#but coming for everything else i had worked on??

[writingwarmupsofthedamned]

My maid’s hands trembled as she brushed my hair. 

“I can do that myself, really. It’s fine,” I said, taking a sip of my tea. I tried to make my movements smooth so as to not spook her, but the gold-rimmed teacup probably cost more than my entire village back home, and it was hard to treat it casually.

“Oh, no, Miss. Sorry, Miss. I’ll work faster, Miss.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. I watched her through the mirror, her gaze fixed steadily on my hair. She had yet to meet my eyes since I’d arrived the evening before. 

I forced an easy smile. “Take your time. I’m in no rush to get to breakfast. I’m not even sure why I’ve been invited, if I’m honest.”

The brushing continued, slower but less shakily than before. There was a careful deliberation to it, the kind I’d seen in alchemists carrying explosives. 

“We’re all just honoured to have you here, MIss.”

I wanted to scream, but the shock of it might kill the girl. She looked barely sixteen and I wondered if they’d sent her because she was the youngest and everyone else had refused. That happened, sometimes, though mostly households tried to send their best- if they didn’t quit at the very request. 

She began to braid my hair. I watched in the mirror as her hands gently weaved everything into place. She was using the technique that was currently fashionable at court, which was strange for a country girl. Perhaps the mistress of the household was particularly fashionable, or perhaps it was the girl herself. 

“Do you do the mistress’s hair as well?”

“Yes, Miss. I did it this morning.”

“What’s she like? I must confess I don’t know much about the Stormfells. I am mostly here at the King’s suggestion. They are cousins, I think?”

“Yes, Miss. He comes here with his entourage sometimes. My mistress is a very proper lady, very honourable, very good.”

Utterly useless adjectives.

“Twyla, may I ask you a blunt question?”

Her hands faltered but she did not look up from my hair. “Of course, Miss.”

“What is it you’re so afraid of that you think I might do?”

She dropped the braid and finally looked at my face, her eyes wide. “I...”

“Please.” 

“They say that you turned the Duke of Bradywaithe into a beast and cursed all of his staff to be objects. I don’t want to be a footstool, Miss.”

Twyla’s eyes filled with tears. 

Oh.

I opened my mouth to correct her, to set the story straight, but, catching sight of myself in the mirror, I stopped. I was dressed in a beautiful silk gown in a lavish bedroom the size of my whole cottage. Being feared was dreadful indeed, but it was certainly better than always being hungry.

“I promise you, I won’t turn you into anything. Especially not a footstool.”

“Thank you, Miss.” 

A slight tingle of guilt crawled up my spine as she went back to styling my hair, but I shoved it down and took another sip from the gold-rimmed teacup.

You are the most influential and powerful person in the kingdom. Even the royals walk eggshells around you at risk of offending you. The thing is, you have no idea what you’re doing or how it has gotten to this point, but you’re in way too deep now and you have to keep the lie going to survive.

[bonefall]

How do you feel about the Everluxes?

Well, I'm actually someone who generally dislikes Ancients. I usually find that they're kind of a "waste" of an otherwise interesting breed concept, and the fact they can't wear apparel means I find them difficult to work with even when the colors are all aligned. They're usually just "discount moderns," to me.

So Everluxes are everything I want, actually!

They're something that could never exist as a modern breed because they break the 4-legs 2-wings mold, they're SUPER unique in terms of their grublike proportions and big chunky upper legs, and they released with a ton of amazing line-breaking genes that are fun to play with. This is exactly what I feel like Ancients have been missing since their release!

I actually strongly disagree that these guys are "unfitting" in the Light Flight-- I think everyone who's saying that just doesn't like that Light has a fat dragon. I'm losing patience with the way they'll say, "It's not because they're fat, it's because they're inelegant, ungraceful, gross, tubular, long, round, etc" and just expect people to not realize those are being used as alternate words for "fat." The only person they're fooling is themselves.

They have a lot in common with the other breeds, actually. The wings resemble the Imperial's. The rhino-like horn reminds me of the pearlcatchers. They have the same prehensile "feeler" whiskers. Even the way that they're really long makes me think of a sort of "beta" imperial.

I have a headcanon that the Lightweaver made Everluxes and was suuuuper proud of them, her little "bookwyrms..." and then her bully of a sister, Shadowbinder, got REALLY mean about them. Took jabs at every chance, and ultimately made Veilspuns as "LOOK, IT'S YOURS BUT BETTER LOL. MAYBE YOU COULD LEARN SOMETHING. YOU LOVE DOING THAT, DON'T YOU?"

Long hair, sleek features, strong and tricky... Lightweaver loved her design, but when she looked at what her sister could do, she felt ashamed. She'd just wanted people to help her archive and preserve knowledge, but now that she was being pressured to compare her creations to someone else's, suddenly the joy was gone.

And, of course, FlightRising lore enjoyers know what comes next.

Spurred on by that fierce feeling of inadequacy, her next set of creations would be larger, more beautiful, more powerful than anything that had ever come before. She forced every tear, every sob, every moment of anguish she'd ever felt into her next creation. No dragon that walked the soil of Sornieth would be able to hold a candle to the light of the masterpiece within her claws.

Imperials came after the Everlux-- and Emperors in their wake. The Lightweaver swore to never create a breed out of anguish ever again.

[nanenna]

Let's Wrap this Up, Folks

Sleepy King Masterpost

No editing, we die like Vlad (slowly, painfully, and unmourned). I'm so happy to say this is done!

---

Danny held Cujo close as he scritched him behind the ears, nothing like stinky puppy kisses to help him feel better. And right now he felt pretty awful! Dark Dan had been Ghost King too, it’s just that no one ever told him so he didn’t know. Well, judging from how Johnny and Kitty reacted no one else knew either, and he guesses that was a good thing. Except now everyone does know, between Johnny and Kitty, and the whole of the Far Frozen he’s pretty sure gossip is already getting around.

“Alright, everyone ready to sit down and explain some shit?” Stinky trenchcoat man said. Danny had been introduced, he just didn’t care to remember Blondie’s name.

“Language!” Mom scolded.

“Yeah, yeah.” Stinky plopped himself onto one of the chairs. Wonder Woman sat elegantly in another while Batman loomed over her chair’s back. The not-a-ghost guy, Deadman, was hovering near Stinky.

Danny decided the safest thing to do was to squeeze himself between Mom and Jazz on the couch. Cujo laid himself out across their laps on his back, begging for belly rubs. Vlad seemed to take the Batman approach, standing off to the side and looking rather annoyed.

Stinky pointed at Danny, “Let’s start with the obvious, you somehow, and I’ve yet to figure it out but I will, are Phantom.”

Danny looked over at his parents. Mom smiled brightly as she patted his arm, “Why don’t you show them what you can do?”

“Yeah, Danno! Show them the Fenton gumption!”

Danny sighed as he transferred Cujo over to Jazz’s lap. Thankfully so long as he was getting attention he’d probably be okay. He stood up and moved into the middle of the room. “It’s kinda bright,” he warned before letting his transformation wash over him. “Tada,” he said lamely, arms held out as he stood in the middle of the room.

“Christ on a cracker!” Stinky yelled as he flopped back dramatically.

“You should see what Vlad looks like,” Danny said wryly.

“Daniel!” Vlad yelled angrily.

“Constantine already told us you two are the same form of being,” Batman said gravely.

“I would also point out that young Danny here has already accused you of some very suspicious activities,” Wonder Woman added.

“Vladdie was going through some things!” Jack stood and shook a fist at the Justice League.

“He’s working on reforming,” Maddie added with a smile.

“The biggest thing he was holding over my head was my secret identity,” Danny gestured as he spoke, then stopped and stared down at his hand. “Am I wearing armor? What? Where did…?” He looked down. He was covered in black armor with a white like loincloth, or whatever those are called, and some kind of white fur cape at his shoulders. He found the cape behind him and held it up: yup. White fluffy fur, kinda reminded him of the yeties. “Wait, I don’t have horns, do I?” He felt over his head, thankfully just finding his regular hair.

“No, Danny, you don’t have horns,” Jazz said with a giggle.

“Well excuse me, Pariah has horns! And so does Frostbite, this cape reminds me of him.” He patted himself, getting a feel for his new armor, it felt weird. “Where did this even come from?”

“Congrats, it comes with the title,” Stinky said with a hand wave.

“I don’t get it, the other ghosts said it wasn’t like a magical title or something, that Pariah just declared himself king and did everything himself. Why am I getting the magical girl outfit upgrade?”

“Pariah stole the crown, much like your weird uncle here tried to do.”

Danny snorted at Constantine calling Vlad his weird uncle.

“But the crown is much older than Pariah Dark, it decides who it belongs to.”

Well that was just great, he’s pretty sure Clockwork had something to do with this. “Ugh, this sucks! How do I get rid of it?” Danny asked.

“You don’t.”

Everyone just stared at Constantine.

“What?”

“Congrats, you’re the new Ghost King. Comes with a castle, an army of thralls, and a pretty significant power boost. Probably doubled since apparently you’re the king twice over.”

“No, I have school on Monday! I can’t go to school looking like this!” Danny waved at himself.

“Danny,” Jazz said while trying to hide a grin, “the armor wasn’t on your human form.”

“Oh… right.” Danny de-transformed and looked down at his hands, the rings were still there. “Um!”

“Sorry, kid, no such thing as a part time king, the crowns and rings are permanent now.”

“Noooooooo!” Danny wailed! His normal life! That he was finally getting back since his parents put better protections on the portal after finally telling them the truth! “I just wanted to graduate high school, was that too much to ask?”

Batman grunted, apparently in agreement.

Danny pointed at Stinky, “This is all your fault! If it weren’t for that spell you hit me with they wouldn’t be stuck.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Danny! Here you guys are!” Ellie came flying into the room, her backpack dragging on the ground. She stopped when she spotted the Justice League members all staring at her. “Uh….”

Cujo barked and scrambled out of Jazz’s lap, leaping for Ellie.

“Cujo! Who’s a good boy?!” The two began happily and loudly rolling around on the ground.

Sam and Tucker followed shortly after, both pausing in the doorway. “Uh… Danny?” Tucker asked slowly, “Why are Batman and Wonder Woman in Vlad’s living room?”

“More importantly,” Sam cut in, “why do you have the Crown of Fire over your head? Twice?”

“Turns out I’m the Ghost King, and so was you-know-who.”

“Which you-know-who?” Tucker asked.

“Nasty Burger explosion.”

Tucker still looked a little confused.

“Since Constantine said the second crown was from an alternate timeline, I’m guessing it belonged to an alternate version of yourself, one you also had to beat in combat.”

Danny sighed and deflated, “You really are the world’s greatest detective.”

Batman’s only response was a twitch of his lips. Danny never wanted to play poker with him.

“Danny, why haven’t you told us about this?” Mom asked in that very special tone of voice that meant she was Not Mad Just Disappointed.

“Well… he was evil,” Danny blurted out as his shoulders hiked up to his ears. “I don’t wanna be evil.”

Jazz came over and pulled him into a hug, “And we’re taking steps to make sure that doesn’t happen, part of that is getting you a proper support network. And look! Now we can ask the Justice League for help.”

“If you don’t mind, why hasn’t anyone called us before now?” Wonder Woman asked.

“What? So an overshadowed Superman can run amok and then there’s a photo of me punching Superman in the face on the front of the newspaper? No thanks.” That was the last thing Danny needed.

“What do you think the magic user branch of the Justice League is bloody for?” Stinky asked loudly.

“I didn’t know there was a magic user branch!” Danny defended.

“None of us did,” Tucker added. He moved to go sit on the floor and lean against the couch, Sam joined him.

“In all fairness, we do not advertise Justice League Dark,” Wonder Woman said with a gentle smile. “But now that we know our assistance is needed we are happy to help.”

“I’m not sure what you can do at this point, we’ve locked down the main way ghosts have been getting into Amity. Mostly it’s the natural portals now, and there’s not much anyone can do about those.”

“Can you get the GIW to back off?” Sam asked.

“Oh! I hadn’t thought about that,” Danny said eagerly.

Batman frowned, “What’s the GIW?”

“Hey!” Ellie came up to the side of Wonder Woman’s chair, “Can you teach me how to sword fight? That sounds so cool!”

“Why ask her?” Danny wandered over, leaving his friends to explain the Gits in White to Batman. “You can just ask Pandora.”

“I don’t have four arms like Pandora,” Ellie whined.

“So just duplicate, it’s easy!” Danny stuck his tongue out and furrowed his brow in concentration, sweat beading on his forehead before his arms split into a second pair. Then, just like Frostbite taught him, he made four ice swords, one in each hand. “See?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “Oh, it’s so easy! Says the guy who can’t even make one whole duplicate.”

“It’s hard!” Danny defended. “And I can, I could do it with the exo-skeleton, just… not since.” He’d been trying, but duplication was hard, he didn’t seem to have quite enough power. “Wait a minute, I have a power boost with the crowns.” Danny took a step to the left, Danny also took a step to the right. Now there were two Dannies with a perfectly normal number of arms, each holding an ice sword. Each also had a pair of crowns over their head. “Huh, so that’s what it looks like,” both Dannies said in unison.

“Ew, stop it, that’s so weird,” Ellie said in disgust.

“Hey guys! Look what I can do!” Dannies both said with a grin as he popped out several more duplicates. This was going to be fun!

---

Omake:

Danny trudged into school on Monday, chatting with Sam and Tucker, still wearing the crowns and rings along with his normal clothes. He went straight to his locker, getting ready for the day. On time for once!

“Hey Fenturd!” Dash jeered from down the hall, “Why’d you miss school on… uh… what’s that?”

Danny closed his locker and looked up at Dash, “What’s what?”

“What do you mean what’s what? What’s that above your head?”

Danny looked up, then back at Dash, “What’re you talking about?”

“Don’t play coy, there’s a crown above your head! It’s on fire?????”

“Dash, I think I would notice a floating, flaming crown above my head.”

Dash looked completely confused, he looked over at Kwan, who was also frowning. “Kwan!”

“I can see it too, it’s there.”

“Right! Hear that, Fentina?”

Danny just looked at Dash like he’d lost his mind, “This is a really weird prank.”

“I’ll prove it!” Dash whipped out his phone and took a picture, then held the screen out. “There, see?”

Danny looked at the phone, “I just see me and Sam and Tucker.” His friends also leaned in and looked at the screen.

Dash pulled his phone back and looked at it, sure enough the crown wasn’t in the photo. But it was also still floating above Danny’s head, and Kwan had also seen it. What was going on?

“Anyway, I’m gonna go turn in my homework, I don’t want to get stuck in summer school.” Danny turned and wandered off to first period, his friends in tow.

Dash was… very confused. He knows what he saw, he knows the other students saw it too!

“Isn’t that the crown the Ghost King had?” Paulina asked as Danny left.

“I… think so?” Dash said uncertainly.

“I think there were two of them,” Kwan added.

They all followed Danny to first period, they had it together after all. They arrived just after Danny, just in time to hear Mr. Lancer shout, “Sword in the Stone! Mr. Fenton, what is that over your head?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Danny answered calmly while Sam and Tucker, standing just a step behind him, were wildly shaking their heads and making various “Do not” gestures.

“I… You… that is…” Mr. Lancer glanced back and forth, clearly conflicted.

“I managed to finish that essay,” Danny said cheerfully handing it over. “Sorry about Friday, but it should be excused.”

“Yes, I was told about that… something about the Justice League?” Mr. Lancer stared at the crown.

“Yeah, I got to meet them! It was wild.” Danny smiled charmingly.

“Alright, yes, well… please take your seats, class will be starting soon.” Mr. Lancer looked at the crown one last time, then seemed to decide it wasn’t his business and to carry on like usual.

“Oh my god,” Danny whispered to Tucker and Sam as they went to their seats, “I can’t believe that worked!”

“Just your usual day in Amity Park,” Tucker said with a snicker.

Val came walking over once they were seated. She stared at the crowns over Danny’s head, then down to the rings on his fingers no one had noticed yet. Her eyes turned to narrow slits. Danny put a finger to his lips and winked.

[itsrlymine]

Embrace Lazy Manifesting!

You are manifesting right now. It’s not just when you pick up a pen to script or try to visualize or even speak things into existence. It’s when you recognize who you are and then knowing that everything else you “do” works. Recognize you are the technique you are trying so hard to implement. Just exist and you’ll get what you want. Why? Because you are all that is and that is all that matters. All that is forms physical matter. Feeling like you need to crave out “time” to dedicate trying getting to a “place of knowing” is ridiculous because you either know you do have it or you know you don’t. Time isn’t real so stop listening to people who tell you that you need to use “time” as a tool to receive what you want.

Whether you spend five seconds or five months reminding yourself of who you are, it doesn’t matter because everything is now. Be lazy. Be nonchalant about manifesting. Get to the point where you almost forget to affirm all together because guess what?? You already have what you want anyways. Don’t sit here and make it something you have to be thinking about all “day” long when it’s already done. Why would you set a timer for an hour to remind yourself you have something when you already had it at the beginning of the hour? Now is all there is. You either know you who are as you read this now or you don’t and that is all it takes to “recieve” everything.

What effort are you gonna put in today that is going to ensure you have what you want? How many techniques away are you from your “dream life” becoming your everyday life? How long is it gonna take for you to finally get that thing??? It takes the same amount of “time” as you reading this f*cking sentence. Oh, so no “time” at all? Yes no “time” at all because there is no time at all. The now that you were in when you started reading this post and the “now” that “will” exist when you finish reading is the same. It’s your perspective of it that changes your world. I hope it’s sinking in now.

Time isn’t real and it won’t “help” create your desires or make them come faster to you. Your awareness does that. No matter how much effort-ing you try to put forth, who you are is what manifests.

[inkskinned]

i haven't been back to CT since the accident.

which is to say I hate driving in CT, every time i have to go through it to get to NYC i spend the whole time holding my breath and hoping nobody acts stupid. there are exactly 2 things in CT worth preserving: rein's deli and the mystic seaport museum - and that second one only because my grandpa loved that shit.

now, i am not particularly familiar with the specifics but it just feels like CT is not an appropriate place for a christmas tree farm. when i got The Call, Roger on the other line called it "your standard CTF" and i had to say my what and he said "you've never heard that? CTF? christmas tree farm? CTF? - or haha, if you're woke, maybe holiday farm? haha".

i hung up after that for like 12 minutes just to take a deep breath and do a 10-minute meditation so i don't peak my blood pressure. and then i said sorry my phone died and ignored him talking while i googled. oregon has the highest number of CTFs per state. most firs and standard christmas trees are in zones 4-7 and CT is mostly a 6 state, so actually maybe i was just being biased against CT when i assumed you simply can't grow the spirit of christmas down there.

i like the name balsam fir and i keep repeating it to myself. i didn't know there were so many species of christmas trees. meanwhile Roger is still talking a mile a minute. "you don't gotta come in with force but really stick it to 'em. that's what Kevin and Herb taught me - none of that nice-guy stuff, okay? we're talking quick-and-easy. get in, hand 'em the folder, get out. it's efficiency that's the matter here."

i tune him out and then eventually get the pleasure of hanging up.

I only really work for this stupid place because i need insurance for my fucking laundry list of chronic "hysterical woman" issues (EDS, POTS, PCOS. probably something else with a fun acronym, why not). i fucking hate it here, except that it's actually been, like... fine? since the top 6 account managers kind of (i guess) disappeared - including my 2 bosses, Kevin and Herb.

most of us are just like, still doing our job. we still have meetings. there's less weird jokes. the meetings are much shorter. we just present our stuff and go home. so imagine how i fucking feel getting in my stupid honda civic and driving the 3 hours down from boston to bum-fuck just to... check on the boys.

i grew up on a farm, so im not too surprised when the road suddenly turns from "gravel" to "makeshift" to "shut the gps off, it's just confused at this point." no worries. a guy in a torn flannel drew a picture for me at the last gas station. he had leaned over and sniffed a little while sipping his Dunks. they got good trees.

they do. after a little white picket fence, suddenly the entire road is swarmed by them. firs on all sides like a coat. red twine marks off alleys of pine; cute little bows shine on the top of many. bells and white plastic deer and each branch dusted with glittering pristine snow. ornaments and little santas peeking out of present boxes.

i lean over the steering wheel and glance upwards. "aw shit. it's fucking cute here." in my passenger's seat, TERMINATION OF ACCOUNT is a red folder. i don't feel fucking good about this. i don't want to fucking do this. there's a freaking hand-painted sign saying family-owned! with handprints on it and tiny little names scrawled under it. jesus christ(mas). i'm 1000% going to hell for doing this.

on the other hand, Jen was one of the 6. like, losing the men was fine. but it is weird that jen never came back last month. i'm like, too feminist to feel okay with that. obviously yes quit your job and walk out but like - she had a life before she left. apartment and everything it sounds like.

i give up trying to bump my car over the potholes and end up walking the last 1.2 miles. it's been getting warmer these years, which i hate - but it's a lot colder here than i expected. the weather app said 54F. it feels maybe 21. the smell of snow warns me before i glance upwards - sure enough, decadent fresh flakes come tumbling down.

aw fuck. if it was gonna snow i should have put my windshield wipers up. i nestle closer into my jacket and pointlessly check my out-of-service phone for the 125th time. i realize only now i fucking forgot the folder in the fucking car.

the little house-barn-store is too close and i'm too cold at this point, so fine. the whole thing is covered in warm white lights and cute decorations. old christmas music is coming out of speakers placed at the end of the tree aisles.

i practice what i'm going to say. hi. i'm with Herrington Asset Management. we have sent, like. a lot of representatives. what did you do with the 6 entire human beings that came down here.

wait, why am i just now realizing our acronym is HAM? okay, so i'm going to say -

a man with a bright smile and a red flannel comes out from behind a work shed, wiping his hands on a rag. he's pretty, the way men can be pretty sometimes: rugged and approachable, blue eyes, 5'oclock shadow. he fills out that flannel well. "didn't hear ya come in, my apologies! what can i do ya for?"

i'm with HAM and I'm here to shut down your CTF. "hi."

"hi." he smiles wider. "welcome."

"um..." i sniff a little, feeling stupid. i keep thinking about my parents and how fucking hard it actually is to keep a farm. like, they say it a lot in movies, but it's genuinely like really very hard. fucking A, man. I don't want to do this.

he squints at me. "you from around here?"

i try not to bristle - is that because i'm fucking hispanic and allowed outdoors in CT - and suck in a breath. "no, i, um..." i decide to tell the truth. "a guy at cumby's told me where to find ya."

he laughs, and the sound is a sonic boom in the stillness. "that'd be Ron. he's a looker, huh? no, i recognize all our regulars, is all. don't recognize you."

HAM is located in Jersey and i work remote, so i take a second pass at radical honesty. my yoga teacher would be so proud. "i'm from boston, actually. just swinging through."

"oh? for real? laurel's from boston - she's my fiancée. how 'bout that. small world. can you believe - she left the big city for a dunce like me and now i get to marry the best lady around."

i do the little appropriate chuckle you are supposed to do when someone you don't know is also from the same major metropolitan area that you are from. also, that's extremely sweet to say about his partner. i am a sucker for wife-guys. "no kidding?"

"how are you liking conneticut? it's beautiful this time of year."

"it's..." fine? "more snow than i expected. weather said clear through 'til like thursday."

he offers me a warm hand. "i'm nick. what brings ya down here?"

i can't remember the name on the account. maybe it's in her name. and didn't i just say i was passing through? i flash him a smile while i think of the easiest way to warm him into the idea of shutting down his personal business. fuck. "um, just had some stuff to handle."

"that time of year, huh?" at my noncommittal smile, he waves a big, meaty paw. "come inside, i'll getcha some hot chocolate. laurel just made cookies."

he leads me into the store part of the building, and i stop for a second to pick up a tiny ornament shaped like a cottage. okay, this shit really is very cute.

"christmas really is the best holiday of all of 'em," he sighs. "wouldn't you agree?"

no, that's halloween. "sure," i say. i hold up the ornament. "this is nice." i glance around. "this is all... very rustic."

"sometimes you gotta just hit the brakes and slow down. this town is so perfect for that. places like this are so rare, ya know?"

oh i really fucking hope he doesn't know i'm from HAM. literally that would be such a vibe killer. "very rare," i agree.

i follow him into the back. i pause at the green velvet-rope stanchion that blocks off a hallway presumably leading into the "house" portion of the building. "oh. i can stay out here...?" because i am not going into this man's house. alone.

"don't be silly." he wraps his arm around mine like a gentleman and i almost scratch his damn eyes out, except i'm genuinely so fucking shocked by the boldness of the action that i just sort of follow him down the hallway. "i won't letcha leave without a cookie."

he walks me into a simply stunning kitchen. the ceiling skyrockets into a beautiful, tinseled roof. the living room folds out to the left of the kitchen island. a fire is roaring, and a massive christmas tree winks cheerily at me. outside the huge windows, the snow peacefully rests in perfect layers.

well, there's part of their money problems. they need better insulation because paying for heat in a building with this many windows has got to cost an arm and a leg. nevermind how much dust must collect on those exposed beams. why do people design houses like this - have they never cleaned?

also, they need to stop spending half their budget on christmas decorations. surely not every surface needs to be frosted with pottery barn items. it is dangerously close to a modernized cracker barrel in here. i wander into the living room, trying not to be jealous of the casual wealth.

nick stands next to me and chuckles. "this kinda weather always makes me want cookies. but that's what laurel's here for, i guess."

"you have a pretty place," i say, because i am clearly staring.

"oh, i don't know. needed a woman's touch." he winks at me and goes behind the granite kitchen island to wash his hands. "you shoulda seen it before laurel."

"oh yeah?"

he nods. "had some money troubles. 'course, she is an angel and organized a whole fundraiser. mind you - she's only been here but a second when she does. i proposed to her right then and there."

i can't help it. i genuinely fucking love that. "that is incredible," i say. "how precious to find love like that."

"she's my answer to all life's problems. truly."

"honey?" a warm voice greets us and a lady comes around the corner, one hand in an oven mitt. "do we have a customer?"

i stop moving.

her hair is darker now. her smile is wider. something opens a pit in my stomach and i fall through myself. i put my hand on my stupid useless phone and take a step backwards.

"oh!" her white teeth shine. "hi there. you're not from around here, are you?" she picks up a tray of cookies. "i recognize all our regulars."

the man laughs. "rob is tellin' on us again." she laughs too, tinkly and high and beautiful.

of course she doesn't recognize me, we're remote and don't work on the same accounts, i was never high up enough -

nick gives her a little slap on the back that makes her stumble. she laughs and wipes a little bit of flour on his nose affectionately.

maybe i'm not being fair. she could have legitimately found love and dropped out of our shitty job. he wraps his arms all the way around her and buries his nose in her hair. "my girl," he says.

"i'm laurel," she smiles at me. "i'm his fiancee. come inside, let me getcha some hot chocolate."

he picks up a cookie from the counter and waves at me. "i'm gonna go whack on a tractor for a few minutes, but i'll leave you in the capable hands of my beautiful christmas girl," he promises. "warm up, and then let's go back out there and pick you out something nice."

i force a smile at him and at her and watch him leave. i do not move. i stay perfectly still, like an animal. because here's the thing: her name isn't laurel.

maybe she's conning him?

i stare at her. she doesn't seem to notice, instead taking a bag of white icing out of the large, beautiful fridge. "how are you liking conneticut? isn't it beautiful this time of year?"

"jen, what the fuck is happening."

she arranges a single gingerbread man on her countertop and starts icing him. "how are you liking conneticut?" she repeats. "isn't it -"

"it's beautiful this time of year," i say.

"christmas is the best holiday of all," she sighs, "wouldn't you agree?"

"sure," i say. i put the phone in my pocket. i stand up straighter. "i am really just..." going to leave now. maybe i should try subtlety. "don't i know you from somewhere?" like, ya know, work?

the cookie is too hot and the icing is melting as she draws the outlines on the gingerbread. a bead of sweat trickles down her nose. "i'm from the big city," she says. "but now i am going to be married to the best man around. i'm his beautiful christmas girl."

"right, but which big city?"

"i'm from the big city. how are you liking conneticut?"

there is ice in my gut. i am getting the pure, foreboding sense of fuck that which i am pretty sure is genetically engineered in me. in spanish we call it espookies. i try to make it look casual while i walk closer and closer to the exit. i pretend to look at the decorations closely. "i'm just wondering because your partner said you're from boston?"

she laughs. the cookie icing is pooling on the counter. "sometimes you gotta just hit the brakes and slow down. this town is so perfect for that. places like this are so rare, wouldn't you agree?" she pushes the gingerbread to the side and starts working on the next one.

it's hot in here, i realize. too-hot. sweat licks down my back. i watch it slide down her neck, down her arms.

she outlines a melting gingerbread man. "what brings you down here?"

"i had..." i feel my voice crack. the hallway back into the store is within a few steps at this point. "...some stuff to handle."

"that t-"

"that time of year," i finish for her.

she stares at me. the icing has burst out of the bag and is melting down her wrists and over her apron. "doesn't this weather make you want cookies?"

i put one heel into the hallway, trying to back up as subtly as possible.

she looks up at me. icing melts over the counter. "doesn't the weather make you want cookies?"

i'm so close to making a bolt for it. but when i look at her and the icing and her perfectly applied lipstick i just fucking can't. my heart breaks for her. i need to at least fucking try.

"jen - laurel - whatever," i hiss. "i don't know what fucking happened but - we need to fucking leave." i glance behind me. "jen, this isn't fucking okay. whatever he's doing to you - we can get out of here. call the cops. something."

"it's beautiful this time of year."

"jen. come on girl, i will put you in my fucking car. but we got to go. i don't know if it's like a cult thing or -" i hork down a breath and feel dangerously close to crying. "please."

"doesn't the weather make you want cookies? that's what i'm here for!"

i take another step backwards and a hand comes down on my shoulder. when i jump, nick is back, and laughing.

"sorry about that." tucked under one arm is a huge ax. nick wipes his hands on a rag. "low on oil. you get a cookie from the missus? that's what she's -"

"balsam fir," i blurt. "i'm looking for a balsam fir."

he puts the axe over one shoulder. "oh? i love balsam. good choice. didn't expect a city slicker like you to know much about christmas trees." he lets out a laugh and so does she.

sweat is beading down my back. "i grew up on a farm," i feel my voice come out creaky and high.

he laughs again. "when you came in, i thought - this lady is corporate. you know how we take to that."

"money troubles," jen says from the kitchen. "we had money troubles."

my lips feel dry. i manage to slide by him, closer to the store. i force a watery smile. "oh. no, sir."

"they come in with a folder, talking about our CTF. i said i've been doing this for years."

my heart is slamming against my chest. i take another step down the hallway. i throw a look to jen.

she opens the oven and sticks her head inside.

"you know," nick says. "the firs are out by where you left your car."

i didn't tell him where i left my car. "oh, great." i say. "must be a sign." i take another step. and then another. i feel the weight of the velvet rope behind me and jump a second time.

"from the big city" jen says, her voice muffled by the oven. "how are you liking conneticut? this place needed a woman's touch."

at the other end of the long hallway, Nick swings the axe to come home in his hands. "it needs a woman's touch," he says.

yeah, absofuckinglutely not.

i turn and bolt, wiggling past the rope, stumbling into the many, many ornament displays. above me, white christmas rings out while i run-walk through wreaths and bobbles and reindeer. tears prick at the side of my eyes but being raised on a farm teaches you the professional art of being incredibly good at a panicked run-walk.

behind me, i hear nick pacing the store. the rope must have slowed him down. he's bigger than i am - he doesn't weave through things as easily. thank god.

i throw myself against the front doors and burst out into the chill and immediately feel a cough in my chest. the snow whips through the air. i dash past handmade right this way to holiday cheer! signs and tinsel. behind me, like a ghost, nick stomps his way ever-closer. i dart into the thickest part of the trees, hoping he will lose me in the snow and branches.

"you're from boston, right?" he shouts. "my ex was from boston. small world."

i dart across the wet snow and almost slide on the black ice underfoot. fuck fuck fuck fuck i cannot run a fucking mile in the cold. see above multiple chronic reasons for this. my bones and joints are already fucking hurting as i try to shimmy my way through the boughs, alternatively running and hiding. if i survive this, i wont be able to move for like a week.

if. good fucking lord. if.

"it's a nice place," he calls. i can't locate him in the whip of the snow. "it just needs a woman's touch."

thankfuckinggod im used to snow and blizzards because otherwise i would be utterly fucked. i try to keep any amount of calm in my body while i manage the slide-waddle of running on black ice - the backwards lean and body-tilt that i've practiced many times over farmland. the kind of tilt-run that is only possible if you've done it before. thankfuckinggod i'm not a city slicker - the trick isn't to rush.

but fuck it would be nice to rush right now!

over the speakers, white christmas restarts. i fork my keys through my fingers into a sharpened fist. i pause only for a second to pick up a particularly swingable gnome and then i keep fucking running. my chest feels like liquid fire. i can't stop coughing. christmas trees rise up on all sides of me. i can't get a breath down. the air feels like a fire hose. every step i take fucking echoes. go go go go go go.

i dart, he laughs, i freeze. i dash my way forwards. a branch cuts into my cheek. my nose is full of the smell of pine. my hands are sticky with sap and i'm covered in green needles.

i keep going. if i fucking die on a christmas tree farm i hope i poison all of the trees and end christmas. i run and hide and run and hide. i have no idea where that fucker is but i am not going to be caught relaxing for a moment.

my knee makes a particularly sharp turn and i know for a fact i've just done some serious damage. i slap my hand down onto it and hide inside the branches a particularly thick tree, trying to catch my breath for a second.

a family owned! sign winks up at me. the little handprints are the names of children, but the big ones say Steve and Piper. the date on it is from this year.

i simply do not have the time to care about that. i shiver through several calming breaths, trying to force my body back into running. i stumble into a clearing and recognize it as the road i took in.

something loud and banging starts and i know in my bones it's the sounds of a tractor starting up.

my heart drops and i seriously think about just laying down on the ground and letting him run me over.

except there is my car, blanketed peacefully in a white layer. i should have put the fucking windshield wipers up.

what-the-fuck-ever. my hands are shaking too much. i just need to get inside the fucking thing and go. i will ruin my suspension but i will take every pothole dead on if i must.

the tractor lights slice through the blizzard, heading right towards my car. it bounces jovially over the snow and potholes, unhindered.

nick is on the back of it, swinging his axe, laughing.

over the hum of his engine he calls: "how are you liking conneticut?"

Sending my most reliable corporate staffer to Connecticut to shut down a Christmas tree farm. Wish me luck

[keepingitformyself]

there’s been no way for me to say (that i felt a certain way)

Synopsis: natasha romanoff has loved you for ages and she could never seem to get it right.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: college AU, fluff and angst.

warnings: angst?

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha met you in a very peculiar way.

it started at a friends of a friends party, in some internet starlet’s brooklyn loft.

drinks were going around, the music was loud, the smell of marijuana was very strong. she doesn’t quite remember it— after having been to a bunch of parties they all seem to blur into one— but she knows it was enough to leave a lasting impression on her.

she’d heard your piercing laugh from across the room. you, in a tight tank top and some black slacks. she could see the shine of sweat against your skin, the colorful lighting of the room making you seem so beautifully human.

everything sort of froze in the coming moments. she watched as you took your top off without a second thought. you were about to shotgun a beer and you stood tall as you did it atop the kitchen island. you didn’t need the attention, nor did you want it, but you had it.

it was a simple behavior. but it stayed with natasha long after you had crushed the beer can and tossed it on the floor somewhere.

natasha thinks you never notice her staring for the rest of the night but you do.

weeks later she sees you again at another party.

clint, wanda, tony and everyone else joins her this time. she isn’t surprised when she sees you. it was the same crowd, similar friend groups. but this time you made it easy for her to approach you.

somehow you end standing next to eachother near where all the drinks had been laid out.

"hey," you said, voice casual but warm. "didn’t expect to see you here again."

natasha smiled, though she hadn’t expected to talk to you at all. nor did she think you noticed her. "i guess we have similar taste in parties."

you laughed lightly. “guess so."

there was a beat of silence before you added, “you know, you were kinda staring at me last time.”

natasha froze for a second, unsure how to respond. she hadn’t thought you’d noticed. but before she could stammer out an excuse, you were already grinning.

“i’m just messing with you. it was funny. i didn’t think anyone would care enough to notice me.”

natasha was relieved, yet still unsure if you were actually joking. either way she felt this was going better than she planned.

the night wore on and you guys carried easy conversation. natasha was still unsure how to even approach talking to you. she felt kind of shy. so she improvised by making references to things she didn’t think you’d get, but you almost always did.

you dropped a reference to something obscure, a movie natasha had once obsessed over, and natasha stared at you for a moment longer than was socially acceptable. she couldn’t stop herself.

“you’re really into that, huh?” she said, and just like that, the bond started to form. it wasn’t immediate or instant, not the kind of connection that screams “best friends forever.” no, it was something stranger, something subtler, like two different puzzle pieces that had almost fit, only to get pushed back together by sheer happenstance.

“your references are spot on.” you laughed. natasha smiled at how easy you made it for her to be around you.

you and natasha started seeing each other more, slowly building this weird, unspoken routine. she’d text you at random, making some kind of sarcastic comment or joke only you would get, and you’d shoot back a meme that only someone with your specific sense of humor would understand. over time, you both ended up in the same circles, passing each other in the hallways of the university, at class, at parties—always just a little bit more than acquaintances, but never quite crossing into the territory of “best friends.”

there was something comfortable about it. easy, even. but for natasha, it was also strange. the more she saw you, the more she felt like there was something else there, something neither of you wanted to acknowledge. maybe it was a crush. maybe it was more than that.

it wasn’t as though either of you had been completely oblivious to the passing of time, to the fact that you were both growing older, moving through college with the same bittersweetness that everyone else felt. and yet, there was still this distance between you, an unspoken barrier that neither of you had broken down.

natasha thought about you a lot more than she’d like to admit. how she so badly wanted to cross the line between friendship and something more.

by senior year, natasha couldn’t ignore it anymore. her feelings for you weren’t just fleeting glances or passing thoughts. they were there, constant, sitting beneath her skin, running through her mind like a song she couldn’t shake. but it wasn’t just a crush. it was more. she could feel it. she knew it.

the desperation kept getting worse.

it was a slow burn.

you were months set from graduating, natasha felt it was time she’d try to test her luck.

it was late into the evening at yet another party—music blaring, laughter echoing through the crowded living room, and cups of cheap beer littering the tables. one last semester before graduation, before the "real world" set in. natasha was sitting on the couch, leaning against the back with her legs stretched out in front of her. her eyes roamed the room, scanning for someone to talk to. and then she saw you.

you were in the middle of a conversation with clint and wanda, your hands animatedly gesturing as you told some wild story about a disastrous trip to the beach, the kind of tale that had everyone in stitches. natasha couldn’t help but smile from across the room. there was something magnetic about you—how you lived so fully, how you pulled everyone into your orbit without even trying. natasha had been watching you for months now, always on the edge of your space, always wishing she could be more than just a silent observer.

she didn’t know when it started—when the simple admiration had turned into something else. but now, as she watched you laugh with your friends, something in her chest tightened. this wasn’t a crush she could just ignore.

it wasn’t the first time natasha had thought about asking you out. but tonight felt different. maybe it was the proximity of graduation, the sudden realization that this was it—that you both were on the brink of leaving behind this chaotic, unmoored time in your lives. she could either stay on the sidelines or take the chance.

she stood up, smoothing out her jacket and walking across the room. her friends—clint, wanda, and sam—noticed her approaching and exchanged knowing glances, all but daring her to make a move. natasha could feel the weight of their stares, but she ignored them. she focused only on you.

"hey," she said, stepping into the conversation, a little breathless from the nerves she’d kept hidden.

you turned, giving her that warm smile you always did. "hey, nat! what’s up?"

"not much, just wanted to, uh, ask you something," natasha began, her usual confidence faltering just a little.

“i was thinking about heading to this bar later, just to get away from all… this,” she gestured vaguely to the party around them, “and i was wondering if you wanted to join me? for drinks. just us. you know, before we all get caught up in the whole graduation mess.”

it was casual, maybe too casual. but natasha didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal. not with everyone watching.

there was a pause, just a beat too long, before you looked at her, a faint frown pulling at your brow. you were processing. “uh,” you hesitated, glancing at your friends.

clint, wanda, and sam all turned their heads at the same time, giving you the slightest raise of their brows. you bit your lip, clearly unsure, and natasha’s heart sank a little at the hesitation.

"i mean," you said slowly, looking back at natasha. "we’re friends, nat. i just… i’m not sure."

it was a gentle rejection, but it stung all the same. natasha swallowed, masking her disappointment with a shrug. "no, yeah, of course. no pressure." she let out a quiet laugh, her hand rubbing the back of her neck, trying to laugh it off. "i was just messing with you. don't worry about it."

you nodded, a small, apologetic smile on your lips. "i mean, i’d love to hang out more, just—"

"totally fine," natasha interrupted, her voice light but edged with something that made her own heart ache. she smiled, keeping it neutral. "maybe some other time."

she turned away quickly, but she felt your eyes on her as she walked back to the couch, her friends watching the entire scene unfold. clint raised his brows, and natasha just shook her head, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of knowing how deeply that small exchange had affected her.

but inside, it stung. it stung more than she cared to admit. it wasn’t just a small rejection. it was the fear that maybe you had noticed her feelings all along and were just too scared to say anything about it.

that night, natasha tried to sleep, but her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. you were everything she had wanted, but in this strange, liminal space, neither of you had been brave enough to admit it.

weeks passed, the semester came to an end, and graduation day loomed on the horizon. natasha and you both moved on in your own ways, starting to make plans for life after college. but something lingered. something unsaid. life became a little more faster, and faces got a little older.

you reached out to her a few times. it was never the same as before. it was different now, with this strange tension lingering between you both. but you kept in touch, as if you both were afraid of letting go of something that might have been, something that might have still been.

and maybe it was ridiculous, natasha thought, but she was okay with it. she had loved you for years, and maybe that was the most honest thing she could admit to herself.

because even if you two had never been the closest of people, you’d always been there. always in the background, always in between. and somehow, that was enough for natasha. enough for her to hold on to the hope that maybe, one day, you’d both be able to finally figure it out.

it had been two years since you both left the university. two years where natasha had started a career in marketing, constantly moving up, climbing the corporate ladder while trying (and failing) to suppress the things she didn’t want to feel about you. she had dated, of course. a couple of short-term relationships, nothing serious. but nothing had ever lasted, and she had never quite understood why until now. the answer had always been there, hovering just out of reach, in the form of a text, a call, a passing thought about you.

as for you, you’d moved across the country for a job in graphic design. you didn’t think much about natasha at first. life had been busy—new city, new friends, new routine—but every now and then, you'd wonder if she'd thought of you. if she remembered how everything had felt when you were both on the brink of something, but never quite dared to cross the line.

and then it happened.

it wasn’t planned. it wasn’t expected. but one saturday evening, natasha found herself sitting at a bar in brooklyn after a long week at work. she’d had a rough day. one of those days where everything felt like too much. and then, as she nursed her gin and tonic, she heard someone call her name.

it was a voice she hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

“natasha?”

she turned, already recognizing the voice before she even saw your face. and there you were, standing in the doorway of the bar like a memory coming to life. your hair had grown a little longer, and you looked different, older in a way that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. but you were still you—the same you who had been in those parties, those late-night study sessions, the one who had always made her laugh with a look or a passing reference.

for a moment, neither of you said anything. just stood there, eyes locking, as if trying to figure out whether this was real.

“i didn’t know you were in new york,” natasha said, her voice betraying the sudden weight in her chest. she couldn’t keep the smile from forming, even though she tried.

“i wasn’t planning on being,” you said, grinning. “work sent me here for a few weeks. i was meeting some friends, but it’s been a while, so i thought i’d just see if you were around.”

it wasn’t exactly casual. but you both knew it wasn’t entirely random, either. it felt like fate had decided that you two were finally going to do this.

you sat down, and the conversation flowed as naturally as it always had. the awkwardness of the past melted away. you didn’t need to pretend anymore. there were no more games, no more hesitations.

just you and natasha, picking up where you left off, though this time, the space between you felt a little different. there was an understanding now, a quiet knowing in the way you both spoke, a recognition that time had done its job.

“so…how’s life?” natasha asked, pushing her drink aside and leaning in a little closer.

you shrugged, but there was something different about you too, something less guarded. “it’s been alright. busy. but you know how that goes. i’ve been thinking about home, though. about—” you paused, then looked directly at natasha. “about people i should have kept in touch with.”

natasha’s heart was thudding in her chest, but she kept it together. she was a master of hiding emotions, after all. “yeah?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“yeah,” you said, with a smile that made natasha’s stomach flutter. “it’s funny how things work out. you don’t realize what you miss until you’re standing in front of it again.”

time had always been a strange thing between natasha and you—something both distant and close at the same time, like a thread that wound its way through your lives, never quite snapping, always lingering. you’d known each other for years, seen each other at parties, shared quiet moments, and laughed at the same jokes. but all that time, there had always been a hesitation. a space between the two of you, filled with something—something both of you had been aware of but had never dared to name.

it was the kind of thing that was easier to ignore in college, easier to pretend it wasn’t there while you were both busy with classes, with your lives, with the thrill of being young and not yet knowing what you wanted out of the world.

but that something between you had always been there, pulling at both of you, quiet but undeniable. the way you caught each other’s eyes a little too long. the way your conversations turned into something more meaningful without either of you intending it. the way natasha would see you at parties and catch her breath for just a moment. the way you’d smile, as if you both knew, but neither of you was brave enough to act on it.

you’d both dated people. tried relationships. but it had never lasted, had it? there was always that nagging feeling in the back of your mind—something missing, something not quite right. as if your lives couldn’t fit together because they weren’t ready to yet. you didn’t have the words for it, and neither did natasha. but you both knew. you always knew.

the things that had once seemed complicated—life, timing, fear—suddenly didn’t feel as big as they once had. there was a quiet honesty between you now, as if you both had grown enough to stop pretending you didn’t feel it. the awkwardness, the hesitation, the “maybe” that had been there before was gone.

it was you. it had always been you. and you knew it too.

“so,” natasha said after a beat, her voice softer now, quieter than before. “what are we doing here, really? we’re not strangers. we’ve known each other for, what, almost four years now?”

you looked at her, your lips curling into a smile that didn’t hide the tension in your gaze. “we’ve known each other longer than that,” you said. “we’ve always known.”

“i think i’ve always been afraid of this,” natasha admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “afraid that i’d say the wrong thing, or that it would mess things up between us. that maybe the timing was never going to be right.”

you nodded slowly. “i’ve been afraid of that too.” you paused, then added with a wry smile, “i was never good with timing.”

“maybe we don’t need perfect timing,” natasha said softly, her gaze meeting yours with something she hadn’t let herself feel before—a quiet certainty. “maybe it’s just the right time now. after all this time.”

you didn’t answer right away. you didn’t have to. instead, you reached across the bar, your hand brushing gently against hers, and just like that, it all clicked. there was no more hesitation. no more waiting. you both knew what this was, what it always had been.

“yeah,” you said, your voice low and certain. “i think you’re right.”

and that was it.

[ram-bles]

HELLOOOO

I got a silly little ask, just a drabble from you would be fine 😁

Like- the reader (gender neutral) wasn't very open about their hobbies and such. One of their hobbies was like martial arts or smth (THIS IS VERY CRUCIAL ☝️☝️☝️)

Wellll, one day Jimmy (🤮) decided to try and touch the reader inappropriately and they just throw him over their shoulder saying something along the lines of "Do NOT touch me."

I KNOW IT'S CRINGE BUT PLEASEEEE, IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I saw you're writing for only Curly and Daisuke, but if you wanna you can add other characters into the mix. It's all platonic, just a silly little ask cuz I wanna laugh 😁😁😁

[ Tulpar Crew & Reader ]

Oh I love this one. Also this reminded me to update my list thank u 4 unintentionally reminding me anon.,.,. ALSO DONT WORRY I DONT THINK IT'S CRINGE !

gender neutral reader, it gets silly later on i promise. not proof-read. wrote this really quick.

⚠️ tw: stalking, jimmy being a little too forward and close

The day was pretty much mundane, like always. Everyone was in their designated work stations, including you of course. Though, something felt off. It had been like this for the past week, and you hated it. You even blamed your lack of sleep for it. It seemed like there was something— someone, watching and following you when you were alone.

One time, you'd even woken up to the sound of your quarter's door closing. You stayed up all night, not wanting to inconvenience the other crew members for what you think might just be all in your head. Well, that is until psych evaluation day came and you opened up about this to Anya who so easily believed you, but seemed so uncomfortable with the topic. You decided not to pry out of respect. She offers her company when you need it.

That same night, Daisuke offered to host a game session to which everyone reluctantly agreed to.

Establishing good bonds between workers is key to an efficient working environment!

Anya, Swansea and Daisuke were sitting by the sofa, Curly dragged a chair just beside the game table, whilst you and Jimmy sat beside each other on the floor. The game involved four players and the crew decided that whoever loses first has to swap with whoever hasn't played yet for the next rounds. The game was getting heated, Daisuke and Anya, neck on neck. Unfortunately, not the only thing neck on neck. Everyone else was too focused on the game to even notice what Jimmy was doing. You can feel his breath against your skin. You eyed the others in hopes that they would see. Too busy. Annoyed and grossed out, you elbowed his ribs in warning, glaring at him. "Jimmy, don't touch me." He seems pissed, but that doesn't deter him from getting his entertainment. Jimmy presses on and you swear you felt your eyebrows twitch. The balls of this guy to even do this here.

Daisuke throws the dice, the three leans in in anticipation as they watch it slowly roll to a stop and—

CRASH!

Some game pieces flew in different directions, two table legs snapping from the force and Jimmy's weight. It was radio silent for a moment. The crew having different variations of shocked expressions. You had grabbed his arm and flipped his body onto the furniture.

"Fuckin' pervert. Are you deaf, or what? I said do NOT touch me."

Daisuke threw his hands up in the air and settled it on each side of his head, frustrated. "Oh, come on, man! I was so close to winni—!" His whining ceases when Swansea nudges him, instantly shutting up and processing what had just happened. It took a few blinks for him to register and he eventually bursts out laughing and pointing at Jimmy. It took everything from Swansea not to burst out laughing as well. Instead, he crosses his arms and huffs with a proud smile. 'Atta' kid.'

Anya on the other hand slips out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mostly out of shock, and no sympathy for the man whatsoever. When the other intern started laughing, she had to bite her lip and look away to suppress her own fit.

[ History of glenohumeral joint subluxation.

It happened way too fast for Jimmy to even process what just happened. He spits out something hard, probably a tooth. His shoulder slightly stings as well, probably dislocated. He'll get back at you some other time, he can't get back at you when everyone else is here and that pisses him off even more.

Curly had mixed feelings. But of course, he prioritizes his role and he has to mediate everything first and foremost. Rubbing his face, he sighs and stands up, putting his hands on his hips. He calls your name and you tilted your head to look up at him. "I have to discuss... this with you later on. Please drop by the cockpit, yeah?" You roll your eyes and nod, pouting. "Swansea, could we borrow your intern real quick?"

"Shift's over, go ahead."

He gives the eldest a nod. "Daisuke, please assist Anya. Help her bring Jimmy to medical."

"Youuuuu got it, Big C." He finger guns towards the captain then stands up to hover over the co-pilot. Curly could only give Daisuke an awkward smile at the nickname.

"Never call him that again."

"El Capitano." Daisuke helps Jimmy up, making sure he's pulling them up by the injured arm, making the man grit his teeth and groan in pain. Before the guy could even cuss at the intern, Swansea continued bickering.

"Do your damn job."

"Yessir. Swansir."

Anya and Daisuke finally went off the bring the poor injured co-pilot to treat him. And if you'd like to know, Anya taught Daisuke how to pull Jimmy's shoulder back to place. Yes, everyone heard him when it happened.

You helped Swansea clean up the mess by the lounge and in apology, offered to help repair the table the next day. He agrees and even offers Daisuke to assist you.

Curly had to lightly reprimand you for your actions, but you'd explained to him what happened. The best he could do for you for now is lie on the report.

Sustained through occupational accident.

Employee confirmed inebriated while working.

Property damage docked to Jimmy.]

[usomads]

There's No Going Back // Jey Uso x Reader

**Author's Note: Hiiiii, this is my first ever fic writing so go easy on me 🤭 but if you like this feel free to give me some more suggestions too! Happy reading!**

Plot -> Y/N catches her boyfriend of three years in their shared bed with someone else. When she goes to her best friend Josh’s to gather her thoughts and seek some consolation, she learns that’s not the only thing she’s going to find when she walks in the door…

Pairings -> Jey Uso x Fem!Reader (Y/N) Warnings -> Cheating (made up BF name), Cursing, Hickies, Oral Sex (Fem!Receiving), Fingering, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Minors DNI

Word Count -> 3.4k Nothing seemed to be going right for Y/N today. It started by her spilling hot coffee on her shirt at 6am, making her atrociously late to her morning meetings at work, followed by her getting written up for said tardiness, then being swamped with paperwork all day. She had yet to eat or drink anything (except for the other half of the coffee she didn’t spill on herself) and she. was. EXHAUSTED. All Y/N wanted to do was relax on her couch with her boyfriend Ben, whom she’d been dating coming up on four years in December, and let everything that transpired today slip from her mind as she laid in her man’s arms. That was not to be though, as the minute she turned the lock to enter her 2 bedroom apartment they shared she immediately sensed something was wrong. The scent in the air was different; she knew she hadn’t gotten any new candles or air fresheners lately so that wasn’t it. Perfume, she thought as she started assembling the pieces together, and it’s not mine. 

Y/N looked around the apartment. There was no sign of anyone here, no trace of another woman. She relaxed partially, still keeping the thought in the back of her mind, but feeling eased because she didn't see any evidence of an affair in her space. But she didn’t need to see it to confirm it, she heard it. A moan. Coming from the bedroom.

“Fuck Ben, I’m so close.” 

She stopped dead in her tracks, the blood in her veins had turned ice cold. No, there was no way, right? Ben wouldn’t throw away three years of our relationship like this. He’d never do that to her, he loved her. Right? This had to be a dream, right? 

Her feet moved before her mind understood what was happening. Y/N was walking on autopilot, directly to the room where she heard the female voice come from. She knew she didn’t need to see it, she had heard enough to confirm her suspicions already. But before she knew it she was standing in front of her bedroom door, and sure enough she was hearing everything she needed to let her know that this wasn’t a dream. Echoing noises of skin slapping, faint moans and groans, and whimpering rang through Y/N’s ear’s, but that didn’t stop her from twisting the knob on the door and silently cracking it open. She saw the unthinkable; Ben, her long-time boyfriend, had a random woman bent over the bed, their bed, and was fucking her in ways that were meant for Y/N and Y/N only. And the sight of it made her want to throw up.

******************************************************************

Y/N couldn’t remember when she left the entryway to her bedroom. She couldn’t remember running out of the apartment and into her car. Hell, she couldn’t even remember sitting in standstill traffic on I-285. But she did do all of those things, because here she sat parked in front of her best friend Josh’s house. 

Josh, who she met years ago at a networking event in collaboration with her company and the WWE, was her go-to person. After that event, they quickly became the best of friends. They’d spend every chance they could together when he wasn’t on the road wrestling for hundreds of thousands of people, much to the disapproval of Ben. Ben never liked how much time Y/N wanted to spend with Josh when he was home, and he sure as hell hated how close the two were. Ben had started many fights with Y/N about Josh over the years and each time she assured him that there was never anything happening between the two; she had always shown Ben she was loyal to him and him only. And look how that turned out.

Before she knew it she was on Josh’s doorstep, the fall air in Atlanta feeling colder than usual to her, as she pressed the button on the Ring doorbell. It felt like hours of her standing there but only a couple minutes later and Josh was answering the door. He was shirtless, with basketball shorts loosely hanging around his waist. His hair was wet, like he had just freshly showered, and he smelled richly of his body wash and aftershave.

“Hey mamas, why didn’t you ca-,” he stopped mid-sentence. Josh knew the woman standing before him for 6 years, he knew everything about her. He knew when she was happy, when she was sad, when she was angry. And he definitely knew something was wrong now. But before he could ask further, she broke down in front of him.

“Ben, he.. I..” Y/N couldn’t even form the words to say it out loud, sniffling and letting out sobs trying to tell him what had happened, but Josh quickly figured it out and ushered her to the couch in his living room. He left her for a moment to grab her a water from the fridge, but immediately came back and sat next to her while she tried to describe the events that just unfolded. 

“I saw it,” she cried, “at first I thought-, at first I thought that m-maybe I was just h-hearing things. B-but he was f-fucking someone else. I-in our b-bed.” Josh opened his arms to her and she nestled her face in the crook of his neck, letting out loud sobs while he listened and embraced her. She doesn’t deserve this, he thought, she doesn’t deserve any of this.

Josh continued consoling Y/N and cooing reassuring words in her ear while she let out sobs against him. Josh had plans tonight to relax and unwind during one of the rare longer periods of time he had off, but now? Y/N was his number 1 priority and he was going to be here all night if he had to, just to make sure she was okay. Josh’s heart shattered hearing her cry over a man who 1. he never cared much for to begin with, and 2.  had broken his best friend’s heart. Josh wasn’t blind to the clear disdain Ben had shown him over the years, but he knew why he hated him so much. Ben saw what Y/N didn’t, that Josh was madly in love with her. Ben was afraid that Josh would try to take Y/N away from him, and if Ben hadn’t been in the picture he might’ve. But none of that mattered now; what mattered was being the person, the friend that Y/N desperately needed to be there for her. 

Lost in his own thoughts, Josh didn’t notice that Y/N had stopped crying and was lifting her head from the crook of his neck. She sniffled, and wiped her cheeks from the tears that coated them.

“Thank you, J. For letting me sabotage your evening and being here for me. I needed that.”

“Baby, you didn’t sabotage nothin’. I had no plans tonight. You know I’ll always be here for you. Always.” That pet name always makes her stomach do somersaults, but after the events of this evening she wasn’t able to react with a blush or a soft smile like she usually does.

“I just don’t understand why,” she vented, “why would he throw away our entire relationship like that? Like, did I do something wrong? Was it me? Was I not good enough for him?” “Y/N-”

“No, Josh, I don’t wanna hear any of that ‘you’re too good for him’ and ‘it’s his fault’ bullshit right now. Three years, Josh, three whole years I was with him, and he decides to fuck some random bitch in our bed all of a sudden? It had to have been me, there’s no way he-”

Her sentence was cut short by the feeling of Josh’s lips on hers. Maybe it was her emotions guiding her, but Y/N instinctively moved her lips in sync with his. Something about the way Josh’s lips felt against her own felt natural, normal even. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, they were friends after all and friends don’t kiss each other like this, but she couldn’t will herself to pull away. What felt like hours of the two sharing this intimate moment together lasted mere minutes, as Josh pulled away quickly realizing what he had just done.

“Y/N, I-i’m so sorry… I wasn’t thinking right, I- I shouldn’t have done that. But hearing you talk down on yourself like that just… I couldn’t take it. You’re just so incredible and I-” It was his turn to be cut off now, by Y/N giving him a swift kiss to stop his train of thought. Y/N’s lips hovered over his for a brief moment, daring Josh to close the distance between the two again. She watched his face show how much he was trying to control himself and giggled for the first time that night, her cheeks once rosy from her tears now turning color over the two’s moment they shared, and finally spoke up. 

“Don’t be sorry, J. If I'm being honest I kinda enjoyed it, and if I’m being more honest…” She leaned impossibly closer to him now, her lips brushing his as she whispered, “I wanna do it again.” That was all Josh needed to hear for him to crash his lips into hers, this time more desperate than before. He craved her, he needed her, and he wanted her to feel it too. His tongue brushed her bottom lip begging for entrance, causing her to smile into the kiss and denying him access. He was not going to let her tease him like this though, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a tug. The slight pain and mix of pleasure earned a gasp from Y/N, giving Josh an opportunity for him to slide his tongue inside as they battled for dominance. He used this distraction to pull her into his lap, Y/N now straddling his waist, as they continued to explore each other's mouths and bodies. Y/N’s hands were tugging on the ends of his mullet, earning low groans from him while his hand traveled from her waist to her ass and kneading it with his hands as she began to grind into him at a torturous pace. Josh was getting rapidly hard underneath her, and he could feel through the thin material of her dress pants rubbing on him that she was getting turned on as well. Sensing that they were enveloped in the heat of the moment Joshua pulled away, his hands still resting firmly on her ass while hers were still entangled in his hair. “Are you sure about this, Y/N? Because if we do this…”

“What, there’s no going back? We’re past that point now. I want this, I want you, I need you. Please, Josh, I want you to touch me.”

Josh sat up almost too fast, earning a gasp from Y/N and making her giggle into his neck as he lifted the two of them up and carried her to his bedroom. He gently laid her on his bed and crawled on top of her, kissing her softly before trailing his lips down her jaw and to her neck. He licked and sucked on the sensitive skin before finding the spot just below her right ear, where her soft moans she had before began growing louder. He had found her sweet spot, and he was going to make sure he marked it as his. Josh alternated between sucking and biting on the sensitive area until a bruise began forming at the surface. Admiring his work he nipped at Y/N’s ear and began whispering sweet nothings to her. Josh’s words and the feeling of his breath on her neck sent chills down her spine, and even more, her core to grow wetter by the second. She inadvertently bucked her hips at this, causing her to brush his hardening cock through his shorts.

“Relax mamas, Imma take good care of you,” he hissed, “just wanna admire you first.” Y/N lets out a breathy moan at this, while trying to fight every urge within her to not flip them over and take him right now. Sensing how needy she is for him Josh removes her shirt and unclasps her bra, leaving him in awe of the topless woman before him. Y/N, feeling his intense gaze on her, tries to cover herself with her arms but Josh immediately pins them above her head. “Never ever cover yourself in front of me, you understand baby? You’re too beautiful to hide yourself like that.” Y/N tries to nod in response but is immediately stopped by Josh wrapping his lips around her nipple, sucking and biting on it as Y/N throws her head back and tangles her fingers in his hair yet again. He alternates between each one, giving the same amount of attention to both and making Y/N’s head spin with pleasure. Josh is taking his time with her, and she is enjoying every second. He then trails kisses down her abdomen and makes his way to where she needs him most, wasting no time in removing her bottoms and coming face to face with Y/N’s pretty pussy glistening before him, because of him. “Oh poor baby, you’re soaked. Who made you this wet, hmm?” Y/N moans in response, and Josh lightly smacks her thigh. “Answer me, baby. Who did this?” Josh teases, knowing damn well he’s the reason why, but wanting it to come straight from Y/N’s mouth. “Y-you did, Josh. Please baby, do someth- oh fuck,” Y/N’s pleas are cut short by Josh licking a stripe through her folds, collecting some of her wetness on his tongue. “Mmm.. you taste so sweet, baby, you wanna try?” Josh trails two fingers along her pussy, gathering more of her juices before reaching them to her. Y/N doesn’t hesitate to wrap her lips around his fingers and suck her juices off of them, moaning around them as she does so. Josh groans as her cheeks hollow around his digits, feeling his cock harden at the imagination of her mouth around him. He focuses on her clit and continues to guide his tongue in ways Y/N has never experienced before, feeling that feeling in her stomach growing stronger with each flick of his tongue. She frees his fingers from her mouth and starts chanting his praises, as if she were worshiping the way he’s eating her pussy. His name falls from her lips like he’s her god, and her reaction to him only fuels him more. He inserts his tongue into her pussy, fucking her with his tongue and driving her wild. 

“Josh, please, don’t stop baby- oh fuck,” she whines as he adds a finger with his tongue and speeds up his movements, tongue and finger fucking her at a torturous yet unrelenting pace. Her pussy clenches around him, he knows she’s close, and he’s not stopping until his face is drenched in her cum. With his free hand he takes his thumb and rubs circles into her clit, the sensation causing her to arch her back off of the mattress and her thighs to tighten around his head. Before she can warn him the pressure in her stomach explodes, her vision turns white, and she’s shaking and moaning his name as she cums violently around his tongue. Josh had never seen a sight more beautiful than the way Y/N’s body reacts as she’s completely letting go. He wanted to capture that moment in his mind forever, and he wanted to do it again and again. Y/N slowly regained herself, catching her breath and beginning to relax her muscles while Josh licked every last drop of her up like his life depended on it. She shuddered at this, still sensitive from his work on her. After he was sure he had gotten every single drop of Y/N’s essence cleaned up, he proceeded to remove his shorts exposing his long, hard cock. Y/N admired the man before her in all of his glory, instinctively licking her lips as she attempted to sit up and return the favor. “Not tonight, mamas,” Josh cooed, “Tonight’s all about you. Gonna show you how much I love you, baby.” With this his lips found hers, but this time it was different. Something had changed between the two. This was no longer desperation, it was passion. Love. Josh used this moment of kissing her to tease her with his cock, rubbing himself along her pussy, before stopping at her entrance. They broke the kiss; foreheads touching, breathless, and staring longingly into each other's eyes. “No turning back now, right?” “Never,” Y/N whispered as he eased himself into her. The feeling of him stretching her pussy as he slipped inside, the way her walls fluttered and tightened around him and he pushed himself deeper, was unlike anything Josh or Y/N had ever felt before. It’s like they were made for each other, how he fit so perfectly inside of her was something you could only dream of. A series of moans were sung by them both as Josh’s cock completely bottomed out inside of her. After giving them both a second to adjust, he slowly eased his way in and out. Pulling out enough to leave just the tip inside, then all the way back in. Over, and over, and over, and over. Y/N’s hands traveled to Josh’s back and began digging her nails into skin as she threw her head back in ecstasy. Josh’s face found the crook of her neck and peppered kisses along the skin as he continued to make love to her.

“Fuck Y/N, so tight f’me. Feels so good wrapped around me, baby.” His thrusts picked up tempo, but not too fast. Josh wanted to savor this moment; he wanted to live in this feeling of him stretching her out forever, but he also knew it was taking everything he had to hold in his urge to cum on the spot. But his need for her to cum around him right as he was emptying himself into her motivated him into holding on just a little bit longer. He bucked his hips up into her sharply and Y/N arched her back and moaned his name loudly as her nails dragged down his back. Knowing he had now found her spot, he wasted no time in hitting it with every single thrust. Y/N could barely contain herself- she was a mess underneath him. She couldn't utter anything other than Josh’s name, and hearing it only drew him closer to the edge along with her. “I never want to hear you doubt yourself ever again mamas, you understand me?” He grunted in her ear, “You deserve the world baby, and I’m gonna give it to you. You’re mine now, understand?” “Fuck yes, I’m yours baby. I’m yours. Josh, I-” 

“I know, I know, I’m close too princess. Cum with me, I gotchu.”

Y/N lets go more viciously than the last, and the tightening of her pussy as she cums around him is enough to have Josh moaning her name in her ear as he fills her with his cum, still moving his hips as he fucks his seed into her. Y/N is still riding the high of her orgasm, whimpering with every thrust he makes. On his way down from his, he slows his movements inside her and rests his forehead against hers. They’re both dripping in sweat, but none of that matters as they lock eyes and catch their breath. It’s silent, but a comfortable silence. 

Josh pulls out of her and Y/N sighs, feeling empty without him inside of her as he lies down next to her and pulls her into his arms and both close their eyes. Whatever fallout happens from the events of today will have to wait until tomorrow, right now all that matters is them. Both realize the gravity of this moment, both know their friendship just changed forever, and both know that there’s no going back now.

And that’s perfectly okay with them.

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl Dixon x Reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: smut!! not much plot!! kind of emoshie too tho MDNI

notes: fem!reader, no use of y/n. inspired by a scene from part III of ruins of us, so don't come for me when you see this scene in there too lol

I also barely proofread this sorry

In the quiet of Alexandria, the first real quiet you’ve had in what feels like forever, the two of you sit side by side on the porch steps, sharing a silence that says everything and nothing at all. Daryl’s thumb idly brushes the edge of your hand, a rare gesture, but you notice it. He’s tense, uneasy in the stillness of this place where people laugh and gather like the world outside doesn’t still burn.

You take a breath, finally standing, and hold out your hand. “Come on.”

He stares at your hand for a second, something unreadable flickering in his gaze, then he reaches for it. His grip is strong, his skin rough, and as he lets you lead him inside, he’s silent but attentive, like he’s half waiting for the rug to be pulled from under him.

In the bathroom, you glance back at him, feeling something tight and warm in your chest. He’s watching you with that familiar intensity, one that can only be found in the private moments away from everyone, just you two in your own space. You step closer, your fingers reaching up to the collar of his shirt, carefully peeling away the fabric stained with dust, grime, and sweat. His breathing is almost inaudible, but you feel it, each steady exhale brushing against your skin as he watches you work, layer by layer, his guard slipping with every piece.

When you pull off your own clothes, you don’t shy from his eyes. They’re guarded as always, but there’s something else there too, an almost reverent way he lets his gaze roam over you, taking in every part of you that’s been hidden under layers and dirt. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time in weeks—maybe months. The sound of the water brings you back, its steady, warm rush filling the room with steam, curling around you like an invitation.

You step in first, shivering as the hot water cascades down your back. Daryl follows, closing the glass door behind him. As he moves under the spray, the water runs down his face, through his hair, carrying with it the weight of miles, fights, sleepless nights. You take the bar of soap and lather a small rag, moving close to him, feeling the heat of his body beneath your fingertips. He closes his eyes, letting you guide him, trusting you in a way he rarely allows himself to trust anyone.

Your hands work over his shoulders, firm yet gentle, tracing the muscles that have carried him through every hard road and long night. There’s a small tremble as your fingers brush over a scar, a reminder of another life. You let your hand linger there, pausing, pressing just a little, showing him in silence that you remember every bit of what brought you both here. Daryl swallows, and you catch the faintest edge of vulnerability in his eyes as they open, catching yours with a gravity that makes the breath catch in your throat.

You move lower, your fingers sliding down his arms, washing away the grime in gentle strokes, lingering, memorizing the feel of him beneath your touch. When you reach his hands, you lace your fingers with his, feeling the strength there, the familiar roughness that’s so uniquely his. You smile, just a hint, and for a moment, a soft, almost shy smile ghosts over his lips.

As you pull the soap away to wash yourself, his hand stops you. He holds your wrist, his touch firm yet delicate. “My turn,” he says quietly, his voice low, a rasp that holds a world of unsaid things.

His hand moves carefully as he takes the soapy cloth and begins to trace slow, steady circles on your shoulders. The warm cloth glides over your skin, and you feel his fingers linger just a little longer than necessary, like he’s savoring this rare chance to touch you after weeks of only thoughts of survival. His hands move down your arms, so gentle it feels like he’s memorizing you all over again, learning every curve, every line. The heat of the water and his touch seem to blur together, wrapping around you, grounding you in the present.

He moves lower, the cloth brushing over your stomach, his fingers firm yet tender. His eyes flicker up to meet yours, holding you there in his gaze, and it feels like the world has shrunk down to just this moment, just the two of you. There’s a weight to his touch, like he’s saying everything he’s never found the words for.

He softly, slowly, turns you around and you think he’s going to begin scrubbing your back, but he reaches for your waist, and the cloth slows, his hand lingering as he continues making small circles. You exhale, your breath coming shallow as he closes the space between you, pulling you against his chest. You feel his fingers press gently, a question, an offer. The feel his heart, steady and strong against your back, calms you as he feels you with the cloth moving up your stomach, moving in slow, deliberate strokes over your breasts, his breath warm against the side of your neck.

You close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, the warmth of the water, the gentleness of his hands, the way he’s holding you like you’re something fragile and precious. You lean your head back against him, eyes fluttering shut and letting the water hit your face from the shower head. You feel his grip tighten, his breath hitch as his hand moves lower, gliding down your stomach, his fingers trembling slightly as they reach your hips.

And in that moment, you feel him against you, hard and unyielding against your back. Your breath catches, and you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, his face inches from yours. There’s a fire there, barely contained, a want that matches your own. His fingers dig into your hips as he holds you closer, his mouth brushing over your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin.

As his hands travel lower, your skin prickles with anticipation, every inch of you attuned to his touch. The air between you is thick with unspoken need, weeks of restrained desire spilling over, saturating the space around you with a quiet intensity. You can feel the tension building as he reaches down, his hand moving carefully, deliberately. The soapy cloth brushes over your thighs, lingering, teasing, before he lets it drop to the floor, forgotten, freeing his fingers to explore you without the barrier.

He leans you back against his chest even closer, solid and warm, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of him, your senses sharpening as his hand slips between your thighs, his fingers sliding down to find you already wet, warm, and aching for his touch. His breath is a low, throaty murmur against your ear as he feels how ready you are, and you can hear the satisfied growl that rumbles in his chest as he presses his fingers against you, gliding over your softness with a deliberate slowness that makes your knees weak.

“Been waitin’ for this,” he murmurs, his voice rough, each word sending a thrill down your spine. His fingers begin to move in slow, steady circles, each stroke purposeful, as though he’s savoring the way your body responds to his touch. The sensation builds with each movement, his hand creating a rhythm that matches the pulse thrumming through you, leaving you clinging to him, one of your hands gripping his neck for support as he works you closer to the edge. The other rests against your chest, slow and tantalizing against your breasts.

You let out a soft moan, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder, your breaths coming faster as his fingers explore you, slipping deeper, curling just right, making your whole body tremble. He tightens his hold on you, pressing his mouth to your neck, kissing, nipping, his hot breath delicious against your skin. The friction of his fingers sends waves of pleasure radiating through you, and you arch into him, pressing yourself closer, feeling the solid strength of his body holding you steady, silently begging for more.

“Like that?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and thick with satisfaction as he feels you respond to his touch, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. His fingers press deeper, finding that perfect spot that makes you gasp, a soft cry spilling from your lips as he intensifies his rhythm, each movement drawing you closer, building the tension until it’s almost too much.

He doesn’t let up, his hand steady, fingers curling, his thumb tracing gentle circles that make your body tighten, the pressure coiling in your belly. His other arm holds you firm, keeping you steady as he works you over, his mouth moving to your ear, whispering words you can barely make out, each rough syllable sending a fresh shiver through you. The combination of his voice, his touch, the way he’s holding you like he can’t bear to let go—it all drives you higher, until you’re teetering on the edge, every nerve alive, every inch of you aching to fall.

“So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he murmurs in your ear, “pussy always so needy, so ready for me–it’s been too long, baby,” 

“Daryl…” His name slips from your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and he growls in response, his fingers moving faster, more insistent, until finally, the tension shatters, and you’re left clinging to him as waves of pleasure roll over you, your body shuddering against his as he holds you close, his hands never leaving you.

As you come down, your breaths still uneven, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, his hand gently stroking over your skin, grounding you, bringing you back from the high. You lean back against him, your head resting against his shoulder, feeling his heart beating steady and strong, a quiet reminder of the connection between you, of the intensity that’s been building for far too long.

You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and there’s a gleam in his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you with a satisfaction that leaves your heart racing all over again. He brushes a hand over your cheek, tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear. Leaning forward, his lips find yours, tentative at first, then deeper, more fervent as his hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. You melt into him, losing yourself in the taste of his mouth, the familiar scent of him mixing with the steam that’s blanketing the two of you. His kisses grow hungrier, more insistent, the warmth between you intensifying as his hands reach down further, gripping your ass with roughness that makes you squeal. His grip on you tightens, his hands rough and possessive as they knead your skin, pulling you against him with a desperation that makes your heart race. The low growl that escapes him as his hands continue their palming of your cheeks sends a thrill through you, and without thinking, you wrap a leg around his waist, bringing him flush against you.

You both shudder as his hardness presses perfectly between your legs, a friction that ignites every inch of you. His breath catches, mingling with the steam and your own hitched sighs. You feel him slide against your wet, gushing lips, and you press down further, chasing the friction he offers between your legs.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs, voice low and thick as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips and teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His grip on you tightens, pulling you against him with a roughness that makes you gasp, your hands clinging to his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin as he holds you close.

“Daryl, wait,” you whisper into his skin, feeling his breath hot and ragged against your neck as you pull away just slightly. The look in his eyes, dark with blown pupils, makes you hesitate, a storm of longing and vulnerability held there as he tries to read your intentions, unsure if you truly mean to pull away from his warmth, his need, his fervor. A flicker of uncertainty crosses his features, a silent question in the tight set of his jaw, and before he can think anything of it, you slip away, dropping slowly down to your knees before him.

From this vantage, he’s breathtaking. Standing tall above you, his damp hair falls around his face, shadowing his gaze, droplets tracing lines down his jaw and dripping onto your skin, adding to the heat already burning between you. His body glistens with drops of water, the slopes of his chest and stomach mesmerizing as the shower’s spray falls around you both. His broad frame blocks the full force of the water, sheltering you in this intimate space.

“What’re ya—” he starts, but his words cut off with a harsh intake of breath as your hand wraps firmly around the base of him, your fingers barely meeting around his girth. The sound he makes—a strangled, low whimper—reverberates through the steam-filled space, and his hands fly forward to brace himself. One hand anchors in your hair, steadying his weight with a gentle hold, while the other presses against your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as he watches, chest heaving.

“Baby… you don’t have to…” he rasps, his voice thick and trembling as he struggles to speak. But the low groans he lets slip with every slow, deliberate movement of your hand make it clear he doesn’t want you to stop. You meet his gaze, a teasing glint in your eye as you flatten your tongue against him, trailing slow, languid strokes along his length, savoring every shudder, every soft moan that slips from his lips.

When you take him fully into your mouth, cheeks hollowed with a fierce, focused hunger, his control shatters. His hand tightens in your hair, a mix of gentle guidance and barely-contained restraint, his hips instinctively pressing forward as he lets his head fall back into the cascade of the shower, his breath a rough gasp against the tiled walls.

“Shit,” he whispers, voice ragged, almost reverent, as his other hand finds its place on the back of your head, steady and protective, losing himself in the feel of you. You can sense his restraint, how carefully he holds back, letting you set the pace, his muscles taut as if he’s fighting against every instinct telling him to give in.

You move with a steady rhythm, taking your time, mouth and hands working together to bring him closer and closer to the edge. Every gasp, every groan that spills from his lips fuels the fire between you, each sound a delicious reward as he lets himself unravel in your hands. His moans vibrate through you, making you feel every ounce of his need and raw desire as he allows himself to fall apart under your touch.

But then, suddenly, as if remembering himself, his grip in your hair tightens, and he pulls you away, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he looks down at you, nearly busting from the sight of you—kneeling, head tilted back, cheeks flushed, lips wet and swollen, parted and ready. From his perspective, you’re utterly captivating, the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Your wet hair sticks to your skin, strands of it catching on the dampness of your face, your neck and the rest down and flowing behind you, soaked and clean. The water beads on your skin, tracing delicate trails down your neck, glistening along the curve of your collarbone and catching on the subtle lines of your muscles, and he’s completely mesmerized. 

You catch the intensity in his gaze as he absorbs the sight, his restraint wavering in the face of his raw, undeniable want. He swallows hard, then leans down, his other hand coming to your cheek again, cupping you with a gentleness that feels like a promise, and kisses you deeply, thoroughly, his tongue sweeping inside your mouth to taste himself on you, each movement as consuming as the last.

A soft moan slips from your lips as he kisses you, and he lets out a sound—a low, growling sigh—as he pulls you to stand, holding you close. His hand drops to your waist, fingers sliding down to find your hip and then lower to your thigh, hitching your leg up around him again in one smooth movement. He presses you firmly against the warm tile wall of the shower, his body a solid weight against yours, grounding you in the moment as he leans in close. 

The sensation of him, rock-hard and twitching against you, has you quivering, and you can feel the urgency in his touch as he pushes agonizingly slow into your walls, letting you adjust to his girth for a long moment as you suck in deep breaths, holding him close with your hands over his shoulders. “Jesus,” he mutters against your skin, voice low and thick, his breath coming fast as he slowly begins to grind into you, as he feels you pulsing around his cock, the tightness electric as he begins to move in a tantalizing rhythm. You gasp, clinging to him as his hand slides down your thigh, holding you steady as he presses harder, opening you up for him further. His other hand slides between you, fingers teasing over your slick skin, each slow, deliberate circle overstimulating to already your sensitive clit. His thumb grazes over it, and a tremor runs through you, your hips bucking into his hand, uncertain if you want more or if its too much, but you crave the way he pushes you closer to that brink with each stroke.

He lifts his head, his eyes dark and intense as he holds your gaze. “You feel so damn good,” he growls, his eyes flickering from watching himself buried in you to your lips, and he finally pushes his mouth into you for another deep, searing kiss as his hips dig harder against you, the friction a delicious, toe-curling pressure that makes your body tighten with need. His mouth moves over your jaw, down your neck, teeth grazing your skin with a hunger that sends a fresh wave of heat through you.

Without warning, he adjusts his angle, snapping his hips forward with brutal force, finding that perfect spot that makes your head fall back, your eyes fluttering shut again as you gasp his name, the word spilling from your lips in a breathless moan. His hand on your thigh tightens, keeping you open for him, holding you steady as he moves, each thrust deliberate, intense, sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you. The rhythm he sets is deep and powerful, every stroke designed to make you feel every inch of him.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice a low rasp, and when you open your eyes, his gaze is filled with something dark, possessive. There’s a smirk playing at his lips, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he watches you, every moan, every gasp, feeding that hunger in him. The pleasure builds, a coiling tension in your belly that threatens to spill over, and you bite your lip, trying to hold back the cries that rise up in your throat as his pace quickens, the intensity between you burning hotter. His hands grip you harder, pulling you against him as his mouth finds your neck again, nipping and biting, leaving little marks of possession on your skin. He snaps his hips into you with irrevocable need and your breaths come in short, wanting gasps as he presses into you, his thumb still against your clit, while the other stays locked on your thigh, his bruising hold keeping you from falling. His mouth finds yours again, devouring you as if he can’t get enough.

You try to kiss him back, you really do, but its all you can do to not gasp and moan against his lips, the pressure building too recklessly inside of you. The feeling of power in him as he moves, the strength in his body, the way he holds you as if you’re something he can’t bear to let go of, only makes your skin shiver even more. 

“Daryl…” you moan again, the sound barely a whisper as you feel yourself hovering on the edge, the pressure coiling tight, ready to explode. It’s like it’s the only thing you can think, only thing that coherently comes out of your mouth. His grip on you tightens, his voice low and hoarse in your ear.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, his words sending a fresh wave of heat through you as his pace intensifies, each thrust more relentless, pushing you closer, until finally, you shudder, your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you breathless, your moans filling the shower as you unravel.

Moments later, he lets out a strangled groan, his grip on you fierce as he follows, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his body tense and shuddering as he holds you close, as if he’s letting himself go completely, surrendering to the pleasure that has overtaken you both.

[samgirl98]

Dammit Clockwork! A Little Warning Next Time?

Wrote this while bored at work and on my iPhone so its not my best

“Come in,” a voice said at the other side of the door. Danny took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It was just his new boss. What's the worst that could happen? He'd get fired and have to find a new job.

Of course, being in Gotham, finding a job that wasn't Wayne Enterprise would be hard, especially one that offered such a sweet deal, like the scholarship and health benefits he would receive. So, no, Danny couldn't screw this up.

Danny didn't know why the CEO wanted to meet the scholarship recipients/ new employees one-on-one, but who was he to question it? After all, rich people were weird.

Danny took one last deep breath and swallowed his nerves. Everything would be fine.

He entered and came face-to-face with Tim Drake, CEO of WE.

They stared at each other for all of five seconds before Mr. Drake jumped over his desk.

Danny gave an embarrassing shriek as he fell to the ground hard. Ow, that hurt! To be fair, though, what else was he supposed to do when tackled by someone who could be his twin? Or a clone.

Well, maybe biting him hadn't been a good idea.

Danny heard a hiss above him as he bit down harder. There was no way in the Infinite Realms he would let go anytime soon. If this was a clone sent to kill him, Danny had to protect himself. Then he could worry about deprogramming him.

The look-alike tried to shake off Danny, causing him to bite down even harder.

And things had just started calming down, too.

His parents had kicked him out after they found out he was Phantom. He had been homeless on his eighteenth birthday, but honestly, being homeless and not vivisected was better than what he thought was going to happen.

Thankfully, the trio and Jazz had made a plan in case Danny had to run away from his parents. Sam had opened a bank account for Danny with a little over twenty thousand dollars. He was lucky he didn't have to use the fake IDs Tucker had set up. His parents had let him take his papers.

Which was how he found out he was adopted.

Danny had talked to the air in the little motel room he had ended up that night, begging for help from Clockwork. Danny didn't know if Clockwork had pitied him, but the Ancient had appeared. Clockwork had given Danny a vague clue about family in Gotham—Oh, the guy he was wrestling was probably the family he was hinted at.

Dammit, Clockwork, couldn't he have warned Danny?

Danny let go of Tim Drake.

Who was Drake to him? A sibling, a twin?

Danny didn't know yet.

Tim Drake was about to attack again when Danny put his hands up in surrender.

“Wait, wait!”

The other teenager stopped. Tim was breathing hard from the little impromptu fight they had been in.

Danny was glad that his half-dead status made it hard for him to have to catch his breath. It was impossible to run out of breath when one didn't have to breathe technically.

“Who are you,” the other boy asked.

“Fenton! Danny Fenton. I’m the new hire?”

Danny hated that the last sentence came out as a question.

“You bit me!”

“And you tackled me! Now that we have that out of the way, you're not a clone, are you,” Danny asked warily. After all, that wasn't out of the realm of possibilities for him.

“What? No! I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Why would a rich CEO be afraid of cloning,” Danny asked.

“Why would a small-town guy from the middle of nowhere America be afraid of cloning,” Tim fired back.

“Touche,” Danny said.

Neither of them said anything. They stared at each other until Danny broke the awkward silence.

“So, what now?”

“Now we take a DNA test and try to figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Ahh, I'm adopted and was told by mystical means that I have family in Gotham and was going to find them ‘when the time was right.’ I'm guessing now is that time.”

“That explains nothing,” Tim said in a hysteric voice. “What do you mean mystic means, and could you be more vague?”

Danny shrugged again, “Welcome to my world.”

A few hours later, through rich guys' means, Danny Fenton and Tim Drake had a piece of paper confirming they were twins.

Well, Danny’s afterlife just got interesting.

Later, Tim is going to feel pissed that Damian respects Danny but still treats Tim like crap.

They both try to hide their heroic tendencies from each other and fail miserably. Jason bonds with Danny over dying and death jokes. Danny also has to fight off Bruce with a broom. No, he doesn't want to get adopted again.

Sam and Tucker are laughing at Danny’s predicament and Jazz gives Tim the equivalent of a shovel talk not to hurt her baby brother or else.

DPXDC Prompt #131

Danny started his new job at Wayne industries today and he was a little nervous about messing up. His adopted family the Fentons kicked him out after finding out he was Phantom. Danny was a little disappointed but it was better than how he thought they’d react. He knew he had other family and from what little cryptic Clockwork told him they lived in Gotham.

He gets to his new bosses office and knocks on his door. When he’s told to come in Danny does so but then comes face to face by what he can only assume is his twin and the CEO of the company, Tim Drake. Danny had about 5 seconds before he found himself pinned to the floor.

[k2padfoot]

Let Me Show You

Rafe Cameron x Y/n

summary: Your relationship with Rafe is complicated, but you’re always there when he calls. After another explosive fight with Ward, you decide it’s time to show him what real love feels like.

warnings: SMUT!! Parental abuse, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff.

Your relationship with Rafe was complicated, to say the least. For months now, the two of you had been caught in this undefined space of not quite official, but undeniably more than casual. Rafe had always been guarded, struggling to let anyone get too close, but you kept trying. You couldn’t help it. Most of your friends couldn’t stand the idea of you being around him. They didn’t get it. They didn’t get him. But you did. You saw past the tough exterior, the anger, the mistakes. You saw the broken pieces he worked so hard to keep together. And Rafe? He understood you in ways no one else did. It was like you were two halves of the same puzzle, fitting together in a way that made sense to you both, even if no one else could see it.

You’d been here before, parked outside the Cameron home in the middle of the night, your hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white. This wasn’t the first time you’d shown up at Rafe’s after a bad night, but something about tonight felt different. Worse.

The wind carried a hint of salt from the ocean, the sound of waves crashing against the shore in the distance. But the house was quiet, almost too quiet. The kind of silence that felt heavy, like it was pressing down on your chest.

You turned the engine off and sat there for a moment, your heartbeat drumming in your ears. You weren’t sure what you’d find, but you couldn’t shake the image of Rafe’s face the last time you had to come here — the way his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with something you hadn’t seen before.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the door handle. You knew what he was dealing with, at least most of it. Ward Cameron wasn’t the picture-perfect father he liked to pretend to be. Behind closed doors, the mask slipped, revealing a side of him that was cold, controlling… abusive.

You stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching under your feet as you made your way to the side entrance, the one Rafe always left open for you. You pushed the door and slipped inside, the house dark and eerily still. You moved quietly through the halls, the only sound your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

You found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his bare shoulders hunched, a fresh bruise blooming across his cheekbone. He didn’t notice you at first, his head bowed as he stared down at his fists.

“Rafe,” you called softly, and his head jerked up, eyes wide and wild for a moment before he recognized you.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You took a step closer, your heart aching at the sight of him. “I came to see if you were okay,” you replied. “I—I was worried, I saw your text about Ward.”

He snorted, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be. I’m fine.”

But you could see the way his hands shook, the way his breath hitched, and you knew he was anything but fine.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice soft, cautious.

He looked away, his jaw clenching, and you could see the way his shoulders tensed, like he was trying to hold himself together, piece by piece.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, his voice tight. “Just… my dad being my dad.”

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm. “Rafe,” you pressed, “Tell me the truth. What did he do?”

Rafe flinched at your touch, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, but then his shoulders slumped, the fight seeming to drain out of him.

“He just.. he lost it again,” Rafe admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Started yelling about how I’m a disappointment, how I’m ruining everything, the usual right?”

Your heart clenched at the pain in his voice, the way he spoke like he was used to this, like it was just another day in the Cameron household. You knew Ward had a temper, but it was more than that. It was the way he tore into Rafe, the way he belittled him, made him feel like he was worth nothing. And sometimes, it was worse than just words.

“And then he hit you,” you said quietly, your eyes tracing the bruise on his cheek.

Rafe shrugged, a bitter smile on his lips. “He’s done worse,” he muttered.

You felt anger flare up inside you, hot and fierce. “He can’t treat you like this,” you snapped. “He’s your father. He’s supposed to protect you, not… not hurt you.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked to yours, something dark and haunted in his gaze. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t exactly see it that way,” he said, his voice hollow. “He thinks he’s teaching me a lesson. Making me tough, making me into a man or whatever bullshit he tells himself.”

You reached out, cupping his face gently, your thumb brushing against the edge of the bruise. He winced but didn’t pull away, his eyes locked on yours.

“He’s wrong,” you whispered, your voice fierce. “You’re not the problem, Rafe. You’re not broken.”

His eyes softened, just a little, and for a moment, you thought he might break down right then and there. But instead, he took a deep breath, his hands coming up to rest on your waist, pulling you closer.

“I don’t know why you care so much, I don’t deserve it” he muttered, but his voice had lost its edge, replaced by something softer, something that sounded almost like hope.

“Because I see you,” you replied. “I see who you really are, and it’s not what he says. It’s never been what he says.”

Rafe’s grip tightened on your waist, his forehead resting against yours. “You make me feel like I’m not worthless,” he murmured. “Like maybe… maybe there’s something good in me.”

“Because there is,” you insisted, your voice firm. “There’s a lot of good in you, Rafe. You just gotta stop believing his lies.”

He closed his eyes, a shuddering breath escaping his lips. “It’s hard,” he admitted, his voice raw. “It’s so fucking hard.”

“I know,” you whispered, your hands moving to his bare back, holding him close. “But you’re stronger than him. You’re better than him.”

For a moment, he just stood there, his body tense against yours. Then, slowly, he relaxed, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “Just stay, please.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” you promised, your hand running through his soft hair. “I’m right here.”

Rafe pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, and you saw the fear there, the vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was different this time — not desperate or wild, but gentle, as if he was afraid you might break.

You kissed him back, your heart breaking for the boy who’d never felt like he was enough. For the boy who’d been taught to believe that love came with conditions and that pain was just part of that deal.

But you wanted to show him different. You wanted to show him that love could be soft, that it could be safe. That he didn’t have to earn it or fight for it, that he was worthy just as he was.

As the kiss deepened, you felt him relax against you, his hands moving up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and for a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. It was just you and him, wrapped up in each other, in the quiet understanding that maybe, just maybe, you could heal each other’s broken parts.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were softer, his expression more at peace than you’d seen in a long time. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, your thumb brushing against his lips. “You don’t have to thank me,” you replied. “I’m here because I care, and I want to show you how much I do.”

You smile, your hand sliding down to take his. “Come upstairs with me,” you say, your voice still soft, but with an invitation to leave all of the chaos behind, if only for a little while.

He hesitates, his fingers tightening around yours, but you give him a gentle squeeze, leading him toward the stairs. “Let me take care of you,” you murmur, your eyes filled with a tenderness that makes his breath hitch.

As you guide him up the stairs, your steps are slow and unhurried, every movement filled with quiet promises. You glance back at him, giving him a small, reassuring smile, your hand squeezing his just a bit tighter.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you stop in front of his bedroom door, turning to face him. “I just want you to feel loved,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. His eyes search yours again, and this time, there’s a flicker of something softer, sweeter.

You step closer, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek, “Let me show you,” you say as your lips hover near his, your breath warm against his skin. He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch, and you can feel the tension begin to melt away bit by bit as you slowly guide him inside.

You shut the door softly behind the two of you, the faint click of the latch sealing you both inside, away from the rest of the world. The room feels smaller now, the air thick with unspoken words and the heat of anticipation. You turn to him, your hand still on his cheek, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse beneath your fingertips.

His eyes are still closed, his breath shallow, and for a moment, you just watch him. The way he’s standing there, so vulnerable, makes your heart ache. You know he’s not used to letting his guard down like this, and you don’t want to rush him.

“Are you okay with this?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. You shift a little closer, your bodies almost touching, your eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt. “Do you want to do this?”

His eyes flutter open, and when he looks at you, there’s something in his gaze that takes your breath away. A mix of longing and something deeper—something you can’t quite put into words.

He swallows hard, and his hands come up to rest on your waist, fingers flexing as if he’s testing the feel of you beneath his touch. “Yes,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. “I want this. I want you.”

Your heart skips a beat, a rush of warmth flooding through you. You lean in closer, your lips barely brushing against his as you whisper, “Then you can have me.”

Within seconds his lips crashed into yours with a mix of desperation and need. His hands were exploring all over your body as he gently guided you toward the bed. You swiftly turned him around, softly pushing him back on to the bed, crawling over top of him and reconnecting your lips in a desperate manner, “You’re perfect Rafe.” you muttered between kisses, before your lips trailed to his neck and then to his ear. When you placed a gentle bite to his ear a hushed moan escaped his lips.

Quickly he started trailing his own lips on your neck this time, and after placing a few marks he drew himself back, his hands reaching for the hem of your shirt. “Take this off for me.” He said in a low tone that sent shivers down your spine.

Gently Rafe pulled off your shirt and to his surprise you weren’t wearing any bra, “Fuck.” He let out a shaky breath as he took in the sight of your bare chest. “So beautiful.” He muttered through sloppy kisses down your neck until he reached your tits, and without warning he took your nipple into his mouth and began swirling his tongue around it, earning a low moan from you.

“Mmm, you sound so pretty baby.” Rafe groaned against your tits.

Through muffled moans you pushed Rafe off of your chest, “As much as I want you to keep doing that, please let me take care of you first.” You practically begged.

Rafe smiled up at you, his thumbs softly running gentle circles into your hips. “You know you don’t have too?”

“Rafe, I want too. I want to show you how much I care about you.” You softly spoke, your eyes never leaving his.

You watched as his eyes softened in a way that you’d never seen before, in a way that almost looks like he loves you as much as you love him. “Please Y/n, that’s all I want,” he pleaded to you.

You smiled at him before leaning in and planting a tender kiss to his lips. Pulling away, you placed your hands onto his bare chest and slowly drug your fingers down his toned abs, earning a small grunt from Rafe’s lips.

Your fingers finally met the edge of his sweats as you curled them around the grey material and slowly pulled the pants and boxers down. A small gasp escaped your lips as his rock hard cock sprung against his lower belly, the precum dripping from his tip having you immediately licking your lips in anticipation.

“God Rafe, you’re unreal.” You said as you sat there admiring him like a piece of art. You bent down planting tender kisses to his lower belly, continuing with equal devotion down to the curve of his hips. “I’m gonna take good care of you.” You uttered just before taking his length into your mouth.

“Ohh shit, Y/n.” He cried out as you worked your tongue around his shaft, your head bobbing up and down at an eager pace.

Your swirled your tongue around his tip before taking all of him into your throat, “Don’t stop baby,” Rafe cried out in bliss, his fingers gripping your hair now, “I-I’m close.” You moaned around his cock, sucking harder, faster, and that was all it took before you felt him release into your mouth.

But before he could even catch his breath your hands were gently gliding up his stomach, ascending to his chest, only to stop with a gentle touch to his face. “You’re so special, Rafe.” You whispered, letting your thumb tenderly stroke his bruised cheek.

Rafe’s blue eyes locked on yours, a flicker of intensity flashing within them. “Say that again,” he murmurs, his voice a soft command that sends a shiver through your body.

Your heart clenched at his words. You gazed at him, your eyes brimming with adoration, and with a soft whisper, you repeated the words, capturing his lips in to a passionate kiss.

The kiss deepened, growing more heated with every passing second as Rafe’s hands roamed hungrily over your body. Without breaking away, you hastily shimmied out of your shorts and panties, pressing yourself against him, feeling the sweet friction of his shaft against your aching core.

At the sudden feeling of your slick folds sliding against his cock, a deep moan escaped Rafe’s lips, vibrating through the air before he abruptly broke the kiss. You didn’t stop though, you kept moving against him, your hips grinding in a desperate rhythm as his free hand gently tilted your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes were dark with desire, his mouth parted in a breathless ‘o’ as he stared at you with a raw intensity. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

You captured his lips again, moaning softly against them as your hips moved with a deliberate rhythm, grinding even harder against him. Rafe broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Fuck Y/n,” he panted, eyes wild with desire, “Are you trying to kill me?”

A sly smile curved your lips, “Maybe I am,” you murmured teasingly. “You think I should do something about it?”

His hands gripped your waist, his voice almost a growl. “Please,” he pleaded, a mix of frustration and need etched across his face. You felt a rush of emotions at his plea and slowly you wrapped your fingers around his cock, positioning him at your entrance, and with deliberate slowness you began to sink down on him, every inch igniting a fire between you both.

Rafe’s head flew back, a deep guttural groan escaping his throat at the same time a sultry moan left your own lips.

You sank all the way down, taking a moment to feel the closeness before you began to bounce on his cock, the rhythm starting to build as his hands found your tits. He caressed you tenderly, twirling your nipple between his fingers and drawing a soft moan from your mouth. You began to pick up your pace, rocking your hips with more intensity, the air filled with nothing but your combined moans and the sharp, steady sound of skin meeting skin.

“Oh—oh god, you’re so good to me.” Rafe cried out in bliss, his voice thick with emotion. His words almost made you pause, a rush of warmth flowing through you. And without thinking, you answered, “Only for you baby, ohh Rafe.. only for you.”

Without warning, Rafe swiftly flipped you onto your back, taking control as he hovered over you now. His thrusts became urgent, driven by need and pure desire. One hand gripped your hip with a sharp hold, while the other cupped your jaw, guiding your gaze to meet his. “I… I love you,” he managed to utter, his voice laced with emotion.

You felt his words hit you harder than the intensity of his movements. For a second, your breath caught, and your mind spun. Rafe Cameron loves you. It was something you’d never really let yourself believe could happen, and yet here he was, looking at you like you were his entire world. The vulnerability in his eyes stripped away every doubt, every hesitation you might’ve had.

A soft, genuine smile tugged at your lips as you reached up, brushing a hand through his hair and whispering, “I love you too, Rafe.” The way his expression shifted made your heart swell. You could feel the tension between you both change, a new kind of urgency building as his pace quickened.

“Fuck, let go for me baby. Cum all over my cock,” he whispered against your lips. Your body immediately reacted to his words as you let go around him, his own release following closely. Rafe’s chest heaved as he slowly lowered himself beside you, his arm pulling you close so you rested against him, feeling his heartbeat start to steady under your palm. Silence settled around you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a moment suspended in time, a shared quiet that didn’t need words.

He let out a shaky exhale, as though he were finally able to breathe. “You make me feel… different,” he admitted, almost to himself, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your back. “Like I’m enough. Even when I’m not proud of who I am, you see me like no one else ever has.” He said, his voice breaking slightly with the weight of his confession.

You tilted your head up to look at him, your fingers grazing his cheek. “You are enough, Rafe,” you murmured, your words a promise. “I see every part of you, even the parts you’re scared to show anyone else. And I love you because of it, not in spite of it.” He gazed down at you, his blue eyes softened with an emotion so raw it nearly took your breath away again. His thumb brushed gently over your cheek as he whispered, “I don’t deserve you… but I’m so damn grateful you’re here.”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, feeling his arms wrap around you a little tighter. For the first time in a long time, you knew he believed it.

[byechristopher]

hellooo can you write a fic where reader and chris have a pregnancy scare?

what could be.

Author's note: thank you for the request, and sorry for being so late, pft. I hope you like it anon, here is an angsty/fluffy fic with Chris. Him and babies make me giddy fr. Don't copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: uhm, none. But y'all.. use protection always. Didn't proofread!

⠀

It started with a simple sentence, one that hung in the air like a grenade waiting to go off.

"My period’s a week late."

Chris froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. The casual dinner we were having, sitting on the couch like we always did, suddenly felt like something fragile, ready to shatter. His face went pale as he put his fork down, staring at me like he hadn’t quite understood what I’d just said.

"What?" His voice was flat, cold.

I shifted uncomfortably, already regretting saying anything. "I’m late, Chris. A week late."

He sat back, his eyes narrowing as if he could will this entire conversation out of existence. "Are you serious?"

I nodded. "I thought it was just stress at first, but…"

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, running a hand through his hair, the frustration already palpable. "How could this happen?"

The way he said it — like it was some personal failure, like this was my fault, made my blood run cold.

"Uhm, now I don't mean to break it to you.." I snapped, my voice rising defensively, "but we were both there, remember?"

"Yeah, well, you’re the one who keeps track of this stuff, right? Shouldn’t you have known?" His voice was sharp, accusatory, and it stung.

I stood up from the couch, the tension in my body rising like a tidal wave, "what the actual fuck are you even saying? You think I want this to be happening? You think this is something I wanted to deal with right now?"

Chris got up too, pacing in the small living room, his hands clenched at his sides, "no, I don’t know what the hell you want! All I know is, we’re not ready for this. We can’t be dealing with a fucking baby right now."

I felt the familiar lump forming in my throat, but I swallowed it down, refusing to let him see how much his words hurt. "Chris, we’re in this together, okay? Why are you acting like I did something wrong?"

"Because this is—" He stopped, running his hands over his face. "This changes everything, okay? Everything we’ve been working for. All our plans, all our.. us!"

"What, and a baby ruins all that?" I cut him off, my voice shaking with anger. "Is that what you think? That this would ruin everything?"

He didn’t answer right away, and the silence that followed was louder than any argument we’d ever had. He just stood there, staring at the floor, and I couldn’t tell if he was thinking or trying to come up with a way to end this conversation without making it worse.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "Yeah. I think it would."

I blinked, feeling like I’d been slapped. I could feel my heart racing, the adrenaline pushing through me, making me feel sick. "Wow," I whispered, stepping back like I needed space from him, like I couldn’t stand being near him right now. "That’s really how you fucking feel?"

He looked up, his face tight with frustration. "We’re not ready for this. You know that. You’ve got your career just starting to take off, I’m still figuring things out. It’s not the right time."

"You don’t get to decide that for both of us," I shot back, my voice cracking under the weight of the argument. "This is happening, whether you like it or not. What are you going to do if I am pregnant? Walk away?"

Chris’s eyes flashed with something—maybe guilt, maybe regret, I couldn’t tell. "I’m not walking away," he said through gritted teeth, "but I’m not going to pretend like I’m okay with this either."

I didn’t say anything else. I couldn’t. The hurt and anger tangled up inside me was too much, and if I opened my mouth again, I didn’t trust what would come out. Instead, I turned and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, his silence chasing me as I went.

For the next day and a half, we barely spoke. Every interaction was charged, electric with the weight of what had been said and left unsaid. He slept on the couch that night, and I didn’t bother asking him to come back to bed. I wasn’t sure I wanted him there.

The test sat on the bathroom counter, waiting for me, taunting me with the unknown. I couldn’t bring myself to take it, not when things between us felt so raw, so fragile. But after another restless night of tossing and turning, I couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore. I had to know.

When I walked into the living room that morning, Chris was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at his phone. He looked up when I entered, and for a second, there was something in his eyes—regret, maybe. Or guilt. I couldn’t tell.

"I’m taking the test," I said, my voice flat.

He stood up, nodding stiffly. "I’ll come with you."

"Yeah, you don't fucking have to." I said, but he followed me either way.

We walked to the bathroom in silence, and I grabbed the box off the counter with shaking hands. Chris stood by the door, watching me, his expression unreadable. I couldn’t even look at him as I went through the motions, my stomach twisting into knots.

When it was done, we sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the result. The timer on my phone ticked down, each second stretching out longer than the last.

"I’ve been thinking," Chris said suddenly, his voice softer than it had been in days. I glanced at him, unsure of what to expect.

"About what?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "About everything. About what I said… how I reacted."

I remained silent.

He hesitated before continuing, "I was scared, okay? I still am. I’m terrified, actually. But… I’ve been thinking. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing."

I blinked, surprised. "What?"

He looked at me, his expression softer now, more open. "I’m not saying it’d be easy. But if you are pregnant, I mean… we’d figure it out, right? We’d get through it."

For the first time in days, I felt a tiny flicker of hope. "You really think so?"

He nodded, his gaze steady on mine. "Yeah. I don’t want to be that guy who just freaks out and runs away. If it happens, I want to be there for you. For both of you."

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. Maybe we’d been fighting, maybe we were scared, but hearing him say that made me feel like we could actually do this, if we had to.

"And if I really think about it.." he continued, his thumb on my cheek caressing the skin so gently, as if I was a porcelain doll, "the idea of having a little baby with you that looks just like their mom.. yeah, I think I'm fine with that." he teased with a little smile and that's all I needed to hear.

The timer went off, the sharp beep cutting through the air. We both froze, looking at each other.

"Do you want to…?" Chris asked, nodding toward the bathroom.

I shook my head. "You can look."

He stood up, walking over to the counter, his movements slow and hesitant. I watched him as he picked up the test, his face unreadable. For a moment, he just stared at it, not saying anything.

Finally, he looked up at me, his expression a mixture of relief and something else I couldn’t quite place. "It’s negative."

I let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the world lift off my shoulders. "Negative?"

He nodded, setting the test down and walking back over to me. "Yeah. You’re not pregnant."

Relief washed over me, but there was something else too. Something that felt almost like disappointment. I pushed it down, not wanting to think too much about it.

Chris sat down beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I’m sorry," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "For how I acted. I didn’t handle any of this well."

I leaned into him, closing my eyes as I let the warmth of his embrace chase away the last remnants of fear. "It’s okay," I murmured. "We’re okay."

"Is it crazy that I've started to warm up to the idea?" he whispered against my hair and even though I didn't want a baby, I still felt giddy hearing him say that.

"Your mood swings are acting up." I teased and buried my face into the crook of his neck, pressing a kiss there, "although.. so did I." I whispered.

[soapssuds]

stubborn heart ch. 9

yan!capitano x wife!reader

summary | or in which capitano is told he needs a wife. and he begrudgingly agrees.

previous | next

You paced your shared room with the Captain, the urge to bite your lip in nervousness becoming strong until you heard the bathroom door open. Your pacing came to a quick stop as you glanced towards the door where Capitano stood.

“Bed, now.”

The way his voice reverberated in his chest sent chills down your spine when he came up to you, his hold all but firm when he grabbed you. Then, he bent down. His mouth pressing to your neck and your senses went on overdrive.

And that was all could remember when you woke up the next morning, but it was clear what had happened.

Groaning to yourself, you sat up in the bed and tugged the covers up so you could hide your face into the soft blankets, “I- I can’t believe I fainted again!”

You could feel your face become increasingly hot at the mere memories of everything that had happened yesterday. How you admitted to being experienced, how he said he would show up what a wife and husband do, and consummating a marriage…, “when am I going to stop making an idiot out of myself in front of him?!”

You plopped back into the bed, your hands pulling the covers just enough for your eyes to peek out so you could stare up at the ceiling.

“I wonder if he is already regretting taking me as his wife,” you all but muttered to yourself as someone gave a few knocks to your door – that someone being Atri as her voice piped up behind the barrier separating you both.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!”

You, in fact, did not want to rise and shine. You would much rather fall and dull. Granted it seems you did enough falling last night.

“I’m getting up,” you called out to her, your body moving on its own but quickly winced when you felt a slight sting on your neck. Raising your hand to the sensitive area, you felt a few indents that suspiciously mirrored a set of teeth. The realization was quick to slap you in the face as you felt your face grow hot again.

He bit me?!

Your mind was working on overdrive as you stumbled over yourself to get ready. Pure steam basically coming out your ears as you got your clothes on.

You weren’t mad, far from it. You were just incredibly embarrassed. When he kissed and bit onto your neck, you must have gotten to overwhelmed and fainted. You seriously wanted to hide away by this point. What was wrong with you?1

Shaking your head, you exited your room.

“Good morning, y/n.”

“Morning Atri- what’s wrong with your face?”

You quirked an eyebrow when you looked at her and then you followed her gaze and realized what she was looking at.

“Atri, no-“

“Ohh! I’m so happy! I wonder if you’ll have a boy or a girl. Maybe even twins-“

You covered her mouth to quiet her. Your face darkening a deep shade of red across your (color) cheeks, “we didn’t- we didn’t do anything like that! I mean, we were, at least I think we were, but I- I- fainted the moment he got his mouth on my neck-“

You talked fast, almost in a panic as you talked to your maid, and when you were done she had gently pried your hands from her mouth and patted your head, “it’s alright-“

“No it isn’t.. I’m supposed to be his wife, but I- I mess everything up. I can’t even be in the same room as him without fainting. I just… I just think he’ll be better off within someone else.”

Atri studied you for a moment before smiling. Her hand gently running through your hair as she pulled you in for a hug, “it’s been tough on you, hasn’t it? Getting married to a harbinger without a say in the matter, being moved to an unknown place with unfamiliar people. Then there’s your life before Capitano. Your life at the hearth. I may not know what you went through, but I can tell it’s been an uphill battle. And you want to know something?”

You opened your eyes and looked up at her then.

“You’re stubborn.”

You deadpanned, “what?”

“What?”

You quirked an eyebrow again, your previous sorrow momentarily forgotten, “I’m… stubborn?”

Atri smiled and nodded, “yep! Stubborn hearts like yours are hard to come by in such a cold place, Lord Capitano must have seen that and immediately took interest in you. You being here is a testament to all the hardships you endured, so it’s ok to embarrass yourself and to relax, ok?”

You nodded along while trying to keep up with everything she was saying. Back then, there was never any room for error. You either do it and succeed or don’t and let the cold kill you. There was never an in-between.

“So… it’s ok to just… not do anything at all?”

Atri nodded almost enthusiastically, “of course! No more silly work, or worrying about stupid bills. It’s just you enjoying your new life with Capitano, and don’t think for a second of trying to back out of this. You deserve this. So just sit back and relax.”

You sighed but eventually surrendered causing Atri to be pleased with herself as she grabbed a hold of your hands again, “now, time for breakfast, and afterwards we can go shopping for a dress for you!”

“What for?”

“For a small party the Tsaritsa is holding for her harbingers that you and Lord Capitano will be attending.”

“Oh, ok- wait, what?!”

taglist

@littlekohai77 @lvtuss @kreishin @floffytofu @nastylilcvnt @nas-ha @simp-simp-no-mi @emmathecouchpotato4583 @sendria @riotakire @mikoslightnovels @feral-childs-word @barbatoss-bitch @venicecherryblossom @squirrelboxer @temperamentupgrade @avalordream @immahuman @xavlyzn @greensunflowerjuna @sarah22447 @naviabestgiirl @nevermoresworld @depressedbearblogs @ppancakesforu @0vendettaself @lilyalone @mochiivqi @pbjts @chewwyaaa @c4xcocoa @ren-ren23 @tazuduck @atrebiusr @simpingbigtime @aryuunachigiri @judithregulus @crowleysthings @yns-sister @satori-runa @meowmeow999999 @beeskn3es @tamikahoshiko @shoyosdoll @ngadasblog @sugacor3 @xiana21 @melancholyae @jjkysnk @s1mppp @that1weirdshipper @himikoquack @sugaryesplease12 @gallantys @wiltedpoison @vamqyx

[fan-maddson]

“And trying to handle everything on your own,” she offered softly. “Maybe…if you need to talk about it, honey, I’m here. I’m always here. Or if you’d rather talk to someone else…all I’m saying is I’ll do anything I can to help you. And…I kinda had a feeling. But we can work on it, okay? But you have to start by talking about what’s bothering you.” She paused for a moment, then continued.

“Should I come home?”

Can’t Breathe

“You know,  you can use the front door,” Fannie called to Eddie from her bedroom window. “We’re not kids anymore…besides, you’re useless to me dead or injured.” She flashed him a sweet smile, excited to see him. The summer was winding down and she was getting ready to head back to classes. In fact, she should have left last week, but the idea of leaving him again was too much. They’d always been friendly during school, but when she ran into him over winter break her freshman year, something changed. 

Maybe it was being away from Hawkins, actually being able to be herself without feeling like she was constantly being compared to the other girls in town. Maybe it was getting out of her head, and getting the courage to say more than hi to him. Whatever “it” was, this thing between them had grown to be more for her. But she doubted he would ever see her as more than a friend with benefits, another notch on his belt. But gods, when she looked at him, he was all she could see. All it would take was him asking her to stay, and she would. Even if it only meant there was a slight chance there could be something more.

@stuffandthangsandangelwings

[fairytalelover33]

One thing that will never cease to amaze me is how OVERLOOKED VI’S TRAUMA IS IN ARCANE.

Maybe it’s just the oldest daughter in me talking; But the trend I most often see in Arcane posts, rants and such, is a back and forth over Caitlin and Jinx. Who’s in the right between the two, who’s justified, who has more of a reason to grieve over their dead parent.

Vi is almost NEVER talked about when it comes to who has the right. And that is SO oldest sister of her.

She was the one old enough to properly understand what happened when their parents got killed.

She was the token older sister, always prepared to defend and take the fall for her younger siblings, hell, she was even prepared to get arrested or God knows what to protect Powder, Milo and Claggor at the age of what, 14-16?

She DID get arrested, and she was in there for about 7 years, in the darkest, dampest place she could possibly be, without sunlight, or fresh air, or ANY idea on if she would ever get out, her only hope and reason for pushing on STILL being her younger sister who also accidentally killed their entire family. WHO VI STILL LOVES AND WANTS TO PROTECT DESPITE THE FACT. And we also learn that Vi was definitely physically abused while she was stuck in that cell, (the look on her face when she hears that clunking coming down the hall proves it wasn’t an every once in a while thing.) She was literally forced to grieve alone, in the worst place imaginable, with no one to help her.

She is consistently shown blaming herself for the decisions of other people, because the over-pressured sister and daughter in her will definitely never fully grasp the fact that ITS NOT HER FAULT.

She had to come to terms with the fact that her little sister had chosen to work for and bond with the man that was responsible for the death of their father figure, and even then, after hearing the things Jinx had done, the ways she’d changed, Vi STILL tried to love her, to save her.

She was faced with a choice between her sister, and her (basically) girlfriend, and no matter how much you defend Jinx, or how much trauma she went through, or her lack of emotional maturity, none of that takes away from the pure terror of watching your sister point a gun in the face of someone you love, trying to make you ‘choose’. And then in the same moment, watching your girlfriend point a gun at your sister? Constantly being stuck in the middle of everyone you love?

Almost everyone she has ever loved either died, or completely turned on her, becoming a different person, or just straight up abandoning her.

The difference between her and the other trauma filled children of this series is that she’s not easy to pity like everyone else. She’s actually strong, and hasn’t completely lost her morals or snapped, even after everything she’s been through, so people don’t sympathize with her. She’s the token older sister, overlooked, over relied on, and villainized when she shows any sliver of fragile humanity.

(SORRY FOR MY VI RANT I JUST NEEDED TO GET THAT OUT 😔✊)

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |10|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Fighting, Attempted Murder, Stabbing, Strangling

Word Count: 4k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

You sat on the back of an ambulance as one of the medics checked you out. You didn’t get hurt in the fight, but you didn’t realize you had ripped open your stitches until a medic was running over to you, asking if you were okay and pointing at the drops of blood. You denied them when they asked if you wanted to go to the hospital, you didn’t have time for all that, so they just stitched you up there and gave you a disapproving look.

“Gone up against Ghostface twice and game come out on top both times,” someone said. You looked up to see Kirby walking over to you. “Not many can say they’ve done that.”

“Seems like plenty have survived Ghostface,” you mumbled. Your eyes moved to focus on the figures behind Kirby. Sam was next to Tara as they were checked out by a medic and gave their statement to an officer. You took notice that the detective who was apparently on the case was the one person yet to be on the scene.

Kirby bobbed her head back and forth. “Not usually on their first encounter, unless they were running away or someone else showed up.”

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Bailey shouted as he stormed up to you and Kirby. “You had a gun?”

“It’s licensed,” you snapped. “And it came in handy, would you like me to not have a weapon when a psycho is attacking us?”

Bailey scoffed and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe you dared argue with him. “Lot of good that did, he got away,” he gestured to the store.

“I got him, it’s not my fault you didn’t arrive in time.”

“Well, you didn’t finish the job,” Bailey snapped, as if it were your fault Ghostface got away. “Thought you were supposed to be special forces,” he scoffed.

You slowly rose from the ambulance until you were standing tall, staring Bailey down. “I’m a soldier, not an executioner,” you kept your voice steady but there was an edge to your tone, one daring Bailey to cross the invisible line.

Bailey let out a chuckle, as if he were truly amused you said that. “Your file isn’t even legible with how much is redacted,” Bailey stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “How many missions have you had involved you getting your hands dirty?” You clenched your jaw, he was trying to compare your missions to Ghostface, they were completely different, as a cop he should know that. “How many people have you executed without them even knowing you were there?”

“It’s different,” you said, your tone quiet as you tried to contain the rage underneath. You were aware of Sam’s eyes on you from where she still stood next to Tara, though she moved forward a few steps, as if she were going to come intervene between you and Bailey.

“Why?” Bailey chuckled. “Because those were your orders?”

You stepped forward, ready to give Bailey a piece of your mind when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked to the side to see Kirby, silently asking you to let it go. “Let’s all just take a breath,” she said, looking between you and Bailey.

“I got civilians dead because-”

“Because we haven’t got this guy,” Kirby snapped. She positioned herself in front of you, so she was now standing between you and Bailey. “So, why don’t we stop placing blame and catch this fucker.”

Bailey gave a little snarl but finally backed away. “I have a crime scene to work,” he mumbled as he turned and walked towards the store.

“When did you get the call?” You asked, your eyes tracking Bailey as he crouched down at the body of the store owner just inside the door.

“A thank you would suffice,” Kirby said when she turned around. The amused smirk on her face told you she wasn’t actually mad at you.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely anyway. “When did the call come in?”

“About twenty minutes ago. Someone saw Ghostface chasing after some people down the street,” Kirby looked back at the bodega. “Then several calls about shots fired came in a minute later.”

“Response was quick,” your eyes scanned all the cops working the scene. There was more than what would usually be considered necessary, but most of the officers were being used to hold back random people trying to get a look and the media.

“I was at the station.” Your eyes instantly snapped to Kirby. “I actually thought we might get here in time,” she let out a humorless chuckle. When she looked back at you, she furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Where was Bailey?” If Kirby was at the station, then there was no reason for Bailey to arrive as late as he did. All the other cops and Kirby arrived well before the detective who was supposed to be working the case, who claimed to care so much about the innocent lives being lost.

“I’m not sure,” Kirby shook her head. “Wait, you don’t actually think…” her voice got quieter with each word. “But you hit Ghostface.”

“Only in the chest,” your tone dropped to barely above a whisper. You didn’t know who to trust, you couldn’t risk anyone over hearing you. On top of that, just because you had your suspicions you didn’t have proof, you couldn’t be spreading rumors about Bailey if he wasn’t actually guilty, it could ruin his career. As much as you hated the guy you weren’t about to destroy a man’s career without evidence that he was dirty. “Whoever it was, was wearing Kevlar.”

Kirby followed your gaze and watched Bailey with the same kind of gaze as you. “They could have just seen the movies, learned to always wear a vest.” You nodded, that was likely, based on what little you heard it seemed like these psychos studied each other, trying to learn where the previous incarnation went wrong.

“Everything in me is telling me not to trust him,” you said.

“Better safe than sorry if you trust no one.” You looked at Kirby, watching as her eyes scanned the crowd, memorizing every face, just in case someone stood out or someone popped up again.

“Even you?” You raised an eyebrow.

You liked Kirby a lot more than Bailey. She’d done nothing but treat you with respect so far and you’d return the courtesy. At the end of the day though, you didn’t know her, you didn’t know any of them. Kirby hadn’t given you a reason to be suspicious of her but that didn’t mean she couldn’t possibly be involved. It was hell of a coincidence for Kirby to show up right after Ghostface attacked Sam, but she said she investigated Ghostface attacks, she knew Sam, they had a shared history, it was clear Kirby had a history with at least one of the previous Ghostface’s, like Sam and her friends did.

Kirby turned her head and looked at you, her eyes seemed to analyze you. She gave a little shrug. “Can never be too careful,” she said, nodding her head. “How much do you know about Ghostface, the attacks?”

You shrugged. “Not much,” you said. Of course, you knew the stories, everyone did, but you didn’t know the details. “I know the rumors whispered about Sam,” you looked across the way where Sam still stood with Tara.

“Well, I won’t say anything about Sam, that’s her story to tell.” You gave a ghost of a smile at that, you didn’t believe the rumors, you wanted to hear Sam’s story from herself. “But Ghostface is usually connected to the group of friends he’s going after. The first attacks were done by Billy Loomis and his best friend Stu Macher all to get back at Sidney Prescott, who Billy was dating.” You nodded, you were aware of that much of the story. “Me and my friends were attacked in 2011.” You furrowed your brow, you had been a freshman in high school, you probably heard people talking about the attacks in school but didn’t know any details.

You looked at Kirby when she didn’t immediately continue. She was clearly trying to remain composed but there were tears in her eyes, and rage underneath. “My best friend and the guy I liked were the ones behind the attacks. All because Jill wanted to be famous,” she shook her head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Of my friends, I was the only one to survive.”

You looked at Kirby in a new light, you understood now where all her pain and motivation came from. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. Those words wouldn’t do anything, but they were the only thing you could offer. It wasn’t easy being the only survivor, it was lonely, no one could quite understand it, you knew that all too well.

Kirby gave you a thankful smile. “I know why you didn’t finish the job,” she whispered. “But this kind of thing,” she shook her head. “It only ends in two ways, kill or be killed.”

You looked down, taking in Kirby’s words. You had done a lot of terrible things, things you never talked about. You did all of them for the greater good though, at least that’s what you told yourself, you were following orders, trying to stop someone bad from doing something worse. Killing Ghostface in self-defense was one thing but executing him when he was already down was another. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before, but those were always terrible people, terrorists, crime lords, people who did unspeakable things. You knew Ghostface wasn’t good but in your head, there was a separation, that being in New York, being home, it made things different, war was one thing, this was another altogether.

“Are you okay?” Kirby asked, bringing you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Sam and Tara had approached.

“Now that we’re done with the endless questioning,” Sam grumbled.

“It’s just protocol,” Kirby gave her an apologetic smile.

“Are we free to go?”

“Of course.” Kirby looked back at you, “I just need your gun.” You let out a displeased sigh. “Protocol.”

“I know,” you said, still clearly displeased. You pulled out your gun, releasing the magazine and making sure there wasn’t one in the chamber before dropping it into the evidence bag Kirby held out.

You fired your gun, it was an active crime scene, and that meant your gun was evidence. Even though you didn’t kill anyone they still needed your gun to at least know which bullets were from you and which ones were from Ghostface, even though your 9mm was completely different than the shotgun Ghostface was using.

“Don’t worry, I will personally make sure the lab gets this,” Kirby said.

You watched her walk off. “Are you okay?” Sam asked, making you look at her. “Things with Bailey seemed tense.”

You rolled your eyes and looked around until you found Bailey across the way talking to one of the other officers. “Apparently he wasn’t satisfied with the way I handled things,” you said, glaring at Bailey.

“You saved our lives,” Sam said softly, you stopped glaring at Bailey to give Sam a grateful smile.

“Did you have a gun this whole time?” Tara asked, speaking for the first time since the attack happened. She was looking at you suspiciously, trying to appear strong with her arms crossed, but you could see the fear behind her eyes.

“Yes,” you answered honestly, you knew it would do no good to lie to Tara.

“Did you know?” she looked at her sister.

“Yes,” Sam said. Tara’s face morphed into one of hurt. “I thought it was better if no one knew, we don’t know who to trust.”

Tara clenched her jaw as she wordlessly nodded. “You could have told me.” Sam guiltily looked down as Tara stormed off.

You gently tapped Sam’s shoulder and offered her a small smile. She returned your smile and the two of you followed after Tara. You understood why Tara was upset, if the roles were reversed, you’d probably feel the same. On the other hand, the only reason you were able to get the upper hand on Ghostface was because no one else knew you had the gun on you.

The three of you walked back to the apartment without another incident. You noticed how Sam shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket as you passed people, keeping her head down, probably hoping none of them recognized her. Three of you trekked up the various sets of stairs until you finally got back to the sister’s apartment.

“Where is everyone?” Sam asked as soon as she stepped through the door.

You came up behind her, peeking around her to see Ethan and Quinn were nowhere in sight. “Quinn is with a gentleman caller,” Mindy said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Ethan left a little bit after you,” Chad said, not even bothering to look up as he mindless flipped through channels on the TV. “Said he had Econ.”

Sam rolled her eyes as she walked towards the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water. Tara flopped down in the chair next to the couch and you made your way to the far end of the couch, taking a seat next to Chad. A moment later Chad furrowed his brow and sat up straighter. You looked up to see he had stopped flipping through the channels and had stopped on the news. You furrowed your brow as well when you saw a picture of Sam pop up on the screen. Mindy plucked the remote out of Chad’s hand and turned up the volume.

“Ghostface is taking on New York,” the report said. “And the prime suspect seems to be Samantha Carpenter, daughter of the original Ghostface killer, Billy Loomis.” You looked to the side to see Sam standing in the doorway, her eyes filled with tears as she stared at the TV, trying to remain strong. “She is rumored to have setup her boyfriend, Richie Kirsch, in the killings last year.” Your ears instantly perked up at the name, it was the same name that popped up on Sam’s phone before the recent attack. “Right before killing him herself. Now-”

“Bullshit!” Chad snapped, aggressively pressing the power button. “They don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.” He slammed down the remote on the coffee table.

Chad jumped up from the couch and stormed over to the dining table where Tara was sitting next to Sam, Mindy following close behind. You watched as Sam curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible as Tara tried to comfort her. You couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, and you didn’t feel right about eavesdropping, they deserved their privacy. You decided to focus on your feet, as Sam’s friends tried to comfort her. You tried not to let what the reporter said invade your mind, you learned a little more about Sam, but you didn’t want to take the media’s word for it. Sam wasn’t a suspect, they already got that wrong, she was the victim.

You heard loud banging coming from Quinn’s room but didn’t think much of it as everyone laughed it off, seeming to go on as if this was regular occurrence. Everyone’s phones, besides yours, went off, shifting the energy in the room. You slid next to Anika, looking over her shoulder as she opened a message on her phone, showing a picture of Quinn being stabbed by Ghostface.

Everyone shot to their feet, the yelling from Quinn’s room got louder then suddenly stopped. Everyone gathered in the middle of the living room as they stared at Quinn’s door, waiting to for what would happen next. Before you knew it the door flung open and Ghostface tossed Quinn’s body out, which landed on Anakin, sending her to the ground.

“Go!” you shouted, pointing at the front door.

Chad grabbed Tara and yanked her out the front door. When Mindy tried to follow Ghostface slashed her across the arm and sent her to the ground.

Anika pushed Quinn’s body off herself and pulled herself to her feet. Ghostface was right there though, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her into the wall. He raised his knife, twirling it back and forth as he got ready to stab Anika. Without thinking you rushed forward and tackled him to the ground before he could stab Anika.

You punched Ghostface in the face, ignoring the pain that radiated through your knuckles with each hit to the mask. You grabbed his hand that was holding the knife and slammed it on the ground until he dropped it. You pushed the knife away before trying to stand up. As soon as you started to get off Ghostface he swung his legs around, tripping you and sending you back to the floor. He scrambled away from you as he grabbed his knife again.

He jumped back to his feet and stood over you, tilting his head as he waved the knife back and forth. You smirked when you saw Sam come up from behind him and hit him on the back of the head with a wood block of some sort. When Ghostface stumbled forward you kicked out your foot, tripping him and sending him tumbling to the floor.

Sam held out a hand to you and as soon as you took it, she yanked you up. While Sam was helping you, Anika helped Mindy up, then Sam ushered the three of you into the bedroom. She ran across the room and into the bathroom to lock a door while you slammed the door closed as soon as you got inside. Everyone rushed around the room, knocking over furniture and using anything to try and barricade the doors.

“Danny?” Sam asked, furrowing her brow as she looked out the window. You followed her gaze to see her neighbor waving his arms out his window as he tried to get someone’s attention.

Sam opened the window. “Are you crazy?” she called out. You made your way next to her to see Danny pushing a ladder out of his window. You helped Sam grab the ladder and stabilize it so everyone could crawl across.

“Go,” you said, nodding at Sam.

Sam looked back at Mindy and Anika as they tried to hold the door closed as Ghostface attempted to shove his way in. “But-” she looked back at you.

“Go,” you ordered, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Sam reluctantly got on the ladder and began making her way across. You ran to Mindy and Anakin, falling into place right beside them as you helped hold the door. “Your turn,” you nodded at Anika.

Anika shook her head, there were tears streaming down her face. You looked at Mindy for a little help and when she looked back at the door you assured her you had it. Mindy grabbed Anika and dragged her over to the window. Anika’s crying only got louder as she convinced Mindy to go first. Once Mindy was out the window and making her way across Anika turned back to you.

“Go!” you ordered again. “Go,” you gestured with your hand. “I’ll be fine.”

With shaky hands Anika lifted herself out of the window and began making her way across the ladder. Almost as soon as you loosened your hold on the door Ghostface plowed through, sending you falling to the ground. You recovered almost instantly and jumped across the bed when you saw he was making his way for the window, to Anika.

You grabbed the curtains and wrapped them around Ghostface’s neck before he could get his hands on the ladder. You pulled the curtain tighter, feeling his body spasm and kicked as he clawed at the fabric, but you were stronger than him. You caught a glance out the window, seeing Anika be pulled to safety. It wasn’t until you had him so close that you were confident this Ghostface was one of the ones from the gym, not the one from the bodega.

Ghostface stopped pulling at the cloth, but a second later you felt a sharp pain in your thigh. You gritted your teeth, suppressing a scream as best as you could. You looked down to see a knife sticking out of your leg before Ghostface ripped it out. You let go of the curtain, releasing Ghostface as you brought a hand to the wound.

You tried to stand up as straight as you could, but blood was gushing between your fingers. Ghostface recovered quicker as he whipped around and swung his knife down. You raised your hand, making sure the knife only sliced your forearm.

Your hand shot out, catching Ghostface’s arm before he could bring the knife down again. You ignored the blood running down your arm, you didn’t have time to worry about stopping the bleeding. While your other hand was still pressing against the wound on your thigh, Ghostface took his free hand and punched you in the side, right where your stitches were.

You let go of his hand as you brought your hand to your side, surely having ripped your stitches again. You ignored the others yelling for you as Ghostface brought down his knife again, this time when you blocked his arm with yours and brought your knee up, nailing him in the stomach. While he was doubled over you brought your good leg up and kicked him square in the chest, sending him tumbling over the side of the bed.

As much as you wanted to finish the fight you knew you were in no condition to do so. You limped over to the window and climbed out onto the ladder. When you looked ahead you could see Sam and Danny gesturing at you to hurry. You crawled as best as you could with one good leg and one good arm, ignoring the way the blood dripped down your hand, making the ladder and your hand slippery with each movement.

“Hurry!” Sam yelled; her voice strained. You looked up to see her eyes wide and not focused on you but something behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to see Ghostface standing at the window. He impaled the knife in the windowsill before using both hands to grab the end of the ladder.

You gritted your teeth; you were really starting to hate this guy. You continued to crawl, your grip tightening as Ghostface lifted the ladder, jostling it back and forth to try and get you to fall. You nearly lost your grip once, having to wrap your arm under the rungs and keep your body low so you didn’t go over the side.

You looked up, judging the distance from where you were to the window. You let out a shaky breath as you slowly loosened your grip, despite Ghostface still shaking the ladder with all his strength. You got into a crouch position and kicked off, ungracefully launching yourself off the ladder and at the window. You reached out, catching on the windowsill with one hand. You brought up your bloody hand, which instantly found the home of someone else’s. You looked up to see Sam holding onto you as Danny held your other hand and began to pull you up.

You made it through the window, instantly collapsing on the ground next to Danny. You looked back at him as he moved out from underneath you, his hands instantly going to your wounds to try and stop the bleeding. You couldn’t help but groan at the pressure. Sam helped drag you against the wall to prop you up. You let your head flop against the wall, you strained to stay conscious, focusing on Mindy’s voice as she called for an ambulance, and on Sam’s hands as they wrapped a scratchy cloth around your arm, trying to stop the bleeding.

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