up, “Hi, sweet girl.”

Tears sting the backs of your eyes as you try to make your voice not wobble, “Hi.”

He smiles softly, “You know I love you, right?”

“Spencer—“

“Because I get the feeling you’re forgetting, and we can’t have that.” he talks low, “It’s important to me that you know how much I love you.”

You sigh, eyes softening. “I know.” You look back out to the rink and see that the mother has joined her family on the ice, Spencer follows your gaze there and feels his heart tighten. He knows what you want, what you’ve longed for, for too many years. It’s why you come to this bench every year during the winter. When you see what could have been, you’re only reminded of what happened to you instead.

Spencer breaks you out of your headspace. “That’ll be us one day.” he says softly.

Spencer isn’t sure if you know about the life he longs for with you. How he dreams of warm beds filled with you, getting to come home to you everyday. How one day, maybe you’ll have kids who come running into your room at five in the morning screaming about opening Christmas presents, and he’ll get to roll over and press a kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer as the kids snuggle up with you both. Maybe you’ll even take them ice skating one day.

You chuckle sadly in disbelief, “You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do,” he looks back down at you, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” he lightly jokes.

“I know.”

“I don’t think you want to.”

“I don’t think I deserve you.”

That stops him in his tracks. “Why do you say that?”

You pause, “I—I don’t know how to be loved, or how to love. Any concept of it I had is bullshit and it’s tainted and the thought of even passing that on to children—“

“Hey. Slow down.” he placates, “Sweetheart, you are worthy of love. You may not be used to it, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it. If our children have even half the amount of love you have, they’ll turn out to be amazing humans. The way you love is so special.”

You stare at him in shock. Did he really say our children? You mumble, “Our children…”

He hums quizzically, “What?”

“You said our children, do you…think about that? With…me?”

“All the time,” he beams, “I think about it all with you.”

The familiar sting of tears returns, “All of it?”

“All of it,” he pulls you closer, “Marriage, kids, everything. Not to freak you out but I have the next twenty years of our lives planned.”

He finally gets a real laugh out of you, and he really couldn’t be more proud of himself. While you may just be a result of your circumstances, here is Spencer who is quite literally ready to spend decades with you recreating new memories. He wants a life with you. He wants every part of it, and he’ll happily help you through your rough patches when you need him. He is in love, you’re his best friend, and that is all he needs. You’ve never known a love like this, but Spencer will be here to show you that you will always be loved.

You hug him tightly and return your gaze back to the little girl skating with her father, The sight is no longer something you long for, but something you wait for.

[naturesapphic]

angry billie smut?

Beyond Angry

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: angry smut, jealous!billie, strap on, overstimulation, kinda mean Billie, cussing, aftercare

“You just thought that you could fucking go over there and talk to her knowing that she wanted you?!” Billie yelled out as she jackhammered into your throbbing pussy. “N-no! B-bil-“. You try to say but she cut you off. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. Don’t make me go grab the ball gag.” She sneered at you as she kept fucking into you.

The two of you got back from a party an hour ago and the party wasn’t even over. Billie got jealous over a girl who apparently had their eye on you all night but with how oblivious you were sometimes, you truly didn’t see it, but Billie did, and she was furious. Especially when you went over there and started chatting with her, the girl was all over you, you just had thought she was being overly friendly but not in Billie’s eyes or everyone else’s.

This girl wanted you and she knew that you were Billie’s and that pissed bils off like never before. So when the girl leaned in to whisper in your ear that’s when Billie snapped and went over there and grabbed your arm, away from the bitch. You were beyond confused at your girlfriend’s behavior and when you went to say something, Billie gave you a look that meant don’t say a word and you didn’t.

She drove the two of you home with absolute silence that made you nervous for what’s to come. Billie rarely got jealous but when she did, you couldn’t walk for the next few weeks. Billie parked dragon in the driveway of y’all’s home and got out, already walking up to the door to unlock it. You quickly followed behind her and when she shut the door, she was on you in an instant and that’s how you were in the position you were in right now. Billie had already made you cum twice and she wasn’t stopping until she has you crying and apologizing.

That’s how you were in this position now, crying out her name and legs shaking. “Who do you belong to.” She asked sternly, her hand coming up to grip your throat as she keeps fucking you. “Y-you!” You choked out and Billie let out a low growl. “What’s my name?” She said gripping your throat a bit harder. “B-bill-“ you tried to say but she cut you off with a glare. “Daddy! I belong to you daddy!” You exclaimed as you felt your orgasm coming and Billie could tell too. “Hold it.” She demanded and your eyes widened. “N-no daddy please! N-need to cum!” You said and she chuckled lowly. “Not a chance baby. Hold it like the good little slut you are.” She rasped out and you obeyed and held it for a bit.

After some time billie thought you held it for long enough and she told you to cum and you came hard. Her name was spilling out of your mouth like a chant as you came hard all over her strap. She smirked and helped you ride it out as she slowed down her thrust. After your high, she slowly pulled out and threw the dildo over on the chair in the corner of the room. She took your face in her hands and started placing little kisses all over your face. “You okay babygirl?” Billie said softly as she scans her eyes over your fucked out self. “Y-yeah…just want cuddles and some water please.” You said tiredly and Billie smiled, getting up and getting you some ice cold water along with a towel to clean you up with.

She cleaned you up carefully, especially around your sensitive areas. After she was done, Billie gave you your water and you drowned it down in seconds making her giggle. After the two of you got cleaned up and hydrated, Billie got in the bed and held her arms out for you to crawl into and that’s exactly what you did. You settled into her arms as she pulled the covers over y’all, making sure everything was okay for you. “You know I love you right?” You said softly as you turned your head slightly so you could properly look at her. “I know you do baby…I’m sorry for getting so jealous…” she said and you gave her a gentle kiss on her lips.

“It’s okay…I think I would feel the same if the roles were reversed.” You admitted and she gave you a gentle squeeze. “I love you bils.” You said as you laid your head back down on her chest. “I love you more my princess.” She softly as she the two of you went to sleep in each others arms.

A/n: I hope this was okay and that it was angry- LMAO I hope everyone enjoyed, including the anon. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all! :)

[pandapetals]

I have a request!! You don’t have to write it but I’ll tell you anyway

Idk if you’ve seen the trend on tt where guys are picking up their gfs to sit on their shoulders and omg imagine Logan doing that😈😈

-⭐️

Hi, I hadn't seen the trend but went and Logan would totally do something like that just to prove his strong lol. I wasn't going to write anything but this kinda pulled me out of my slump so thank you!

logan howlett x fem!gf reader - established relationship, fluff, cute, teasing banter, wade being wade, tiktok trend

“Hold still, will ya?” Logan growled, his fingers brushing your sides as he tried, for the fifth time, to get a proper grip around your waist. His voice was gruff but there was a softness buried in it—hidden beneath the sheer frustration of the task at hand.

“You’re the one moving too slow, Grandpa,” you teased, leaning just enough to make his attempt harder. The corner of your lips curled mischievously as you twisted out of his reach again, sending him stumbling forward with a muttered curse.

Logan straightened, glaring at you. “You wanna get tossed like a sack of potatoes? ‘Cause I’ll do it.”

“Promise?” you shot back with a grin, earning a low, rumbling growl in response.

From behind the camera, Wade cackled like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. He adjusted the angle of your phone, squinting at the screen. “Oh, this is gold. Are we witnessing the tragic downfall of the great Wolverine? Or is this just an elaborate mating ritual?”

“Shut up, Wade,” Logan snapped, his sharp eyes briefly cutting to the man-child behind the camera.

“I’m just saying,” Wade continued, unfazed. “For a guy with animal instincts, you’re not exactly pouncing, buddy. You’re more…like a wounded bear. Slow, cranky, probably rabid—”

“Keep runnin’ your mouth, Wilson, and we’ll see who’s slow,” Logan snarled, his claws snikt-ing halfway out for emphasis.

Wade gasped theatrically, clutching the phone to his chest like a pearl necklace. “Violence? In front of your lady? I thought you were all about the chivalry, peanut.”

“Wade,” you said with a laugh, stepping closer to your grumpy boyfriend. “You’re not helping.”

“Who says I’m trying to help? I’m here for the content, babe. And maybe the sweet, sweet sound of his back snapping when he fails this lift. Again.”

Logan didn’t dignify that with a response. He shook his head, his jaw clenching as he crouched slightly, motioning for you to come closer. “Alright, enough screwin’ around. C’mere. This time, I got it.”

“Okay, okay.” You stepped into his reach, but not without one last playful jab. “Don’t throw your hip out, old man.”

His hands clamped around your waist firmly this time, and for a moment, you felt the raw strength coiled in his arms. With a grunt of effort, he hoisted you upward—just a little too hard.

“Whoa, Logan! Not the ceiling!” you yelped, flailing as your head nearly collided with the light fixture.

“Stop wigglin’!” Logan barked, his voice strained as he adjusted his grip. You landed awkwardly across his broad shoulder, not quite balanced but not falling either. “There! Told ya I could do it.”

“Yeah, sure. Super graceful,” you teased from your perch, giggling as you tried to hold still.

“Oh, honey,” Wade chimed in, zooming the camera in on Logan’s scowling face. “You are the picture of elegance. Look at you. Like a slightly hairier, angrier ballerina. Ten outta ten. I’m titling this masterpiece: ‘Beauty and the Beast, But She Regrets It.’”

Logan flipped him off without missing a beat, his free hand holding you steady as you laughed so hard your sides ached.

“Alright, we’re done here,” Logan grumbled, beginning to lower you.

“No, no, no, not yet!” Wade protested, practically lunging to block the shot. “I need the slow-mo drop! Or maybe a blooper reel. You two are TikTok gold, and I will exploit it for likes.”

“I swear to God, Wade,” Logan growled, turning to face him, which meant you were now dangling awkwardly off his shoulder like a sack of grain. “If you don’t quit, I’ll—”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time, Wolvie,” Wade quipped, blowing him a kiss.

By the time Logan set you down, both of you were doubled over in laughter—yours genuine, his tinged with exasperation. Wade was still narrating the moment like a sports commentator, throwing in dramatic sound effects and zooming in on Logan’s face for emphasis.

“You’re both insane,” Logan muttered, shaking his head.

“And yet,” you said, sliding your arm around his waist, “you love us anyway.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but the tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was all the answer you needed.

[beloveds-embrace]

OKAYY IMA TRY MY BEST HERE TO EXPLAIN, so like reader and ghost were married but got divorced because of how toxic ghost was being but they never can really stay away from each other because they are both still in love with each other and ghost keeps coming to her house and they always argue and then fuck after, and like the argue part is really just the reader yelling at him and telling him how much she hates him and how much she wants him to get out , AND SOTHING I REALLY LIKE IS WHEN THE READERIS PUSHING HIM AND PUNCHING BUT HE NOT MOVING AT ALL, and after she is panting out of breath and then they fuckkk, I KNOW ITS KINDA CHOPPY AND NOT IN GREAT DETAIL BUT WOULD LOVE TO SEE IT <33333

Hmdjsjs i’m so sorry anon i love this, i really do, but I don’t write full smut 😔 here’s a lil drabble for the rest of it though that i hope will be good enough !

The pounding at your door came again, sharp and deliberate, echoing in the silence of your house. You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. You’d been expecting him, even though you’d hoped- prayed- that this time he wouldn’t show up. That this time, you’d be free from this constant, horrible cycle.

With a resigned sigh, you yanked the door open; he’d just use the spare he keeps on him and refuses to let go of even now to enter your home. And there he was, Simon Riley. Ghost. Your ex-husband. Standing there like he owned the damn place, his mask half-pulled up so you could see his mouth, that damn infuriating faint smirk tugging at the corners.

“What the hell do you want, Simon?” you snapped, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his massive frame brushing against you as he crossed the threshold. It hurt your heart, seeing him look so perfectly fitting within your home. The one you used to share with him before the divorce. “Nice t’ see you too, love,” he muttered, shutting the door behind him.

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, shoving at his chest with both hands. A familiar dance. “I told you to stop coming here!”

He didn’t budge. Of course he didn’t. He just stood there, towering over you, calm and unshaken as you pushed and slapped at him, an unshaked pillar. It only made your anger boil hotter, your annoyance burning brighter.

“I hate you!” you spat, hitting him again, your fists pounding against the solid wall of his chest. Damn him, damn his face, and damn his hardened body. “I hate how you just show up like this! Like you have any right to be here! I hate-”

“Get it out, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice maddeningly soft, his hands resting loosely at his sides. “Go on.” Completely at ease, not at all afraid. You hate him so much, and you hate how desperately you miss that level of stability only he’d ever seemed to have even despite all your fights.

That only made you hit harder, your breaths coming in short, furious bursts as you yelled everything you’d been holding in. Every frustration, every bit of heartbreak and resentment that had festered since the divorce. Every drop of fury that rekindles with each visit he does, unable to stay away from you.

But then your blows slowed, your strength faltering as exhaustion crept in. You stood there panting, chest heaving as you glared up at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Feel better?” he asked, his voice low, infuriating bastard.

“Get out,” you whispered, though it lacked the venom you wanted it to have. Your shoulders slumped, and you just stared at him in defeat.

But he didn’t move. He just reached up, his hand cupping your jaw, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek.

“Can’t stay away,” he said simply, rough but achingly sincere. “You know that.”

And damn it, he was right. As much as you wanted to hate him, as much as you wanted him gone, you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted when he was this close.

His lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding, and before you knew it, you were clawing at him, your anger transforming into something just as fiery but far more primal- led by the wet, dripping ache between your legs.

It was always like this with him. A storm of emotions that left you both battered but somehow unwilling to let go. Toxic, yes. Unhealthy, definitely. But no matter how much you told yourself it had to stop, you both knew it never really would. He would never stay away, and you would never push him away.

“Mine,” he mumbles, pulling away just so. A string of spit connected your lips, and you panted for breath in his arms. “Fuckin’ mine, you’ll always be.”

And the worst part? You just wanted more, more, more.

[steddieas-shegoes]

CONGRATS ON 3000!!! ❤️ That’s so exciting!

For the ask game, I’d love to see your take on the song Heaven, Iowa by Fall Out Boy! (I vibe with “Scar-crossed lovers forever” as a Steddie-coded lyric but honestly whatever comes to mind for you when you hear the song is great!)

Congrats again!! 💕🎉

Thank you! I got a few different steddie-coded lyrics from this song, but the one you provided is good for something short, so I’m sticking with that! ♥️

〰️➿〰️➿〰️➿〰️➿〰️

He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Wayne specifically asked him to stop coming to the Harrington parties, didn’t want him to risk being caught when they inevitably got shut down.

He knows he’d be in deep shit if a cop managed to catch him and see what he had in his lunchbox.

But one of his best customers insisted he stop by, promising he knew enough people would buy his entire inventory. He wouldn’t have to stay long.

“That’ll be $30 for the bag, or $10 if you just want a joint,” Eddie told one of the girls who always gave him dirty looks in the hall to cover up the hungry look she gave him at parties.

“What about the harder stuff?” She asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Don’t have any on me,” he rolled his eyes. They should know by now he only handles those items when requested.

“Fine. Just a joint then.”

He exchanges his product for her money, another addition to his savings that seemed to constantly dwindle on useless. He never stopped trying though.

She was his last customer in the line that had built up in the kitchen, so he decided to make his way to the backyard to finish up. Not many people usually hung out there when it was this chilly outside, but he had to give it a shot.

The patio surrounding the pool was absent of people, but he decided to take that as a sign that he needed a minute alone.

He heard a sniffle and his head shot over to the table in the corner of the covered area.

“Harrington?”

What the hell was he even doing out here? Was he crying?

“I’ll be in in a minute.”

Jesus. He sounded like someone had tried to strangle him. Was he sick?

“Dude, you okay?” Eddie steps closer, hopes he doesn’t end up regretting choosing kindness. “It’s kinda cold out here.”

Steve was sitting in a chair, knees up to his chest, arms around his legs. His face was half-buried in his knees, but Eddie could still make out the shivering.

“Yeah. Just needed some air.”

“You shouldn’t stay out here long without a jacket, man.”

Steve didn’t respond.

Eddie was actually growing more concerned for him, like maybe he’d been drugged with something and couldn’t move.

“Hey, look at me,” Eddie snaps his fingers in Steve’s face, relaxing slightly when he glares up at him with surprisingly clear, but watery eyes. “You need a jacket.”

“I’m fine. Go back inside.”

“You won’t be if you sit out here much longer. You’ll freeze to death. And then I’ll have to live the rest of my life knowing I could have stopped it by making you go inside and I’ll die feeling guilty.”

Was it dramatic? Yes. Did it make Steve give the tiniest smile and lift his head to look at him completely? Also yes.

“It wouldn’t be your fault.”

There was a cut under Steve’s left eye, and as his eyes adjust to the light coming from the windows, he sees a purple bruise surrounding most of the left side of his face.

“What happened?”

“The crown was pretty heavy when it fell,” Steve laughs without humor.

Eddie feels his stomach sink further.

“Who did this?”

It’s not like Eddie could do much, but maybe he could at least make sure he didn’t sell to the guy.

“Doesn’t matter.” Steve placed his legs down, careful, like he was trying not to hurt himself more. “You got anything left?”

Eddie should say no. He should leave now, head to the comfort and warmth of the trailer, forget about this interaction entirely. Maybe give one awkward head nod to Steve at school on Monday as an acknowledgment he didn’t forget, but won’t say anything to anyone.

“Just the one joint. You want it?” Eddie set his lunchbox on the table across from Steve and sat down.

“How much?” Steve turned to face him, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“Free for the host.”

That’s not something Eddie ever did, but if anyone needed it, it was Steve.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I am. You got a lighter on you?”

Steve shook his head.

“Then I light it and get the first drag. Deal?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie is gonna regret this entire interaction, but of all his regrets, it’s probably pretty low on the list, so he pulls his lighter out and does exactly what he said he would.

Steve is watching him so intensely, it’s almost enough to make him blush. He won’t, he hopes, but it’s a hell of an effort.

“This why you’re sitting out here instead of enjoying your party?” Eddie asked as he hands over the joint.

“Part of it,” Steve takes a long drag. “Just tired of it.”

“Tired of what?”

“All of it.”

An alarm starts going off in Eddie’s head, a reminder that Steve may seem like he’s got the entire world, but those who hold the world tend to lose their grip.

“All of it meaning…”

“All of this. The parties, the people who only like me because I have money and throw parties, the popularity contest I didn’t even ask to participate in, the fucking concussions and nightmares. I’m just-“ Steve takes another drag. “I’m just tired. You should go back inside.”

Eddie watches him lean back in his chair, his shirt riding up and exposing just enough of his stomach to see a scar. The moonlight reflects off the lighter line of skin.

“Nah. Kinda like it out here. It’s quiet. Company ain’t bad either.”

Steve looks back at him with a frown. “Don’t have to pretend to like me, dude. Everyone else already does that enough.”

“Who said I like you? I’m tolerating you.” Eddie smirks, waits for Steve to recognize he’s joking. When Steve relaxes, he nods towards the scar on Steve’s stomach. “Appendix?”

“What?” Steve glances down. “Oh. Yeah. When I was 12.”

“I was 14 when I got mine out,” Eddie lifts his layers to show off his matching scar. “My Uncle Wayne thought I was dying. He didn’t even know what an appendix was, let alone that it can cause all this trouble.”

“Yeah. My parents weren’t home when mine ruptured so I had to call the neighbors.”

Eddie frowns down at the table. “They leave you alone a lot? Even then?”

“Yeah. Not a big deal. I made it through okay.”

Okay isn’t the word Eddie would describe, but Eddie didn’t wanna argue.

“You eat a ridiculous amount of ice cream after?” Eddie’s smile grew when Steve nodded. “I convinced Wayne it was the only thing I could eat for nearly a week after.”

Steve laughed, Eddie smiles.

“You got a nice laugh, Harrington.”

He watches as Steve gets red in the face, a beautiful blush covering his cheeks and spreading down his neck.

“Not sure the last time I really laughed,” Steve admitted.

“Shame.”

Eddie stood up, grabbed his lunchbox, and walked around to stand in front of Steve. Steve looked up at him with glassy eyes, the high already sinking in.

“Want me to clear everyone out?” Eddie shouldn’t offer that, or anything. But Steve looks so lost, so tired.

“Nah. It’s nice just not being alone, even if it’s people I don’t like.”

“That’s fucked, man.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve shrugged. “Thanks for the weed.”

“Anytime.”

Eddie doesn’t know what comes over him. Maybe it’s the one drag of the joint he’d taken, maybe it’s the cold air, or maybe it’s just that annoying crush he’s had on Steve Harrington for years.

He reaches out, cups Steve’s cheek in his hand, and holds him for just a moment.

Neither of them say anything when Steve leans into it.

They don’t say anything when Eddie pulls away with a sad smile.

They won’t talk about it again at school.

But when Steve saves Eddie from the Upside Down a full year later, when he’s sitting at his bedside cupping Eddie’s cheek in his hand, they both seem to remember at the same time.

“We’ve got two matching scars now, Harrington.”

“Don’t think the appendix has anything on demobat scars, Munson.”

“What happened to calling me honey? I liked that.”

“What happened to sweetheart?”

Eddie let out a small laugh. “You’re gonna be trouble, sweetheart.”

“But I’m gonna be your trouble, honey.”

[imrllytootiredforthis]

More on sub bully yandere pretty plz 🥺🙏

i'm gonna do gyu again just bc sub bully=beomgyu (kinda a part two to this)

afterwards he just gets meaner and meaner. for a multitude of reasons-

one being that you humiliated him in front of the entire school, and now he needs to get back at you,

and the other being that he's head over fucking heels in love with you now and has zero idea how to talk to a crush other than bullying them

so he continues to fight with you. threaten you, insult you, release compromising photos of you taken by his own hand (which he also uses on lonely pent up nights)

he's an asshole. who doesn't know when to quit.

you don't exactly make it easy for him though.

every time he's harassing you, you're there with a blank face, arms crossed. giving nothing away, and taking every ounce of satisfaction away from him. knowing entirely that if his group of friends weren't standing there backing him up you could do whatever you wanted to him-and he'd let you.

but you don't.

because unlike him, you pride yourself of being a decent human being.

that somehow just makes him angrier though. makes him try harder to piss you off.

spilling your food all over your clothing, laughing as he lets out an "oops, sorry, i didn't mean to." all while cackling with his friends.

egging your car and writing on it with spray paint, causing damage he knows you don't have the money to fix.

he wants you to be angry. he wants you to be so pissed at him, at everything he's done to you that you just can't hold it in anymore. he wants you to finally snap and grab him by the neck. kiss him until he's breathless and dumb (his very first kiss) and then fuck him to oblivion and back (his very first fuck).

beomgyu wants you to put him in his place, unlike so many other people in his life that don't care as he walks all over them.

and it only takes a single thing for you to snap.

him loudly talking to you in the middle of class, taunting the fact that you somehow got a lower mark than him. leaning across the isle to get up into your face, smirking his dumb smirk.

you simply ignore him, preferring not to add to the scene until the teacher zeroes in on the two of you, looking unimpressed as she sends the both of you to detention.

--

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! what the hell is wrong with you?"

nothing. he only smiles back sweetly.

"i have shit that i need to do, places i have to be! records that i need to keep! i don't need to spend my time in detention with your sorry ass!"

nothing.

"you're so annoying, you hear me?"

infuriating fucking prick. absolutely nothing.

"a fucking brat who doesn't know how to man up and be a normal person. instead you're acting like a pussy, too scared to ask me out hmm? a pathetic loser virgin."

something.

his cheeks are flushed red, his face so close your noses are practically touching, his hands gripping onto the desk.

"yeah, is that what you are? a brat and a pathetic loser virgin?"

your hands on either side of his shoulders against the chair, trapping him in place. he's painfully hard in the confines of his pants.

the room around is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. the teacher had left awhile ago, not that she was supposed to, she just did and told you guys to behave.

the detention class was completely silent now. just the sound of your heavy breathing, his shallow pants and his heart beating so fast it seems as if it's about to leap out of his chest.

"say it."

his mouth feels dry, his body feels hot.

"say that you're a pathetic loser virgin and then maybe i'll take care of that for you, okay?"

his eyebrows knot together as you press a hand against him, biting his lip to hold back a moan. "i-..."

you nod, prompting him to continue.

"i'm a...pathetic virgin loser!" his eyes squeeze shut as he breathes it out, whining lowly under his breath. "i'm sorry! all i wanted was your attention!"

when he opens his eyes again, you're smiling.

"okay then. you have my attention now." you sit back against your own chair again. "come here."

he begins to stand up. "on your knees, beomgyu." face burning in shame, dick throbbing with humiliation, he shuffles towards you on his hands and knees until he sits between your legs.

"good boy." he shivers. "now, if you wanna take care of that, you're going to have to get off on my leg."

he looks at you as if you've grown a second head, as if you're crazy. he searches your face for any sign that you might be joking. "go on you mutt."

[lisacameron99]

Could you make a Jack Gibson x female reader one-shot, can it be smut?? Also can the doctor work at Grey Sloan as a surgeon, I know that is irrelevant but whatever.

Just Us? J.G.

Warnings: kissing, smut, angst, piv, situationship turned relationship, Jack kinda being an idiot but loveable, swearing, smut with plot

"What?" I said, staring at him blankly.

"I kissed Vic." I blinked at him for a moment before turning on my heels and walking away, fast. "It's not what you think -"

"Ohhh, you do not get to tell me what to think." I snapped at him, grabbing a tablet, logging in and looking at a chart.

"Okay, you're right. Bad choice of words." He admitted. "I don't know what to say."

"I didn't ask you to say anything." I snapped, anger flooding my body.

"In my defense, she also kissed me." I stared at him, was he kidding me? "And - and we aren't together, not - not technically, you and me, and I think Vic's going to tell Theo and - and it was a mistake, we were drunk and it's not going anywhere - and I can tell that none of what I'm saying is right and I'm just making it worse and - and."

"Stop talking." I told him.

"I can do that." We stared at each other, blue eyes clashing against mine.

"Sloan, we have a trauma." Owen Hunt told me, saving me from the bell.

"I have to go," I told Jack, trying to follow Owen to the pit.

"Can we please talk about this?" Jack pleaded.

"Not right now." He grabbed my wrist, trying to pull me back. "I'm so mad at you right now Jack. I need to work, okay? I need to think and I can't do that when you're looking at me." I rushed off to follow Owen.

"Wanna talk about it?" Owen asked as we gowned and gloved.

"Nope."

"You good to work?"

"Yep."

"Let's do this."

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

After a very long shift, losing two patient, talking to both the police and Bailey about what happened, I changed my clothes and walked out of the hospital. I froze when I saw Jack leaning against my car. I pushed the hair out of my face and my shoulders slumped. I didn't want to fight with him, I wanted to go home and cry.

"I just want to go home," I told him, putting my hand over my mouth to stop myself from crying, but it didn't work.

"Okay," He pulled me into a hug. I leaned against him as he wrapped me into a hug. "Okay."

I cried, "I just want to go home."

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

Thankfully, Jack and I both had the next two days off. Jack drove us to my apartment, which was delayed a little because of traffic. I fell asleep after a few minutes, due to exhaustion. I woke up when I felt Jack picking me up.

"I can walk," I mumbled.

"I like carrying you around." He told me. I gave him a soft smile.

"I'm still mad at you." I told him.

"That's okay." He said.

I sighed, resting my head in his neck. Once we got inside, Jack put me down. I stood in my kitchen, watching Jack move around the small apartment.

"Well, I put take out in the fridge, and there's bottled water in there too." I nodded, cracking my neck. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Where - you're leaving?" I croaked out.

"Well, uh, you're mad at me."

"I am." I wanted to forget. I wanted to forget today.

"Usually - usually when a person's mad at the other person - they don't stay over night."

"But - I - I'm not a usual person." I cocked my head to the side, hair flowing over my shoulder. I rose my eyebrow at him. "Some might argue that when people are mad, they like to lose control."

Jack stared at me for a moment before stalking over to me.

"You're so confusing." He muttered before pushing me against the fridge and covering my mouth with his.

"You're the one who kissed another person." I said, threading my hand through his hair and tugging his face back down to mine.

His hands slipped down my body, resting on my ass, pulling me flush against his dick, which was growing harder by the second. "It didn't mean anything."

"Whatever," I shrugged, trying to not think about Jack kissing another woman, pushing him back to my mouth.

"I'm sorry." He pulled away, breathless.

"I don't want to talk about it," I pleaded to him.

"I think that we need to talk about it. Because it made me realize something when I saw you."

I pulled myself out of his grip and walked into my bedroom. "What could you have realized?" I asked him, more confused than I was before.

"I don't know what this is." Jack had followed me into the bedroom. He motioned between the two of us before continuing on. "That's what I realized."

I balked at him. "You just realized that you don't know what we are? That's what you realized? That's why you went and kissed Vic?"

"It sounded better in my head." Jack admitted, scratching his beard.

"You think," I glared at him.

"What I meant to say is I want this to be more than whatever the fuck is going on now." I balked at him again, and he continued, noticing me. "I really like what's going on now, but everything with Dean, I don't - don't - ugh." He gripped his hair in frustration. "I don't know what life is going to throw at us, but I want - I want us to have the whole thing." I was in shock, I couldn't say anything. "I love you. I want the whole package. I want the Sunday morning breakfasts, I want the weird phone calls you have with Jackson and April twice a week, I want the fights about who's going to close the cupboards. I want to buy you chocolate and flowers when we get into fights. I want to listen to you bitch about Amelia when you get mad at her even though she's your best friend. I want it. And I want it with you." Tears welded up in my eyes again as he finished his speech. "Oh no, no, no, don't cry again."

"They're happy tears, you idiot!" I told him.

"Oh, okay." He nodded quickly. Kneeling in front of me, he grabbed my hands.

"I love you too," I cried.

With that, he pushed me on my back and kissed me, hard. His hand slid under the hem of my t-shirt. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him down on top of me. I moaned when he pulled away and kissed down my throat and my collarbone. I pulled at his shirt, wanting it off him. He slipped his shirt off and then tugged at mine. I pulled him back on to me. I gasped when he pushed himself against me. Jack moaned against my mouth.

"Oh, Jack!" I gasped when he did it again. Eventually, I pushed at him so he was on his back and I was on top of him. I put my hands on his chest as I swirled my hips on top of him, grinding softly. Jack's hands found their way to my ass, helping me steady myself in his arms.

Jack quickly tugged off my pants and underwear and did the same for himself. I gasped when I realized how hard he was. I pushed him back onto the bed and crawled on top of him. I leaned down and kissed him. He ran a hand threw my hair and the other one down back to my ass, and to my center. When he slipped a finger inside me, I moaned loudly.

"You're so hot," He grunted out, rutting his fingers in and out. "And wet, holy shit."

"I'm ready," I told him, panting as I felt the coil in my stomach tighten. He removed his hand from my center. I whined at the loss of contact, but it was quickly replaced by a moan when his dick was inside me. "You're so big."

"You're so pretty." He pushed so he was on his elbows, watching me roll on him. Eventually, he got tired of not being in control and flipped us so he was on top and I was underneath.

My eyes rolled into the back of my head when he put himself back into me. "Jack!" I chanted his name over and over as he pounded into me. He brought his mouth down to my chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth. One hand holding him up, the other down at my center.

"Come for me." He told me, pushing his face into my neck, and I did just that, all over him, Jack closely behind me.

Jack collapsed on me, well half on me, half on the bed. We panted, trying to regain our breathing.

"Just us," he pushed the hair out of my face and kissed me again.

"Just us." I agreed.

End.

Okay, smut was trash, but I'm still new at writing smut and don't know what I'm doing. Please enjoy! I love Jack so much it physically hurts.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for not inviting my friends friend to my wedding?

👰‍♀️

We’re all women in our mid 20s. I have this friend Fran* who I was friends with in hs lost contact and re-connected with. Fran js friend with Tisha who I was friends with middle school and some of hs and not gonna lie I ghosted her (I’ll explain later.) Fran and Tisha are super close.

I got engaged recently. And I’ve been planning a wedding. Fran likes wedding stuff and wants to watch the process with me. However she’s been inviting Tisha to our lunches without telling me Tisha is gonna be there. It’s uncomfortable because when they ask about my wedding Tisha always has something to say. “I’m thinking about a spring wedding” “the weather is awful here in the spring time” (example).

So for some info. When in school Tisha started using me as a butt a lot of jokes as the years went on. She was always trying to call me dumb, and project her insecurities on Me. (Tisha does/did have a hard life). I ended up telling Tisha some issues I was going through and later she used it to make a joke saying I was dumb for letting that sorta stuff happen to me (not super dark but still a dick move). She loved to use me as a therapist in private and love to make fun of me in public. Something snapped in me, and every time she was be rude to me I’d say something like “that’s a weird thing to say” or is look her up and down and just make a face. When she’d asked to cheat off my papers I’d tell her she wouldn’t want to cheat off my stupid answers. I was lucky I had other friends that I just hung out with to avoid her. She never asked for answers and I never expected her to.

I went to college far away, lived away for awhile and then moved back to work at a start up that has been awesome.

When I reconnected with Fran it was awesome. We mutually reached out since we both liked the same restaurants in the area.

Fran would try to get me to wanna hangout with Tisha and try to plan something and I told her that Tisha is a good person, but I don’t really need to reconnect with her. She would “respect” that until later she would ask again. I never told her the details because I still questioned if I was being too sensitive or not about Tisha. Not gonna lie I do pity Tisha and I hate the idea that someone like that ever did intimidate me. She’s just a reminder that I was ever awkward. Fran hasn’t asked me for the whole story. However I couldn’t avoid Tisha forever. Fran would throw a party and Tisha was there. And I knew she would be. And she was the same.

Tisha fran and I are all bisexual. When I’d hang out with them they’d sometimes refer to me as a lesbian or a wasted lesbian because now I’m marrying a man. I’d tell ‘em I’m uncomfortable with that since I’m bisexual. Fran respected it, Tisha would “forget”.

Tisha dropped out of college and I did for a bit. I told her I did the same and she would just tell me the career she was doing was so much harder than mine that I couldn’t understand how hard her life is. (It was a hard program, and she does have a hard life but again it’s that “I have it worse Olympics”) Tisha even made a joke that I got a job I wanted and I didn’t even needed to finish my college program for it since I got the job before I got my degree. I just said yeah I’m a quick learner.

I don’t see Tisha much, maybe 3 times a year before. So I just figured I’d roll with the punches because I love Fran she is awesome. Tisha kinda brings fran down too. They both kinda enable each other to be down in their dumps. They’re not dating but they’re like each others plus ones. I’ve been helping fran budget, opening new banking accounts and getting a credit card that’s good for her. Fran was grateful and tisha heard she said we were bowing our heads to capitalism.

Anyway ever since I got engaged fran has been brining Tisha everywhere. I had planned on telling fran privately, I don’t want it hanging out with Tisha, but also Tisha is not coming to my wedding. Before I could do that, while we were at lunch, TISHA MADE THE ASSUMPTION SHE WAS A BRIDES MAID.

I asked her why did she think that and she said we’ve been friends longer than fran and I. I said you’re not invited, we don’t talk privately, we don’t text, we don’t hang out, and you don’t like my fiancé because he’s a man. Fran was shocked and said couldn’t Tisha be her plus one and it’s uncofortable to talk about events someone isn’t invited to. I said that they both have been asking about it. The lunch ended.

Fran has been asking me to consider letting Tisha ve her plus one since dating is hard. Tisha thought the things I mentioned were objectives so now she is texting me, and said she wants to meet my fiancé to get to know him so she can go to the wedding.

I was trying to be nice by never mentioning to fran I really hate Tisha, but now they’re both upset and I regret not being mean. I feel like an asshole.

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Removing Stitches

Glass Shards

Prompt: Day 26 - “You can rest now” (Prompt list)

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Prev (kinda) | Masterlist | Next (kinda)

“Hm.” Goosebumps rose in the wake of Merridy’s touch as her hand traced the skin next to the wound on Damien’s side. “I think they have to come out.” 

Damien tried not to look at the mess; not to think about the how. He had no doubt that she was right. Since the infection had begun to recede, it had become harder to ignore just how uncomfortable the stitches were. That didn’t mean he was looking forward to the act of taking them out in any way, shape, or form.

While Merridy dug through their pack, Damien leaned his head against the wall of the box and closed his eyes. With each slow, measured breath, he listened to his body. The pain in his side had dulled to a steady pulse, only flaring up when he moved, so he spent a considerable amount of time each day trying not to move. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Damien opened his eyes. In her hands, she held a fucking knife. He swallowed, unable to tear his gaze away from the glistening blade. 

“My scissors are gone. This is all I have.”

Through the quickly escalating fear, Damien nodded. There was no other way. The thread had to come out. He just had to stop being such a baby about it. Merridy’s hands had been steady enough to stitch him up—covered in blood, in the middle of the night. They would be more than steady enough to cut through a few threads and remove them.

“I think I. I need. To.”

Breathe. He had to breathe. Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground, conveniently pinning his arm down with his weight so he wouldn’t accidentally lash out at her. Since he was already lying down, he wouldn’t fall if his body gave out on him, and with his back against the wall, he wouldn’t be able to get away, and gods, she was already sitting in front of him, and he wasn’t ready, wasn’t ready, wasn’t—

“Damien. Hey. Look at me.”

Her hand—knife-less and so soft—cupped his cheek. Damien leaned into her touch despite the hammering of his heart. 

“I will be careful. It won’t hurt.”

He could have laughed if that wouldn’t have hurt too much. How could he explain it to her? Or perhaps he didn’t have to. Perhaps the sadness in her eyes told him that she already knew. Of course, she knew. Even if he hadn’t taken off his shirt, she knew every single one of his scars, had taken care of the wounds when they had been fresh.

“Okay.”

His voice failed him halfway through the word, but she nodded anyway.

“Here.” She pulled her hand back and grabbed the backpack, shoving it closer to him. “Want to have something to hold?”

When Damien nodded, she placed the backpack on his arm. He grasped it, because she was going to need both of her hands, which meant he couldn’t hold her, no matter how much he wanted to.

“I’m starting now.” 

Despite the warning, he still flinched when she cut off the first knot. He had little memory of how the thread had come to be in his body, but the feeling of it coming out was something he was unlikely to ever forget. It was unsettling enough it almost distracted him from the cold touch of the knife, pressing against his too-warm skin where it cut the threads.

He pressed his face against the backpack. The cool metal of clasps on his forehead wasn’t the knife and the smell of old leather wasn’t his blood and another thread snapped and another and another. A slow trickle of blood down his back made him too aware of his body, too aware of the knife, cold and sharp and slicing him open bit by bit. His hand squeezed the backpack in a painfully firm grasp while he tried to breathe through the dungeon stench of mold and piss to find the smell of horses and hay. He couldn’t he had to he deserved it and he didn’t he didn’t he didn’t and he did he did for all he had done he deserved it.

“Halfway done.”

Damien only whimpered. Halfway meant nothing when every moment was an eternity dragging him deeper into his memories. Gaston’s taunting words and Merridy’s careful touch and Gaston’s cruel smile and Merridy’s whispered reassurances, they all blurred together. He wasn’t back in the dungeon but he was and he wasn’t going to die by infection or rope but he was and he didn’t deserve it but he did he did he

A hand brushed his cheek, and he slammed his head back against the wooden wall of the box. Momentarily disoriented, he didn’t understand what Merridy was saying, but he felt her touch at the back of his head, and when he pried his eyes open, her other hand hovered in front of his face. 

“Can you hear me?”

“Mhm.”

She stroked his chin, watching him with unbearable sadness in her storm-grey eyes.

“The stitches are out. A few started bleeding a bit, so I’m gonna clean them and—”

“No!” Damien squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed by his outburst. “Please. Not now.”

Gods, he was pathetic, but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. Not when the memories were so close, when all that kept him from losing his mind was Merridy’s presence.

“Please,” he whispered.

“Okay,” she whispered back. Her hand lingered on his face. “What did you mean when you said… You said you deserve it.”

Damien’s eyes shot open. He couldn’t remember saying it, but fuck, he must have. He forced himself to shake his head. He didn’t have the energy to explain it to her. To tell her what Gaston had done to make him say it. To admit that it had worked, that he had believed it. To wonder if, deep inside, he still believed it.

With a sigh, Merridy pulled the backpack out of his grasp and took its place, bedding her head on his outstretched arm. So close, her face became all blurry; it had to be because of the closeness.

“I don’t care what you’re thinking right now,” she said. “No one would have deserved that. No one. And that includes you.”

Her fingertips on his cheek, wiping away his tears. Her thumb on his chin, brushing the gray spot in his beard. Her palm flat on his shoulder, driving away the chill. She was so warm—or was he so cold? How could she say those words with such conviction, they pushed all the hate back into the deepest corners of his mind?

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. While she reached behind her to grab their blanket, she kept talking. “The wound is looking good. We’ll stay here until it’s fully healed. Just keep taking it slow and you’ll be all right.”

She wrapped the blanket around him, pulling it up to his neck and tucking it in behind his back. When she was satisfied with the arrangement, she slipped under the blanket with him, instantly filling the space with warmth that allowed him to finally relax. He hadn’t even realized how tense he had been, and how exhausted he was, even though he hadn’t done anything.

“Get some rest,” she whispered. “I can clean up later.”

Damien wanted to hold her, but his arm was trapped under her head again, so all he could do was stretch his fingers until his fingertips brushed her back while she snuggled against his chest. Her hair tickled, and her exhale turned into a content hum, and despite the panic still clinging to his heart, he felt sleepy. He kissed the top of her head and let his eyes slide shut. 

I wanted to write this one for ages, but life happened. And by life, I mean like 3 other books. Well, better late than never!

In case you don't know GS and you're wondering why this is in the disability event, a keen observer might notice he's talking about one arm.

[rustycopper4use]

It’s Always Been You

Pt. 21

…

“Welcome!”

…

A loud ring echoed throughout the bedroom, stirring awake Y/n. He blindly patted around before finally grabbing his phone, switching off the alarm. Dragging himself out of bed with half-lidded eyes, he shuffled over to his desk, grabbing the neatly folded school uniform and the binder he’d placed there the night before, already dreading the day ahead.

When he finished dressing, the fabric of his uniform felt stiff against his skin. The button up and jacket felt too close to his chest, ‘was the binder obvious?’ He thinks flattening his hand against his chest, moving it downwards. He hummed in disappointment.

 He grabbed his bag, tossing in a few pens and his lunch, then slung it over his shoulder. And headed downstairs.

“Morning,” his mom’s voice was warm, but there was an edge to it, like she was already preparing for something. Her back was to him as she poured coffee into a mug, the steam flowing upwards, filling the room with the familiar, almost comforting scent. Almost.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Uh, okay.” Y/n mumbled, his eyes still scanning his bag for his wallet, feeling the familiar discomfort of being caught between needing to leave and needing to make sure everything was in its place.

His mom didn’t miss a beat, her voice softened, but there was an underlying tension. “I don’t understand why you insist on wearing the boys’ uniform.” She sighed, setting the coffee mug down a little too forcefully on the counter. Any harder and the cup would’ve cracked.

Y/n chewed on the inside of his cheek, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. Don’t engage, he reminded himself. It wasn’t worth it. But even so, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he resisted the urge to snap back. ‘It’s just until highschool… Just until highschool, It’s just-‘

“It’s just that you’re such a pretty girl, Y/n,” his mom continued, her voice losing its warmth as she turned toward him, giving him the once-over. “You’d look a lot better if you dressed like it. When you dress like this—” She waved a dismissive hand, gesturing towards him as unbothered  as she could, “It makes you look sloppy. And it sends the wrong message. I don’t want you looking like one of those people.”

Y/n’s jaw tightened, and he forced his shoulders to stay stiff as a wave of frustration hit him. Here it goes again, he thought. He stared at his shoes, avoiding her gaze. His throat felt dry, and the bitter taste of her words clung onto him.

“Hm,” was all he could manage. His shoulders slumped, his face falling into a mask of disinterest, but inside, he felt like he was crumbling.

“I should get going, Mom,” he said quickly, the words falling out before he could second-guess them. He turned on his heel, the door already just a few steps away, but then his mother’s voice stopped him mid-step.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” her tone hardened. “You can’t throw a fit every time I say something you don’t like.” There was a flash of irritation in her eyes as she glared at him, the tension thick between them. “I’m just trying to talk to you, is that so wrong?”

“Right. Sorry, Mom.” Y/n nervously spoke.

“Look, I’m just trying to look out for you,” She sighed, rubbing her temples. 

“I’m sorry.” His words wobbled.

…

Y/n walked into class early, him and maybe five or so other people in the class. Looking down at the ground he made his way to his desk and sat down. It seemed everyone else in class avoided him, probably advised by their parents. He didn’t have a criminal record or anything, just the business of gambling his mother has, kinda makes people think lowly of him. A few students were bold enough to bully him outright—those who thought they could get away with it, or those who thought they could score points by picking on the ‘lower class’ student. But most kept their distance, either out of indifference, or they simply followed what their parents told them. 

So, he sat there, waiting for class to start.

He pulled out his notebook from his bag and placed it on the desk with a soft thud. Opening it to a fresh page, he began to idly doodle in the margins, his pen moving without much thought. The shapes and lines came to him easily. His mind wandered as the chatter around him blended into a kind of background hum, a noise that barely registered in his head. He was used to it. He was used to tuning everything out.

And yet, as the minutes ticked by, something did pull him back to reality. A familiar name, one that stood out amidst the noise.

“Hey Kyoya!” The voice called out with an upbeat tone. Two students stepped closer to the door, their footsteps the only sound in the still room.

Y/n didn’t need to look up to know who they were talking to. Kyoya Otori, the model student, the class representative. The one who always seemed to have everything perfectly in order. The boy with the sharp gaze, the one who everyone looked up to, even though he wasn’t exactly popular in the sense of being approachable, but even so people seemed to like him, because of his ability to please to get what he wants from people. And that right there is Y/n’s only friend,

“We just heard. You’re at the top of the  class again.” The boy with the bowl cut smiled. Y/n noticed his analytical look as he stared at the two, and if Y/n had to guess he’s probably weighing their worth based on their parents right now.

…

“Wait, why do I have to help you with the new student? Isn’t it your job as class rep to do it yourself?” Y/n let out a frustrated sigh, glancing to the side at Kyoya as they walked down the bustling school halls. The day was already starting off with too much… everything, and now Kyoya was dragging him into something that Y/n couldn’t brother wasting energy on.

Kyoya, the ever-so calculated machine, pushed up his glasses with a slight tilt of his head, his usual business smile curling at the edges of his lips. “I figured, since you’re also a foreigner, it’ll be beneficial to have you assist Suoh. You know... make him feel more comfortable.” Kyoya's tone suggested it wasn’t really a suggestion.

“Okay, sure, he can’t possibly be that bad,” Y/n muttered, forcing himself to sound more agreeable than he felt. Maybe, just maybe, the new student wouldn’t be too terrible. How bad could one person really be? They rounded the corner and made their way toward the staff rooms, where Kyoya would inevitably put on his perfect class representative act. Which seems tiring in Y/n’s eyes.

When they reached the door, an older man with glasses greeted them warmly. “Right on time, class representative, L/n.” He smiled and stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

“Allow me to introduce you to our new student, Tamaki Suoh.” The teacher stepped back, revealing a tall figure with striking blonde hair, styled in that impeccable, almost too perfect way that made Y/n annoyed. This is going to be a long day.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He kindly smiles.

“This is class representative, Kyoya Otori, and another foreigner student, Y/n L/n.”

He made his way toward Y/n, and before he could even react, Tamaki took both of his hands in his own, holding them gently as if he were cradling something fragile.

“You have the most enchanting eyes that I’ve ever seen,” Tamaki said, his tone deep with admiration, his gaze intense, as though studying Y/n’s soul through his eyes. 

‘Cool, I already hate this’ Y/n thought, every instinct screaming at him to pull away. He resisted the urge, standing frozen as the warmth of Tamaki’s hands pressed into his. His palms were sweaty, but it wasn’t from nervousness. No, it was the discomfort of having his personal space completely invaded by this French weirdo.

“I would assume that your heart is just as enchanting as your eyes.” Tamaki continued as he gives a closed-eye smile.

‘Either he is gay, or he thinks I’m a girl. And I’m not sure which one I’d rather deal with right now. Because both sounds equally as bad.’ 

“Thank you.” Y/n quickly pulled his hands away from him. Tamaki then turns to look at Kyoya, raising his hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you, Otori.”

“The pleasure is all mine. You know, if you’d like. We can take you on a tour of the school.” Kyoya shakes his hand.

“That’d be great, thanks!”

‘I get my personal space invaded, and he gets a normal handshake?’ Y/n felt his eye twitch. ‘is this, a romantic comedy series?’ Y/n felt his eye twitch.

…

“Up ahead of us is the west school building,” Kyoya informed, walking between Y/n and Tamaki as they made their way across the campus. His voice was even, controlled, as always. “All special classrooms are on the other side.”

Tamaki, walking with a spring in his step, looked over at Kyoya, nodding in understanding. But then, just as they were about to continue, he suddenly froze, his eyes wide with realization.

“Oh! I forgot!” Tamaki stopped dead in his tracks, causing both Y/n and Kyoya to stop as well. “I was wondering, do you two have a kotatsu at your houses?”

“Kotatsu?” Y/n repeated, furrowing his brow. He had heard of it before, but wasn’t entirely sure what it was. 

“Oh, surely you know what I’m talking about,” Tamaki continued, his voice full of excitement as he looked back and forth between the two of them. “I think kotatsus are simply amazing!”

“I’ve always thought it was cool that the Japanese sit on the floor,” Tamaki added with a dreamy look in his eyes. “I told myself I would sit under one once I got to Japan.” His gaze dropped to the ground, and he suddenly looked a little distant. “-But at home, the décor is all Western.”

“Oh, you’re one of those.” Y/n immediately replied without thinking.

Tamaki turned to him, eyes wide. “You’re a foreigner too! You have to understand what I mean,” he insisted, his hands waving around for emphasis. “Over here is just so much different, it’s exciting!” His voice had the kind of innocent enthusiasm that made it hard not to feel like the odd one out if you didn’t share the same level of energy.

Y/n opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Tamaki had already turned back to Kyoya, his eyes sparkling like he had just discovered the secret to eternal happiness. “What about you?” Tamaki asked eagerly, his gaze fixed on the ever-composed Kyoya.

Kyoya, with his usual calm demeanor, pushed his glasses up slightly. “Unfortunately, we don’t have any kotatsu either,” he replied smoothly.

“But,” he added with a small, almost imperceptible smirk, “We do have Japanese décor, though.”

At this, Tamaki's face visibly deflated. He slumped his shoulders, his energy draining as he turned away, clearly disappointed.

“What happened?” Kyoya asked, turning towards Y/n. “Did I step on a land mine or something?”

“Beats me,” Y/n replied, the exhaustion was starting to seep into his voice. He didn’t know what kind of delusional world Tamaki lived in, but he was getting the creeping feeling it wasn’t a place he wanted to visit any time soon.

“I can’t believe it. You two don’t have a kotatsu? I’m sorry for you both. It was rather insensitive of me to ask you that.” Tamaki turns to face them, Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Tamaki’s tone. It was like he had gone from an overly enthusiastic tourist to someone offering pity. Tamaki turned to face them more fully, clasping his hands together in a gesture that made him look like he was about to deliver a grand revelation.

 “I guess your families aren’t as close as they could be, huh?” Tamaki grabs both of them, pulling them closer. “Look, it’s okay. You don’t have to hide it anymore.” He turns to look away again. “I’m well aware that the kotatsu is a symbol for a happy home life in Japan.”

Y/n stiffened, his mind racing with the very real urge to escape, but before he could formulate a response, Tamaki was already on another tangent. “I’m well aware that the kotatsu is a symbol for a happy home life in Japan.”

Y/n’s eyes twitched. ‘Wait, did he just diagnose my entire family situation based on whether or not we had a kotatsu?’

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but here in Japan, you playfully kick each other’s feet under the kotatsu, while building familial bonds of trust and watching Costume Grand Prix, right? And of course, you also eat plenty of mandarin oranges.” His face drops, turning into a look of pity. “I feel sorry for you. Your families are missing out.”

Tamaki’s face fell, and for a brief moment, Y/n could see real pity in his eyes. “I feel sorry for you,” he said, his voice genuinely soft. “Your families are missing out.”

“I hate to correct you, but I think you’ve got the wrong idea.” Kyoya’s voice broke through the moment, calm and collected as ever. “If it’s that important to you, I can always put a kotatsu in our home for you to visit.”

“Thank you, Otori! Yay!” He jumps onto Kyoya, holding onto him like a koala. “You’re such a good friend! You’re my best friend!” He pulls back.  Kyoya, ever the picture of composure, didn’t even flinch at the outburst. But Y/n, who had been standing off to the side, couldn’t help but groan inwardly. 

‘This is way too much for 9 AM.’

“Hey, Otori, I don’t want to be too forward or anything, but since we’re pals, do you think it’s okay for me to call you by your first name?”

“If you insist.” Kyoya’s voice felt more stern.

Y/n, already feeling the weight of the situation, mumbled under his breath, “When you give a mouse a cookie…” His tone was dry, bordering on defeated, as the absurdity of it all began to take its toll.

Tamaki ignored him entirely, leaping off of Kyoya and turning in a circle with wild abandon. “You too!” he yelled, flailing his arms in the air. “Can I call you by your first name, Y/n?”

Before either of them could respond, Tamaki broke into an over-the-top celebration, jumping up and down like he’d just won an Olympic gold medal. “Bravo! Kyoya! Y/n! Mes amis! Yahoo!”

Y/n glanced at Kyoya, and for the first time, he saw a small flicker of exasperation in Kyoya’s eyes. They shared a look, silently acknowledging that their lives had just been irreversibly altered by this one man.

Tamaki’s infectious energy was exhausting, but somehow, they both found themselves caught in the whirlwind of his enthusiasm. The rest of the tour was going to be... interesting, to say the least.

…

“He seems nice enough…” Y/n sighed, casually fiddling with a deck of cards. He had been sitting on the edge of the couch, the cards slipping effortlessly through his fingers as he absentmindedly shuffled them, his gaze drifting between the window and the door, almost as if Tamaki’s antics still echoed in his mind.

Kyoya, who had been sitting at his desk with his nose buried in a book, glanced up briefly, his eyes narrowing behind the glint of his glasses. “That’s one way to put it.”

Y/n let out another sigh, this time with a hint of amusement in his voice. “You know...” He began idly flicking the cards into the air before catching them with a practiced hand, “it’s funny seeing you get dragged around by Tamaki, and suddenly becoming his best friend all in one day.”

Kyoya’s expression remained unchanged as he returned to his book, though a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his quiet irritation. “I really doubt he knows what it means to be best friends.”

Y/n raised a brow, dealing out the cards one by one on the table, letting them fall with a soft tap. “And you do?” He shot a sly glance over to Kyoya, a playful challenge in his eyes, in turn Kyoya gave him a blank look.

“Sorry, sorry,” Y/n grinned, holding his hands up in mock surrender, then leaned back, letting the cards fall from his fingers and into a pile on the table. “It’s just... you’re acting like the guy who knows everything, and now you’ve got Tamaki, of all people, wrapped around your finger. It’s... entertaining.”

Kyoya sighed. “I’m not even positive he’s fluent in Japanese.” Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, that makes two of us,” Y/n remarked, the sound of the cards shifting as he scooped them up again, his mind briefly drifting back to the absurdity of Tamaki’s behavior. The way he jumped back and forth between being overly dramatic and inexplicably charming. In the worst possible way.

Kyoya’s eyes darted to Y/n, an edge of seriousness creeping into his voice. “I just can’t believe your only two friends are foreigners.” His tone was unexpectedly pointed, but there was something else to it. 

Kyoya’s expression remained impassive as he flipped the page in his book, not bothering to answer right away. But then, deciding to indulge Y/n’s curiosity, he spoke again, his voice formal. “It’s in my father’s best interests that I befriend him.” He paused, his fingers tapping the edge of his book absentmindedly. “And, honestly, there’s very little room for personal relationships.”

Y/n, who had been slowly stacking the cards, stopped for a moment, sensing that there was more to Kyoya’s statement than just a passing remark. His brow arched again, turning more thoughtful than before. “Are you trying to say that I’m your only real friend then?” He leaned forward slightly.

Kyoya closed his book with a soft, almost imperceptible snap. The air between them seemed to shift, the casual nature of their conversation suddenly taking on a more serious tone. “What makes you say that?” He didn’t answer immediately, clearly considering Y/n’s words carefully.

Y/n’s lips curled into a half-smile as he leaned back in his chair, enjoying the sudden shift in dynamic. “Well, for one, I know objectively that my family doesn’t really benefit yours in any way whatsoever, and my wealth ranks among the lowest in the school.” He placed his hands behind his head, as he continued. “Secondly, my family’s business is taboo, and because of that, my reputation has been… looked down upon.” He let out a quiet laugh, though it wasn’t entirely natural. “If anything, you hanging around me only lowers your standing.” 

Kyoya looked at him then, his eyes unreadable, though there was the faintest flicker of something, maybe surprise, or something closer to amusement. Y/n, however, wasn’t finished. “So that leaves us with one thing: you actually enjoy my company,” Y/n said, his tone surprisingly calm for someone like Y/n. He slid the deck of cards back into its box, his fingers brushing over the smooth surface absently. “So, did I hit a bullseye?”

Kyoya stared at him for a moment, the faintest pause stretching between them. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Kyoya’s voice was quiet but firm, a warning masked beneath. It was a deliberate choice to leave things unspoken. Y/n let out a small, satisfied smile. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not that easy to read.”But deep down, Y/n couldn’t help but feel a small sense of triumph. In this strange, complicated friendship they had one that was constantly shifting between casual jabs and rare moments of honest conversation maybe, just maybe, Kyoya did enjoy his company after all.

…

Tamaki grabbed Kyoya by his shoulders, a stern look on his face. “Kyoya, I need to ask a favour of you. You see, I really want to go to Kyoto. I got so excited about the kotatsu that I forgot. I always said that once I got to Japan, I’d go to Kyoto.” He began to have a starry look in his eyes as he continued, “The Great Buddha at Nara. Goryokaku Park. I want to see Shisa and Namahage. I want to see everything!”

“One problem. None of those things are in Kyoto.” 

Tamaki Froze once again, and screamed in horror, sinking down to his knees. 

“He’s an even bigger idiot than I thought.” Kyoya glances over at Y/n.

Y/n nodded.

“How about we see each of these, one at a time?” Kyoya looked back at Tamaki, pushing his glasses up as he spoke. “Why don’t we go to Kyoto this weekend, and then on our next school holiday, we can go to Okinawa?” Tamaki then pounced on Kyoya.

“Thank you, Kyoya! You’re the greatest! You’re like a god! Like the great Buddha!” Tamaki jumps off of Kyoya, effectively shoving him into the ground as he jumps around. “Kyoya! Mon ami! Mon ami! Kyoya! Yahoo!”

“It’s only the second day I’ve known him, and I’m already a god in his eyes.” Kyoya grumbled.

“You’re going to have so much fun with him on vacation.” Y/n grinned, offering his hand to him.

“You realize you’re going too, right?” He takes his hand as he stands up.

“Wait, what—“ 

Tamaki pulls Y/n into a hug. “That’s wonderful! We will have the most wonderful time! I just know it.” Tamaki squeezed him tighter. Y/n looks at Kyoya and mouths “traitor.”

…

And before Y/n knew it, Tamaki had wormed his way into every aspect of his and Kyoya’s life. At first, it had been small things. A weekend trip here, a dinner invitation there, but now, it seemed like no matter where Y/n and Kyoya turned, Tamaki was there. He’d charmed his way through their class, winning over their classmates with his relentless optimism. School holidays were spent with him, weekends were filled with Tamaki’s bright, sparkling eyes. Hell, even right now, Y/n was sitting in Kyoya’s bedroom, his forehead pressed against the cool surface of the table, fighting the urge to sleep through yet another endless discussion about their next trip they’ll have with Tamaki.

On the table in front of them lay a small mountain of travel handbooks, each more detailed than the last. Kyoya, as usual, was meticulously making notes, writing down a precise overview of what to do next, his pen gliding across the paper in smooth, efficient strokes. His focus was intense, but there was an underlying tension in the way he held his pen. 

Y/n, on the other hand, had long since lost interest. His head, heavy with exhaustion, had found solace on the cold, hard surface of the table, his arm stretched out in front of him, fingers loosely gripping the edge of the book. He had no idea what the hell they were doing anymore. It was hard to focus when his mind kept wandering back to that face. The face of someone who thought every single thing was an adventure.

“Kyoya, Kyoya, Kyoya…” The voice came from the doorway, unmistakable and light with playful mockery.

Y/n’s eyes half-opened at the familiar voice of Kyoya’s Sister. She stood there, leaning against the doorframe, a faint smile playing on her lips as she looked over at her brother. “I knew I’d find you up late studying,” she said, but then her gaze shifted and she caught sight of Y/n slumped at the table beside him. Her eyes softened for just a moment, but there was a certain glint of amusement there too. “I see you even brought over Y/n,” she remarked, her tone light as if this was a casual occurrence, which, to Y/n, it felt like it had become.

Y/n slowly lifted his head from the table, but his movements were sluggish, as though even the simple action of raising his chin took a monumental effort. He glanced tiredly at the open travel booklet in front of him, his eyes half-lidded, barely able to focus on the text. “Yeah…” he muttered in reply, rubbing his eyes as if that might miraculously erase the exhaustion. He felt like a zombie.

Without missing a beat, she walked over to the table and picked up one of the thick travel guides. She flicked through it, inspecting the pages with a critical eye. “Wait a minute, are those travel guides?” she asked, her voice taking on a note of interest. She raised an eyebrow, her lips turning into a small smile. “Oh, wow, so you guys are going to Hokkaido next. That’s wonderful!”

Y/n didn’t even bother lifting his head this time. Instead, he let out a small groan and sank further into the table, wishing he could just slip into unconsciousness. He barely registered her words, something about Hokkaido and how wonderful it was, but then she caught his attention with a sharp question.

“If you need a guide, I’m sure you could always ask the family driver,” she suggested casually, her tone implying that it would be no trouble at all.

Kyoya, who had been silently writing, suddenly froze. His grip on his pen tightened, and Y/n could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as well, as though he were holding back some sort of explosion. He took a deep, controlled breath, but Y/n could tell it wasn’t doing much to quell the frustration bubbling just under the surface. “That’s not good enough,” Kyoya muttered, his voice low but thick with irritation. His grip on the pen tightened even more, and for a second, Y/n swore he saw the pen bend slightly under the pressure. “Not for this Tamaki Suoh guy.” He let out a short, exasperated sigh, almost as if he were already worn out by the thought of their next trip. 

His voice now laced with the kind of frustration Y/n had come to expect whenever Tamaki was involved. 

“He wanted to see the Daimonji bonfire in the middle of springtime, despite it being completely out of season.” Kyoya’s eyebrows twitched involuntarily at the memory, and Y/n could hear the strain in his voice. “And as we were eating Okinawa soba, he casually mentions how he wants to compare them to Shinshu soba.” Kyoya’s hand gripped the pen even tighter, and Y/n could hear the slight creak of it breaking in his palm.

“And then,” Kyoya muttered, “he spent the entire meal arguing over whether a shisa or a namahage would win in a fight.” His tone was practically dripping with annoyance as he paused for a moment, exhaling through his nose. “But this time, I’m going to make sure I’m ready for anything.”

Y/n let out chuckle, but it was drowned out by Kyoya’s next words.

“I promise that while the three of us are in Hokkaido, I will cater to your every whim, Suoh,” Kyoya said, his voice taking on a tone of pure determination.

…

And all that just for Tamaki suoh to say no. He’s reasoning? It’s exam season, then he had the guts to say Kyoya and Y/n should focus more on studying at the moment. Kyoya was fuming with rage just barely underneath the surface. And so was Y/n.

Y/n was left alone with Tamaki, Kyoya having to go do his father’s bidding. Now Tamaki and Y/n sit in an empty classroom afterschool.

“Can I ask you something, Y/n?” Tamaki breaks the silence, his tone just as cheery as ever.

“Hm?” Y/n glances over at the blonde. ‘What weird question is it going to-‘

“Why don’t you have more friends?” Tamaki bluntly spoke, somehow lacking any malice despite the nature of the question itself. 

‘Is he trying to poke fun at me?’

Y/n stares at him full on now, his brows furrowed into a small frown. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to get out.”

“Well, doesn’t it get lonely?“ Tamaki raised a brow.

“Not everyone is gifted enough to make friends, like you are. I can’t just start a conversation with someone.” Y/n replied without a second thought.

“I’m sure if you applied yourself more—“ 

Maybe it was the lack of energy Y/n had after a long day or maybe the question actually got to him, or even a swirl of both of them, but he couldn’t help himself after Tamaki uttered that phrase he heard of his mother thousands of times before. “No. It’s not that simple. I don’t have the ability to succeed in a social situation like everybody else. It’s not the lack of effort that’s making me like this, I- I just can’t. I’m different. And it’s beyond infuriating watching you try to say it’s anything besides that.” Y/n’s voice shakes, his eyes furrowed, he didn’t mean to say all that. And yet he couldn’t stop, “it’s not fair.”

“You’ll find the right people.” Tamaki had a thoughtful look behind his eyes, jarring compared to the looks he usually has. “You got Kyoya and I to like you, I’m sure there’s other people that’ll enjoy your company.” 

Y/n fought the tears building up in his eyes. “Yeah,” He gives a weak chuckle. “Maybe.”

…

[blackwolfstabs]

Wolf! Frank & Joey Headcanons

(requested by @screamqueen10)

!!! (these are NOT shipping headcanons. just ones of these two interacting because let's face it, they've definitely got an alpha complex going on haha)

──────── GIFs are not mine

as stated previously in this post, Frank is the alpha, but Joey is the alpha-female. this causes them to fight almost over everything. their tempers are short, so it doesn't take long for one to phase and strike and the other follows.

if these two fight, you'll need some sincere divine intervention. someone like Peter, Rickles, Lazar, or Lambert would be the most promising to break them apart.

Frank likes to test Joey, purposefully going around Abigail or Caleb to act as if he were hunting them.

Joey challenges Frank's authority out of her loathing his arrogance and ambition. she feels that he thinks he's entitled to the pack's business just because he's the alpha. (example from something i've been writing from my Abigail Werewolf AU):

Another trek across the travertine to the left side of the yard had her panting in trying to fight the heat. She hadn’t realized someone had come out, until she heard a distinguishable voice. “You mind tellin’ me why you’re out here wandering around like you can’t stand to be inside with the rest of us?” Frank. She was not in the mood to put up with his shit. She stopped on the grass but didn’t turn around to look at him. “Actually, I do.” Frank’s ears twitched, “Hmm.” Clearly, there was a problem. “So, something’s definitely wrong.” He caught her soft growl and the almost painful lower of her hips. “What’s got you all moody, Joey? Is it Shark Week?” She could’ve wished. But she knew that was a jab. “No,” she rolled her eyes and actually glanced over her shoulder. “I’m fine. I just wanna be alone, right now.” But the red wolf didn’t move, just tilted his head with a poor excuse for a pitied expression. “Oh, did we run out of candy again?” he teased. It was fake anyway. “No!” she snapped, baring her teeth in a warning as her hips lowered even more, but this time, it was more defensive, the fur on her hackles bristling in the sunlight. “Then, what?” he demanded, more serious now. “I told you. I want to be alone.” Now, Joey turned around to retrace her steps towards him. “You’re not the alpha of this pack, and you’re not the alpha of me. I don’t have to tell you shit, so back off,” she growled, thrusting her muzzle forward to make him pull back a little. The other’s eyes darkened as they narrowed, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. “You’re not my fuckin’ alpha either, so I suggest you watch your tone.” Her ears turned back, which led him to continue. “You won’t sit the fuck down and you’ve been whining all day.” There was a slight falter in her demeanor. “Oh, you think we haven’t noticed? Kinda hard not to when fuckin’ wolf telepathy is a thing.” By now, his own fur was rising, and his lips were starting to reveal more of his teeth.

i know no one asked for that, but i told you i would share some of my werewolf!au stuff 🤭

Frank is much easier to control as a wolf than a human. Joey is the opposite, she's more controllable as a human than a wolf.

because Frank's the "confirmed" alpha, it's his instinctive duty to check on all the pack members, even if it's subtly. he won't admit it, but he does trust Joey's instincts, both human and wolf, (which he also appreciates) so he tends to make his "check-in" on her more noticeable, likely engaging in conversation.

Joey's extremely smart and that irritates Frank.

they growl at each other just because. if Frank growls, Joey will growl back at him even if it wasn't directed towards her, and vise-versa.

they can never "play fight" without it turning into them trying to dominate each other. they just piss each other off xD.

are those ok?? again, this was harder than i anticipated but it could be because i'm sleep-deprived haha. i hope you like them and lmk if you want more! much love 🩶🩶🩶

[chubbygirlmaddy14]

The Dollmaker: The Brother

Dale Kobble x reader

A/N: So this is insane, and I would keep going with this chapter but I wanna leave it like this as well. Plus this is a REALLY slow burn fic. I promise i’ll make it to where something happens soon lovely’s :p

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/374688245?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=chubby_girl_maddy16

Chapter 12: The Brother (1,770 words)

TW’s: Fight scene, choking, abuse, yelling, gun use, threatening (kinda)

Y/n POV:

  I woke up later than normal, thank god I don't have work. Sitting up I find myself in my bed, not the living room like I thought I would be. I soon remember what happened and my hand flies over my mouth. I didn't mean to kiss him on the cheek it just happened??

  I will say it is better than his lips, he would stop talking to me forever and I don't want that, I don't need him to be out of my life. I get out of bed, drag myself to the bathroom, and turn on the hot water before brushing my teeth.

Smiling thinking about the events of last night, I pull off my clothes and step inside, sighing as the hot water hits me.

  My mind keeps going back to what I can remember, the laughing, the movie, and how sweet he was to hold me the way he did and take me to bed after it. Still questioning why I'm as attracted to him as I am,

I realize I've never felt this way about anyone before. 

  I mean yeah throughout college I went on dates, hooked up with different people, and tried to get out there but I never felt anything for them like I do with Dale. There's something about him, like I'm trapped here for the rest of time as long as he's here with me. I don't mind that one bit though. 

  Stepping out of the shower and grabbing my towel, I hear the doorbell ring as I'm drying off. I smile thinking it's him and quickly put some comfy clothes on, not caring about how wet my hair is. Rushing downstairs I open the door with a smile on my face, only for it to drop just a second after. "Hey little sis!" he says pushing his way through. 

  Ryan.

Of course it was him out of all people, and speaking of all people, I catch Dales eyes land on mine as he walks around the neighborhood. I smile softly at him before shutting the door not wanting him to get caught up in any of the drama I know Ryan was soon to start up. 

  Moving to the kitchen I see him grab a slice of left over pizza from last night in the fridge, "what do you want?" I didn't care about how I sounded, how my tone came out, I wanted him out of my house as fast as possible. He smirks as he leans against the counter looking over my way

"Someone's in town that I just found out about, and I'm not allowed to come over and say hello?

  I roll my eyes crossing my arms, I know how he plays this little game of his. He pretends to be all sweet and then snaps

he's just like our father.

"Who told you I was here?" I stare at him, trying to be cautious of who knew that I came back and who didn't. Stepping away from the counter his attitude changes into one I didn't wanna experience. 

  "Grandma! You know she was so excited to have you back, but you didn't want me to know. ME. I- I'm you're brother, we're supposed to be there for each other." He chuckles, slamming his hand down on the counter making me jump, the pizza long forgotten.

"I've been busy, I didn't need any distractions!"

  Moving around to where I was he walks closer, his eyes turning all black. I try to back away as much as I could until my back hits the wall, fuck. His hand comes around my throat pushing me harder into the wall as my mind goes blank. Everything I learned is all forgotten in that moment, I just

freeze. 

  "Busy enough to not say hi? bullshit. You come back here, move into the house that YOU got everyone killed in, and walk around like you're some kind of hot shot just because you're a big agent now?" His hand gets tighter around my throat, making me try to gasp for as much air as I can.

My gun, I need my gun.

  He backs away, making me gasp for air as his hand moves to his side. He finds a beer in the bottom drawer of my fridge and pops it open, drinking it before smiling softly like nothing just happened.

No, what the fuck actually happened.

  I didn't think he would do that ever again but I guess I just got to find out how he is one more time. He's stronger then last time, but I know so am I, I just need to focus with him. "Sit" he gestures with the bottle before grabbing another one for me, "I'm fin-" "SIT."

  I couldn't tell if he was drunk this early already, or just a bigger prick then before. Sitting down he slides over the extra bottle after he opens it. Drinking some of the liquid I sigh, and I know it was early but I didn't care. I had to deal with his ass for however long he stayed. 

  Reaching around I find the hidden drawer wrapped around my side, opening it, and slowly grabbing my other gun and holster. Wrapping it around my thigh, his dumbass wouldn't know a thing. I wasn't going to do anything, but he would do anything to me. I had to be safe, with how old we both were now,

we're different, he's different. 

Longlegs POV:

  I didn't like the way she smiled at me, I knew she wasn't safe. I saw him pull up as I left my house to come see her, I knew she wanted me to finish helping her today. Remembering how he looked from the pictures, I thought of what y/n said to me.

"he's not the best"

  After a few minutes I move over to look through a window, one I knew they couldn't see me from but I could see everything. I needed to know she was safe and if I needed to do anything to stop him, and I would do anything for her

  I see him move behind her, her eyes following him but refusing to move her head. Seeing a beer in her hand, my eyes raise in confusion. I knew she drank, but not voluntarily this early. I watch as she finishes the bottle, taking a deep breath after and keeping her eyes forward.

She didn't want him there. 

Y/n POV:

   Chugging the rest of his beer I stay silent, just watching him, trying to see what he would do. "We need to catch up," he smiles, a fake lovingly expression showing up on his face

“I think I'd be okay not catching up actually, I have shit to do that doesn't involve you."

  Why am I acting like this? I don't know, but I wasn't gonna be treated like a little girl for him anymore. He comes around and stands behind me, his hands resting on my shoulder before he starts digging his fingers in. First soft but soon replaced with hard painful squeezes that were sure to leave bruises.

I finish the rest of my drink trying to get help from the liquid confidence and having to deal with him.

  "Stop." I say softly not being able to take what he's doing anymore, but he doesn't. Soon my pleas turn into screams before I smash the bottle over the counter. The sound doesn't stop him, but the glass from my end cutting his arm does.

"FUCK!" he screams holding his arm as I push him off my, keeping the glass top in my hand.

He smirks before pinning me on the counter, grabbing my wrist and slamming it down on the marble top, making me let go of the glass. He takes it in his hand, "this is for them, what I have been wanting to do for so lon-" I sweep his feet from under him, making him fall to the ground. 

  A gunshot is all that is heard before complete

silence

  The bullet going into the floor next to his head, he stares at me with wide eyes. "I told myself I wouldn't use this on you." In complete shock he doesn't say anything, the gun moving lower onto his stomach, "put it down." my voice has gone monotone as he pushes the glass away from him. Putting together my thoughts I take a deep breath. 

"YOU KNOW I DIDN'T DO SHIT." I gain the confidence keeping the gun straight towards his stomach not taking any chances. I shouldn't be screaming, people can hear me but I can't stand how he still talks to me and treats me, plus the gunshot has already gone off, screaming isn't that bad. 

  "Just cause I found them, we both know that wasn't my fault." I started laughing putting my other hand on my head

oh my god, I've gone insane. 

He gets up, walking towards the door and grabbing his jacket his aimlessly threw on the counter. 

 Putting my gun in the holster, I grab the glass and throw it in the trash. I walk behind him to the door after it's all cleaned up to make sure he left, I couldn't risk it. He takes a few steps down the stairs before turning around to look at me as I stood at the front keeping eye contact with him while he looked back.

"This conversation isn't over." he said harshly making me smirk as I look down "yeah we'll see about that.

  I watch him drive off, leaning against the door and closing my eyes I take in the fresh air. Soon I hear footsteps rushing up to me, making my hand go onto my gun and open my eyes.

Dale keeps his hands up as he gets close and I take a breath realizing it was him, "please don't shoot."

  I chuckle shaking my head, "don't scare me like that, especially while I have this ready." His hands go to my face as he looks down at me, "I heard the shot and the screaming, are you okay?" Blushing like crazy, I hold his hands against my face before pulling them off and kissing against his knuckles.

  "I pinky promise I'm alright, I trained for this stuff." I put my pinky around his before sighing, "Just ignore the hole in the ground in the kitchen, and let’s finish what we started last night."

I smirk softly seeing a blush rise to his face after everything and grab him hand bringing him inside with me.

[originaltyphoonkryptonite]

Chapter 33: Blood Moon Ritual

Nightwing pov

I groan as I start to come to. The scents of dust and mildew is slowly what is helping me wake up. Though, the cold stone floor might also be why as well. Once I open my eyes open, I glance around to see myself in a prison cell. There are torches that have dancing shadows upon the stone walls. I shift a bit and hear chains clinking. Looking down I see manacles on my ankles and wrists. Not chained to the wall thankfully.

"Great," I think to myself. "My utility belt is also gone. Going to be harder to escape without it but not impossible. We Bats are a stubborn lot."

Looking around the cell, I notice I wasn't alone. I rush as fast as I could to to sit beside Tasma. I check her over the best I could while being chained up. I sigh in relief when there are no wounds and she is breathing just fine. The irony of a inhibitor collar on her is not lost on me, since she can't use her powers while being pregnant. Not that I am about to tell the bad guys that. She also was chained like me: only on her ankles and wrists, and not to the wall.

The suddenly shouting and what I think might be swearing in Arabic told me that Robin might be awake. Sounds like it was coming from the cell next to mine on the left side.

"Robin!" I call out. "I take it you don't have your belt as well?".

"No, I am shouting in joy about being captured and without tools and weapons Nightwing." he responds with a snarl.

"OK, OK. no need to bit my head off. Tasma is in here with me by the way. She's fine......no outside wounds at least. She's just unconscious."

I suddenly glance down when I hear a soft groan from below. 

"Tasma!' I cry out in relief as she no doubts opens her eyes under the mask's lenses.

"Does it ever it feel dizzying when I take you guys through shadows?" she whimpers as she starts to sit up.

"No." is suddenly heard from the cell to our right. "I'd say it feels more like a weighted blanket, something of comfort. Same thing with Nighthound. Though in his case, I think a big ball of fur would describe it better."

"B!" "Batman!" was called out from the three of us.

"Glad to see everyone is fine and in one piece. We-"

A sudden bark interrupts Batman.

"Nighthound!" calls Robin trying to peer as best he can out of his cell-door.

"He's fine Robin. He has a inhibitor collar on. I was also about to say that they took all our tools. I hate to admit it, but I let my guard down too soon. I should have done something sooner."

"B.", I snort out before continue to talk. "Even The Batman is allowed to make mistakes. Whether he likes it or not."

"Very funny Nightwing." he grunts out. "But humor won't get us out of this."

"Well maybe it will? Wouldn't hurt to try?"

"Think there might be a chance Cindrom and the other shadow animals might be able to assist us?" Robin huffs out after not being able to see much.

"I don't think so. If they could, they would have help the others who have gone missing." Tasma hums. "I think we are on our own."

Before we could say anything else, we hear the clang of a key being shoved into a lock before the swinging door crashes into the wall. A steady drum of more then one pair of feet bounding and thumping down the steps towards us. Creeping through the shadows while holding torches is Blake and the other members of the clan that we saw at dinner. Walking behind them are cloaked figures, and following them are clothed people, similar to the ones that lead me and Red Hood into that warehouse that night. Kinda like Medieval ninjas to describe it.

"I am sorry, but Phantasma can not leave." he says with a smile that looked more like a sneer.

"What do you want with her?" Batman growls out with a deeper rumble then normal.

Understandable, they have FIVE of his family members trapped.

"Something that MUST be done." and with a snap of his fingers there was sudden chaos.

We did our best to fight off the ninja like beings but soon we were dragged out. Once that happened, we were through a doorway into a large room. It looked like a video game dungeon. Dank, dark, you know...things you would expect. But there was also the scents of old dried blood, dust. You could hear chains from the walls. Each one had a skeleton in their hold, hanging between the iron sconces holding torches. The skeleton's faces all had the same terrorized, pleading, and hopelessness looks, captured forever in time.

It also seemed like there was whispered sobs, pleadings, howls, and moaning. It was more like we can hear the dim din in our minds rather our ears, as if the ghost of those poor souls are sadden by what is to happen.

We were dragged to steps in the middle of the room. The short flight of stairs lead up to what looks like a base where a alter would be, but there was nothing on the platform. The closer we get to the steps, the more we realized why: There was a pit behind the alter. They planed to THROW something or someone into it. Standing before the top step was standing someone wearing dark priest type clothes.

"Members of The Dunkel clan!" the dark priest bellows out. "Once again we gather on the night of The Blood Moon!"

Blake strides forward and Phantasma is marched up behind him up the steps. I start to struggle with with everything I had and then-some.

"Tonight! We renew the ancient spell that gives us our powers!" continues the priest. "So the golden age of the clan never comes to a end!"

I see out of the corner of my eyes Batman, Robin and Nighthound also doing their best.

"And to ensure! That the age of The Gray Sun NEVER rises and burns away our powers!"

The sickos around us suddenly start to cheer and chant: "The Gray Sun will never rise!" as Blake makes sure Phantasma is at the edge of the pit.

I manage to break free and rush up the steps as fast as I can.

"And with that!"

I make it to the top.

"Oh ancient spell!"

I can almost reach for her with my hands as she reaches back for me.

"Take our offering of blood and flesh!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" was wrenched raw and primal from my throat.

My fingertips graze against hers as she was pushed down into the pit. Her screams echoing without what seems to be a ending until suddenly they were cut off.

"Phantasma!"I sob as I fall to my knees, just staring at the dark pit that had swallowed up my whole world without even giving me one more glance due to that darkness.

[startseeingstars]

Collision Path - Mike 5lbs of Pressure

CH14 Mike’s POV 🎶 Black Whole Sun - Soundgarden 🎶

TW - violence

We held hands as we walked up to her apartment. She turned to me, leaning against the door - a content look on her face as she smiled.

“You wanna come inside?” Her eyes were soft as she looked at me.

“I would but I should get back.” I kept an even tone, but hadn’t told her that Leff had been blowing up my phone before I turned it off at the start of our date. I had pissed him off before but I expected tonight’s argument would take the cake.

She sighed, reaching out and grabbing my shirt lightly as she pulled me closer to her. Immediately, my hands gripped her waist and I deepened the kiss - trying to ignore the dread in my stomach. She let my tongue dart between her lips for a moment before she groaned and pushed me away slightly.

“No fair… don’t start something I’ll have to finish by myself.” Her voice was seductive and tempting. I imagined she used the same voice while working at the club, but I knew she was genuine with me, which made it all the more enticing.

“You can’t wait, can you?” I smirked, grazing my nose against hers - pleased that she seemed to want me just as much as I wanted her. She kissed me again, a little harder this time. Just as I’d decided against leaving her, I heard a door open down the hallway. I pulled away first and peered over, seeing Leff standing in the doorway, arms folded and a hard gaze on me. I sighed and looked back to Maddi who had noticed Leff. She gave me an apologetic look.

“Want me to talk to him?” She offered quietly, but I knew even she understood it would be no use.

“I’ll text you later.” I muttered, making a point to lean back in and kiss her goodbye. She looked worried, but went inside her apartment.

I turned, realising Leff had gone inside already. I walked into the kitchen where he sat at the small round table, beer in hand. I pulled out the chair beside him and we sat in silence for what felt like eternity, but in reality would only have been a couple of minutes.

“What did I tell you?” He kept his voice steady as he stared me down, unblinking.

“I know, but -“

He slammed his fist hard onto the table, making me jump.

“You don’t fucking know, Mike. That’s the fucking problem.” I couldn’t meet his gaze. Silence for another minute.

“I need to do something else.” My voice was quiet but I tried to keep it firm, carefully.

“You need to give up on that band shit.” Leff shook his head and took a sip of his beer. “You’re a fucking joke, Mikey. You gotta start living in the real world.” I sat quietly, unsure of what I could say next to avoid triggering an outburst from him.

“Listen, I-I know you’ve been trying to look out for me and shit, but I don’t wanna do the kinda shit we do. It-it’s just not in me. I fucking hate it.” I admitted, trying to keep my voice level and heart from racing. His reaction came as no surprise.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mike. You can’t deal? You’re so fucking special?” His words dropped in sarcasm and I could feel him getting more agitated.

“C’mon, man -“ I started but he interrupted.

“I’ve been bustin’ my fucking ass to teach you, to help you - and this is the thanks I get?” He snapped.

I shook my head, feeling the familiar tightness in my chest that always came with these big fights. I hated confrontation and Leff was no stranger to it.

“No, it’s not like that.” I tried to diffuse his anger gently.

“What’s it like, huh? How you gonna pay me rent?” He asked pointedly.

“I-I don’t pay you rent.” My stomach sank.

“Right. One of the perks of working for me. You wanna go your own way - fine, but you gotta pay me rent.”

I could sense his desperation to regain control of me, even under his anger.

“Sure, okay - fine, I will.” I tried to assure him but he shook his head again.

“How you gonna do that?” He asked heatedly. I could tell he was ready for a fight.

“I dunno, I’ll figure it out.” I shrugged, feeling as though nothing I said would be good enough of an answer for him.

“Figure it out? Mikey, you’re too fucking dumb to figure it out. I may as well get rent straight from your whore girlfriend.” I clenched my fists at him bringing up Maddi but bit my tongue.

“I’ve been caring for you ever since your mother OD’d.” He continued, and I could feel a rant coming on.

“I never asked you to do that.” I defended quietly.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re too fuckin’ stupid to ask anything. You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that?” He spat, tossing his empty beer bottle into the sink. The sound of shattering glass sent my nerves into overdrive.

“I’m an asshole?” I could feel my anxious energy forming into my own anger, but I was cautious of my words.

Despite our minor age gap, Leff had always carried himself with a strong presence. I knew I’d be no match against him in a physical fight.

“Mhmm. You’ve been a burden since you were born. And my sister would probably still be alive if she didn’t have the stress of havin’ to fuckin’ raise you.” His words were cold, even for him.

I felt tears threatening my eyes at his mention of my Mom and shook my head. She may have been an addict, but she was also my best friend.

“Don’t talk about my Mom.” My voice was shaky, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. His eyes were icy and held only frustration as they bored through me. I swallowed and took a breath, choking down my emotion.

“Don’t talk about my Mom.” I repeated, my voice was stronger this time, as was my gaze.

His hand met my face harshly as he shoved me, sending a sharp sting across my skin as I tried to hold his gaze. He hit me again and I stood up, abruptly sending the chair clattering against the wall behind me.

“Yeah, what’re you gonna fuckin’ do, tough guy, hmm?” He grabbed my shirt and shoved me against the wall, but I held my hands up, trying to keep calm despite the tears falling down my face. His face inches from mine, hot, foul breath invaded my sense of smell as he threatened me.

“You wanna be a tough guy? Get the fuck outta my house.” He shoved me toward the door and I stumbled, falling into the frame of the doorway.

“Get the fuck out!” His voice boomed behind me as I quickly left the apartment.

I stepped into the hall shakily and started walking to the stairs.

“Mike.” Maddi’s voice startled me and I looked up, seeing her standing in her doorway. She looked concerned but her expression was soft as she glanced over me. I quickly wiped at my face and laughed, though I knew it wouldn’t convince her.

“World’s worst resignation.” I joked, still holding back tears. She took my arm and pulled me into the apartment, locking the door behind me.

Without a word, she brushed the hair from my face and pulled me into her, embracing me. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her. I still held back the sobs, but it was difficult - I couldn’t remember the last time someone had held me as I cried. It was probably my Mom.

Maddi’s apartment had quickly become a safe place for me. Aside from her, I put it down to Buffy’s company and the lighter atmosphere compared to Leff’s apartment.

The incense she burned daily reminded me of my Mom when she went through her cleanses. She would try to get clean every so often, trying her best to focus on aligning her chakras. She would rave on about the crystals she had as I would suppress an eye roll, but I was always hopeful that she would conquer the addiction, at least eventually.

I heard the front door open and Maddi’s keys landed on the bench. Buffy stirred beside me on the couch, stretching and purring as Maddi scratched her head softly.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me.” She shook her head a little but smiled.

“You didn’t have to let me stay here.” I challenged, pulling her face down to mine for a kiss.

“It’ll just make your stalking easier.” She shrugged, taking her jacket off. I chuckled.

“How was work?” I asked, watching her pack a cone.

“Same old. Wes reckons he’s losing money by staying open during the week, but it’s only because he drinks half the stock.” She rolled her eyes before inhaling deeply.

“Where are you working tomorrow?” I asked, sitting up as she handed me the bong.

“Club - but it’s Kelly’s birthday, so we are finishing up early and going out.” She explained almost in full before exhaling. The smoke filled the air between us as I took my own hit.

“You should come.” She invited casually, sitting back into the recliner.

I exhaled, coughing a little as I chuckled. “Clubbing?”

She nodded, smirking slightly.

“Not your scene?” She wondered and I shook my head.

“Not typically.” I confessed, standing up and stretching. I felt her eyes wander over my body and held back a smile.

“Maybe you just haven’t been with the right people.” She shrugged and I rolled my eyes.

“I’ll withstand the torture, only for you.” I murmured, leaning down and kissing her lips softly.

“So brave.” She mumbled between kisses. I could feel her smile against my lips. I hated clubbing, but I knew it would be worth it if it made her happy. It was nice being wanted for a change.

[syoish]

TEN SECONDS - EREN/READER

I haven't posted about it on here because I'm SHY ABOUT THIS SHIT but I started posting the Attack on Titan Eren/Reader fic that I've been working on for the last few months.

It's kinda a coming of age fic about asexuality, overcoming past trauma, and going through the motions of getting better. Writing it was a really personal experience and I'm extremely proud of it.

Chapter 6/16 was posted this morning.

It's prewritten and I post a new chapter every day

PREVIEW BELOW THE CUT:

It starts at the end.

With the soft thud of your last moving box meeting the worn carpet floor in your new bedroom.

You can hear your new roommate down the hall in the kitchen, shuffling things around to make space for you in one of the cupboards.

Not that you have much, anyway. It’d been too much of a scramble when you were packing so all you’d really managed to shove into your beat-up minivan were the essentials. You try not to think about the things you forgot, but it’s impossible not to. Especially as your eyes move around the pathetic collection of mismatched boxes surrounding you.

The TV.

Your bookshelf.

The printer.

It’s all stupid things. Material things that you shouldn’t be upset you had to leave behind, but you can’t help the empty feeling that you get when you think about them. You tried to remember what your mom had told you on the phone two nights ago. Your mom. Because she was the only one you could turn to even though you’re supposed to be an adult that can handle yourself just fine.

'Don’t worry about the physical things.' Her muffled voice had come through your phone as you pressed it tightly against your ear, holding your hand to your mouth to hold back a choked sob. 'We can figure all of that out after. Just think about if you actually want to be there or not.'

You hadn’t. 

Not for a long time.

But leaving someone who’d been tied to your life for almost seven years wasn’t easy.

Even though it happened less than 24 hours ago, everything was still such a blur. You feel yourself forgetting bits and pieces of it and you’re scared. Scared for what forgetting means. Scared that if you forget too much… you’ll go back.

You force yourself to remember everything you can. Force yourself not to forget.

'You’re not that brave, stop pretending you are! This is an act that you’ll snap out of!'

'I can’t live without you!! You can’t leave me alone like this!'

'I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I’m sorry, I’ll stop just please don’t leave you can’t leave!!'

'NO ONE IS GOING IN OR OUT OF THIS DOOR!'

You swallow a lump in your throat as your hand reflexively moves to your bruised wrist. The clear purple imprints against it. Your fingers brush softly across the bruises. You push down against them, out of a sadistic desire to feel something. The dull pain slowly makes its way up your arm as your ears ring. You press harder. Harder.

Harder.

And then you drop your hands and tug your sleeve down to cover the marks.

Your roommate moves into the doorway. “The cupboard next to the fridge is empty.” She tells you.

“Thanks.” You reply.

“No problem.”

Then there’s silence.

Even though you go to the same university, you hadn’t met Mikasa Ackerman until a few hours ago when you were downstairs with your shitty old van packed with all your belongings.

You’d found her roommate wanted ad the night before and thankfully, even though you were desperate for anything, what she was looking for seemed to fit:

Student. Female. Quiet. Clean. No parties.

Basically, you in a nutshell. Thank god.

Perhaps sensing the awkwardness of the silence, Mikasa pushed away from the door frame. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything. You can move stuff around in the living room.”

You nodded and she left. 

Turning back to the room, you take a deep breath before opening your first box. 

Your hands tremble as they meet the cardboard. You feel your face become warm as your vision blurs.

You close your eyes and take a breath.

There are so many emotions running through you and you can’t put a name to a single one. Normally, there’s a voice saying something, yelling something, demanding something; but even that voice is silenced.

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to dig your nails into your head so you can rip the feelings right out.

You feel so empty. You feel so full. You feel desperate and lost and confused and so fucking broken.

You’ve never felt more broken.

Useless useless pathetic useless selfish useless idiot selfish pathetic bitch.

Ah. The voice is there.

“Ten seconds.” You softly mumble to yourself. It feels a little silly to be saying it out loud, but it cuts the voice off before she can say more. “All you have to do is survive for ten seconds.”

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

6..

7…

8…

9…

10.

Your eyes remain firmly closed, and the voice remains silent. You made it ten seconds. If you can make it ten seconds, you can make it ten seconds again, right?

So, you start to count:

1…

           2…

                      3…

       4…

                                       5…