#for real this closet could not be stepped into yesterday

[mcmadcanvas]

When you FINALLY organize your hobby closet. 👍

Whos next? 💪💜👊

[jezabelle9299]

Broken Lungs S.R x FEM!Reader

CWs- Spoilers for season 5, depictions of asthma and use of a nebulizer, mentions of gunshot wounds, and health insurance not covering necessary medication.

Quick Infodump- Oxygen saturation levels should be 95-100%, lower than 93% should seek immediate help from a healthcare professional, and lower than 85% can cause severe damage to the brain because of a lack of oxygen.

Overture: Spencer is recovering from the knee surgery he needed after being shot in the field, when he sees a familiar face in the hospital being treated for an asthma attack.

A/N- This is based on my own experience with asthma, but it's different for everyone, so the relatability may vary with this one. But I was stuck at home all day because of an air quality alert so I did this instead of getting ready for the semester that starts in two weeks.

After one of his worst days in the field, Spencer ended the day in a hospital bed unable to walk. Hotch had been stabbed, and he had been shot. Both would be ok, and they were in separate hospitals to recover. The team alternated who would come to visit, and when. It usually took until the nurses kicked them out at the end of visiting hours, for them to actually leave. 

It’d been 2 days since his surgery, and the nurses had given him permission to walk around with his brace, on crutches. He’d never used them before, so he walked around the floor to the nurses’ station to get some more jell-o, and then around the hall back to his room. He allowed his curiosity (or nosiness) to get the better of him, occasionally glancing in at the people with their doors open, giving them a small smile or wave. Until he saw a familiar face. 

You’d worked for the FBI for a few years, working on the same floor as the BAU, but you weren’t in the field. You were sitting up in a hospital bed, playing solitaire in one hand, holding what looked like an oxygen mask to your face with the other. You looked up when you felt his eyes on you, and there he was, trapped in the doorway. You’d think you were hallucinating if not for the brace on his knee, and the crutches he was propping himself up on. He didn’t move from the threshold until you gave him a small wave, jumpstarting his movement into your room. 

You’d heard about Hotch’s incident, but you weren’t in the office yesterday, and since Spencer’s injury happened later in the day, you had no idea why he was here. You pulled the mask spraying (terrible tasting) medicine into your lungs from your face. You could stop for 30 seconds to see what he was here for. 

“Hey Spencer, what–um, what brings you here?” He hesitated, because you’d know since the 5th floor of the FBI building was the most gossip-ridden place he’d seen since high school. Yet he had no idea you’d be here. It’s not even as if you never talked, whenever he was in the office he’d stop by your desk to talk to you. He figured that you hadn’t gotten tired of him yet because he was gone a lot, although in reality you’d never tire of hearing his voice.

“I got shot in the knee, I’ll be fine, the real question is why are you here?” You’re sure it’s on government record, something Garcia could find in two minutes if she looked, but you still didn’t like talking about it. You knew it was stupid to be embarrassed of it, but you couldn’t help it. Every time it got brought up, you felt like the dorky character in a movie carting around their inhaler all the time, the butt of some cosmic joke. 

You preferred to think of it as an inconvenience more than anything. It didn’t come up often because you weren’t in the field, and when you needed to use an inhaler, you measured your breathing long enough to get to an empty bathroom or supply closet. You’d just blame the jitters that came after on too much coffee, and no one would ask any questions. This time, the inhaler wasn’t working, the next step in medication, a small machine similar to what you were supposed to be hooked up to now, wasn’t working either. So you drove to the ER feeling like you’d just run 10 miles, and they were making you stay 36 hours to give you stronger medication in intervals. 

“No reason.” You didn’t know why you even bothered with that response. Neither did Spencer, tossing you an apathetic look. He knew how squeamish you got when attention was drawn to something that made you look vulnerable, which is why he let it slide every time you walked into a supply closet looking flushed and panicked, with a soundtrack accompanying every time you took a breath, only to come out 5 minutes later with no supplies. 

 “Ok, really? Why would you even try it, you’re hooked up to a nebulizer and your oxygen saturation is at 90. What happened?” He was using the tone he only ever broke out for interrogations and proving Morgan wrong, but you still wanted to minimize the attention drawn to this not so glamorous piece of your life. You wanted Spencer to see you as someone he could date, even someone he could love, so this was not ideal to the image you’d been trying to show at work. 

“I have gross broken lungs. It’s really no big deal.” He laughed, but there was minimal humor behind it. Like he couldn’t even fathom you thinking this was ‘no big deal’. 

“I would venture to say you being in the hospital because you were unable to breathe is a very big deal.” While you loved when Spencer got a little bit cocky, you decided it would be more fun to make the little vein in his forehead appear again. So you tossed a vague shrug.

“Well I’d say getting shot is a much bigger deal. So why don’t you sit down, eat your jello, and tell me what happened to you, while I finish this thing.” He couldn’t argue with that, because at the very least he wanted you to feel better and the medicine currently going to waste while you were talking was the only way to accomplish that, so he relented. 

He didn’t want to move your things to the floor, but they were occupying the only chair in the room, so he made himself comfortable at the foot of your bed. He always wanted to be closer to you anyway. Setting his crutches next to him and opening the small cup of jello he’d somehow been holding this whole time, he reiterated his answer from before. 

“I told you already, I got shot in the knee, went into surgery, and now other than having to use these crutches for a while, I’m fine. Just need to spend a little longer in recovery before I can go back home to minimize the risk of infection.” He took a bite of jell-o just as a show of finality, like there was nothing more to say. Like a gunshot wound was not a huge deal. 

The whirr of the machine started to slow down, the medicine sputtering instead of coming out in a steady steam, meaning you could finally be done. You set it on the table by the bed, right next to your abandoned game of solitaire, and as soon as you set it down Spencer’s attention was back on your wellbeing. 

“Ok your turn, what happened?” 

“I’ve had asthma since I was a kid, and I just got unlucky today. It’s always worse this time of year, and my inhaler wasn’t really doing anything for me. Our health insurance plan doesn’t cover the more expensive meds unless I’m in the hospital, so here I am, for the next 36 hours.” You made a point to turn your exasperated expression into a cheesy smile, hoping to convince him to stay for just a little while longer.  “But the bright side is that since you're here I don’t have to play solitaire anymore. That was getting old fast.” You grabbed the cards, giving them a quick shuffle.

“So what do you say Vegas, are you up for a round of poker?” You hoped that would distract him from fussing over you, and luckily it did. He was satisfied you were ok, and the last thing he wanted was to push you too far, and for you to ask him to leave. So he let the smile take over his face. 

“Always. But i'm not going to go easy on you just because of your- what did you call them- broken lungs?” That got a good laugh out of you. Admittedly wheezy, but still one of the most beautiful sounds in the world to him. 

“Gross, broken lungs. And I wouldn’t dream of it.” You dealt the cards, already knowing you’d lose. You didn’t even know how to play poker. But word around the office was that most of your coworkers wouldn’t play with him since he always won. But you didn’t mind, you mostly just wanted someone to hang out with, and you were overjoyed that person was Spencer. He won, of course. Only gloating a little bit at how badly he beat you, and while you were dealing the second round of cards, you couldn’t help but vocalize what had been in the back of your mind for a few minutes now. 

“Hey Spencer, could I ask you a favor?” He had a mix of worry and willingness to help all over his face. 

“Anything.”

“Could you–not tell anyone in the office? Just. You know how they are, they would make a fuss about the whole hospital thing and it’s just not necessary.” 

“Where do they think you’re going to be for the next day and a half?”

You looked down like a kid who just got caught in a lie. “I kind of told Hotch I had a cold.” Spencer just sighed in response. 

“I really do think you should let them fuss over you. You deserve it, and you know Penelope lives for that sort of thing.” That you couldn’t deny, no matter how much you disagreed with him saying you deserved to be cared for. 

“Please, Spencer?” 

“Alright, but they might walk past your room in the morning. Garcia said she was coming, and you know she’ll drag at least one person along with her.” 

“Noted. I’ll close the door in the morning. Thank you Spencer, seriously, it means a lot.” You put your hand over his and it felt like every thought he’d ever had was gone from his brain at your touch. He couldn’t believe his dumb luck at meeting someone like you. Just to be in your orbit, to see and know you, felt like it could only be accomplished by divine intervention. Selfishly, he wished that you’d be staying a little longer, so that you could both leave together. Even more selfishly, he wished that you would leave with him, and come to his apartment. There he could take care of you, make you feel special until he could finally convince you that you deserved it. Deserved everything. 

You moved your hand to start tapping it on your leg, and while Spencer knew the side effects of respiratory steroids, he couldn’t help the nagging feeling that something was wrong. That maybe he did something wrong. 

“Is there something on your mind?” 

“No, it’s just the jitters. I used to get them so bad when I was a kid, my parents would have to practically hold me down. It’s like I have the energy to run a mile, but I can’t actually do it. I’ll calm down in a bit, but I’m probably going to get really rambly first.” 

“I’d love to listen to you talk, and I love being on the other side of a ramble.” It was just then that a nurse came in to ask if you were feeling better, charting your vials,  reminding you that you need to take your next dose in 4 hours, and telling you that an orderly would be in to set it up then.

Just when she was getting ready to leave she turned her attention to Spencer. “I’m sorry, but I am going to need you to go back to your room Dr. Reid. You both need to get some rest.”

He reluctantly told her that he would and just as soon as he’d come in, he disappeared again. He gave you a wave when he was gathering his crutches, but no real goodbye. You of course waved back, but you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. You really liked him, and you thought maybe he really liked you too. And yet, he only gave you a wave. 

All of the adrenaline moving through you, getting you all worked up finally won out, and stupid as it may sound, tears started to prick the corners of your eyes. Just as you closed the door to your room to get some privacy while you cried, your phone started to ring, and you couldn’t help but think; What now? You answered it without looking, and on the other side of the line was the person you wanted to hear from the most. 

“So what did you want to talk about? I have all the time in the world.”

[goddessinnerglow]

Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 17

Decluttering Your Life

Hey Goddesses! If you joined us yesterday for our digital detox conversation, you might've noticed something, when we put our phones down, we suddenly see all the actual stuff around us! Isn't it wild how one type of decluttering naturally leads to another?

Life gets busy, messy even, and it’s easy to let the clutter pile up. But here’s the thing: decluttering isn’t just about tidying up your closet (though that’s part of it). It’s about clearing space in your life, your physical space, your calendar, even your mind, so you can breathe a little easier.

Let's make this super simple and actually doable. No pressure to transform your entire life overnight, just small, friendly steps that make a real difference.

Here's what really works (and I know because I've struggled with this too!):

Start with just 10 minutes. Pick a tiny spot that's been bugging you, maybe that coffee table where everything seems to land, or your bathroom counter. Don't think too hard about it! Just grab a trash bag for garbage and a box for donations, and ask yourself: "Do I actually use this? Does it make my daily life better?"

Got clothes you haven't worn in forever? Instead of feeling guilty about them, think about how happy they could make someone else! Those jeans that don't fit quite right anymore could be someone else's perfect pair.

Feeling like your mind is as cluttered as your space? Try this: before bed tonight, grab a notebook and write down everything that’s swirling around in your head. It doesn’t have to be pretty or organized, just get it all out. You’ll wake up feeling lighter, trust me.

Here's a super helpful trick: the "maybe box." Not sure about something? Pop it in a box, put today's date on it, and tuck it away for three months. If you haven't missed it by then, it's probably safe to let it go.

Sometimes, it’s not your physical space that’s cluttered, it’s your time. Take a quick look at your schedule for the week. Is there something you said yes to that you really wish you hadn’t? Give yourself permission to reschedule, delegate, or just cancel it altogether. Your time is valuable.

The best part? Once you clear even a tiny space, you'll feel this amazing sense of lightness. It's like taking a deep breath of fresh air. And that feeling? It's totally addictive (in the best way!).

Want to get started? Here's an easy-peasy way:

Look around the room you're in right now

Spot three things that you definitely don't need

Let them go (recycle, donate, trash, whatever fits)

That's it! You've already started!

To keep the clutter from creeping back in, try this: for every new thing you bring into your life (a purchase, a commitment, etc.), let one thing go.

Every time you let go of something you don't need, you're making more room for the good things in life, like calm mornings where you can actually find your keys, or a cozy evening at home where you're not staring at piles of stuff that need sorting.

What’s one area of your life you’re excited to declutter? Share it with me in the comments or message me, I’d love to hear about it.

See you tomorrow for Day 18!

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[fanfictionstuff]

Curiosity 4 (Ikki Niko x Reader) SMUT

*Characters are of legal age*

Sorry for the late update, I know people have been waiting for it, including my friend who requested it. My favorite character from Blue Exorcist is finally back on the show so my thoughts are nonstop Amaimon. Sorry.

Normal.

Everything was normal the following day. You got up before Ikki and quietly changed into some clothes from your drawer. Since you’ve spent so many nights together, your parents and his had arranged for you to have a place to keep your clothes at each other's houses. You even have a uniform hanging in his closet, which is perfectly normal for best friends, right? It’s not.

Moving swiftly through the kitchen as if it were your own, you take various pans from the cabinets and gather ingredients from the fridge needed for breakfast. Ikki’s mom has left some miso soup for both of you. Preparing the tamagoyaki is straightforward, and there’s pickled cabbage waiting for you in the fridge.

Breakfast is normal. Ikki praises your cooking while you roll your eyes because there's really nothing to praise. Tamagoyaki is quite easy to make, and the soup and cabbage are leftovers from his mother. "You make the best tamagoyaki ______." “Whatever you say, Ikki.”

Everything felt normal as if last night hadn’t occurred. Watching you browse through your textbooks, Ikki begins to wonder if maybe it hadn’t happened. 

“_____, is everything okay?” He questions cautiously.

"No. Everything is not fine. Can you tell me when I'll actually use this after high school?" You pull up the calculator on your app. "Once I graduate, this calculator will be all I need. I’d like to know when I’ll have to apply this level of math in real life, Ikki?” You lift the workbook in frustration. It’s ridiculous.

He frowns at your answer; he is not talking about schoolwork. “I meant…with us.”

“Us?”

Now, he’s truly wondering if it was a dream or something more. Could it be a dream of one of his deepest desires? “Uh, never mind. I have practice in about an hour; I need to prepare." He heads into his bedroom to put on his workout clothes. A bento his mother packed yesterday sits waiting in the fridge, which he plans to take for lunch between practices.

“_____, do you need me to get you anything?” He questions as he grabs his bag.

“No, after I finish this, I’ll grab lunch and pick up what I need.” You dismiss him, focusing on the problem in front of you. “Don’t overdo it today.”

After another twenty minutes of struggling with the workbook, you reach for your phone and decide to google the answers. At first, you try to use a website that gives you the answers and explains how it’s the answer, but then you get bored with reading about math and quickly switch to just writing the answers down.

Instead of making something for lunch, you decide to go out to a local café with great sandwiches and warm drinks. It’s just around the corner, and you make it into the coffee shop rather quickly; the scent of coffee and baked goods hits you as you enter the door. “Hi _____.” The barista grins. “How ‘s my favorite customer today?” He questions as you step up to the display case.  “Good, how are you?”

"Great! Where’s my other favorite customer? I don’t remember the last time I saw you come in alone," he asks, as he begins preparing your favorite hot drink for your order.

“With his true love.”

The man snorts. “Fairly certain soccer isn’t his true love, kiddo. Anyway, what else can I get you?”

Your original plan was to come for a sandwich, but your eyes lock on a slice of cake. Would it be weird to get a slice of cake and a sandwich? Usually, you’d order one and take the other home, but you’d like to eat both now. “A panini and a slice of cake.” You point towards the slice of cake you want.

As you sip on the warm drink, you relax in the quiet cafe, watching the people walking by outside on the sidewalk. It’s not a school day, so you notice a lot of high schoolers walking by with friends. The warm comfort of the drink and smoothing warmness of the cafe is slowly starting to get to you. You and Ikki had stayed up pretty late last night, and he had to wake up early for practice today, so you wanted to make him breakfast like a good girlfriend best friend.

Shaking your head, you decide to head back to Ikki’s house. You should take a nap while you can before Ikki finishes practice. 

The journey back to his house feels slower, as fatigue weighs heavily on every step. You struggle to unlock the door and carefully place your shoes in their designated spot before slipping into a pair of indoor slippers. A nap is definitely needed. Wanting to be as comfortable as possible, you remove your pants and neatly fold them before settling onto the sofa with a cozy blanket.

Ikki gazes down at his phone while eating the bento his mother prepared for him. He hardly registers the coach announcing that practice will end early today, as he's still grappling with whether last night was a dream or reality. He hasn’t received a text from you, which feels unusual since you usually message him during lunch.

After practice, Ikki makes his way to the locker room to change out of his sweaty clothes. He pulls out his phone to check for any messages from you, but finds nothing. A wave of disappointment washes over him, yet he quickly dismisses it, reminding himself that you’re likely busy with your own activities.

“______.” Someone whispers, shaking your shoulder. “Are you okay?” You groan, opening your eyes to see concerned teal eyes staring at you. “Ikki? Yeah, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I bed?” You ask while rubbing your eyes.

“Oh, you didn’t text me during lunch, so….” He tilts his head down, allowing the hair to cover his eyes. “…. I was a little worried.” He admits.

You slowly sit up, glancing around the living room. “Wait, what time is it?”

“A little after two.”

“Why are you here?”

Ikki’s concerned expression morphs into something else, his mouth a thin, straight line. “Sorry, I can go-“

“What? Where are you going? Why are you here so early? Practice shouldn’t be over yet, right?” you ask, tossing the blanket aside and standing up. Ikki’s eyes widen as your bare thighs come into view at his eye level. he swallows hard, his gaze slowly moving up; you remain unaware of his lingering stare. As you stretch your arms overhead, your shirt rises slightly above your panties.

As memories from what he’s starting to believe was a dream flash through his mind, his mouth starts to water.

Ikki quickly averts his gaze, feeling a rush of heat creeping up his neck. "I-I just... our coach let us go early today," he stammers, trying to compose himself. He clears his throat and looks away, his heart racing at the sight before him.

You raise an eyebrow at his flustered demeanor, noticing how he avoids looking directly at you. "Well, since you're here early, want to watch a movie or something?" you offer casually, not realizing your casual movements' effect on him.

Ikki hesitates momentarily, still trying to shake off the images from the dream—or was it reality? "Uh, sure. Yeah, that sounds good," he replies, finally meeting your gaze but quickly looking away again.

“Great.” He’s still on his knees when you lean forward to grab the remote from the coffee table in front of the sofa. Ikki bites back a groan at the sight of you bent over like that in only a shirt and light blue underwear. 

You didn't think twice about dressing like this in front of Ikki; it was completely normal for you. Even though last night had been more intimate and left you feeling exposed, him seeing you like this now, just casually watching TV, made it feel innocent again. 

After selecting a movie, you sit on the other end of the sofa. Your body angled towards him, with your knees bent and resting against the arm of the sofa. This position gives him a perfect view of your slightly visible underwear. 

It had to have been a dream. Otherwise, you would’ve said something to him, right? His fingers dig into his thighs as he tears his eyes away from you. Last night, you were so open and blunt with your curiosity. So, was it a dream? He glances back at you from the corner, but as his eyes land on the blue cloth, he can’t help but feel starved. He wants to pull them down, see if you’ll make those same noises if he parts your legs and runs his tongue along your slit. 

“Ikki, are you okay?” You shuffle on the sofa, not noticing that you’ve opened your legs a bit wider for his view as you do. 

“No.” 

“What’s wrong.”  “Last night.” He watches you carefully to see any signs that maybe last night wasn’t just a dream. 

Your eyes widen; he sounds upset. Quickly, you straighten up, tucking your legs under you, and sit on your knees, staring at your best friend. “I’m sorry! I pushed too far. Didn’t I? We can just pretend it didn’t happen.” 

“No.” 

Your hands start to shake at his blunt tone. Is he angry and doesn’t want to be friends anymore? Does he feel like you took advantage of him? “Ikki, I’m so sorry. I was being selfish.” 

“______, I love you.” 

“I know; I love you too. Yet, I put you in that position. I shouldn’t-” 

He leans in, his forehead touching yours. You can feel his breath on your skin as he closes his eyes and sits silently with you.

“_____?” 

“Yes?” 

“I meant I’m in love with you.”

He leans forward, gently pressing his warm lips against yours. It’s a sweet, quick kiss, and when Ikki pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours again. "I'm sorry if I just made things awkward between us," he murmurs. “If you don’t return my feelings, it’s okay. We can act like I never said anything. I just can’t lose you _____.” 

You slowly pull away, reaching up to cup his face while pushing some hair from his eyes. “Sorry if you made things awkward? Ikki, I asked you if I could give you a blow job last night.” 

“_____.” 

“You’re not going to lose me; I love you too. I always have.” You admit before pressing your lips to his. He responds with a low groan before nipping at your bottom lip. Encouraged, you part your lips slightly, and he slips his tongue inside, gently moving against yours. His hands slip up your thighs; they’re on your hips, fingers slightly tucked in the waistband of your underwear. “Are you okay?” He whispers against your lips. You nod.

“You’ve been teasing me since I got home today. Did you know that?” He says with a smirk. “First, I wasn’t sure if last night was just a dream. All morning, you didn’t say anything, and now, when I come home, you’re wearing only this.” He gestures towards your outfit. “Bending over, slightly spreading your legs. Right in front of my face.” He moves from the sofa to kneel in front of you. “I told you before, you taste amazing.” He gently trails his fingers over your knees, spreading them apart slightly. “Can I have another taste, ____? It's all I've been able to think about all day." He confesses, running his tongue over his lower lip. 

You nod, feeling a rush of excitement and anticipation course through your body. You can feel yourself getting wet at his words and the way he's looking at you. He leans forward, placing his hands on your thighs as he parts your legs wider. His fingers trail up and down your inner thighs, causing you to shiver.

“You smell amazing, too.” He looks up at you with darkened eyes before pulling down your underwear and nuzzling against your core. 

You close your eyes and let out a soft sigh, enjoying the feeling of his warm breath against your sensitive area. He starts to kiss and lick gently, causing a wave of pleasure to wash over you. You reach down and thread your fingers through his hair, gently guiding him closer to where you need him most. 

You're feeling a mix of emotions: embarrassment but also excitement. Last night, you thought he only did it because you gave him oral pleasure, and he felt obligated to reciprocate. But now, as his mouth eagerly explores your core with messy licks and desperate movements, it's clear that he's enjoying this just as much as you are. Your body responds by arching your back in pleasure, and he places your legs over his shoulders for easier access to you. 

He can feel your arousal building, the tension in your body growing with each passing moment. Ikki's face is buried against your core; his eyes are closed in concentration as he focuses on giving you the most intense pleasure he possibly can.

You let out a loud gasp as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles that send jolts of pleasure through your body. Your hands grip his hair as your back arches off the sofa, letting out moans of pleasure that fill the room.

With his thumb rubbing your clit, he uses his other hand to insert a finger into you slowly. He watches you through his hair, accessing the situation. Your expression and sounds only hint at pleasure, so he slowly adds another finger. Still focused on your expression while starting to make a scissoring motion with his fingers. That’s how he’s supposed to do it, right? To prepare you in case you want to go further with him. His brow furrows in concentration, wanting to bring you the most pleasure possible. When you start pulling his hair almost painfully, he realizes you’re going to cum. He curls his fingers while gently sucking against your clit.

You pant out his name as you come undone, the sensation seemingly stronger than it had been last night. “I-I think you somehow got better at it, how? It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Your body jolts as you feel his warm tongue running along your folds again. “Ikki! Too sensitive.” You whine, trying to pull away. “Are you going to do this every time?” He frowns at you. “I’m sorry _____, you just taste amazing. I’ve never tasted something this amazing before.”

“You’re full of shit.” You huff, not believing that the taste of your release is anywhere near the level he’s trying to say it is. Ikki shakes his head, leaning forward to run his tongue along your folds once more. “I could do this all day.”

“Can I suck your cock?” Suddenly, the tables have turned, and Ikki’s confidence melts away into embarrassment at your words. “W-what? No, I mean yes.” He attempts to hide his red face against your legs. “Yes, just let me shower first, okay? I just got back from training and wasn’t expecting to do this within twenty minutes of walking in.”

“So, you were expecting this?”

Ikki chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I-I mean, I hoped it would happen again; I didn’t think it would happen so soon." He looks up at you with a shy smile. "But I'm not complaining," he adds quickly, the embarrassment still evident in his face.

You grin at him, finding his reaction endearing. "Alright, go take a shower then. I'll wait for you."

Ikki nods and stands up, pulling his clothes off as he heads towards the bathroom. You watch him go with an appreciation for his toned body before pulling yourself together and sitting up on the sofa.

As you wait for Ikki to finish showering, your mind races with excitement and anticipation. Last night was amazing, and you can't wait to feel that same pleasure again with Ikki.

When he finally emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in comfortable lounge pants, you can't help but stare at him hungrily. He grins at your reaction before making his way over to you.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks softly as he stands in front of you.

You nod eagerly; this all started off as your idea; of course, you’re ready.

“Maybe we could go to the bedroom.”

“Right! Yeah, of course.” You probably sound a bit too eager, but Ikki is your best friend and boyfriend? Is he your boyfriend now? Maybe this is something you should confirm first. “Uh, Ikki?” You question, suddenly feeling nervous as you follow him into the bedroom.

“Yes?”

You sit on his bed, nervously fidgeting with your fingers. “So, uh, are we in a relationship?”

He pauses, suddenly becoming more nervous, too. “I hope so. I love you, and you said you love me unless you don’t.”

“I do! I just, nothing was said.”

You watch as his face starts to turn red. “_____, I thought it was implied.”

“Oh, right, yeah.” You rub the back of your neck awkwardly. “Anyway, you’ll let me suck your cock now?”

He knows you’re just reflecting your embarrassment, so he doesn’t say anything about your comment. Slowly, he nudges you to sit on his bed, and he sits beside you. His eyes never leave yours as he pulls down the waistband of his pants to reveal himself fully.

He's already hard, and your mouth waters at the sight of his length. Without hesitation, you lean forward and take him into your mouth. A low groan escapes Ikki's lips as your tongue swirls around him teasingly.

You savor his taste and feel in your mouth, loving how he responds to your every movement. You want to make him feel as good as he made you feel earlier. You take him deeper into your throat, causing him to let out a loud groan that seemingly vibrates throughout the room.

Ikki reaches down, gently taking hold of the back of your head as you continue to pleasure him. His fingers thread through your hair, his breaths coming out ragged and labored as you continue on.

"Oh god, ____," he moans softly, eyes tightly shut as he revels in the sensation of your mouth on him. "You're so good at this."

You remove your mouth from him but don’t lift your head, slightly panting; the puffs of air you release against the head of his cock just make him more sensitive. “Ikki, I’m the only one that’s done this for you. I could be awful for all you know.” You causelly comment, licking the tip.

"I don't think that's possible," he replies, his voice slightly hoarse. "You... you make it feel so good."

You grin in response, feeling a newfound confidence as you move back down to take him into your mouth again. Your lips wrap around him, and you begin to move your head rhythmically up and down, taking him deeper with each passing second.

Ikki's fingers tighten slightly in your hair, guiding your movements as you continue to please him. His breaths come out in short, sharp pants, each one more labored than the last as he approaches his climax.

"I'm going to cum," he warns you softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You pull off him just in time, sitting back on your heels as he releases a loud groan, his hips bucking as he reaches his peak. He grips the sheets tightly as his orgasm washes over him, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

As he enjoys the aftermath of his release, you lean forward, kissing the tip of his softening penis softly before looking up at him with a smile. "Glad you enjoyed it."

Ikki leans forward, capturing your lips passionately as his hands roam over your body. You eagerly respond, tangling your fingers in his hair as the kiss intensifies. His hands continue their exploration, trailing down to your core, where he finds you already wet with anticipation.

He slides a finger inside you, causing you to gasp and arch your back against him. "You're wet again," he murmurs against your lips before adding another finger and increasing his pace. Your moans become louder as he continues to please you with his fingers.

Feeling impatient, you grind yourself against him, wanting more contact and friction. “Could we, um, have sex?” You mumble as his thumb makes contact with your clit.

“Y-yeah.” He pulls away from you slightly to remove his pants completely; you follow suit and remove your shirt; your underwear is still somewhere tossed in the living room.

Gently, he guides you to lie down on the bed. “Are you sure?” You nod. “Let me know if it hurts.” He positions himself above you nervously; he expects the first time to be awkward; you are both virgins. His main concern is not hurting you when he first enters you.

“I’m ready.” You reply, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He takes the hint, slowly entering you, his eyes locked with yours as he moves deeper inside you.

At first, it feels a little uncomfortable, but he moves slowly and pauses to ensure you’re okay before entering more. He waits a moment once he’s fully in you, giving you time to adjust. There’s no pain, just an odd feeling of being filled. You pull his head down to place a kiss on his lips. “Okay, you can move now.” He nods, starting with shallow thrusts, watching you carefully the whole time. You moan softly, your legs wrapping around Ikki’s waist as he moves deeper inside you.

Ikki groans softly in response, his chest grazing against yours as he finds a rhythm that seems to work for both of you. His lips find yours again in a passionate kiss, his movements becoming more urgent as he tries to please you in every way possible. Ikki moves a hand between your legs, reaching for your clit, gently pinching it as he continues to thrust into you.

You gasp at the sudden sensation, your eyes fluttering shut as waves of pleasure radiate from your core. "Yes," you whisper, clutching at his back as he continues to touch you in just the right way.

Ikki's movements become more earnest, his thrusts deeper and harder as he tries to give you the pleasure you both desperately crave. His eyes are locked on yours, searching for any sign that he's succeeding in making you feel good.

"I'm close," you pant, your voice barely audible over your own heavy breathing. "Don't stop."

Ikki nods, his eyes never leaving yours as he continues his relentless assault on your body. His breath becomes ragged, his heart pounding in his chest as he fights for control over his own impending orgasm.

Suddenly, a wave of intense pleasure washes over you, your entire body trembling as you cry out his name. Ikki feels your muscles clench around him as you release. His body shudders against yours, and he lets out a rough groan as he cums deep inside you.

Ikki's breath hitches as he pulls back slightly, his gaze still locked with yours. "Are you okay?" He whispers concern etched on his face.

You laugh, “Better than okay. Hey, did you know most girls don’t have an orgasm during their first time? So, good job.�� You pat his back.

His head drops to your shoulder, “_____, please.”

“It’s true. I read it online.”

“_____.”

“Fine, fine. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You grasp a handful of his hair, pulling his head back so you can make eye contact. “So, our parents…”

If your parents knew, they’d realize they had been wrong about your supposedly sibling-like relationship all this time, and it’d be a mess.

Ikki looks thoughtful for a moment. “We’ve only got a few months before we finish high school. Let’s tell them once they’ve helped us move into a new apartment at the university.”

[drefear]

Hail to the King

Chapter 3: The Start

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

TW: implied smut, public, psychical domestic abuse, angst, Miguel is a real piece of work and kinda spoiled

AN: this one’s a little bit short and intense, but the next part should be a bit juicer :)

The morning started with sunlight blaring into your eyes as you squinted at your alarm clock.

8am.

8AM?!

Jumping to your feet, you tripped onto the floor over an unpacked box and felt your knee go numb for a moment. Getting back up and grabbing your phone, you glance at your phone. 6:15 am, you breathed a breath of relief. You’d have to remember to reset the time on your bedside so that didn’t scare you again. You move to kneel by one of the boxes and pull out some of your jackets and sweaters, laying them out on your bed and looking over them. Glancing back at the designer garment bags and shoe boxes in your new closet, your mind was set. It was time to show Miguel that you were your own person, and he couldn’t control you even if he was your boss.

Applying some natural makeup and placing your hair in curls, you were done with your appearance. How could anyone look down on you now, with how put together you looked? Slipping on the white silk blouse you’d bought, you paired it with a gray pencil skirt and a delicate gold necklace. You slipped on a pair of red bottom nude shoes and flattened the front of the skirt in the mirror, putting your shoulders back to measure yourself up and overlook your appearance.

As much confidence as you felt a moment ago while getting ready, now it was time to face the music and actually go to work, which somewhat terrified you after the affairs of last night. Eyes faltering, you played with the button on your sleeve and heard a knock at your door, brows furrowing in apprehension. You paused before you grabbed your bag and opened your front door, looking up to see a man in a black jacket with chains and rips all over it, strategically placed. Dreads covering his eyes a bit, he had a few piercings and looked at you with no expression whatsoever. Your hands held your purse a little tighter from nerves as this intimidating stranger was at your door.

“I’m ‘er ta take you to work.” He said as he glanced at one of his gloves as if he was inspecting something. You nodded, reaching out to shake hands with him, but he just smirked. “Name’s Hobie, but they call me Punk.” He jutted his chin towards the elevator. “We meetin’ the big man in the lobby.” His back turned and he walked to the metal doors as you just followed, locking your home before quickening your pace to catch up with his leisurely stride.

Silence followed you both like a scent brought into a room, slowly wafting around with nowhere to go. The feeling wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t familiar and relaxed either. Almost similar to a party where you don’t know anyone, but you can still have a good time.

“So you gave him the what for?’ His british drawl interrupted your pitiful thoughts and made you look up at him.

“I guess I did.” You laughed a bit and he smirked, looking ahead again.

“Good. He could use someone remindin’ ‘em he’s still human.” The way he spoke was almost as if you being stubborn and abrasive was amusing to him, like it was a show he was watching. “Be nice havin’ someone else with no fear to give it back to ‘em.”

“We all need to be spoken to as equals. That’s at least how I feel.” You answered, checking your watch and straightening up.

“You couldn’t’a said it any betta.” He nodded as the doors opened and stepped out right away, as if he couldn’t wait to be free. My eyes met with Miguel’s as he stood in the lobby on the phone.

“Yes, I-“ his words stopped short as his eyes roamed my body, obviously checking out my clothing after his comment yesterday. His eyes found mine once more and spoke again, “I’m busy now, goodbye.” He hung up without hesitation. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

You were stunned. This again?

“Yes?”

“Are you asking or telling me?” He replied and your anger began to boil.

“I’m telling you but you’re making me think I dressed wrong.”

“You did. Do you expect any of my men to be able to focus while you’re wearing that tight skirt?” He took a step forward, attempting to intimidate you with his size. Once again, you wouldn’t give in.

“Tell them to try harder. I’m not going to change because your men can’t handle seeing a woman’s body in a tight outfit without having to touch her. Fuck that.” You raised your voice at the end and he tilted his chin up, contemplating his next thoughts.

“Fine, but you won’t leave my side today. That way, if anyone misbehaves, I’ll know about it first and I can handle it correctly.” He turned once he was done speaking and waved for you both to follow. “And when I’m not with you, I want Hobie or Jess with you. They know enough about how everything works, so they can handle these matters.”

With that, he was gone again and you looked at Hobie.

“I’m wit’ you. Don’t let ‘em touch you just cause ya hot. Stab ‘em in the jugular.” He added and strolled past you to get into the car.

“Stab- what?” You stuttered and then got in. It was going to be a strange day.

Aside from the looks, though, it went by perfectly smooth. No one even dared flirt with you and everything was perfectly professional. You expected hound dogs and catcalls, but nothing transpired and you mentally rolled your eyes at your boss. He could be so over dramatic.

Your heels clacked against the tile as you walked towards Miguel’s office, which was next door to yours, and you knocked when you saw the door closed.

“Come in.” He answered, but you heard another person in there. You opened the door and saw no one else. Strange. “Make it fast, I’m busy.” He glared up to you as he glanced to your eyes and then back to his computer screen.

“You have a guest waiting downstairs, he said he has inside information on the Octavius family-” You said, then stopped abruptly at the sound of… gagging?

Damnit, not this again…

“Miguel, let the poor girl breathe, she’d obviously had her mouth full this whole time.” You rolled your eyes and glanced at your tablet. “You’re insatiable.” You mumbled and turned, hearing him sigh and roll his chair out for a moment, then watching a girl get out from under his desk. It was a different girl from yesterday, and she wiped her mouth to get off the dried drool and whatever else it was. He leaned on his elbow and pouted a bit, glancing towards the window. “And put it away.” You added, turning your head from the two of them. He sat back and tucked himself in, “thank you, now get prepared for your guest. He’s taking a big risk, coming here with this.” You sent him a deadly look and watched the girl moved awkwardly as he yanked her hand and sat her on his lap.

“Send him in.”

You rolled your eyes and inhaled an exasperated breath. “You are the absolute worst.” Your resentment was evident on your face as he nodded towards the door. “Fine. But I’m not going to apologize for you being a tool.” You walked out of the room as the girls’ faces turned completely red.

The next few weeks went by smoothly, nothing went awry or caused issues. Everyday was basically the same. Get up, get ready, go to work…

And do your best to not be disgusted by Miguel’s insane, untamed, and sexually uncouth tendencies.

Every day, he had a few different sexual activities scheduled. Sometimes, you’d call him and be put on speaker while he slammed into the back of the red head from floor 4, and other days, he’d blatantly tell you to come to his office and discuss notes for the meeting while fingering the brunette from finance. You’d just sigh and ignore the moans and uncomfortable squishing sounds.

A few times, he’d called you about an issue after work and you’d hear pornographic sounds in the background.

You didn’t ask. You told yourself you didn’t want to know, but that was a lie. Most of the time, if you were in front of him, he kept it in his pants, so you’d never actually seen what he was working with, but the sounds of most of the women he was with seemed fake, so you assumed it wasn’t anything to write home about.

Two more weeks went by peacefully with this routine. Until one night after you’d gone to sleep…

Buzz buzz buzz… buzz buzz buzz…

Buzz buzz buzz… buzz buzz buzz…

Grumbling, you opened one eye to see your phone vibrating relentlessly. You finally answered, rubbing your face a bit.

“Mmm?” You could barely speak, your brain not fully awake yet.

“Why didn’t you pick up right away?” His voice was angry and you didn’t have to energy to put up with his bullshit attitude.

“Because my hours are 8am to 6pm, and house visits are not included, so watch how you’re fucking talking to me while I’m off the clock.” You hissed and turned on the lamp you’d bought for next to your bed. It was pretty, from a thrift store and you’d loved it the second you’d seen it.

“I’m still your boss.”

“Not at this second. Right now, you’re a nuisance. Now spit it out before I hang up.”

Silence.

“Ok, I’m done-”

“Fine. I need you to call for an escort for an event next week. My previous date had a fight with her husband and will not be able to make it.” He spoke slowly and you sighed.

“Did you fuck her? Is that why?” You don’t know why you even asked, since it wasn’t your business and you already knew the answer.

He was quiet again. “Miguel, you fucking ass. Do I need to hire someone else for her job too?” You questioned and he mumbled a barely audible ‘yes,’ under his breath. “So I’m genuinely curious. Do you have any self control or does your dick handle your brain waves?”

“Enough, just call the fucking escort.” He grumbled and you massaged your temples.

“So you’re telling me that this couldn’t wait until the morning?”

“I wanted it done as soon as possible, and I didn’t want anyone else to hear about it.” Ah, so he was embarrassed, you thought. Maybe he does have a conscience.

“Why not ask one of the other bimbos you use as stress relief?”

“I don’t want this to happen to one of them either.”

“Are they all married?” You huffed, erasing that mental note of his morality.

“Aside from Lyla, all of the women in the office are. It’s part of why I hired you as well. I’ve been told-”

“What?” You interrupted, scrunching your nose. “I’m not married.”

“Your background check said that you were.”

“Oh.” You whispered, “I’m… well… it’s complicated.” You looked around, “But my personal life isn’t the point, I’ll call the agency in the morning.” You tried to cut it short, but all you heard were footsteps. “Hello?”

“I’ll be at your door in two minutes.” And the phone call ended, with you staring at the screen. You hadn’t even gotten out of bed, how were you supposed to deal with this?

Two minutes later, a knock was heard as you raced to the door and threw your hair up in a bun. It didn’t help that you slept naked, so you tugged on a t-shirt and a pair of panties before throwing your robe on top. He stood there, white v-neck t-shirt and gray sweatpants. (Of fucking course he was wearing those.)

You were standing silently as he looked down with an unreadable expression. Without a word, he picked up your hands and scanned them. Then he walked in and looked around. You watched his movements begrudgingly.

“You know, this is highly unprofessional.” You cleared your throat. “And you can’t just walk into my-”

“I paid for this apartment.”

“I didn’t ask for it.” You threw back at his rude comment. He narrowed his eyes around and then back to you. “So what the hell is the point of this all?”

“I called you after she called me and told me what had happened.” Your silence prompted him to speak again, “she said she was filing for divorce from her husband because she was in love with me.” Oh. Your jaw dropped a bit as he showed no reaction. “I fired her.”

“You are heartless.”

“I’m focused.” He corrected and glanced around the living room once more. “Your record said you were married.”

“As of a few months ago, I’m divorced.” You announced, avoiding his eyes and biting the inside of your cheek. The truth was it was still fresh, and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about it with anyone. Not even Gwen or Jess or Lyla knew, but you guessed now that wasn’t true since Lyla was the one who told Miguel that you were married.

“How come you still come up as married?”

“He won’t sign the papers…” You rubbed the back of your neck, moving to sit on your couch and having a feeling this conversation was going to be a long one. After a second, you assumed he was waiting for you to keep speaking and you complied with the silent command. “He still lives in my hometown, but he’s tried contacting me. At first, it was constant, all day every day and night. But then, it slowed down. He tried coming here to visit once, but he didn't have my new address. It’s part of why I didn’t put up a fight when you wanted me to move.”

You both sat in a tense and emotional silence, wringing your hands from anxiety.

“Why’d you leave him?” His voice was deeper, more gentle as he asked. Memories flooded behind your eyes as his question echoed in her head.

You screamed as you heard a snap, his face dangerously close to yours. “You knew he was looking at you! You wanted him!” The smell of alcohol was strong in your nose as he spit while yelling at you. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you whimpered, his grip on your limp wrist painful and you saw that your arm was beginning to swell. He wasn’t backing off, he didn’t believe you, he was so drunk.

“Eddie, please… I love you, I could never want anyone else.” You whispered and raised the other hand to hold his cheek, watching his facial expression change and soften. “I’m your girl. Only your girl, forever. We promised, we vowed… right?” Your voice was cautious, soft. His hold on your definitely broken wrist lessened and you moved slowly to cradle your limp limb. Tears fell more freely as the pain soared and you shook in the shock.

“You’re my girl… I’ll fix this.” He kissed your knuckle as you looked at him with fear. “Let’s get you to the hospital, you took a nasty fall.” He looked down at you and you understood his silent command, one you already knew too well. Years of enduring this had molded you to his creation, a being a fear and surrender.

“I don’t think that’s important to our relationship as boss and employee.” Your whole body stiffened as you remember that memory, one of your hands moving to hold the wrist that had been broken.

“It is if this person decides to come here. He already seems like he’s not complying with your divorce, what if he shows up unannounced again?” He leaned forward on his knees as he stared at you with an underlying tone in his voice as he spoke. He knew.

“His name is Eddie.” Your voice cracked saying his voice, as if it physically broke you to re-live him. “And he would hurt me.” You whispered through gritted teeth, hating admitting that you were perishable and his hands were how you learned that about yourself. Miguel’s expression softened slightly.

“You can admit that, now you have to make sure you never let anyone make you feel that way again.” He announced, and stood. “You’ll begin self defense training with me.” He rolled his shoulders and you just listened, nodding. You weren't used to being so docile anymore, especially not with your boss, but this was different. This would benefit you and help you become stronger, someone that no one could manhandle ever again.

“When do we start?”

Your work outfit

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

[st0rmyskies]

At Your Own Risk

A little quickie Warrtime sickfic suggested by a new anon, nothing explicit to be had here. I had some time this afternoon so I decided to just bang it out quick.

1300 words, not long enough to post as a chapter imo. Under the cut for length.

It was a rare morning these days that Time should wake up in bed alone. Often he woke with a body plastered right against him, as was Wild’s habit, but not every bed-partner of his was a cuddler. Time turned and sighed and stretched his arm out as he woke, reaching and searching until he met nothing but the far end of the bed. 

Sitting up, Time saw that the other end of the bed was undisturbed, the pillows untouched and the sheets pulled askew only by his own movement in the night.

Odd. 

As he descended the stairs to get ready for his morning run, Time didn’t surreptitiously glance down the second floor hallway. He definitely didn’t take stock of which of the boys’ doors were open or closed, and he certainly didn’t make special note that Warriors’s was among those still shut. He didn’t glance at it again on his way back up the stairs a bit later, nor did he descend from the third floor after his shower to find that now Warriors’s was the only door unopened.

“Good morning, Sir!”

“Hello, Wild.” Time held out one arm to welcome Wild’s morning hug. He continued to pour his coffee with the other hand. “Are we missing someone this morning?”

“Oh, Wars is sick.” Wild took an extra moment to squeeze Time firmly about his waist before letting go. “He was complaining about a headache yesterday and was up sneezing all night.” 

Time hummed a note of concern, watching as Wild returned to the stove and took up a spatula. “Has he been down for breakfast yet?”

“N’ah, he’s real weird about being sick.” One, two, three, four pancakes were flipped faster than Time’s eye could track. “He holes up in his room usually and does nothing but sleep. He only comes out if he has to, and he yells if we knock… Hey, order up!”

From the living room came the grunt of one of the boys getting up from the couch. Time stood frowning with arms half-folded as he took his first swig of coffee. Wild watched him but said nothing, stacking four perfectly-browned pancakes onto Legend’s waiting plate. When Time turned toward the cabinet above the coffee station, Wild tilted his head. 

“Do you know how he takes his tea, Wild?”

Wild positively brightened. “Yeah I do!!”

Across the kitchen island, Legend rolled his eyes. 

Several minutes and one unnecessary pep-talk from Wild later, Time crept up the stairs with all the stealth he had in him. One of the boys was playing music on their phone while they showered, but otherwise the second floor was dead silent. Warriors’s door was still shut. 

“Make sure you knock,” Wild had warned him. 

Time lifted his hand to the door and announced his presence with three soft taps. 

“If he yells, it’s probably safer to try again later. If he doesn’t, you can give it a shot!”

From behind the door came a muffled, “Please, just leave me to die.”

“Even if he doesn’t yell, though, he might throw things if you try to come in, so just be careful.”

Pushing forward, Time laid his hand on the doorknob. “I’m coming in,” he announced.

Warriors’s bedroom was as small as all the others. He kept his bed pushed up against the wall and his bureau at the foot of it. Next to the bureau was a desk that doubled as his vanity, and the curtains had been drawn over the window above it. Immediately near the door was a rack for hangable clothing—Warriors complained frequently about the lack of closet space on the second floor—and Time had to step past it in order to view the bed. 

Rustling about beneath the covers like a crocodile surfacing in a swamp, Warriors glared out from beneath a mountain of blankets. The warning in his eyes was somewhat softened by his pathetic state. His nose and eyes were red, his congestion audible. A satin eye pillow Time had never seen before was pushed up over his forehead. Used tissues littered the floor and the table next to the bed, one or two of them forgotten atop the comforter. 

“Your tea,” Time announced, lowering the little silver tray he carried to demonstrate his offering, his litmus test. 

Warriors’s eyes narrowed as he lifted the covers to hide the lower half of his face. Although he might be incapacitated by his cold, nothing would defang him. “Is there milk?”

“In the carafe. It’s still got a chill,” Time admitted, “but it’s fresh.”

“Sugar?”

“Two cubes. I brought extra,” there was the barest hint of pity in Time’s eye, “I wasn’t sure how well you can taste.” 

Under normal circumstances, Warriors might have snarled something crude in reply. But something caught in his throat as he inhaled, sending him into a coughing fit. While he was distracted Time took the opportunity to approach, brushing some tissues off the corner of the bedside table so he could set down the tray. 

Once his cough had settled, Warriors flopped back onto his pillows. He looked miserable. “You shouldn’t be in here. I’m sure I’m contagious.”

“I’ll have to take my chances.” Time turned the handle of the teacup in the direction of the bed before taking a step back. “I can’t have you dying in my house, Warriors, I can’t afford yet another investigation.”

“Of course,” Warriors rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to sit up, allowing the blankets to fall in disarray around him. “I’ll try to not inconvenience you any more than I already have.”

On those nights spent on the third floor, Warriors typically slept in matching pajama sets, things made from soft fabrics and with delicate buttons. In the privacy of his own room, though, the dress code was more loose. Time thought it was a bit funny to see him in a t-shirt and cotton sleep pants. It was hard to recall a time when he’d seen Warriors dressed so casual. 

Once his tea was sufficiently doctored Warriors took a discerning sip. He glanced up at Time as he did, but the old man was smart enough to be looking away by that point. Hm, the tea was fine. “Why are you still standing here?” Wars snapped before taking his next sip. 

“To make sure that your tea meets your standards,” Time replied patiently, “and to see if you have any requests for lunch before I go searching for cans of soup.”

Warriors visibly winced at that, setting his teacup back on the tray. “Goddess above, not canned soup. Do you know how much sodium is in there?” He set about rearranging his pillows so he could sit up against the headboard. “My face is puffy enough as it is.”

“How callous of me.” Time couldn’t hide the gentle tease in his tone as he reached to help Warriors arrange his blankets. “I’ll enlist Wild’s help, then. Would you like me to bring back a movie when I return?”

Warriors’s shoulders stiffened as Time touched his blankets. Normally he’d shoo away the help, but Time knew how having a wrinkled top sheet could drive him insane. Something about the gesture softened the sharp edge in him, though, and by the time the old man glanced up at him again—

Warriors was openly pouting. 

Oh, he must feel very bad.

“Yes,” he said quietly, tucking the blankets up to his chest, “I’d like that.”

The reply was rewarded with a rare smile and a pat on his thigh. “You enjoy your tea,” Time said as he turned away, “I won’t be more than a—”

“Hey.”

Time stopped in the doorway, leaning back into the room to meet Warriors’s narrowed eyes. 

“If you tell anyone,” Warriors sniffled, “I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“That’s fine,” Time said, “I expect it once you’re feeling better.”

The empty tissue box flung in Time’s direction bounced harmlessly off of the wall as he vanished.

[q-gorgeous]

Wing-Bully

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 5267

No one knows au except dash baxter @xscarletsakurax

this is a rework of something that was gonna go write some other writing i did but then i split them into two different fics because the halves didnt vibe with each other kjhgvcf

hidey hey

“Dash, you’re here so we can work on our project for Lancer’s class. We’re not supposed to be down here.” 

“Come on, ghosts aren’t even real. How dangerous can it be down here?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Dangerous enough that we should really be wearing jumpsuits to protect us from ecto-contamination.”

He walked over to the closet that was down there and pulled out his jumpsuit while Dash laughed at him. 

“Matching outfits with your parents? Lame.”

“Don’t complain to me if you get ectoplasm poisoning then.” 

Danny pulled on his jumpsuit and groaned at the sticker on his chest. He pulled it off and tossed it away. 

“What’s this?” Dash pointed at the deep hole in the wall. Danny walked over to him.

“That’s my parent’s ghost portal. It didn’t end up working though.” 

Dash pushed him towards the portal. “Why don’t you go check it out?”

Danny frowned at him and tried to catch his footing. “No. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I can’t-” 

“Haha, go in.”

“Dash, stopping pushing me-”

Danny tripped backwards over the threshold of the portal. He tried to catch himself on something on the wall but all he ended up doing was pressing a button that for some godforsaken reason was on the inside of the portal. It hummed around him and after a few moments everything went green. 

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

“Glad to see you’re not dead, nerd.” 

Danny looked up to see Dash. It was too early in the morning to deal with him after yesterday. 

“You already knew I wasn’t dead.” 

“A man can dream.” Danny rolled his eyes at Dash’s comment.

“I remember someone crying a lot of tears yesterday when they thought I was dead.” 

A blush rose on Dash’s cheeks. “My adrenaline was running like crazy! It’s not my fault your screams triggered some kind of primal response in my brain!”

“Crying is a primal response now?”

Dash rolled his eyes back at him and crossed his arms. “Have you figured out your whole ghost thing yet?”

“It’s literally been one day.” Danny stared at him. “How could I have figured anything out yet?”

Dash leaned in close to Danny and he glanced at Dash’s lips for a moment before his gaze darted back to Dash’s. “Maybe your parents have some sort of cure. Or maybe it was a one time thing. I don’t know.” 

“Why do you care so much? It’s literally your fault this is happening.”

Dash raised a hand and looked like he was reaching to place it on Danny’s shoulder. “I just-”

Dash was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind them. They turned around and were met with Sam and Tucker. She was glaring at Dash with her arms crossed. 

“What are you friends with him now?” Sam asked, angrily gesturing at Dash.

“Woah, so what if he wants to be friends with me?” He asked, stepping towards her.

She barked out a laugh. “Come on! You’ve been bullying him the entire time I’ve known both of you. Why would he want to be friends with you? You must be blackmailing him or something.”

“Sam, he’s not blackmailing me.”

“How can we trust that? You could be lying because he’s blackmailing you.” Tucker frowned at him and reached out a hand, placing it on Danny’s shoulder. “I don't want what happened in elementary school to happen again.”

Danny shrugged it off. “That’s not what’s going on. Why can’t you just trust me on this?”

“Because this isn’t smart.” Sam said. “Why do you guys need to be friends?”

Danny threw his hands into the air. “Why are you getting so defensive about this? You’ve literally only seen us have this one conversation and you’re already mad at me. For all you know we could have been assigned a project together or he’s asking about his tutoring sessions with Jazz. Maybe he had to reschedule and wanted me to tell Jazz.”

Tucker shuffled where he stood but Sam still stared at him with crossed arms. 

“Yeah but are you going to tell us the real reason?”

“Does it matter, Sam?” 

Out of the corner of his eye Dash saw Danny start slowly sinking. He panickingly grabbed Danny’s arm to prevent him from sinking any further into the ground. Danny tried to keep his expression neutral but Dash could tell he was shaken. 

“Oh. Is that what’s happening?” Sam looked between the two of them. 

“Is what happening?” Danny asked, frowning at her. 

“What kind of enemies to lovers bullshit is this?” Dash’s eyes widened at her outburst. What was she talking about? What did she think was happening?

His gaze landed on where his hand was still wrapped around Danny’s upper arm and he pulled it back like he’d been burned. Sam scoffed. 

“Sam-” Tucker started but she interrupted him.

“Do you even realize how toxic that kind of relationship can be? He’s just going to hurt you.”

Danny recoiled at her words. “What are you even talking about?”

“The fact that you two seem to be getting real cozy with each other? Are you dating or something?” 

Dash stepped in front of Danny. “How shallow do you have to assume the only reason I’d be talking to him now is if we’re dating? For your information, we used to be friends as kids.” Dash frowned at her and watched as she backed up. “Just because you’re self conscious about your major crush on Fenton doesn’t mean you have to take it out on us because we’re having a simple conversation.”

A blush appeared on Sam’s cheeks before she angrily stormed away. 

“Sorry.” Tucker said as he looked between them again before he followed after her.

Danny watched them as they walked into the school. He was quiet for a few moments before he turned his gaze back to Dash.

“Sam has a crush on me?”

Dash groaned. “That is what you’re focused on?” He started walking towards the school.

Danny followed next to him. “But I didn’t know that! How did you know that?”

“You’re just about the only person who didn’t know, Fenton.”

Dash pushed through the front doors of the school. Danny had a dazed look on his face. 

“Is that why everyone calls me clueless?” He whispered. 

“Clueless strikes again.”

Danny frowned up at him. “Oh what, you’re so observant, are you?”

Dash pushed open the front door of the school. It swung closed behind them. “More than you. I’m not even friends with Manson and I could see the blackened heart eyes she was giving you.” 

Danny shuffled his backpack on his shoulders as they walked down the hall. “I’ve just never seen her that way. I don’t like her like that.”

Dash’s brows shot up on his forehead. “You don’t?”

Danny shook his head. He veered off to the right and Dash followed him to his locker. “She's just a friend to me.” 

Dash leaned against the lockers while Danny tried to open his but his hand just ended up passing through the dial lock. He groaned.

“Maybe you should tell her that, then. Get it over with so she doesn’t try to kill anyone that even thinks to get close to you.”

Danny rolled his eyes. He finally got his locker open. “She wouldn’t kill anyone for getting close to me.”

“I don’t know.” Dash drawled. “She looked like she was gonna claw my eyes out back there. Like a creepy bat girl.”

Danny slammed his locker shut and turned to look at Dash. “You know, if we’re going to be doing whatever this is, I would appreciate you not making comments about my friends like that.” 

“But she can talk to me like that?”

Danny frowned. “No. I literally told her there was no reason for her to be talking to you like that for having a simple conversation with me.”

“But she’s allowed to not like me?”

“That’s your own fault.” Danny rolled his eyes. “She has every right not to like you.”

Dash huffed. He was about to say something but then Danny started sinking into the floor again. Danny panickingly grabbed Dash’s forearm to prevent himself from sinking any further in. Dash pulled him up and when he set him back down, his feet were solid again. Dash looked around them and miraculously no one else in the hall saw what happened. 

“I’m already over this.” Danny mumbled as he let go of Dash. 

“Do you think you’ll get control over it eventually?” Dash asked him. 

“Hopefully. Otherwise I’ll probably have no choice but to ask my parents for help. I really don’t want to do that though.” 

“Maybe we could do some training? Or practice? You won’t get used to your powers if you just try to ignore them. If you try to do it, then maybe you’ll understand how to not do it.”

Danny nodded. “That makes sense. I guess that’s what we’ll have to do.” 

They came to a split in the hallway. Danny looked up at him.

“Well, I’m going this way.” Danny hooked a thumb over his shoulder as he turned to face Dash.”

Dash nodded. “See you later. Hopefully you don’t drop anything today.”

“Hopefully. We’ll see.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty four beakers. 

Danny was finally getting ahold of his powers and all it took was thirty four dropped beakers and a lifetime ban from handling anything fragile while he was at school. 

Aside from the frequent ghost sighting, things were starting to look up.

“Manson!” 

If only Dash could learn to keep his thoughts to himself when it came to his friends. 

“What is this garbage?” 

He stomped up to where the three of them were sitting at their table in the cafeteria. Sam frowned at him. 

“It’s not garbage! It’s recyclable organic matter.”

“It’s garbage.” Danny and Tucker said together. 

Danny gasped out a breath of cold air. He looked around him. He saw a lunch lady ghost behind the food counter. 

Dash followed his gaze to where the ghost was. He saw it just as she walked behind the wall. 

Dash looked back at Sam and held up his plate of mud, pushing himself between Danny and his friends. “When I asked for a mud pie, I thought I was gonna get a mud pie. Not a literal mud pie!” 

“Actually, it’s topsoil.” 

“Whatever. Are you going to actually eat this garbage?”

Danny slipped away while Dash argued with his friends. Maybe Dash arguing with his friends could actually be useful for something for once. 

He found somewhere to hide and transformed. He flew invisibly back to the cafeteria to the room the lunch ladies worked in. She was floating there looking around and the food and the lunch trays. She kind of looked like Tucker’s grandma. 

She caught sight of him. Danny was ready to bolt as she floated up to him, but she wasn’t making any moves to attack him.

“Hello.” She said sweetly. “Can you help me? Today’s lunch should be meatloaf, but there’s not any here. Did someone change the menu?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. They’re trying something new this week.” 

Danny jumped back as her hair suddenly flamed up with her anger.

“The menu has been the same for fifty years!” She shouted at him. 

“Wait-”

She levitated some plates and shot them at him. Danny dodged and caught them, avoiding getting hit. What was up with this lady? Why was the menu so important? 

“The menu is sacred! Lunch is sacred!” She spoke in her sickly sweet voice again. “Would you like some cake?”

Danny looked at her, confused. “If you’re offering-”

“No one gets cake until the menu is changed back!” 

She held her arms up and meat started flying towards her from every direction. It engulfed her and turned her into a meat monster.

“Meat is the most important food group! Without meat, you’ll remain puny and muscle-less!” 

“I’m not arguing with you there.” Danny mumbled. He geared up for a kick but she grabbed his ankle and sent him flying across the room. 

“I will restore the sanctity of the lunch menu! As soon as I find out who changed it!”

She disappeared in a tornado of meat.

The ghost was gone for now. Danny flew through the wall of the school and collapsed onto the ground. He transformed back and tried to push himself up. He was so tired. He’d never used his powers like that before. He groaned. 

“Hey.”

Danny opened his eyes and looked up. Dash was standing there with his hand outstretched to Danny. He looked at it for a second before he reached up and grabbed it, pulling himself up with Dash’s help. 

“Thanks. That ghost wiped me out.”

“No problem. I wanted to make sure that ghost didn’t kill you. I was trying to find you when I saw you fly through the wall and hit the ground out here.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah that wasn’t fun.” He looked down and saw that he was still holding onto Dash’s hand. He pulled it away and coughed. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I should go check on Sam and Tucker though. I want to make sure they’re okay.”

“The ghost attack was pretty contained.” Dash said. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Ah.” Dash said. “That’s fair. Sorry about dragging out that argument with her.”

Danny shrugged and started walking away. “It distracted them long enough to let me slip away for a bit so. No harm done. At least not to me.”

“Good luck. Hopefully she doesn’t chew your head off.” 

Danny pulled the door Dash had walked out open and stepped back inside the school, shaking the hand that had been holding Dash’s. He made his way through the hallways to find Sam and Tucker. 

Sam slammed open the cafeteria doors as Danny stumbled down the hallway. 

“I still can’t believe you’re talking to that meathead.” She shot at him with no preamble. “He literally antagonizes all of us. And then you ditch us to go meet up with him? I saw you two outside.”

“Sam-” 

“What can you say to defend him?” She turned to look at him. “He beats you up all the time.”

“Not anymore.” Danny said.

“What?” Sam stopped walking.

“He doesn’t beat me up anymore.”

She didn’t say anything to that for a few moments. She shook her head. “I still don’t trust him. I don’t get how you could forgive him so easily.”

“I-” He stopped. Had he forgiven Dash?

Sam shook his head. “Let’s just get to class.”

Danny looked around them. “Where’s Tucker?”

She rolled her eyes. “He said he smelt meat so he went to track it down through the hallways. I don’t know if he’s found it yet.” 

Danny scrunched up his nose. He knew exactly what meat Tucker was smelling. “He’s just gonna go eat whatever random mystery meat he finds?”

“Apparently.”

Danny didn’t respond after her last stilted reply. He followed behind her to their next class. When they walked in she went straight to her seat but he looked up and made eye contact with Dash. Dash gave him a questioning look and Danny just shrugged at him before sitting back down.

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

Dash walked into the Nasty Burger. Football had just ended and he was hungry. 

As he was walking to the counter he saw Danny sitting at a table with his friends. Dash smirked and walked over to them.

“Hey, nerds.” He placed a hand on the table and leaned his weight into it. 

Sam rolled her eyes. “What do you want?” 

“I just came to say hi to my favorite nerds. Is there a problem with that?” 

“If we’re your favorite does that mean you’ll stop making fun of us?” Tucker asked thoughtfully. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, Sam.”

“He’s not going to stop making fun of us, Tucker. The two of them are over there ‘trying to be friends.’” She said with air quotes. “And he still picks on us all the time.” 

“I’ve tried talking to him about it, Sam, but he has a hard time with it.” 

She shot Danny a look. “So why be friends with him? Why give him a chance? What do you see in him?”

“Just because he doesn’t like you-”

Sam scoffed. “Maybe you’re too insecure about your own crush on Danny.” 

Danny whipped his head to look at her. 

“What?” Dash laughed it off. “What are you talking about, Manson?” 

“Yeah, Sam, what are you talking about?” Danny stared at her. 

“Isn’t that what’s been happening this whole time?” She shot back at them. “He’s got some kind of weird feelings for you, he’s trying to get into your pants. Get on your good side. The pulling the girl’s pigtails because you like her bullshit? Don’t you see how weird his sudden change in actions towards you is?” 

“What about your sudden change in actions?” Danny shot at her. “Do you realize how much of an asshole you’ve been lately?”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t friends with-”

Danny threw his hands up in the air. “God forbid if I make new friends! Or try to get along with someone instead of fighting! Or even make decisions for myself.” 

“Danny-”

He cut her off and stood up. “No I’m-” He gasped and Dash saw his ghost sense fog out of his mouth. He frowned. “I’m going home. I need some time alone.” He turned and started walking towards the door. 

“Danny!” Dash followed behind Danny out of the Nasty Burger. 

The ghost was flying above the parking lot shooting ecto-blasts every which way. 

The door slammed behind Dash and Danny turned his head to look at him. 

“I need some time to think. Please just go back inside.” 

He called on his transformation rings. Once they passed across his body he jumped up and flew into the air towards the ghost. 

He watched Danny fight the ghost. He could tell he was angry. He was sloppy today. 

Danny missed a dodge and got hit through the air by the ghost. He ended up turned facing the opposite direction so he didn’t see it start to charge at him. 

Dash’s heart raced as he watched the ghost fly up to Danny. His heart stirred with feelings he wanted to push down. He didn’t need to put himself in danger for Danny. He didn’t feel that way. Danny didn’t feel that way about him.

But as the ghost got closer, Dash couldn’t help as the anxiety skyrocketed. His resolve broke and he picked up a big piece of asphalt off the ground and chucked it at the ghost. It turned to look at him. 

Dash froze when the ghost’s eyes landed on him. What was he doing? Was Danny really that important to him now?

The ghost’s mouth filled up with ectoplasm and shot it towards.

He wouldn’t be able to move in-

Danny knocked Dash out of the way of the ecto-blast just in time. His arms wrapped around Dash’s chest and he flew back. The blast hit the ground where he’d been standing just a moment before. 

Dash wrapped his arms around Danny as they slammed into the ground. He groaned as his back slid across the pavement and Danny looked down at him. He started feeling the back of Dash’s head, running his fingers through his hair. 

Dash opened his eyes and looked up at Danny. He looked panicked. Like something was wrong, but he literally just prevented anything from being wrong.

“Dash, are you okay?”

He nodded. “Back hurts. Head’s fine.”

Danny leaned down and lay his head on Dash’s chest. Dash’s hands slid down Danny’s back and rested at his side and he closed his eyes again. He really didn’t like this whole ghost hunting thing. 

The ghost roared behind them and Dash felt Danny’s head shoot back up. 

“Shit! How did I forget about the ghost?”

Dash waved his hand above him. “Go. I’m fine. I’m just gonna get my bearings on the ground here.” 

Dash listened as Danny finished fighting the ghost. It ended quickly and he could hear Danny’s footsteps as he walked to stand over Dash. Dash opened his eyes and his heart jumped at the way the sun shone on Danny’s white hair. 

Danny held his hand out to Dash and he slowly reached up and grabbed it. Danny pulled him to his feet and looked at their hands. He let go a moment later. 

“I think we need a new rule. No interfering with ghost attacks.”

“What?” Dash frowned at him. “That thing was about to gobble you.” 

Danny crossed his arms. “Yeah, but if I didn’t get to you on time you could've gotten very badly hurt. I thought I knocked your head on the ground when I knocked you out of the way.” 

Dash shrugged. “But you didn’t.” 

“We can’t rely on that.” Danny looked away from him. “Just promise you won’t interfere like that again?”

Dash wasn’t sure if that was something he could actually do. But one look at the expression on Danny’s face told Dash he should at least try. 

“Yeah. I promise.” 

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

Danny was nodding off in the middle of class. They were given time to work on their homework today but all Danny wanted to do was sleep. Having to fight all these ghosts all the time was making his life way too stressful. He wasn’t to sleep or get his homework done or even get to class on time. It was starting to get to him. 

He yawned. While his eyes were shut he heard someone sit down next to him. He opened his eyes and saw Dash in the next seat over. 

“You look tired.”

“Thanks, captain obvious. I didn’t realize.” 

Dash shrugged. He slouched back in his seat. “Your friends are whispering about you back there.” 

Danny turned and looked over his shoulder at where Sam and Tucker sat at the table in the back of the classroom. When they saw him looking Sam turned back around. Tucker just waved at him awkwardly. 

Danny waved back at him. “I wish they’d just sit over here with me.” 

Dash waved them off. “Who needs ‘em if they’re going to be treating you like that.” 

Sam snorted behind them. Dash turned to look at her. “You got something to say Manson?”

“As if we could treat him any worse than anything you’ve ever done to him.” 

Dash shrugged as he faced back towards the front of the classroom. “Hey, at least my character arc is positive. I’ve made amends.” 

“You’ve hardly even done anything. What kind of character arc have you actually had?”

“I-” Dash started but then he stopped. His brows dropped down and he looked at Danny. 

It hit Danny then that the only thing that really changed with Dash’s behavior was how he treated Danny. He didn’t pick on him anymore and he had cared about him, but he immediately resumed the same habits with both of Danny’s friends. Any time that Dash covered for Danny’s whereabouts during ghost fights, the only thing he could think to do was antagonize Sam and Tucker. He could never think up any actual excuses that wouldn’t cause more problems. 

Danny missed part of the conversation. By the time he tuned back in, Sam was glaring at Dash from across the room. 

“Just because he’d rather spend time with me than you-”

Danny’s ghost sense picked that moment to go off and he couldn’t think of a more convenient time for it to have happened. He stood up sharply and made his way out of the classroom quickly. The door slammed behind him as it closed and he was a couple steps down the hallway when the door opened behind him again.

“Danny, wait-” 

“Why do you do that?” Danny turned and frowned at him. 

“What?” Dash’s brows furrowed.

“Why do you dig at them like that? Make them feel bad about what’s going on?”

“Manson-” Dash started but Danny interrupted him. 

“No. Sam and Tucker are mad at me because of you. They think I’m always ditching them to go hang out with you instead.” 

“That’s not my fault!” Dash shouted back at him. “That’s the ghost’s fault!” 

“But they don’t know that!” Danny stared at him. “All they know is that I’m on good terms with you now and I disappear all the time. They know something is up.” 

Dash shuffled where he stood. He knew he was causing a rift between Danny and his friends. No matter how much he liked to antagonize them, he wasn’t proud of it. He wasn’t trying to put distance between them. 

Danny sighed. “She keeps making jabs about us being together like it would be crazy. Like it would be the worst thing in the world.” Danny looked up at Dash. “I would like it if it wasn’t the craziest thing in the world. If it could actually be true. But with the way you treat my friends-” He shook his head. 

Everything around Dash stopped. What? 

“Danny-”

A blue mist came out of Danny’s mouth again. He shook his head.

“I gotta go.”

“Wait-”

Danny ran around the corner away from Dash.

“What did you do to him?” 

Dash looked down the hallway to see Sam glaring at him. Tucker stood next to her. 

“What?” He asked. 

“He just ran away from you? What did you do to him?” She stomped her way over to him.

“Nothing!” Dash held his hands up in a surrendering motion. “We were just talking and he had to go-”

“We’re in the middle of class. What else would he need to be doing right now?”

“Yeah. Why would he be leaving?” Tucker asked. 

“He, uh, went to-”

Sam ran past him and around the corner Danny went down, Tucker close on her heels. Dash followed behind them knowing Danny would already be gone but they didn’t stop there. They ran down the hallway and out the door leading outside. 

“Danny?” She shouted. “Where are you?”

Dash was the only one that noticed Danny floating in the sky. He was fighting an animal type ghost.

“Uh, guys, I think we should probably go back inside.” 

He pointed up at the sky and Sam and Tucker followed his finger. Sam’s eyes widened and she looked around the front of the school again. 

“Danny!” 

Phantom must’ve heard that one because he turned his head to look down at them. The ghost took that moment to hit Phantom, sending him flying through the air. Now he was much closer to them. 

This ghost looked horrifying. It was animalistic but it looked uncannily like a person. Stringy, hair looking fur and teeth curved into a creepy smile. 

“Get to safety! Now!” Phantom shouted down at them. He shot another ectoblast at the ghost. 

“We have to find Danny first!” Sam shouted in a panic. 

“He’s not out here.” Dash turned to go back inside the school. “Let’s just listen to Phantom and get somewhere safe.”

“That hallway doesn’t lead anywhere except outside! Where else could he be?” Sam asked, still turning around looking for Danny. 

“He didn’t-” 

“Danny!” Tucker shouted. 

Dash growled. Why didn’t they just listen to him? 

The ghost let out a shriek and Dash squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears. 

“Go inside, now!” 

Dash’s eyes opened at Phantom’s shout. He looked back up into the air. 

Dash stared at the ghost that was hovering in the air in front of them. It was cackling, its head thrown back into the air. It looked back at the ground directly at Sam and promptly shot an ectoblast out of its mouth. Dash saw Sam’s mouth open the slightest bit and everything slowed down. Danny turned, following the path of the blast but when he tried to fly towards her the ghost grabbed onto him, trapping him. 

This was one of Danny’s best friends. She might hate Dash’s guts but Danny cared for her more than she hated him. 

Without another thought, he pushed himself into a run and sprinted his way across the grass. He put himself between her and the ghost and grabbed her just as the blast hit him in the back.

He could hear Sam scream as they fell to the ground. Tucker was shouting from somewhere else but Dash couldn’t make much out past the ringing in his ears. He could hear scuffling in the air above him but it was muffled. The pain in his back radiated out and he could feel it in every jostle as someone shook his body. 

Everything started fading away and Dash hoped he wasn’t dying. Distantly, he wondered if this is how Danny felt when he died in the portal. 

The voices fell away and so did Dash.

~~~~~~~~~~

Slowly, the world came back to him. The first thing he noticed was the steady beeping nearby. The second thing was how bright the lights were against his eyelids. 

He groaned and he heard some shuffling to his left. Someone placed a hand on his arm. 

“Dash?”

His heart skipped a beat and he slowly pried his eyes open. He was laying in a bed in the hospital and Danny was standing to his left. 

“Danny?” Dash croaked out. He tried to sit up but Danny pushed him back down against his pillows. 

“You shouldn’t move too much. You got hit pretty bad.” 

“You got the ghost though?” Dash asked. 

“Yeah, he got the ghost.”

Sam and Tucker walked into the room and stood next to Danny. 

“Uh, no I asked if Phantom got the-” Dash fumbled, trying to cover it up.

“It’s okay, Dash.” Danny said. “I told them. I thought it might be better if they knew.”

Dash looked at Danny’s two friends. They didn’t look like they were mad at him anymore. Or like they hated him. It was relieving that they knew. Danny didn’t have to keep avoiding them or keep secrets anymore. 

“If we’d known in the first place we could’ve helped, you know.” Sam said, shooting both of them a look. 

“Yeah. A team always needs a tech guy.” Tucker crossed his arms in mock frustration.

“But we do understand why you guys have been acting weird for the past couple months.” Sam turned to look at Dash. “Thank you for helping him even though you didn’t have to.”

Dash nodded, dumbfounded.

She stared at him a moment longer and pulled her gaze away. “And thank you for knocking me out of the way of that hit. Sorry it landed you here.”

Dash shook his head. “You’re Danny’s friends. You’re important to him. I didn’t want you to get hurt because of all this ghost stuff.” 

“That’s a nice thought, but you should also try not to get yourself hurt.” Sam said. 

“Yeah.” Danny frowned. “You promised.” 

Dash shrugged. “We can call it karma.” 

Tucker stepped forward. “We need a name.”

“A name?” Danny looked up at Tucker.

“Yeah, like a cool ghost hunting team name.” He waved his hands in the air. “What about Team Phantom?”

Sam snorted. “That sounds dumb.”

Tucker planted his hands on his hips. “Well, do you have any better ideas then?”

Danny’s hand slowly made his way down from his arm to his hand as they talked. He entwined his fingers with Dash’s and gave him a squeeze. Dash squeezed his hand back. 

Everything would be okay. Everything was okay.��

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Corruption fic - Last preview

Ok, last preview for this fic! Again, no active warnings here but I promise the finished product will be very fun~ ;)

When you regained consciousness, you felt the familiar pounding in your head after a heavy night of drinking. Begrudgingly you dragged yourself out of you bed and forced your way to your bathroom for a much needed shower. You realized when you glanced towards the mirror that you never changed out of your clothes from yesterday. In fact, you don't even remember how you got back to your room last night, Everything was such a blur, and it hurt to think with the major headache you were experiencing at the moment. The last thing you could recall was falling off the bar stool, the pain you felt in your shoulder was enough of a reminder. Once you stepped in the hot shower, you felt a little better, but only a little bit. You tried to rack your brain for answers, trying to remember exactly what happened after you fell. You ran your fingers through your hair, letting the water soak your aching body. But in doing so, something had clicked. That motion had unlocked a foggy memory. Your hair. Someone had run their hands through your hair last night, but you couldn't for the life of you remember who. It was gentle, soft, tender. But who would do that?

After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower and threw on one of the sundresses you had hanging in your closet. You really didn't feel like putting a ton of effort into your clothing choices today. Hopefully Charlie would forgive you for skipping out on her planned activity today and let you recover. You realized after that initially thought that you didn't even know what time is was. Chances were you had already missed it. With a groan, you plopped down back onto the mattress, your hair still damp.

"What's the matter with me," you asked yourself. "How do I expect to be redeemed when all I do is sabotage my chances by getting wasted every night?" Your headache persisted as you laid in your bed, you almost wanted to cry from the pain. But then, you heard a soft knocking at your door. Charlie, you thought. More than likely she was checking in on you to make sure you were alright. "I'll be there in a second!" you called out. The volume of your own voice didn't help your hangover in the slightest. You grabbed one of the small pillows off your bed for comfort and trudged your way to your door. "I'm really sorry I slept in Charlie," you spoke as you turned the door handle, "it was a...really rough night for me and I-" you stopped completely once you opened the door fully. Charlie, in fact, was not the one who had knocked.

"Yeah, you really did get put through the ringer last night, didn't you?" Lucifer smiled at you. The pillow you held fell to the floor with a soft thud.

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry, sir!” You stuttered. “I-I thought you were Charlie! Did-Did she send you?”

Lucifer looked at you with a puzzled stare. “Uhh, no, no she didn’t. I told her what happened last night and let her know I’d check in on you like I promised.”

“Promised?” you asked, but Lucifer didn’t seem to hear you.

“And you don’t have to refer to me as “sir,” my dear, ��Lucifer” is just fine! I mean, you used my name just fine last night!”

Your heart stopped. “L-Last night? Oh no…what…what happened last night?”

Lucifer gawked at your question. “Wait, do you not remember anything?” You shook your head timidly. “Oh dear…well, nothing bad happened, I promise! What’s the last thing you can remember doing?”

You looked down at the floor sheepishly, embarrassed to admit the real answer. “The last thing I can remember is falling off the bar stool and…landing on my face…”

Lucifer stood there and pondered for a few seconds before speaking again. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Oh, umm, yeah, y-you can come in,” you agreed. You picked up the pillow you had dropped and opened the door for Lucifer to saunter in. “I’m sorry I look like a mess right now, I-I just got out of the shower and my hair isn’t completely dry yet and-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright!” Lucifer interrupted. “You don’t need to apologize. You look lovely, in any case.”

You brought the pillow in your hands up to your face in an attempt to hide your blush. “T-Thank you,” your muffled voice came through the pillow. "I-If you want, you can sit down on my b-ahh fuck!" One hand came up to your forehead when you felt your head pounding from the pressure that's been building since you woke up. This was definitely one of your worst hangovers to date.

"Oh! Are you alright?" Lucifer asked, his voice laced with deep concern.

"My head..." you choked out. You made your way over to your bed, crawling up to the top and cradling the pillow in your arms "Hangovers are never really kind to me."

Lucifer frowned, seating himself down on the edge of your mattress next to you. You felt your face flare up again when you looked up at his worried expression. "Can I help you? I can alleviate the pain. You only need ask."

"Y-you can?"

"Sure! Angelic power and all that." His hand hovered just above your forehead. "May I?"

"Yes," you breathed. With that, you felt his soft hand make contact with your aching head. You felt a warm tingling sensation emanating from his touch. It didn't hurt nor was it unpleasant, it was healing. Without thinking, you leaned further into his touch, letting the warmth spread throughout your entire body. Your headache slowly began to fade away along with the fogginess that had been plaguing you since you woke up. As his touch lingered, you realized you were able to think more clearly than before, memories from last night started to become clearer and clearer. You remembered Lucifer had come to your rescue after you'd fallen. You remembered Alastor had shown up to mock you in your drunken stupor, only for Lucifer to step in and defend you. You remember sobbing with Lucifer while he comforted you. Then you remembered...

You shot straight up, your heart racing a million miles a second, with Lucifer throwing his hand back in surprise. "What? What happened? Did I hurt you?" Lucifer asked in a panic.

"I'm..." you began, "I'm starting to remember things from last night." You clutched the pillow tight to your chest, refusing to look in the fallen angel's direction. "Please tell me I didn't actually lay down in your lap..."

"Uhh, well...," You could tell from his response that that's exactly what had happened.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" you apologized. "I shouldn't have done that! I-I know I drank way too much last night, I should have stopped, I didn't realize that-"

Lucifer's hand immediately flew to your shoulder in an attempt to get you to stop you from completely spiraling. "Darling, you don't need to apologize for that! You weren't feeling great so you just, ya know, used me as a pillow. And besides, it's not like I disliked it either."

"W-What?!" you nearly shrieked. Another realization had hit you just then. "You! You were the one that was playing with my hair! That's the only thing I could remember when I woke up!" You buried your face in the pillow once more. "If I said anything embarrassing..."

You heard Lucifer swallow hard. "I guess uhh, it depends on your definition of the word."

"Oh God, please no..." you pleaded. "What did I say?"

Lucifer held up his hand again as an offering, a weary smile on his face. "I can help you to remember, if you wish."

[norrisreads]

dangerous woman #CS55

PAIRING: carlos sainz x reader!, non racer carlos sainz jr x reader!

SUMMARY: being arranged married to carlos sainz, will the both of you work the marriage or will the next step be signing the divorce papers

WARNING: age gap, arranged married related, no smuts! tensions ofc, will be a 4 part series, inc of smau! angst, fluff (in the future?)

masterlist part 2

the bells of the cafe that you’re working at chimed, and there walked in his subordinates .

“how many more minutes ‘till you’re ending?” you glanced up at the said person and down at the watch that was gifted to you, and gave him an answer

“20 minutes, he should know” they nodded and proceeded taking a seat that was directly facing your counter

while cleaning the barista station, and doing the next employee a big favour you felt tensed from the staring from the three said man in suits.

“what’s with all the staring? do your own things, i’m feeling abit tensed right now” rolling your eyes and continuing your task

“he’s furious” the following monaqesque man told you

“i don’t give a shit charles, he did it first, i’m just continuing the game”

you were furious too, both him and you are married in papers but have never been in love with each other before, yeah the both of you grew up close to each other just because your dad were close friends but that is all, nothing more than that.

you’ve been in tons of relationships, and so did he, but it does not make sense for him to still have her by his side and you had to leave yours.

your past relationship was looked down by your dad, mainly because he wasn’t brought up in a wealthy environment, it didn’t really became a big deal between the both of you until you had enough of the shit your dad put him through which eventually led you to agreeing marrying carlos sainz, in an arranged marriage.

The both of you had rules to follow, and he of course never stayed true to it, and so you tried to do the same.

Yesterday you were celebrating your best-friend birthday and your friends just happened to stumbled upon a club, which all of you’ve missed the feeling of it, so all you surely did ENJOYED it.

Not until you were making moves to a gorgeous looking man, and felt you being pulled away, and there he was the man you’ve loathed.

Cockblocker, a huge one.

“i’ll suggest you to stay away” the familiarity of the spanish accent made you realised it was him, carlos sainz.

You’ve felt embarrassed, muttering a sorry to the man and him giving you a slight smile.

Turning back to carlos sainz, you pulled away your hands from his grip and walked away, while muttering “ just when i thought i could get laid”

Bidding goodbye to the girls, you were being guarded to his car by his subordinates.

“how did you guys find me here” you asked pierre, the only one that was walking the same pace as you

“ (your bestfriend name) instagram story, sorry y/n”

you shook your head and climbed in-to the front passenger seat of the Ferrari that was parked in front of the club.

The other guys went to their own vehicle leaving the both of you alone, removing the jacket that was covering you, totally forgetting to hand it back to the guy earlier.

“whose jacket is that, i don’t recall that in your closet?” breaking the tension between the both of you while reversing the car

“it shouldn’t concern you, why are you here anyway? I was having fun” clicking your tongue, while finding for your makeup wipes and removing your makeup in the car.

“you’re my wife, i should be concerned”

“now i am your wife? will you say that in-front of her too?”

that comment made him shut up real quick, which continued all the way to your home.

which led to today, the tension is still strong, you left the house without bidding goodbye to him when he was clearly sitting on your couch eyeing you running around the house finding your things.

“they broke off” this time, lando spoke.

“it doesn’t concern me guys, we don’t like each other” wiping off the last bit and handing the three guys their coffee that was on the house.

“how do you know that he doesn’t see you that way, and why are you so sure about that?” Pierre asking while taking sips of the coffee

“well for a starter gasly, he wouldn’t be fucking around if he liked me, am i right?”

It did made you feel an ease knowing they broke off, yeah you liked his presence but you of course disliked that he betrayed the rules and guidelines that was set by the both of you.

“you guys were fine when the both of you got married though, i don’t see how this had happened”

“she happened, leclerc. what makes it fair that i had to leave someone behind and he doesn’t?” They nodded their head slightly agreeing your point.

“is he coming or are we going somewhere?” removing your apron, walking towards the racks and hanging your personalised apron.

“he’s reaching in a few minutes” signalling them an ‘OK’ sign and walking towards your locker and changed out of your uniform.

Changing took at least 5 minutes, but of course you kept doing things at your own pace, purposely rearranging your locker neatly until you heard a door opened.

“are you building a changing room, what took you 10 minutes to change out of these clothes”

“you’re a comedian sainz, why are you here anyways” pushing him back with your purse which led him to holding it

walking to the front of the house, you bid goodbye to jake, the new part timer

“why are you still working here, I offered you a placement”

“i asked you a question first, and i’ll rather work here than seeing you at work, furthermore i’ll see you at home 80% of the time, i’ll go insane if i see you every single day in every single hour”

he sighed and grabbed your hands walking towards the parking area

“we’re going on a date today”

standing still in the middle of the walkway, you looked at him confused and shocked and with the halted bumping from the three men, made you realised they too were confused

what is wrong with carlos sainz, why is he asking me out on a date…? did he woke up on the wrong side of the bed..? is this a freaky Friday incident?

“gasly, leclerc, norris, you’re dismissed” and with that the three of them hurried away with lando winking to you

note: thank you for taking the time to read this, i have much more drafts but i’ve decided to slowly post them! hope this gets you on your feet, because there’s three more series and it’ll get much more better :-)

taglist are welcome, do req them in my ask ~

[thatfreshi]

Always (Uni AU P. 16)

Thank you all for patiently waiting :)

tw - mentions of abuse, grooming

Your eyes flutter open slowly, unsure of exactly where you are. When you move your head, you feel the bone in Astarion's shoulder, and remember the night prior. When you realize you indeed were asleep on him, you jerk back up.

"What time is it?"

"Almost six. You must've been tired."

He puts his phone down and sits his head on his knees.

"You alright?"

"Just not looking forward to today. Twelve-hour day, nine to nine, no breaks."

"Sounds horrible."

"It does, doesn't it? And I haven't slept in days either."

He gets out of bed reluctantly and goes to the closet, almost tripping over nothing.

"You could probably spare some time to lay down a little longer."

"No, sadly I can't. The location is an hour away, I still have to get ready, and I have to pick up some things on the way. All of that and maybe find time to eat something."

He methodically looks through the many fabrics, finding a silk dress shirt. Thoughtlessly, Astarion throws off the sweater from yesterday, revealing what appears to be many scars across his back.

"Holy shit."

You don't mean for the words to stumble out the way they do, but it's not often you see someone's skin decorated in old wounds.

"Right, forgot I hadn't told you about all of those. Though to be honest, I've never seen them."

He quickly puts on his newly chosen shirt, fiddling with the buttons on the sleeves.

"Are they-"

"From Cazador? Of course."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did he do it?"

He stops in his tracks, dumbfounded once again by you and your questions.

"I mean, there's always plenty of reasons to him. Misstep on the catwalk, look the wrong way in a photo, make him look bad in front of someone else in the industry. He does his punishments in private obviously, but you always know when you're due for one. Always."

Light steps make their way to the kitchen to get some coffee. You follow, silently.

"Sorry. I know I have more of a stomach for this kind of thing than you do."

"You shouldn't have the stomach for it at all."

"You think I don't know that?"

He turns to meet your eyes, and then sighs, leaning against the counter.

"Really, I am sorry. I'm just very irritable right now."

"Anything I can do?'

"No, I think I just need to be by myself, for the little time I have. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

He perks up at that.

"Why?"

"I mean, none of this is your fault. No need to apologize about things out of your control. Besides, I ask about all of it anyways. If you need alone time, you need alone time."

He's so used to 'sorry's, even if they aren't always genuine. Sorry when he's at Cazador's whim, sorry to people he's looped into horrific schemes, sorry any time he fucks up. Most recently, he's so incredibly apologetic to you, the way he's fallen for you, the way he can't bring himself to leave you alone, the way you always ask about the worst of it and he almost always shares. That look in your eyes when you see him hurt, he's been trying to avoid it, because it makes him feel monstrous.

"Anyways, I hope it's not all that bad today. If you need something, let me know, okay?"

You grab all your things from the night before, and make your way towards the door.

"Okay. Thank you Tav."

You smile.

"Of course Aster, anything for you, any time, anywhere. Always."

He almost says something when you walk out the door, but simply has his mouth agape, watching you walk away after saying probably the nicest thing he's heard in years.

When you make your way back to your dorm room, you hear shouting from inside, which you can only assume is Shadow and Lae arguing again. Then, when you walk in, you realize it's actually Gale's voice going back and forth with your moody roommate. Lae'zel seems to be absent from the dorm.

"Gale, you can't be fucking serious. You're sleeping with a professor? Not just any professor, but Mystra? Really? Are you that fucking stupid?"

"We are not just sleeping together, it's a real relationship. We have something special Shadowheart, not that you would particularly understand that."

"No, no you don't have something special with her, she's using you. You work for her, she's your teacher! She can decide your entire academic future on a whim!"

"No one better to fall in love with then, right?"

"Oh, fall in love? You, you are not in love with her, and she is certainly not in love with you. She's using you and your naivety Gale."

You hear her voice crack at this point, the concern for her best friend seeping through.

"Oh, so I'm naive now? Great to know you think so highly of me Shadow. You were begging me to tell you, I thought you'd be happy for me!"

"I'm not listening to this. When you want to have a real conversation, and not just make me feel like I'm crazy for worrying about you, come and find me."

Her door slams, and she storms past you in the living space, rushing out of the dorm. Gale slowly makes his way out of her room, not expecting you to be waiting.

"And now you know too, wonderful. Are you also going to call me insane for being in love, or are you capable of being reasonable?"

No words come to mind. Instead of sitting around waiting for a response, he walks right past you, off to brood in his room alone. You decide to try and find your roommate, just to make sure she's alright, and possibly get the rest of the story. Despite your efforts, you find none of your strange friends. It's as if campus has been entirely deserted. With the new chill in the air as Fall becomes even more intense, you find yourself feeling lonely, and even sad. So, you do what any other reasonable college student would, and you go grab a coffee and throw yourself into some assignments.

Essays, discussion boards, projects, powerpoints, they all sort of just blur together. Word counts become meaningless, rubrics are like unspeakable languages, emails are a life-sucking endless void of nothing. You close your laptop and stare at the ceiling, wondering why you're even sad to begin with, why all of this seems like treacherous work. Your mind floats back to Astarion, as it often does. Perhaps he was the cause of your melancholy, him and all the scars you had seen that morning. But now it's hours later, close to nightfall, and you barely have anything to show for it.

That's when Karlach and Gale show up, which helps you snap out of the mood a little bit.

"She'll come around Gale! I may not get it, but hey, we all just gotta do our own thing."

The two of them sit at your lonely little table, and Gale sighs.

"Well Tav, how's the rest of the day been?"

"Uneventful. Sad. Boring."

Gale nods in agreement.

"Oh cheer up you two! There's still time left in the night, things can get better!"

You can't help but crack a smile.

"You know what Karlach? You're right, and just for that, I'm going to get us all a little treat."

The two of them insist that you shouldn't, but you're already walking off to the coffee bar that's going to close soon. You buy a couple of stupid little candies, just to make sure everyone will have something they enjoy. You thank the barista and walk back to the table. On the way, you feel at your pocket for your phone, but it's not there.

"Must've left it at the table."

And you were right, because when you look back up Karlach is receiving a call on your phone. You walk over to try and figure out who she possibly could've answered, mouthing a question to her. She tells you to shush, her eyes far more serious than normal.

"What do you mean he's in the hospital?"

Her voice cracks when she asks, and without thinking you snatch your phone out of her hands.

[annwrites]

⸻ first meeting. ⸻

· pairing: chainsaw angus x lilsister!reader · type: one-shot (collection) · summary: you & your older brother meet for the first time. and it quickly becomes the beginning of the end of your happiness. · tw: dead dove, non-con, molestation, underage · tags: fingering · word count: 4,363

There’s a knock at the front door.

Your heart jumps into your throat, worried that it’s an unhappy customer of your dad’s. Such undesirables have only come by the house when he wasn’t home once or twice before, though. Both times you’d hidden in your closet until they went away.

You hope it’s just a Jehova’s Witness, or something just as harmless instead. You have homework to tend to, and your dad still hasn’t replaced the overhead bulb in your closet. So it wouldn’t exactly be the most optimal place for such a task.

You emerge from your room into the hallway, slowly padding toward the front door. You haven’t even gotten a chance to change into something more comfortable yet—you’re still wearing the sundress you wore to school.

There’s another knock, which makes you jump lightly.

You walk closer, standing on tiptoes, checking the peephole.

Whoever it is…he’s not with a local church. Maybe you shouldn’t make assumptions like that, though. He could be nice. Or he could be dangerous.

That’s the phrase: stranger danger. You choose to keep that in mind when you also choose not to open the door.

He can come back later. Or not at all. It makes no difference to you either way.

Another knock.

You begin to back away.

“Y/N, you there?” calls a deep, unfamiliar voice.

You feel the blood drain from your face. How…how does he know your name? You don’t want to ask. Don’t want him to know that you are: here. Home.

You’d like for him to leave and never return.

“It’s me, Angus.”

Your brows furrow. You know that name. He’s not supposed to be here. As in legally. Your dad has a protection order against him. He never told you what he did to earn it, though.

And that was a long time ago.

Maybe he’s not so bad now?

You’ve never met him, so you wouldn’t really know anything about all that. You don’t know that you want to learn, either. That it’s of any real interest to you.

You begin stepping closer to the door again.

You open your mouth, then shut it.

You open it again. “Dad’s not here.”

His head perks up. You have a nice voice.

He’s not leaving until he learns what you look like, too. Feel like, maybe. He’ll have to decide that part once you let him inside. And you will.

“Can you open the door, sweetheart?”

You glance to the chain-lock at the top of it. You should polish it soon. It looks a bit dull. You like when things are shiny. Clean. You accidentally overlooked it when tidying up yesterday, apparently. You tack it onto your mental to-do list.

With a slightly-shaking hand, you slide the lock free, hoping your dad doesn’t come home early. If he finds out you let Angus in…he won’t be pleased.

You don’t like keeping secrets. Which this will have to be.

But you already do. Keep a lot of them. But those are different. They’re secrets you keep for someone you’re already familiar with: your dad. Like about his dealings. Where he has his lab at. What he does there. Makes, at least.

You sigh, turning the lock on the handle next, slowly opening the door.

He’s very tall. A head taller than you, at least. But you’re not done growing yet. You tell yourself that, at least. You’d read once that women don’t stop growing into their bodies until they’re nineteen. Four more years to go, then. Time for potential.

You’d like to be a couple inches taller yourself.

You don’t ask for a lot. It’s better that way. So at least you’re not quite as let down when you don’t get all the things you’d hoped for. Keeping a short list is optimal. You’ve had to learn that the hard way.

He also has dark eyes, like your dad’s. But he is his son, after all. And dark, tousled hair. Dark, neatly trimmed facial hair. Even his clothing is dark in color. A black t-shirt, dark-washed jeans. Biker boots.

Dark, dark, dark.

“Hello,” you say quietly.

He smiles warmly.

He seems nice enough. Maybe…

He takes a step closer, looking you over.

You’re nice to look at, he thinks. Young and pretty. Unblemished. On the outside, at least. There’s no telling what sort of poison your all’s old man has pumped into your head. About him, or otherwise. Or into your body. But you don’t look like any kind of crank-whore he’s ever seen.

You’re healthy, with bright eyes and glowing skin, a shiny head of hair. The color of which matches his own. A stark contrast against your golden-tanned skin.

He likes that the two of you match in some ways, but not in others. ‘Complimentary’ is the term.

“Hi,” he says, lightly laughing.

You wonder if there’s a joke you missed. You do that often: miss social cues. You stay to yourself a lot, so that way it occurs less.

“Can I come in?” He asks politely.

You shift on your feet. “Dad said that if you ever came by I’m not to talk to you.”

He shrugs. “Talking right now, aren’t we?”

You blink at him.

“Whatever shit he’s fed you about me isn’t true,” he states.

He takes a step up, onto the threshold, forcing his way in.

It will be the first of many things he forces himself into, especially in regards to you. But you don’t know that yet.

He closes the door behind himself, studying the surprisingly cleanly living space before him. It’d been every essence a crackhouse when he lived here. Hadn’t resembled a ‘home’ in any fashion.

His eyes meet yours again. “You make the place look like this?”

You nod. “Yes.”

Your lip twitches, proud of all your hard work. “I like it when things are organized. It makes more sense that way.”

He nearly snorts at how matter-of-fact you are.

You’re not all there, that much is for fucking certain. He wonders if mother-dearest is to blame for that—now there’s a perfect example of a crank-whore if you want one—if she’d been feeding you poison while in her belly; there’s no way in hell she got clean for her own unborn baby, or if dad is.

He doesn’t know that he’s not the first to think it.

You’d been seven, sitting in front of the TV, watching Alice in Wonderland—in truth, the movie unsettled you because of how little sense it made; everything seemed the opposite of what it should be, and everyone spoke in nonsensical riddles—when your dad and one of his friends had entered the house.

You’d seen him around before. You’d never memorized his name, though. Gary, or Jerry, or Larry, maybe Barry.

He’d had a pock-marked face, and was missing a couple teeth, but was okay enough.

He’d asked you what you were watching.

“TV.”

He’d grinned, shaking his head. “And what’re you havin’ there for dinner, kiddo?”

“Cereal.”

He’d snickered, following after your dad into the other side of the house. “Kid ain’t all there, is she?”

You’d not understood what that meant at the time. You weren’t missing any body parts. You’d thought you seemed fine. He was the one who wasn’t all there.

“You know who I am?” Angus asks.

“Yes.”

“We’ve never met before.” He hesitates for a moment. “You look like her, though. Sort of. When she was your age.”

You assume he’s talking about the mother you’ve never met. “How do you know that?”

“Seen pictures.”

He walks over to the mantle, grabbing a snowglobe, turning it over. “You ever wondered about me? Your big brother?”

He sets it back, noticing there’s not a speck of dust on the wood it rests upon. It looks freshly polished, too.

No way the old man has cleaned up his act.

He hopes he hasn’t.

If he has…the thought makes him feel worse. He deserves to live the same shit lifestyle that he does. The same one he introduced him to. He’s responsible. For all of it.

He’s lucky he’s not home right now.

Angus turns back to you.

You shrug. “Sometimes.”

He steps closer to you. “Yeah? What’d you think?”

You flit your eyes away toward the hallway, wanting to get to your homework, before looking at him again. “I’m not sure.”

“What’d he tell you?”

You stare at him, thinking maybe you shouldn’t answer that. It might make him angry. Or hurt his feelings, at least.

He runs his hand along your arm then.

He likes the way you feel: soft and warm and smooth. Brand new.

Meanwhile, you think his hand feels scratchy. Rough. He could use a bit of lotion. Maybe you should offer him some. But that might seem rude. So you refrain.

Dad said once that he used to be a lumberjack.

“It’s okay,” he says. “You can tell me. I want to know.”

“He said…you’re a ‘waste of space’. And a junky.” You leave out the part about ‘good for nothing’ that’d predecessed the latter insult.

A muscle in his jaw feathers and one of his hands flexes, balling into a tight fist. He tucks it away into his pocket before you can see it.

He has a feeling those eyes see everything. That they’re constantly observing, even if you do come off as a tad touched.

 “Sorry,” you say quietly.

He shakes his head. “He said it. Not you.”

He settles his hands on his hips then. “See he’s still a fucking hypocrite, though. I’m not the junky here. I don’t use. I just make it.”

His brow twitches. “He still making? Dealing?”

You’re not sure you should answer that.

You nod.

“He got you doing any of that shit?”

“No.”

He runs his tongue along his teeth, nodding. He figured as much. But he wants to be sure. More for his benefit than yours.

In truth, part of him wants to slam your head against a wall. You’re everything he never got a chance to be. From the looks of you, at least. Who knows, maybe you’re failing all your classes. Maybe you’ll be just like him before long.

But if you’re instead what he thinks you are: good and pure and intelligent—perfect—he wants you for himself. It’s why he came here in the first place.

He’d driven by a handful of times in the last few weeks, just as you were getting off the bus—you’d, thankfully, been none-the-wiser—so as to set eyes on you. And once he had, he didn’t want to remove them.

He imagines they’re the first of many body parts he’ll be reluctant to take off of you.

“You don’t do drugs? Don’t smoke, drink?”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

He smirks. “I bet you’re smart. You do well in school?”

You smile, nodding with pride. “I’m on the honor roll.”

Of course you are. The honor student of a drug dealer.

You’re better than him. Out of his league. A fucking teenager. His own little sister.

He’s glad he left his pistol in the glovebox.

Not that he likes the idea of hurting you. He doesn’t.

He just…can’t help himself sometimes. It’s like a compulsive urge. He hasn’t always been like this. Maybe he has. He can’t remember anymore. Doesn’t want to. Makes this life easier.

You’re yet another thing he’s never had: adorable. Wide-eyed and sweet. It’s clear it’s not intentional, though. How alluring you are.

“You thinking about college yet?”

He hopes the answer is no. It doesn’t much matter whether it is or not, though. You won’t be going either way. But at least having no ambitions will make your future transition into a different life easier.

You shrug slightly. “Not schools. Yet. That comes next year. I think I might go for engineering. Something like that. I’m good with numbers. They’re very—”

“Straight-forward?” He asks, interrupting you.

You smile. “Exactly.”

He nearly asks you what about science, but he supposes you get enough of that around here. You’re looking for a change.

“How old are you again? Sixteen?”

You shake your head. “Fifteen.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Show me your room?”

You turn without another word, heading in that direction.

He follows you into it while you stand in a corner—out of the way—watching him look over your personal space.

It makes you feel self-conscious. This is the one place you have that’s wholly yours. To be yourself.

He steps over to your bed, looking over your collection of stuffed animals.

“You sleep with any of these?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Sometimes.”

He picks up a white unicorn. “Which one is your favorite?”

You wonder why he cares.

You come closer, picking up a simple brown teddy bear. “This one.”

He can tell. Its hair is slightly matted, a button that serves as an eye is missing, too.

“I wash it biweekly,” you state. “It just looks like that. Combing doesn’t help much anymore.”

“I like him, though,” you say with a shrug. “He has character.”

You set him back down, tucking him back into his proper place, along with the white unicorn, positioning them just-so among their little friends.

He walks over to the mirror atop your dresser, removing a photo that’s stuck to it of you and what he presumes is a group of your classmates. He turns it over. ‘Mathletes Competition, 2015’ it reads in blue ink.

“You have a boyfriend?” He asks, sticking it back where it went.

“No.”

He likes your answer.

He turns around, leaning back against the wooden dresser, crossing his arms. “Don’t like girls, do you?”

You blink. “No.”

“So you like boys, huh?”

“I don’t really think about things like that.”

He raises a brow. The hell kind of teenager doesn’t? Even odd ones…

“What do you, then? Math?” He asks with a mocking smirk.

You walk over to your backpack. “I have homework.”

You begin to unzip it.

He finally decides to ask that question he most wants an answer to. “You a virgin?”

You stop, suddenly feeling cold all over. Even though the house is at a comfortable temperature.

He seats himself on your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.

You stay gripping the zipper when you reply—feeling like your brain is short-circuiting. “Why?”

“Are you?”

You swallow thickly, your heart speeding up just a tad. “Yes.”

He clenches his jaw, feeling an erection forming. While your back is turned to him, he palms himself over his jeans.

You stand then, clutching your binder to your chest. You wish you were wearing pants now instead of a dress. Something to cover you up a bit.

You’re overthinking it. You do that a lot when it comes to interactions with other people. You don’t always read them properly, try as you might.

He’s your brother.

He pats the bit of mattress beside him. “Sit.”

Slowly, you walk closer, continuing to hold your schoolwork close to you.

You do as he says, seating yourself beside him, staring straight ahead at both your reflections in the mirror.

You don’t feel so well all of a sudden. You’re unsure why.

He turns toward you, his thigh now pressed against yours, and you watch as he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.

You pretend he’s touching the girl in the mirror, instead of you.

“You’re very pretty.”

You shift slightly. “Thank you.”

He takes your binder from you, setting it on the floor.

You think that maybe you made a mistake in letting him inside now. You should’ve listened to your dad. Why hadn’t you? You should’ve hid in the closet. You’d like to do that now.

You should ask him to leave.

You turn to him. You open your mouth to do so, to tell him to go home—to the one that isn’t this one.

And then he crushes his lips to yours.

You balk—your eyes grow wide while your body stiffens—your mind going blank.

He cups your cheek in his palm, moving his lips slowly, flicking his tongue against yours.

He pulls back, staring into your eyes.

He knows you’re scared.

It only serves to make him that much harder.

“Lie back.”

“D-dad will be home soon. I think you should go now. It was nice to meet you.”

He knows you’re lying. He won’t be home for over another hour. Longer, most likely.

Not a fan of repeating himself, he grabs your upper-arm, leaning over you.

You lie back.

He knows you’re doing it to put space between the two of you.

He’s doing it to bring you together.

He slides an arm around your waist, scooting you further toward the wall, your legs coming along with you.

He knocks them apart with his knee, settling his waist between them.

He rests against his right forearm, using his opposite hand to brush hair out of your face. “You comfortable, baby?”

Tears sting your eyes. You don’t like this.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you offer, hoping he’ll let you up.

“Was that your first kiss?” He asks, ignoring your plea for him to let you go entirely.

You don’t answer.

He leans down, kissing you again. Briefly.

He moves his lips close to your ear. “Do you touch yourself?”

Your chin wobbles.

You wish you had a protection order against him now, too. But you somehow doubt it would be of much use to you either way. He seems the type to do what he wants. No matter the consequences. Here’s here despite your dad’s, after all. Or, maybe, in-spite of it.

“Hm?” He asks, humming, kissing your neck.

“R-rarely.”

You don’t like talking about it. It’s personal. He’s invaded enough today.

“How come?”

“Angus, I don’t…this feels wrong.”

He looks down at you then. “Then let me make it feel better.”

He slips his hand under your skirt, then into your panties, and you squirm in a panic underneath him, but he’s over two-hundred pounds of solid muscle. You’re not going anywhere if he doesn’t want you to. And he doesn’t.

“P-please stop. We can’t. This—no—I don’t want—”

He looms over you, his smile long-gone now, a different face coming forth.

You don’t like this one.

You don’t like a lot of things.

You’d like to hold your teddy.

“Just fucking relax,” he tells you in a threatening tone.

You think you might throw up your lunch. You’d had a ham sandwich, an apple, and some carrots. With ranch.

You realize thinking about other stuff makes you feel better.

You lie back then, stilling, staring upwards, going somewhere else. Like math class. Or the computer lab.

You decide to play a game of Minesweeper on one of the desktops, but in your head. You’re eerily good at it. You hardly ever hit the little bombs.

You’d once considered looking up if there are tournaments for it. You think you could win one. You wouldn’t even care about the money. Well, no, that’s not entirely true. It could go toward savings for college. Or a laptop. Maybe a fancy calculator. A Texas Instruments one. Like they have at school.

You feel fingers easing inside you.

You pretend it’s a tampon applicator instead.

You’d gotten off your period two weeks ago, though. And it doesn’t ever come early. Or late. It’s always right on the dot.

Speaking of dots, you’re supposed to do a worksheet for algebra tonight. A page full of small bullets. You have to draw shapes and solve equations with them. You’d started it on the bus. Had nearly been done. It’s what you’d planned to work on first once you got inside the house, so as to finish it before moving onto your next assignment.

Plans have changed, though.

A strong thumb circles your clit and your body jerks lightly.

“Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, making you feel like an obedient dog.

You have a stuffed dog. At the head of your bed. You got it at the dollar store. It’s nose is a bit crooked, but you get what you pay for. That’s what they say, at least.

You like him, though. He looks funny.

You hear something wet, and Angus groans. “That’s it. You like when your big brother fingers you?”

You roll your head to the side, staring at the wall. At the light yellow paint. You’d picked out the color yourself. It reminded you of sunshine.

Now you worry it resembles urine.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he says.

That’s true. Your body feels tight all over. Like your muscles are tightly bound.

“I’ve never fucked a virgin before,” he tells you.

You don’t care.

 You hope he never will. Not you at least. No. It can’t ever be you.

You’ll get through this moment, and then you’ll never see him again.

You’re terrified that that’s not true.

Your body jerks again and you whimper, hating yourself for liking it. That it feels good.

You’re not in control right now. You dislike that he is.

You dislike him as a whole.

You’d been right to think him dangerous. And dark. Your dad had had also been right…about all the things he had called him. He deserved those insults and worse.

You hate that you’re related to him. You’re nothing alike.

He speeds up his ministrations.

You shut your eyes, tears slipping from the corners of them, wetting the comforter beneath your head. You’d just washed it last week.

You think you will again tonight. Maybe twice.

It’s not clean now. This whole room feels dirty. You need to vacuum, and wipe things down, and dust, and sanitize. You want to take a scalding hot shower.

You imagine you’re in one right now. It’s why your body feels hot. Why you’re wet between your legs.

“That’s it, Y/N. Come for me. Come for your big brother.”

You don’t want to come anywhere. You want to go somewhere else. As long as it isn’t here.

You’ve always loved this room. Now you think that you feel different.

Maybe you just need to rearrange your furniture. Rearrange your stuffed animals. Install a lock on the door.

You shouldn’t have undone the chain one in the other room.

You’d thought yourself smart. You’re reconsidering that assessment now.

Maybe this is all your fault.

Your actions had precipitated this.

Angus groans against your ear, his hand slick with your arousal, your walls tightly squeezing and clenching around his fingers. He has three inside you now. That’s how much you like it. He likes that you do.

He continues circling your clit, that tiny bundle twitching beneath the pad of his thumb.

He gently grabs your face within his grip—wondering what he’d find inside if he instead squeezed your head like a cherry tomato until it popped. Plentiful brains, he’s sure.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes slowly open, a dazed look about them, like you’re somewhere else inside yourself.

“I want you to look at me when you come.”

You keep your eyes trained on him, but unfocus them until he’s just a vague blur. He could be anyone.

You wish there was a boy you liked that you could use for a bit of pretend right now, but there isn’t. You don’t bother with all that. It seems a waste of time to you. Maybe when you’re older you’ll feel differently. After this, you think you’ll feel differently about a lot of things. And not in a better sense.

You begin to curl your toes, your calves slipping against the blanket you lay upon.

You don’t want this to happen. But when it does, he’ll finally leave.

You really, really hope so, at least.

You bite your lip, wanting to keep quiet. You don’t want him to hear. To know what you’re feeling.

But he can anyway with where his hand is—he has his digits inside of you.

He grins. “Yeah, there you go.”

You begin to inhale and exhale quickly, something more building inside of you, your breasts rapidly rising and falling.

“C’mon,” he grunts, his arm growing tired.

You stare up at him blankly, the muscles in your thighs flexing.

“Come on ‘em,” he commands.

And then you do.

Your walls begin to pulsate and he chuckles, continuing to plunge in and out, savoring and memorizing this moment. He’ll want it for later when he’s alone with himself.

Even if he wants you to finish him off here and now.

He holds back, however. Momentarily.

Finally, he slows, pulling out of you, kissing your lips.

He sits up slightly, and you roll onto your side, curling into yourself, trembling, your mind a jumbled mess.

Orgasming…did that mean you had wanted it? In your head you hadn’t. Your vagina had had other ideas.

Useless organ.

He sits up, his erection now tented in his pants.

He lays a hand against your hip and you flinch.

“This stays between us. If you tell our old man, he’ll try to come after me for it. He won’t win that fight. I will.” He pauses, eyes trailing along your bare thighs. “Among other things.”

You stay silent, wanting one of your stuffed animals. Or a trash can to vomit in.

“And if you go to the cops—”

“I don’t talk to the police,” you whisper, interrupting.

He studies you for a moment. “At least he taught you that much.”

He stands then, his erection beginning to soften slightly.

“I’ll teach you the rest,” he says.

He heads for the doorway. “I’ll be back again.”

You don’t respond, so he leaves.

You’d gone against your own interests by making your lists of hopes and wants so long. Because you never got any of them.

You wouldn’t go to college. Wouldn’t become an engineer. Wouldn’t make enough money to try and give yourself, as well as your dad, a better life. And Angus doesn’t stay away from you.

Instead, he becomes all you eventually have to turn to.

All because you’d unlocked the door.

[stratossphere]

first date | v.v

you and ville finally get a chance to go on a long-overdue first date.

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, chock-full of suggestive content, mentions of sex, a teeny-tiny shred of insecurity, reader smokes

word count: 6.4k

taglist: @asskickedbygirl @lieutenant-cinnamon-roll @kissofdawn666 @brandons-wife

— —

"Okay. Hold the fuck up. You're not dressed nice." You stopped where you had just come out of the bathroom in a fucking dress, only to see Ville sitting on the couch in the same ratty jeans and Siouxsie and the Banshees shirt he'd been wearing since yesterday with a velvet black blazer over the top. You were intending to go on your first real date ever together tonight considering it was your first trip to Finland sans-Bam, and he'd insisted that you dress nice, but here he was dressed exactly how he always was. However, he was too busy letting his jaw drop to pay any attention to what you’d just said to him.

"Holy fucking shit." He muttered as his eyes dragged over you, sucking in a deep drag of his cigarette that he was holding between his lips while he set down the magazine in his hands. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." You smiled softly at the dumbfounded look on his face, coming towards him and then promptly being yanked into his lap by his hand on the back of your thigh once you were in range. You then repeated what you’d said before. "You're not dressed nice, Ville."

"What are you talking about? Yes I am." He motioned to the velvet blazer like it was obvious, his finger just happening to point to a stain on the front as he did so. You deadpanned.

"You didn't even change your clothes from yesterday." You pointed out dryly, your unimpressed look deepening when he pushed up the hem of your dress where his hands were resting on your thighs as you straddled his lap. You had no idea how he could shower and then put the same clothes on from the day before when he'd spent the majority of it in a disgusting house party. Men.

"No one's going to be paying attention to me, anyway." He said coyly, his eyes falling to the cleavage that your dress allowed for as he literally licked his lips. You let out a soft sigh, stopping his hands where they were clearly still trying to get the hem of your dress up. The underwear you were wearing was a surprise for later, and he was going to ruin it if he kept it up.

"I'm going to be paying attention to you. The whole time." You wondered if he really understood the point of going on a date. He seemed pleased at your words, however, and he also seemed to mentally make a decision on the dress code issue at hand.

"On this one occasion, I will let you dress me." He decided, smacking your ass lightly and then motioning for you to get up. "You can look in the clean clothes pile."

"Pile?" You didn't like the sound of that. If there was anything that you had learned in this past month or so that Ville had been slowly introducing his personality and everyday life to you, it was that he lived a painfully-aggressive bachelor lifestyle. His apartment was chronically disgusting, he had a habit of hiding dirty hair under a hat for as long as he could manage, he drank more than he ate, and more often than not cigarette butts never ended up making it into ashtrays.

But, on the other hand, he was incredibly sweet and unbelievably intelligent in every sense of the word, so it wasn't very hard to ignore those little...quirks. Most of the time. So, you still followed him into his room, unsure of what you were going to find when he went for his closet.

"Where are we even going?" You asked as you stepped around his piled up junk that almost completely covered his bedroom floor. If you were going to dress him, you needed at least a vague idea on what you were doing.

"Somewhere nice." He answered dismissively (and unhelpfully) as he pulled open his closet. There, you were met with exactly what he'd said it was: a giant pile of assorted clothes and loose socks. You let out a heavy sigh, and he motioned to it like he was giving you the go ahead. "But wear comfortable shoes."

That did not reassure you in the slightest, but you kneeled down regardless, starting to sort through what seemed like an endless abyss of weird shirts.

You couldn't help but laugh when you pulled out a long-sleeved shirt that was mesh and completely see-through, raising a questioning eyebrow as you held it up to him. He shrugged.

"Just in case." He supplied vaguely, taking it out of your hand and holding it out to inspect it himself. He then snickered. "You should wear this."

"You're funny." You said dryly, continuing to sort through shirts that all seemed to be black and all seemed to have some variation of a band logo or crude slogan on the front. You then pulled out his maroon button-up that he wore quite often for press. "What about this?"

"I don't like that shirt." Of fucking course. You huffed out a sigh, sitting down fully and leaning your head against the doorway of the closet as you looked up at him exasperatedly.

"Why not? You look so good in it." In fact, it had been the shirt he was wearing when you’d met him for the first time (and had, concurrently, realized you were deeply attracted to him), which made it one of your favorites. He made a face.

"It chafes." He was a handful sometimes. You gave him a look, because who knew he was so picky, before tossing the shirt to the side and continuing to dig. You then produced his white button up that had a little couple dancing printed all over it, which also looked really good on him, only to get a similar dismissal. "It's got stains."

You went through five more fucking shirts before you finally threw the simple long-sleeved black shirt he'd vetoed and let out a groan.

"I want to go on a date, but oh my god." You leaned your head heavily against the doorframe, looking up at him with helpless eyes where he was still standing over you with his arms tightly crossed. "Work with me here, honey."

"Honey, huh?" His lips were curling into a shit-eating grin, and you suddenly realized your vocal slip up. You had refrained from using any affectionate nicknames with Ville quite yet due to the newness of your relationship (you hadn't even been on your first date yet, for leading example), and it had just come out unconsciously. You froze a little bit, but he just grinned wider. "Stop picking all the garbage shirts and we can be done, honey."

"Okay. Final pick or you're just going to go on the date looking homeless." You said finally, patting his leg and then digging through the pile for a little bit longer before you came up with a black turtleneck. "Please say yes."

"Oh! I forgot I had that! You are a saint, love." Thank. Fucking. God. Ville immediately accepted the shirt, which didn't seem to have any stains, and it was then that you got a look at his disgusting, probably hardly-washed jeans.

"When you change your clothes, you usually change all of them." You pointed out dryly, motioning to the muddy, ripped bottom hems of his pant legs. And he wasn't wearing any socks.

"Find some pants, then." He was already taking off his t-shirt, and you sighed yet again as you turned back to your enemy of a clothes pile. Luckily, you quickly recovered a pair of gray tartan-patterned pants that didn't look too grimy, and you held them out to your boyfriend, who was in the middle of pulling a loose thread out of the turtleneck with his teeth.

"These?" With your luck, he was going to say something along the lines of 'they hurt my dick' or something. He looked over at you, staring at the pants for a long moment before he shrugged.

"Works." He confirmed. Thankfully, he was grabbing underwear out of the new pack that was sitting on top of his dresser (because apparently he'd rather buy new ones than just wash the ones he had), and you let out a breath of relief and grabbed him two socks before standing back up and bringing him the other half of his outfit.

"I can't believe people say that women take longer to get ready. You're not even dressed yet and I'm ready to go." You teased as you set the clothes on his bed, sitting down and putting your feet up to watch him get ready.

"Well you're the one who wanted me to change. I thought I was dressed nice." Ville defended himself, jabbing a finger at you as he undid the zipper of his jeans. "That's my favorite fucking blazer I took off."

"Hey. If I have my tits out and my hair nice, you have to at least change your clothes." You shot back, trying to keep your eyes on his face despite the fact that he wasn't wearing any underwear underneath the jeans that he had just taken off. "Or you could just go in nothing at all, sexy."

"Hey. We are on a schedule here, young lady. Keep your libido under control." Ville lectured, making a whole show of covering himself with one hand while he unrolled his new pair of underwear with the other.

"Young lady? Ville, you're only a couple years older than me." You said dryly, throwing a hand in the air as he turned around to grab his cigarettes off of the dresser. And, as a result, giving you a front-row seat to the great view of his bare ass.

"I’ll be older in two weeks." He reminded you, shooting you a look over his shoulder as he stuck a cigarette between his lips. You rolled your eyes, then let them fall a little further south.

"Mm. Keep standing just like that." You joked, wiggling your eyebrows and in turn earning yourself a glare from Ville.

"Watch yourself." His underwear went on pretty fast after that. You groaned, rolling over onto your stomach on the bed and then letting out a long sigh of impatience, only to receive a hard smack to your ass. "Don't whine."

And you weren't allowed to flirt at all? Lame.

When Ville finally got dressed and had all his rings back on, your mood was immediately lifted by the fact that he looked deliciously, mouth-wateringly handsome. His hair was clean (for once) and tucked neatly back into a bun with loose strands falling in his face, and he was still smoking as he concentrated on getting his rosary out from under the neck of his shirt in the mirror. Now you really wanted to stay and do a little more than dinner. Chances are you would be putting out on this first date.

"Oh my fucking god. The cat is purring so hard right now." You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and grinning at him in the mirror. He gave you a shy smile, settling the rosary around his neck and then turning in your arms to give you a kiss.

"Your pussy is going to have to wait. Dinner first, honey."

—

Wearing nice clothes while in vans that looked like they were falling apart and him in a pair of scratched up Doc Martens didn't exactly feel classy, but as you and Ville arrived at a restaurant that you couldn't pronounce, that's exactly what you were doing.

Your grin just kept getting bigger when Ville got you seated at a tiny table in a corner away from everyone else, and you were barely able to let go of his hand when you had to move to sit opposite him.

"You want wine or beers?" He asked once the waiter left so that you could have some time to look at the menu, a slight smug look on his face at how much you were smiling. You leaned forward into your chair so that you could whisper.

"Which one makes you hornier?" You smiled coyly, brushing your foot against his under the table. He chuckled, biting at his lip just slightly.

"Red or white, darling?" Jesus Christ, he was hot. And you hadn't even really started talking yet. You knew that white wine made you a little bit of a spastic drunk, so you were going to lean away from that.

"Red."

A few minutes later you were both sitting with red wine in hand (and a fancy one that you’d never heard of, at that), and a little closer to each other at your table than you had started out.

"Okay. First date, so we have to ask each other first date questions and pretend that I wasn't inside you this morning." It was a good thing that you were away from everyone else, because Ville had no fucking filter, and he also didn't know how to whisper. You rolled your eyes.

"What's your favorite color?" Might as well play his games for the fun of it. He pretended to think even though you both knew what his favorite color was, before his eyes lit up just a little bit.

"The color of your eyes." He then winked at you, and his foot rubbed against yours harder than yours had his. "Are you single? I am."

"Ville." He could never do anything normally. He gave you a grin that told you he knew he was being a little shit, and he took a long drink of his wine.

"Alright, alright. I'll behave." He reached out across the table to take your hand, brushing his thumb over the top as his gaze softened in your direction. "You look fucking beautiful."

"Not as good as you look." You liked holding his hand, and you were pleased when he didn't let yours go. As you looked at him, something funny suddenly popped into your head. "You wanna know something funny?"

"Pray tell." He didn't look like he wanted to hear it, because you had a habit of finding stupid things funny that didn't qualify as the same in his book, but he indulged you regardless.

"Bam and Novak have a bet going on us." Your friends (who were simultaneously your biggest supporters and biggest haters), were more than invested in your relationship, and they’d jumped at the chance to shove themselves into it as much as they could. There had obviously been alcohol involved in that bet, but it was ongoing until either one met their goal. Ville deadpanned, and you held up a finger. "You cannot tell them I told you that."

"What the fuck is the bet on?" He pressed. You were putting yourself in trouble, because Novak and Bam had made you swear on your life that you specifically wouldn't tell Ville, but out of the three of them, he was the only one wining and dining you, so he had the upper hand.

"Bam doesn't think we'll stay together, and if we break up he wins, and Novak thinks we will, and if one of us gets a tattoo dedicated to the other, he wins." You revealed. You thought it was stupid (and yet a little funny that Novak knew the both of you well enough for the tattoo aspect), but Ville just laughed.

"Oh, Bam Bam. That's a little hurtful." He shook his head at the thought, tsking as he took another drink of his wine. "What the fuck is his problem? You and I are like...what do you say...two peas in a pod."

"I don't know. It's probably the fact that he's already in love with you, so he doesn't want anyone to take his place." Sometimes you got the feeling that Bam saw a competition between you and him for Ville's attention. Which was why he was betting against you, considering he always lost that game. "He says we fight too much."

Ville raised a disapproving eyebrow at that, looking at where you were holding hands as if to prove a point.

"Debating is different from fighting." He scoffed, giving you a look that told you that you couldn't disagree. Not that you would've. "I'll give him this. I have never dated such an opinionated woman in all my years of living."

"Telling you to change your clothes after two days isn't opinionated." Sometimes you wondered what the hell his previous girlfriends had been like if no one had ever brought that up to him before.

"You didn't let me finish. I was going to say 'caring' after that." Ville saved himself, grinning at his own words as he let your hand go in favor of fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket while letting out a sigh. "Don't listen to what Bam says, Y/n. His girlfriend barely even likes him."

"I don't listen to what Bam says." You scoffed, repulsed even by the thought of that statement. Bam was usually the last person on the list when it came to looking for good advice. You then shrugged, resting your chin in your palm. "I just...I don't know...I don't know how you'll eventually feel. I realize we live in two different countries, and we won't see each other very much anyway."

That revelation seemed to startle him, and he just stared at you for a second as smoke poured from his nose in two separate tendrils.

"So you lean more towards Bam's side of the bet." He surmised, not looking impressed by the fact. You winced, because when worded like that it didn't sound great.

"I don't want to, but I just...sometimes you seem too good to be true." That was a little embarrassing to admit, but Ville seemed to have a superpower in bringing out the honesty in you. He chuckled at that but didn't smile, taking another drag off of his cigarette before you felt his foot rub against yours once more under the table.

"Love, I am absolutely enamored with you. I know exactly what I want." It's like he was trying to stop your fucking heart. And he didn't even look affected in the slightest. "Every night you're not with me, I miss you in my bed. I miss the sound of your voice, the touch of your skin, your smell, everything. Every second of every fucking day."

Now it was your turn to stare at him for a second as you smiled a little dumbly, knowing that if you hadn't been at a table in the middle of a nice restaurant you would've been all over him.

"Okay." You said softly, letting him take your hand again and watching as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles with tunnels of smoke coming out of the corners of his mouth at the same time. "You know, you make me look bad with how good you are with words."

"Oh, don't be like that. It's my job." He didn't let go of your hand, instead keeping it rested against his lips while he continued to talk to you. "I would listen to you talk for hours. Doesn't matter what you're saying."

"You have listened to me talk for hours. And you didn't like it." You reminded him dryly. There had been multiple instances where you’d gotten drunk and then had just talked his ear off about worthless bullshit because you had no self-restraint, and Ville always looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"How do you know that?" He scoffed, watching you finish off the last of your wine with his eyes trained subtly on your lips. You then gave him a 'seriously?' look before motioning vaguely to his face.

"You have a look." It was pretty extensively used for things such as you making jokes about his ass, you drinking too much, talking his ear off about shit no one cared about, getting into fights, and more, but there was definitely a look. It usually lost momentum the more he drank, but a sober Ville's stare was fucking lethal.

"Okay. I'll admit, sometimes I'm just looking at your face and maybe not listening to what you're saying." He admitted, a smirk pulling at his lips as he did so. "Just like you're doing right now."

Damn. Caught. It's not like you could help it when he was literally still holding your hand to his lips while he talked with his head less than a foot away from yours.

"I can't help it! You look so handsome." You defended yourself, brushing your thumb back and forth on his cheek. You could feel just a tiny bit of scruff coming in, and a thought suddenly occurred to me. "Can you grow a beard?"

"The best I've done is a shitty goatee." He rubbed subconsciously at his face with the hand that was holding his half-smoked cigarette, his eyes staying on yours the entire time. "Makes me look fucking old, though."

"Ooh, does it really?" You bit your lip dramatically, trying to picture what your usually-smooth-faced boyfriend would look like with facial hair. Even hotter, if that was physically possible. "Have I ever told you I'm into older men?"

"Oh, really." He kissed your knuckles a little slower then, his lips lingering warmly as he watched you with teasing eyes. "Those extra few years really get you wet, is it?"

"Shut up. I'm saying you would look hot with a goatee, asshole." You complained, taking your finger and shoving it between his lips on purpose just to fuck with him. He immediately pulled your hand away and forcefully set it down, giving you that look again.

"Who taught you how to behave in fancy restaurants, hm? Were you raised in a damn barn?" He lectured, shaking his head as he wiped his mouth. "Maybe Bam thinks we won't work out because of your problem with keeping your hands to yourself."

"You need to learn how to have fun." You teased, rolling your eyes as you leaned forward to sneak a cigarette from his pack and his black lighter. When he just stared at you, you held your hands up in defense. "Okay, okay. I'll behave. Swear."

He put his foot over yours when you tried to rub it against his leg. "Yeah. You fucking better."

—

Once you were both fed and each had about a bottle of wine in you respectively, you decided it was finally time to leave (the decision was heavily influenced by the fact that Ville couldn't stop leaning in for kisses that were getting more and more indecent for public eye), during which you finally got what the second part of the date Ville was hiding from you was out of him.

"Okay. Now you have to tell me why I couldn't wear nice shoes." You said once you were out on the street where it had gotten dark and giggling at nothing in the cold because you were both tipsy. Ville zipped your jacket further where it was only half closed, motioning to the street in front of you.

"We're going on a walk to get home." He announced, lighting a new cigarette as he stepped down off the curb. His boots were protecting him from the snow, but your shoes were shit, so you had to grab his arm to help yourself off so that you avoided getting your feet soaked. "If you're sober enough to make it."

"It's just wine. That's like, one joint's worth of intoxication." You brushed it off, sticking your own cigarette between your lips after a night of stealing Ville's and fumbling around for a lighter. He then tutted as he watched you struggle, gently gripping your face in his fingers before turning you to face him.

Then, in a moment that could've whipped the pants right off of you had you not been in the middle of a freezing street, he leaned in, dragged off of his cigarette, and then pressed the cherry to the end of yours, igniting it with just his inhale.

You barely even had the mental capacity to inhale back, but you did, mouth hanging open just a little bit as smoke came pouring out of your noses simultaneously.

"I can't believe you're real." Wine didn't exactly leave you well-put-together. The words fell out of your mouth before your filter could stop them, and you knew you probably had a stupidly love-drunk look on your face as you said them.

"Don't slip, love." He snickered when you almost did exactly that, grabbing your hand tightly where you were holding his arm and then righting you so that you were steady on your feet again. You leaned your head against his shoulder, a smile on your face as you took a drag from your cigarette with no hands and quickly blew the smoke out of the side of your mouth.

"Do you like winter?" You asked as you kicked some snow, admiring how beautiful it looked even in the middle of the city. You weren't exactly a fan of being freezing cold considering you weren't wearing any pants and your dress was a tiny bit skimpy, but the visual aspect was nice.

"I don't mind it. I like autumn better." Ville responded thoughtfully, letting out a hint of a sigh when you almost slipped yet again. "You clearly don't do well in the winter."

"Hey! I'm fine. These shoes just suck." You defended yourself, pointing to the hole in the top where you could see the fabric of your sock showing through. "My toes are basically out."

"Are you waiting for those to fall off of your feet?" Ville made a face when he looked down and really inspected your feet, a tiny chuckle of disbelief accompanying his words. You then took your turn to keep him from slipping, and then almost slipped yourself when his weight redistributed heavily against you. He huffed. "Jesus fucking Christ. This was a bad idea."

"No no! I'm having fun!" You insisted, swinging his arm back and forth with yours where you were holding hands as you moved to walk under a building overhang so that it wasn't snowing directly on you both. "I like holding your hand."

"You're a lot more talkative when Bam's not around, you know that?" He said it after a second, and you looked at him in surprise where you had been trying to pull the hem of your dress down with your free hand.

"What does that mean?" Sure, you were pretty talkative right now, but it had a lot to do with the fact that you’d downed about a whole bottle of wine in a short period of time. You didn't know how you felt about his tone and what it suggested. He must've sensed this, because he squeezed your hand reassuringly.

"You're more open when it's just you and I." Alright. That was a good point. As a matter of fact, after about three glasses of wine, you’d had to restrain the urge to start telling him ‘secrets’, so he was pretty on the dot with that one.

"That's because when Bam's here it always feels like he's trying to compete with me for your attention, and I fucking hate that." You said truthfully, grimacing at the thought. You were half-wishing that your walk would last forever because you were having fun, but you were also half-wishing that you would get there faster because your legs felt like they were going to freeze off. Ville hummed in acknowledgement.

"I'm aware." To give him some credit, he was extremely talented in pretending he didn't see it, but it was pretty fucking obvious. You loved Bam to death, and Ville had been his friend first, but sometimes he was just a little...much. "Well, has your first trip here without him lived up to standard, then?"

"Past standard." You confirmed with a grin. You were thinking both of your very successful first date and the fact that you’d had sex in every room of his apartment multiple times over the last few days without any onlookers to stop you. It was very freeing on both ends. "I gotta say. You're not bad on your own, either."

"Was I before?" He asked dryly, considering you’d spent a couple days together at the start of the month. You took your interlaced fingers and stuck them in his pocket because your hand was cold as you laughed.

"Mostly no." When you earned yourself a dirty look with that answer, you snickered and then sighed. "It's because when I first met you, you freaked me out."

"I don't understand why. I was exactly how I am now." Ville reiterated what he'd already said multiple times with exasperation, throwing his free hand in the air. You had a feeling he had a general lack of self-awareness for how he came off to other people meeting him for the first time.

"You're also super quiet when you want to be. And you don't smile." Meeting a random man from a different country who was over 6 feet tall and possessed one of the most unnerving stares you had ever encountered and then immediately staying at his small apartment had been a little nerve wracking. Even for you, who were genuinely fine with putting yourself in dangerous situations. "And you're really hot."

"We should've fucked before. We could've." Ville said woefully, which was a little funny to you considering you’d seen your first time meeting as the both of you barely even interacting the entire time. He'd been super quiet around you, he'd been working half the time, and he'd been drinking himself to shit every other hour that had been available in the day. Not exactly great bonding material.

"We basically did like, a week later." You’d only been in Helsinki for a few days after you and Bam had come from Pennsylvania together before you and Ville had ended up in his bed. In the grand scheme of things, you actually hadn't taken much time to get to know each other at all. But Ville was ever the go-getter, apparently.

"Ah yes. The night you called me a Finnish god." Once again, he caught you just as you slipped on basically nothing. There was no traction left on the bottom of your shoes, and it was clearly showing. You groaned at the same time.

"Stop bringing that up. It's so embarrassing." You complained. You and Bam had been just fucking around and making jokes after you had assumed Ville had gone to bed, and apparently Ville had still been awake, because he had clearly decided that he was going to hold onto it for the rest of his life. He just laughed.

"Would you like to know a secret about that night?" Ville asked as he flicked his burnt cigarette butt off to the side, glancing down at you with a coy look on his face. You raised an eyebrow, because you weren't sure you liked the sound of that, before agreeing. He rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand in his pocket. "I was jerking off when I heard you say that."

Jesus fucking Christ.

"What?" Men never ceased to amaze you. Seriously. Jerking off with multiple people in the house that Ville had barely known at the time still being awake only a walk away was on a different fucking level. "What is wrong with you."

"We were drinking red wine and I couldn't sleep! I'm only a man!" Ville defended himself, his voice raising a pitch at your reaction to his admission. You just shook your head, because yes, he very clearly was just a man, as only a man would do something like that.

"I can't believe you. I touched your hand right after that, too." You were just teasing him for the fun of it, and you could tell that it was working because he let out a scoff.

"I fucked you right after that. You were fine with my cock being in you, but touching my hand that touched my cock would've been too much?" He asked sourly, shaking his head at you as he spoke. You patted his chest, laughing as he pouted beside you.

"I'm kidding! I'm just glad I didn't walk in on you while you were doing it." You had been high out of your mind that night, and you probably would've had a heart attack if you’d walked in on the super hot, super scary guy jerking it in the middle of the night. That had happened once since then, but thankfully you had known each other a little better by that point.

You had made it a good distance since you’d left the restaurant, and it hadn't been a super long cab ride to get there, so you knew you were getting close to home. However, when you almost slipped on the snow yet again, Ville suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"Alright. I'm just going to carry you before you slip and bust your fucking skull." He announced with an unimpressed look, taking his hand out of yours and motioning towards his back. You grinned, because you were tipsy anyway and your shoes were full of snow, before your grin turned into a shy smile.

"Can I ask you a favor?" You asked, giving your best convincing look. He frowned at that, but sighed.

"What."

"Can I wear your coat? This dress is short and my ass is going to be out." He had a long coat that was fit for a Finland winter whereas your thin, fall-esque coat was doing close to nothing to protect you from the cold. At the reference of your ass being out, Ville was already shrugging said coat off, and you silently cheered in triumph.

"Give me your jacket." He said as he held his coat out to you, subconsciously pulling down his sleeves a little bit where they had rolled up as the cold air hit his skin.

"It's not gonna fit you." It was close to being snug on you, and his arms were considerably longer than yours. He just brushed that observation off, motioning for you to hurry up before you were swapping coats. And, low and behold, your coat didn't quite fit. You really wished you’d had a camera on you at that moment. His, on the other hand, was almost down to your feet, and you felt your grin go even wider as he knelt down to button it up for you.

"You look hot as all fucking hell, but remind me to never let you dress nice in the winter again." He grumbled as he slowly made his way upwards before he was finally standing up to his full height in front of you again. You reached up and cupped the back of his head, letting him lean down slightly before you gave him a kiss.

"You're a saint and a siren." You did your best impression of him, because that was exactly what he said to you every time you did him a favor, and pulled at least a hint of a smile out of him as he kissed you again before turning around and holding out his hands so that he could hold you when you got onto his back.

You kind of felt ridiculous in Ville’s long-ass leather coat and your exposed legs wrapped around his hips, but you had your chin on his shoulder to where your cheeks were pressed together, so you weren't that torn up about it. It also didn't hurt that his coat smelled strongly like his cologne, so you were basically being basked in his smell as he carried you down the street.

"You need to eat more. You don’t weigh enough." Ville huffed as he shifted his hands further under your thighs to hold you up, the sleeves of your coat riding almost all the way up his forearms as he extended them further.

"Why thank you." You joked, brushing a strand of hair that wasn’t held back by his bun out of his eyes before you went back to resting your chin on his shoulder.

"That's not a good thing." Coming from someone who was as skinny as a stick. You had been successful in lifting Ville the one time you’d ever tried, so he was one to be talking.

"Yeah whatever. You just keep walking, strongman."

—

When you finally made it home, you were both close to freezing to death, so when you stepped into Ville's heated apartment, there was a collective sigh of relief when Ville turned the lights on.

"Oh my god. I have to get in bed." You groaned as you took his coat off, cursing ever wanting to look pretty and dress up for once in your life due to the loss of feeling in both your legs and your feet. Your shoes were full of snow, your feet were damp, and your hair was frozen in certain places.

"You're very intolerant of cold." Ville commented in amusement as he shed your coat slower, watching you quickly kick out of your shoes and then peel your socks off.

"Finnish winters are different from American winters." You reminded him dryly, waiting impatiently for him to take his boots off as you pictured the warm, comfortable blankets on his bed. He chuckled at that, then eyed you with a look that you knew all too well.

"I've heard that the less clothes you're wearing, the faster you warm up." He said lowly, eyes sticking to your tits as he finally kicked his shoes off before he was coming towards you. You laughed as you rolled your eyes, only getting a few steps towards his room before he was right up behind you while smacking his hand onto your ass and squeezing harshly. "I can help get your blood flowing."

"Damn. I should make you drink red wine more often." You snickered as he basically shoved himself right up behind you to walk every step along with you, yelping slightly when his fingers found the hem of your dress and ripped it right up over your hips. And, thus, revealing the surprise underwear. You whined. "It was supposed to be a surprise!"

"Holy fucking shit. Get in the fucking room. Right now." Well, at least the purchase was well-received. You laughed as you did what he asked, his lips on your neck and his hands all over you the entire way there.

So, overall, first date: successful.

[ashleywool]

why are menstrual cycles

I began birth control meds a few years ago when my periods went from "tolerable nuisance" to "incapacitating sensory nightmare." I stopped taking BC as of June 8 so they wouldn't interfere with the cortisol testing.

Mind you: I'd had some intermittent spotting when I was on BC, but it was so brief and occasional that I was getting used to not even needing to keep maxipads around anymore, just an "emergency" bundle of pantyliners. I never bled enough to justify even attempting to use a tampon.

Yesterday, for the first time since 2021, I got my FULLLLLL period.

I was JUST beginning to come to terms with having to stay off BC at least through September to fully determine if my current health problems are a result of BC or if Otis (the cyst/tumor/both on my pituitary gland) is the real culprit. I thought, meh, it's annoying to have to wait, but I don't need this medication THAT badly anyway, it'll be a good way to see how my reproductive system calibrates itself--

Y'ALL. I forgot how AWFUL this is.

I forgot what it's like to be able to smell EVERYTHING--and in New York, there's even more of everything. Like, I can wash the dishes in the dark and know when the pot isn't entirely clean because I can smell a trace amount of olive oil. I can be awakened from sleep because I can SMELL the exact moment one of the cats uses the litterbox (the pine litter absorbs the smell almost instantly, which is amazing, but in the 0.2 seconds between the crap leaving their butt and the litter absorbing the smell, I SMELL IT).

I forgot what it's like to feel EVERY SINGLE ATOM that touches my skin and overthink every article of clothing in my closet before I get dressed for the day. Like, I can shave my legs and then FEEL my hair growing back. I put on a face mask in the doctor's office and my lip eczema is lurking right there with a taser like, "hahahaha, you say you care about public safety, but do you really? How much? *taser zap* HOW ABOUT NOW?"

I forgot the LEG CRAMPS--like, why? Yeah, the uterine liner is shedding, what does that even have to do with my legs? My back, fine. But leave my legs alone.

I forgot, most of all, what it's like to just cry at the smallest things. Like, not JUST the things that make sense to be sad/stressed/angry about, but like, I'll open a box of Scotch-Brite pads and then cry because they're all so perfectly positioned in that bag and I'm about to take one out and separate it from its brothers and sisters and they'll never see it again and now I'm so sad I want to jump off a bridge but I can't because my cats will miss me and I could never do that to my parents and--

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KEEP DOING THIS EVERY MONTH until we figure out whether or not the meds that prevented me from having to do this every month are causing MORE harm?

And if they are, then I'll have to...I don't know, stop taking them? Try something different? And if they're not, then I need to do whatever else we need to do in order to prove that the only reasonable next step is LITERAL BRAIN SURGERY LIKE--?!

Ok. I'm gonna go cry into my iced coffee about Scotch-Brite pads. And maybe put on real clothes. Maybe.

[sunnyie-eve]

14 | Break The Rules

Series: A Zombie's Serenity 

Paring: Zed Necrodopolis x OFC Buchanan!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Might be a few mistakes, and I'm using Brenna D'Amico as how the OC's looks

| MASTERLIST |

~~~

The night of Prawn, Zed and I were hanging out at his place. "What you thinking about?" Zed asks as she stares off into the distance. 

"The werewolves. I feel bad for them." She looks over at him. 

"Come on." Zed gets up from the steps putting his hand out to her. 

"Where we going?" Serenity asks confused. 

"Go pay the wolves a visit." He pulls her who and they make their way to the Wolf Den. 

"Why are we going to see them?" She asks as they walk hand in hand. 

"You'll understand in a minute." He smiles down at met. 

"Fine." She doesn't try to get anything out of him.

When the two get to the den many of the wolves were coughing and not looking too well. The two walk up to Willa and Wyatt look at them, "They were wrong to destroy Seabrook power, and I was wrong about werewolves. You have every right to fight for who you are." Zed tells the two while Serenity watches and listens to the conversation. 

"Yeah, but what are we now, zombie?" Wyatt asks him. 

"You're fierce, proud werewolves." Zed tells them. 

"Yeah, they think we're monsters." Willa tells him. 

Zed glances down at Serenity looking at him so he looks back at Willa and Wyatt, "We are monsters." He smiles at them so they look at each other confused. 

"You have any nice dresses at home?" Zed asks Serenity. 

"My mom bought a dress for Prawn last year so yes, I have a dress." She laughs.

"I think we have a dance to crash." Zed makes everyone smile. 

"So we'll all meet up when we're ready?" Serenity says and everyone agrees. 

"I'm taking you to Prawn." Zed picks Serenity up as they make it out of the den. 

"I'll meet you with everyone when I'm ready." She tells him as they speed walk back home. 

"Meet me? I'm picking up my date." He kisses the top of her head as they split ways.

-

"Mom! I need my dress for Prawn!" I rush into the house scaring my parents. 

"You're going alone?" She gets up. 

"No, I'm going with Zed and the other zombies and werewolves. They're gonna break the rules because it's a bad rule." I explain to her. 

"Well, we need to get you ready quickly. Also this is a new dress just incase you wanted to go." She laughs as we go up the stairs. 

"It's not the pink dress anymore?" I ask. 

"You'll see." She giggles rushing to her closet. 

"When did you get this?" I ask sitting in the bed. 

"Yesterday when you were at school. I went out of town to get this." She smiles back at me. 

"Are you serious?" I laugh. 

"Yes. What do you think?" She shows me the dress smiling. 

"The totally opposite of that bubble gum pink dress. I like this one so much better." I stand up taking it from her. It doesn't take us too long to get ready because we worked fast together.

The door bell rings as we walk down the stairs so I could leave. "I'm guessing that's your date." Mom smiles as dad gets the door. 

"Zed." My dad opens the door letting him in. 

He looks at me smiling as I join his side, "What do you think?" I mess with my dress. 

"I like it. We match." He chuckles. 

"That was my goal." My mom smiles at us, "Let me take a picture real quick." She pulls out her phone. 

Zed stands behind me wrapping his arms around my shoulders so I hold on to them as we smile for her. He then kissed the side of my head making me giggle so my mom takes a second photo. "Okay, we have to meet everyone else." I grab Zed's hand pulling him out of the house. 

"Have fun!" My mom shouts as we rush to meet the others.

When we all met up Eliza loved my dressed and was proud of my mom for picking something that gave off zombie vibes. We all walk to the school together and when we get there Bucky was not glad to see all of us. "You guys can't be here. There are laws against this. Serenity, you know better and what are you wearing?" He eyes me. 

"Mom bought it for me. Plus Zombies and werewolves are a part of Seabrook and they deserve to be here like us." I smile at him. 

"Plus bad laws are meant to be broken." Zed tells him. 

"And monsters don't follow the rules." Eliza adds and I high five her. 

"Like Serenity said we weren't apart of Seabrook too. The Originals, in fact." Wyatt tells him making me smirk at Bucky.

Bucky looks back at the Z Alert, "Someone's gotta stop you." He goes after it so Willa steps up snarling at him which scares him, "Welcome to Prawn." He walks inside making me laugh. Willa starts to cough so I make sure she's okay before we all go in. 

Addison looks over at us so we look at each other, "We both know we need to apologize to her." He tells me making me huff. 

"Why do I need to? You're the one who needs to. You stole the necklace not me. I just let my feelings be known." I explain to him as she walks over to us. 

"Serenity, I'm sorry for how I reacted. I was just upset with Zed and you were just letting me know how you feel. I hate when we ignore each other." She tells me. 

"I'm sorry if I was too harsh letting my feeling out." I apologize anyways. 

"Can we hug it out?" She asks so I chuckle giving her a hug.

"And I had no right to take your necklace to stop you from because werewolf. I couldn't handle the fact that you and or Serenity might be a monster. Cause I couldn't accept the fact that I am one, but after many speeches from Serenity, I finally can accept who I am." He takes my hand into his. 

"I would've thought everything would makes things easier if we were a werewolf but we're not. And I don't even know if I'm a cheerleader." She tells him and me. 

"You're a leader, Addison. You make others belong." I tell her. 

"At camp, at cheer. You're the one protesting for what's right." Zed tells her. 

"I have Serenity to thank for that." She smiles at me. 

"You're welcome." I laugh as she pulls both of us in for a hug.

As the three of us hug a rumbling starts making people panic, "This way." Zed grabs my hand so I grab Addison to follow. While running in the school hallway the floor falls apart to show a glowing light. "The energy from the moonstone must've created the fault line. If we follow this crack, it may lead us to the moonstone." Zed tells the wolves. 

"So it's only buried and not destroyed." Addison tries looking down in the hole. The wolves rush down it to go find the moonstone while we stay up for awhile before going to join them incase they need help. They did need help so we all lift the moonstone but we get blocked in.

"Your Z-band, it's still broken. Zed, take it off. Lift the slab. Okay, Zed, you can do this." Eliza tells him. 

"I'm not ready. What if I can't control it?" He tells her. 

"Zed, yes you can. You've taken control before. Remember your Serenity." I make him look at me then everyone else before taking his z-band off and zombies out. "Now lift the slab please." I pat his arm and he goes to it lifting it up for us to carry it out. We we get it out the slab slams shuts and all we could see was the dust from it. "Zed!" I panic till I see the light from his z-band light up green and he walks towards us. "Don't make me worry like that! Speak next time." I wrap my arms at him. 

"I'm sorry." He kisses the side of my head holding me.

"We crushed it! We nailed it! We so rock! Yes!" Wynter cheers. "Too much?" She asks as we look at her. 

"Perfect." Willa tells her. "We did it." Willa smiles at us. 

"Say brains." Eliza points her tablet at us so we say brains. The wolves start to howls so we all join before going back up to the dance.

"We are all different, baby. But that's what I like. We're separate, but we're together. Like stars in the sky. We got a good thing going on. Yeah, nobody has to feel alone. Oh, yeah." I link my arm with Zed's.

One of us chased the day And one of us faced the night And all of us paved the way To where we all are tonight Turned around And now we found That we are now All

"One for all, used to be divided." Zed smiles at Addison. 

"One for all, now we're all united." She smiles back walking around me. 

"One for all, this party ain't private." Wyatt gives Zed a handshake. 

"One for all, everyone's invited." Willa adds. 

"One for all, no wristband required." Eliza joins us. 

"One for all, get hype, get excited." Willa puts a moonstone necklace on Addison than me.

One for all, one for all One for all, one for all (Woo!)

"There's something here that's magic. Let's dance until dawn: The feeling is automatic. It's where we belong. We're so unique, we're not the same. Yeah, and that's what gives us all our strength." Zed looks at all of us as we group up then Bucky gives Addison a cheer captain jacket.

One of us chased the day And one of us faced the night And all of us paved the way To where we all are tonight Turned around And now we found That we are now All

"We about to bring it on-on. Watch me shake it like a pom-pom. Yeah, shake it, shake it, shake it. Shake it, shake it, shake it like a pom-pom." Addison leads the dance. 

"Yeah, get sick, get ill. Lean back with the zombie tilt. Ayy, with a zombie tilt. Yeah, with a zombie tilt." Zed takes over. 

"Uh, new kids on a new blockz Werewolves do the moonwalk. Do the moonwalk. Do the moonwalk." Willa then goes before we all take the party to the wolf den to put the moonstone there.

One for all, used to be divided One for all, now we're all united One for all, this party ain't private One for all, everyone's invited One for all, no wristband required One for all, get hype, get excited One for all, one for all One for all, one for all (Woo!)

"Who wants pizza?!" Zevon brings the boxes in making people rush to him and coach brought his fro-yo cart. 

"You want pizza or fro-yo?" Zed spins me around. 

"Pizza. Plus coach's cart doesn't have your vanilla." I laugh as we dance over to his dad to eat some pizza. "I knew you could control yourself." I smile as we sit down together. 

"Well I thought of my serenity." He leans closer to me till our lips meet and wolves start to howl and people cheer starling us but make us laugh. 

"It's not even our first kiss." I laugh. 

"It's our first to we're others are around." He starts to eat his pizza. 

"I kissed you in a busy hall before the debate."

[visiosatanae]

The Gauntlet

Chapter 2: Wrath

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dewdrop/F!Reader | Sister of Sin

(CW: Smut, Rough sex with a ghoul, Violence, Blood)

Ao3 Link Ch 1

I spent the rest of the afternoon contemplating my strategy for the Gauntlet, as Sister Imperator called it. I figured Sloth and Gluttony would be easy enough and could be done by myself, and almost everyone in the Ministry was always down for a quick fuck so Lust wouldn't be an issue either. But for the others I'd have to get creative. 

Eventually I found myself in one of the smaller chapels of the Ministry, having wandered there without realizing. It was quiet, only a few Siblings sitting amongst the pews. This place in particular was best for quiet worship and inner contemplation. Exactly what I needed. 

I took a seat towards the back. I couldn't help but sigh, which echoed slightly with how quiet it was in the room. My mind was racing with the mass influx of information I had received today. I wasn’t sure how to process any of it, let alone plan out how I was going to perform seven deadly sins within seven days. Obviously it wasn't impossible, but where to even start? And was I worthy of such a position even if I did manage to complete it? 

My eyes glossed over the stained glass of the chapel, taking in the scenes of Ministry lore. They eventually landed on the iconography of the Dark Lord Himself. Staring into His eyes made something click in my mind, my decision made in an instant. 

I had always liked a challenge anyways… 

… 

The next morning my ears were trained on the conversations around me as I made my way through the dining hall with breakfast. I didn’t normally care much for the whereabouts of the ghouls, but today I had a bone to pick with one in particular. 

I noticed a table of younger Siblings, giggling amongst themselves and I figured they'd be my best bet. I sat with my food a few feet away, listening intently to their not so private conversation as I picked at my muffin. 

"Yes! More have been summoned lately, they're all so feral still!" one Sister said, blushing at her own implication. 

"Has anyone seen the Cardinal's fire ghoul yet? I heard he's got a real bad temper. I'm worried about running into him," said another Sister. 

Bingo

"Yeah, his name is Dewdrop," a Brother replied, leaning in and lowering his voice. "Makes sense why he'd be so angry all the time if that's the name they gave him." 

"No, I think it's because he's compensating for something," I interjected, the other Siblings turning to look at me. "And not just his height," I smirked. 

A couple Sisters giggled nervously, eyes darting around as if anxious of him currently being in the room. "What makes you say that?" The Brother asked. 

I shrugged. "Just a hunch. But I've known plenty of people with the same issues. Why would a ghoul be any different?" I was lying through my teeth, but these guys wouldn't question me. I was an older Sibling with a lot more experience than them. As expected, they all started murmuring to themselves about what I had said about Dew. I sipped my coffee as my plan took affect. Word travelled fast through the Ministry and with any luck I'd have results by this afternoon. 

…

My steps echoed along the walls of the corridors as I wandered through the Abbey, taking care to walk through every shadow and dark hallway I could in the hope a certain someone would take the bait. I wasn’t sure if my heart was racing from fear or adrenaline, but the reason didn’t really matter. Pumping blood would help lure out any ghoul that was hunting.

Sure enough, I didn’t have to wait long before I felt something wrap around my waist and quickly pull me into a random storage closet. The door slammed shut and I only had time to let out a yelp before a clawed hand clamped over my mouth, stifling any other noise I could make. 

"Heard you were talking shit, Sister," a low voice growled in my ear. "Where was that attitude yesterday when you were flat on the floor, huh?" Dew held me close to his body with his tail, the heat emanating off of him in waves. 

I took a chance at elbowing him in the ribs, biting down hard on the hand covering my mouth. His howl within the confined space was overwhelming, but my maneuver wasn't as effective for escape as I'd hoped. I felt myself being slammed against the wall, his forearm pressing down on my throat. 

"The fuck was that?" Even in the dark closet I could see his fangs glinting in a sneer. "Are you just trying to piss me off?" 

You have no idea, I thought as I thoroughly put the final nail in my coffin by spitting square in his face. He fumed at me, the glob of spit rolling down his cheek. I would have laughed if I wasn't about to die right then and there. 

Dew wiped his face, looking at his hand for a moment before jamming his fingers in my mouth, the tips of them touching the back of my throat and making me gag. "If you want rough, bitch, I'll give you fucking rough," he snarled, his hand grasping my jaw and bringing it down with enough force to bring me to my knees. 

I felt my head hit the wall behind me. Through my ringing ears I could hear a belt being undone and my eyes widened in the dim light at the length of him. "Still think I'm compensating for something?" He removed his fingers, only to replace them with his cock. His now free hand tore off my veil, wrapping itself in my hair and pulling. "Suck." I did so dutifully, although I didn't have much choice as his grip pushed me further down to his pubic bone. "If I feel teeth, I'll snap your neck before you can even think your final prayer." 

I nodded as much as I could, bobbing my head while his hand remained fisted in my hair. He made me take his entire length each time, my nose pressing into the patch of hair above his cock. Dew groaned as his hips rolled, still angry as hell but finally allowing himself to take pleasure in my mouth. I did my part in keeping him satisfied, tears streaming down my face as I struggled to breathe around him. Every time he pushed all the way in I gagged, and he seemed to relish in how my throat contracted around the head of his cock with every thrust. 

After he'd finally had enough, he pulled me back by my hair. I coughed, gasping on air again. He yanked me up until I was back on my feet, back pressed against the wall. His hand moved from my hair to my throat, the ability to breathe quickly fleeting. I clawed at his wrist as I choked. 

"Sluts like you need to remember their place," he hissed, his other hand roughly hiking up my habit to my waist. I tried to shake my head but was only met with the sound of my underwear being torn away. His hand cupped my pussy and he paused, huffing in surprise. "You're absolutely soaked, Sister," he chuckled. "Is this the only way you can get off? By messing with dangerous ghouls?" 

I whimpered, my face flushed, not even realizing how wet I'd gotten from his abuse. I didn't have time to ponder whether this was a new kink or not because the head of his cock was already rubbing along my slit, easily becoming coated in slick. He groaned, his face burying itself into my shoulder as he pressed himself fully inside, not wasting any time in starting a brutal pace. My head slammed into the wall causing the shelves of cleaning supplies to shake with every thrust. My mind started going fuzzy from the continued lack of air and I could only cling to him for dear life. 

Despite how rough he was, I couldn't help how tightly my cunt squeezed around him, his cock dragging along my inner walls and hitting that sweet spot inside with every thrust. I could tell it was working him up quickly, his moans and snarls coming more frequently against my skin as he pounded into me. 

I came back to reality for a moment as claws dug into my skin, tearing at the collar of my habit and reducing it to shreds. "Gonna mark you up nice and good," Dew panted into my skin, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Can't have you forgetting what it means to fuck around with me." 

He groaned as his hips shuddered, biting down hard into my shoulder. I let out a silent scream, my own hips rutting against his as he unloaded into me. Even his cum felt burning hot as it flooded my insides. I gave a strangled cry as I forcibly came around him, milking his cock of everything he had. It was only when he finished that he finally released my throat, letting me crumple to the dirty floor of the closet. 

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing my blood across his face as he looked down at my pathetic state. "Not bad," he licked his lips. "Let me know if you wanna do this again sometime." I watched with blurry vision as he tucked himself away, straightening out his clothes before opening the door into the corridor. "Thanks for the fuck, Sister," he chuckled before leaving me in the dark again. 

"No, thank you." I groaned quietly, praying to Satan that I didn't go through all of that for nothing. 

[hl-obsessed]

Hi! No hate, just curious what you think Louis meant with that reply. I’m feeling kind of hurt and would love a different interpretation. Thanks!

Ok so this is long one, anon.

An this is my letter of complain to the fandom. I'm disappointed in you guys.

(this might be a little chaotic but bare with me)

*

Louis isn't stupid - that's first of all. He knows damn good what he's doing.

Second - we actually know shit. We have no idea what he was actually talking about.

But if we taking this as Larry and Parma ham thing and clearly denying this, then here we go:

_

You talking about how weird it was that he told us day before that he's going to be on for a chat.

Especially when he spent time on social medias yesterday liking and commenting on posts. He could have just start replying to the questions on tt because there are hundreds everyday just waiting for him, and fandom would catch on him being online in seconds and would start asking things immediately. There wasn't actually reason for this unless... it been step up.

Set up that someone form above could monitor things, his every step, every move.

There probably was sheet ready with questions he had to answer. Babygate, denying Larry, usual shit.

Maybe there was one answer for one song he pulled out on tour.

One for 505, one for 7, one for HIM in Back To You. Or one for songs and another ones for lights, one for blue and green, other for rainbow ones.

We think he just did that because he could and wanted to. What if he went for an agreement, that he can do this but he will have to make some comments denying all this in the future.

1 for us and 1 for antis and all the aprrences that they are keeping of him for years.

And you're treating him like he isn't the first victim in all of this. He was put in the closet, he had to sign off contract for kid to protect everything what's important to him and hid it even deeper.

You all getting pissed like he killed your mothers, and you fucking forget that's it's not about you. Larry is him, it's them. It thier lives. He can say whatever shit he wants because it is about him.

And break up with ealnor? You thought this wouldn't have consequences? Third question is maybe exactly for that.

He can do so much that is screaming Larry over and over again, for weeks on tour, and you hanging him for one comment.

True that people only see you mistakes, no matter how much good you do.

You all thinking he's stupid and he get mad to the point he didn't even saw he answered to the wrong tweet.

No one fucking thinks he did it on purpose?

Chicken in parma ham is so important, it always was. What if they made him answer Larry question and he answered wrong one on purpose, because he knew it will get enough or even more attention that way. The Above will check it out on thier list and move on, but he known real fans will know the truth.

That he didn't actually write it under right question on purpose, that he didn't actually mess with original meaning of this.

Great to see that you all are turing against him instead of thinking what he could mean by that.

I was searching for this quote when he said the fans can listen to what he's truly saying between the lines.

He doing so much cryptic shit and you are getting hung up on one fucking thing he said. Thing he probably HAD TO say.

I'll be up for the chat was a warning. I'll be up under supervision. I might say things you don't like but i had to say it. You know me, i know you, and i know you lot know how to read between the lines.

And you're giving him what for that?

There is that saying that there's no difference how they're talking about you, what's important is that they are talking.

Another box checked, Louis is trending on twitter.

You often say how brilliant his mind is and how you love the way he's thinking.

And now what, you think he just straight away get pissed, went stupid with it, and shoot rude comment at one of his fans because of what?

He's public person. He has to keep appearances. He's forced to keep an image they where building for years.

He often says how important we are to him. He wouldn't just lasched out like that on the fan, to silence stupid theories. Especially when this never works.

From time to time there is some comment that seems to be harsh. But you don't just hate him for that, especially when he does so much loud things that says otherwise.

He's tying to protect this. Them. Us. With keeping both sides happy. Can't you see that?

I'm so pissed at you guys right now.

And i'm going to protect this boy to the grave, at all costs.