#i will say that i don't think it's coke i think it is finely ground sea salt and somehow that's worse

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day twenty-two

"Why are we doing this again?"

original fiction (dungeons and dragons) (continuation of yesterday's prompt)

word count: 1464

tw: implied drug use (for comedic purposes)

Of all the things Darius could be doing on a Friday night, hanging at a house full of business majors was far from his favorite. 

He could have been meeting up with his friends to hear about the latest drama they were all getting up to. He could have been at home with his cat, Olea, and a National Geographic documentary. Hell, he could have been stuck at one of Dr. Vallus' boring soirées, schmoozing professors and drinking free champagne. 

Yet, he was here, watching the crowd. 

Beside him, Cassandra nudged his shoulder. "That's him." 

Darius eyed the group of people that had just walked in, talking with one another. "Which one?" 

"That guy." She gestured towards a skinny guy with long, blonde hair. He had a face that annoyed him on sight. 

"Really? That guy?" 

"Don't judge my taste," Cassandra said. 

"Well, you roped me into helping you get one over on this guy, so I can judge all I want." Darius turned to her. "Seriously, why are we doing this again? Do you really care about this guy that much?" 

She looked down into her beer, as if the narrow neck of the bottle was easier to face than his gaze. "Call me prideful. Or spiteful. But it's not that he pretended I don't exist. That professor already hates me, and he makes it so much worse." 

He took another look at him - Galsariad, or whatever his dumb name. There weren’t many people he hated on sight, but he had pretentious, trust fund kid vibes that set off warning bells in his head. He’d spent too much time in private school as the only kid there on a scholarship, both the only Black kid and the only kid from the backwoods. Fuck it, he decided. “Yeah. Screw this guy.” 

“See, I knew you’d get it.” Cassandra stood on her toes, even though she already looked over the heads of everyone else in the room. “Where’d Milo go?” 

“He’s probably taken my car and ditched us,” Darius said. 

She shot him a withering look. “He knows his part in our plan.” 

“Doesn’t mean he’ll want to participate.” 

Cassandra rolled her eyes, but he knew she agreed. Darius didn’t understand why she’d picked Milo to be their man to drag Gal away from his friends. Though he hated the guy on principle, he could’ve seduced him away. In fact, he was ready to, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie as she continued to look around. 

“Okay, please don’t take my mortal enemy to bed,” she said. “Milo will come through.” 

He still had his doubts. But it wasn’t long until Milo appeared. He touched Gal on the arm, saying something that neither of them could hear over the music. As Gal nodded and headed off, Milo shot them a look. It didn’t take much interpretation to know what he was thinking - You so owe me. 

As they waited for an appropriate time to pass before they could follow him, Darius asked, “What’d you tell him to say again?” 

“Try to sell him coke,” Cassandra said casually. 

He nearly choked on his beer. “What?” 

“What? This is why I sent Milo to do. He looks like a preppy guy with access to coke. You look like you deal weed.”

“Rude.” 

“The earthy, hoodie-wearing, slacker vibes you give off don’t help you there,” Cassandra told him. “Even if I know that you’re a snob for a good wine and… have you ever even smoked weed?” 

“There was that one time Zenith came over when you weren’t home,” he mumbled. 

“Oh my God,” she said. “Why did you never tell me that?” 

“Later.” Darius threw back the rest of his beer. “Let’s go.” 

The crowd parted as the two of them walked towards the stairs. He had scouted out the house earlier and determined where Milo should lure Gal: a bedroom of one of the house’s inhabitants that was left unprotected, but had an air of college boyness that would kill the mood for any potential hook-ups. It made him wish that Cassandra had one of the scented candles she’d lit around the apartment in her purse, but he doubted she had considered that in her planning. 

Besides, committing arson was not in their plan. He wasn’t a chemistry major, but he figured some of the fumes in that room must have been combustible. 

When they stepped into the hall, Darius let Cassandra lead the charge. Being in the trajectory of her wrath was not his idea of a good time. 

She wasted no time heading to the room they'd designated for their confrontation and opened the door. "Hey, boo. Miss me?" 

Darius peered into the room to catch Gal's surprised face. He pitied him for what was going to come. Only a little

As Cassandra walked in, he followed and shut the door, standing in front of it. He wasn't very good in a physical fight, but he looked deceptively imposing enough that he would take standing guard. 

"What the hell?" Gal asked. 

Milo looked up from the desk, putting on his best innocent face. And- 

"Milo!" Cassandra cried, taking in the lines of white powder on the desk. "I didn't think you actually had cocaine on you!" 

Somehow, Darius found it hard to be surprised. Of all the things Milo could be up to behind their backs, dealing drugs was the tamest possibility. 

Their roommate merely shrugged. "I didn't do any. Designated driver, remember?" 

Gal backed up as Cassandra started rifling through her purse. "What is going on here?" 

She pulled out her tablet. "You are getting blackmailed."

Darius leaned forward. "I don't think you're supposed to tell people when they're getting blackmailed." 

Milo agreed silently, having dropped into the desk chair to spectate. He had a feeling that he'd gone along with their plan because he wanted to see just how things would unfold. 

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought the same. 

Gal sat on the edge of the bed, hands laid in his lap. "Well. What do you know?" 

"I know that you forged your letters to get into Waterdeep University's masters' program. I did some sniffing around - you know, you should tell Dr. Teflon to get a better lock on her office door-" Cassandra tapped on her tablet. "Your professors at Jigow State - wonderful school, I nearly considered it - say you never consulted them for a recommendation." She turned her tablet out. "Why did you lie?" 

"You're insane," he said. 

Unfortunately, Darius kinda had to agree with him there. He had no clue how Cassandra retrieved that information, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask. 

"I'm right. I can prove it, and I can send that information to some high-up people in the university. The Dean of the College of Natural Sciences like to drink with Dr. Vallus, doesn’t she, Darius?” 

He didn’t like using his connections on campus like that. But he nodded, solemnly. “Dr. Vallus and I are real besties.” 

Gal started to sweat. “And you’re going to tell her I do coke?” 

“No,” Cassandra said. “I’m trying to ruin your career, not get you thrown in jail.” 

He sighed in relief, hanging his head. “Fine. What do you want?” 

“I want you to change my grade on my paper for Teflan’s class to an A. I did A level work! And you gave me a C.” 

“All this over a C on a paper?” Milo asked, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Shut up, coke dealer,” Cassandra said, holding a hand up. 

“Fuck. Fine.” Gal raised his head. “It was a B- at best, though.” 

“So you did grade me down!” 

“Okay, I did.” He stood up. “I will fix your grade. And I will make sure that you pass this class and any other class that I have to TA. Shit.” 

Cassandra put her tablet together satisfied. “Deal.” She turned to Milo. “Did you charge him for the coke?” 

“Yeah,” he said. 

Darius sighed dramatically. 

Gal started to stand up. “I’m just gonna go-” He walked up to him nervously. 

Cassandra shot him a look, and he stepped out of the way. Gal scammered out of the room, shutting the door behind him with a slam. 

“Don’t just leave your coke in here,” she said, before following him back out into the hall. 

Milo turned to Darius, as if waiting for him to make a comment. 

“If I ask questions, will you kick me out?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, fine.” He tucked his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “I think I’m ready to go home.” 

“Agreed. I just have to-” Milo waved his hands over the desk. 

Darius turned to head out. “Alright.” 

At least he’d have quite the story to tell his friends.

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/angst (in later chapters; this one's mostly just suggestive), mentions of masturbation, mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris set aside your differences to join forces and close on a sweet deal with a local supplier.

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 |

You and Chris rode in your silver Honda Accord through the rainy streets, following all the laws, using your turn signals, and driving the speed limit. Not because you were law-abiding citizens but because you had about twelve bricks of the city's finest coke stashed in a suitcase in your trunk.

"So, what now? We go bag this shit?" Chris asked, fidgeting with one of his rings. "I mean, I'm not doing anything tonight. Are you?" You asked, your eyes darting over at the boy slouched down in his seat beside you. He shook his head and shrugged.

"Let's go back to my place. I'll make coffee, and we can stay up tonight bagging. Tomorrow we start selling," you suggested, glancing into your rearview and fixing your gaze back on the car in front of you.

"You know, you're a pretty established dealer. Pretty high up there. What do you go on your own runs for, ma? I'm sure you could pay someone to do it," Chris wondered, hoping he could be a candidate for the job.

"I don't need help, Chris," you shook your head. "I didn't say you need it. I'm just wondering why you don't," he clarified.

"I like to do shit myself, Chris. It keeps me busy, it makes me more money, and if I'm the one doing it, I know it's getting done efficiently. Why would I pay someone to dip into my stash and give product away to their friends behind my back?" You shrugged.

"Damn, ma. You got trust issues," Chris shook his head. "Don't you?" You inquired, peering over at Chris. "Nah, I don't think so," Chris replied, staring out his window at the falling rain.

"You're telling me you've been in this business for how long, and you've never been fucked over?" You narrowed your eyes at him. "Nah, I haven't," Chris mumbled. "Then someone's fucking you over, and you don't know about it," you dryly responded.

"Damn, ma. That's not a very bright outlook, but if that's how you wanna be," Chris shook his head. "I'm just being realistic," you shrugged. "Who hurt you?" Chris asked, sounding somewhat genuine with his question.

"Wouldn't you like to know? I'm not playing this twenty questions shit. We're not having a heart-to-heart right now, alright? We're just doing business," you rolled your eyes, putting up your defenses.

"That's fine, ma. I don't mind when they're tough to crack," Chris joked with a playfulness in his tone, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The two of you drove silently through the slick streets back to your place where you unloaded the heavy suitcase. You started a pot of coffee, the smell of the medium-roast brew drifting through the air as you started to take off your blazer, kick off your heels, and unstrap your gun.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to go change," you declared, making your way to the bottom of the staircase. You reached around to try to unzip your dress, but it didn't budge. "Shit," you whispered, fidgeting with the stuck zipper.

"Need help?" Chris asked you, starting to walk towards you. "No, I got it," you told him, but you didn't have it, and you were still struggling. "C'mon, ma. You don't have to do everything yourself all the time," Chris chuckled, coming up behind you.

You felt silly. Earlier, you were bragging about how you didn't need anyone, and now you were being humbled by a piece of metal that was stuck on a thread from your dress.

Chris fiddled with it for a few minutes. "Got it," Chris said as you heard the slow ziiip as it came undone.

He tried to remain professional about it, but he found himself nearly holding his breath as his eyes traveled to the curve of your back and how pretty your skin looked in the soft, dim lighting.

Suddenly, his phone started to vibrate, pulling him out of the trance you unknowingly held him in. He let go of your zipper, and his hand flew to his phone that was in his pocket.

"Who's that?" You asked, peeking at him from over your shoulder. A pang of guilt about how he'd been looking at you all night surged through him as he peered down at his screen. "My girlfriend," Chris replied, glancing back up at you.

You pulled your gaze away from his. A very small part of you felt a little jealous and hurt because you'd thought Chris had been flirting with you all night.

"Don't tell her too many details about our deal tonight. The fewer people that know the names, locations, and prices, the better," you told him, and he nodded at you.

"Hey, baby. I'm gonna be stuck at work pretty late tonight. No, don't wait up for me," he told her as you started ascending the stairs. "I know, I know," you heard his voice take on a more sultry tone.

"I know. I bet you miss my cock so much right now, don't you, baby?" Chris cooed into the phone, his voice sounding further and further away as you got closer to your room. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his vulgarity.

You shut your door behind you, slipping your straps off your shoulders and letting the fabric drop to the floor. You unhooked your bra and let out a sigh of relief as it fell, joining your dress that laid at your feet. You tossed them into the hamper and slipped into sweatpants and a sweater.

Your eyes danced across Chris' jeans, his shirt, and his hoodie that were thrown into a pile next to your bed. You couldn't help but kind of like the idea of Chris' clothes littering your bedroom floor, but you tried to push that thought out of your mind upon learning that he was dating someone and upon remembering that you totally hated him.

You threw your hair up in a bun and started back out your door to let Chris know he could use your room to change now. You stood at the top of the stairs as Chris' voice came back into earshot.

"I know, baby. Pretend your fingers are mine, alright? C'mon. Be a good girl and cum all over them for me," you heard Chris say into the phone in your living room. Your jaw fell open, your breath caught in your throat, and your hand flew up to cover your mouth.

You felt your body temperature rise as you slowly descended the steps, listening while he talked her through it. You knew Chris self-reportedly knew how to talk to people, but you didn't know it extended to the bedroom, too.

You felt a slickness between your thighs as Chris' seductive voice danced through the air. You tiptoed down your stairs, peeking over the banister at Chris, who was sitting on your couch, legs splayed out, gently caressing the bulge in his pants while he spoke to his girlfriend.

Your eyes widened, and you pulled back before Chris could see you. You took a deep breath and cleared your throat before descending the stairs the rest of the way. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Chris jump a bit.

"Sorry, baby. I gotta go. Gotta get back to work. I'll come over once I'm done. I love you," he told her before hastily hanging up. Chris leaned forward on your couch, placing both his elbows on his knees, and interlocking his fingers to hide how hard he was.

It wasn't very often that men made you lose your composure, but as your gaze met Chris', you hoped he wouldn't notice your flushed expression.

"You can go change out of that corny ass suit if you want. Room's all yours," you casually told him. "Thanks, ma," he said, getting up quickly and darting up your stairs, hoping you didn't overhear his phone conversation.

Chris stepped into your room, shedding the layers of the suit that was too big for him, and he climbed back into the clothes he started off in, making sure to tuck his erection into the waistband of his boxers. He neatly folded the suit over the back of your chair before departing from your room and heading back down the steps.

He found you in the kitchen, pouring two mugs of hot, black drip coffee, steam rising into the air as you emptied the pot. Your eyes rose up to meet his again, and you gave him a subtle smile.

"So, what's your girlfriend like?" You asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it as you handed him the dark blue ceramic mug that was filled nearly to the brim. Chris nodded, silently thanking you for the beverage as he took it from you.

"Her name is Daisy. She's a very sweet person. She's affectionate. She's understanding. She cooks and cleans," Chris told you, smiling to himself. You could tell he was really in love with her by the way he spoke about her. "She gives great head," Chris added.

"Gross!" You exclaimed, rolling your eyes and giving Chris a look of disgust. "You almost had me. You almost had me thinking you were a romantic."

"I am a romantic. I always return the favor," he cracked a smug grin in your direction as he said it. You scoffed in annoyance. "How long have you guys been together?" You wondered. You placed both your hands around your coffee mug, enjoying the heat it provided and taking a long sip.

"About six months," he responded after counting on his fingers and thinking about it for a second. "She know you sell?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow. Chris sighed and shook his head.

"Chris," you said sternly, setting your cup down on your marble counter top. "You can't keep something like that from her. That's not fair," you told him, looking him dead in the eye.

"I know. But it's either I keep it from her, or I have her worrying about me all the time," Chris replied, scanning your expression for some kind of understanding. "If you knew her, you'd know why I made the decision I did to keep it from her."

"No, Chris. She might worry about you, but she has a right to. This is a dangerous business. What if you get raided when she's over at your place? What if someone robs you? What if you get arrested and she doesn't know until she sees your mugshot?" You said, raising your voice.

Chris was silent. He hadn't considered any of those scenarios until the words left your mouth.

"This business is dangerous, Chris. Everyone around you is subject to the risk," you reminded him, running your fingers along the letters of your name engraved into the mug in front of you.

"So, that's why you don't ever get close to anyone, huh, ma?" Chris smugly suggested, reading you like a book. "You don't know me," you scoffed, narrowing your gaze and folding your arms across your chest.

"When's the last time you dated anyone?" Chris asked, raising an eyebrow. "Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, and let's bag this shit," you angrily huffed, picking up your drink and pushing past him. "You got it, ma," Chris agreed, nearly spilling his coffee as you shoulderchecked him.

You unzipped the suitcase, revealing the neatly organized bricks of white powder and perfectly stacked cash. You picked up a $10,000 bundle and handed it to Chris, but before you let go of it, you gave him a serious look.

"Chris, don't go spending this on anything. Got it? This is part of our reup money after we sell all this."

In most cases, you wouldn't have even given it to him, yet, but it was a test. It was great that Chris could talk to people and get you discounted deals, but you had to make sure he was good with his money.

"Don't worry, ma. I know what I'm doing," Chris said with a sly smirk, but you didn't take people for their word. You watched their actions.

"First things first, I'm always testing my shit," you said, pulling a test kit out of a drawer. You pulled out a switch blade and made just the tiniest slit in the plastic wrap around the brick.

"I just get out the tiniest bit, and I'm gonna mix it with this solution here, and based off what color it turns, it'll tell us exactly what we have. Whether it's pure coke, whether it's cut with something," you taught him, holding the test tube up to eye level. "It usually doesn't take too long. Ah, look at that. Bright blue. It's pure," you said, smiling.

"Miles tried to sell me bunk shit once, but I told him what's up, and now he only sells me pure shit. He knows we'd have a problem if he tried to give me anything less. I still check anyway," you mentioned, glancing over at the blue-eyed boy to your left who was mesmerized by you.

He loved the way you looked like some kind of sexy chemist or badass drug lord, and it was undeniably turning him on a bit. He watched and listened intently, soaking up all the knowledge you bestowed upon him.

"Alright, Chris. When I'm bagging, I usually do it in fairly small quantities, and then I take those bundles and put them together. So, we want all the small baggies in a pile, and we want it to add up to a kilo, so it's very important we only break open one brick at a time," you told him, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a bunch of little plastic ziploc bags.

"I don't like to count things a million times, so we're gonna make piles of ten. We're weighing out mostly eight balls, and we use the scale every time. No eyeballing shit," you stated, handing him a stack of bags.

"Yes, ma. You know, you teaching me all this, it's kind of sexy," Chris admitted, peering over at you. You rolled your eyes and stared back at him. "You shouldn't be saying that kind of shit when you have a girlfriend who's laying in bed waiting for you right now while you're out bagging up drugs she doesn't know anything about," you replied coldly, raising an eyebrow.

"Damn, ma. It's just a little playful flirting. I think intention matters, and I'm not trying to actually do anything about it," Chris shrugged, scooping an eight ball into the tiny square bag. "Intention matters, but so does perception. What if I liked it?" You asked, weighing out your bundle.

"You do," Chris smirked, looking over at you. "No, I don't," you dryly answered. "I'm just saying, you flirt like a single man. It gives off the wrong impression. Leads people on," you replied.

"What? You gonna fall for me, ma?" Chris nudged you in the leg with his. You just rolled your eyes, not even dignifying his accusation with a response.

The two of you continued to weigh out the powder, methodically organizing it the same way you always did. Despite the thrills and everyday excitement that came with being a dealer, these were the times you really looked forward to - the mundane.

This is where you felt most relaxed, sitting on your couch with a cup of coffee at the end of the day, just counting, your heart, beating at a resting rate, and your mind, temporarily free of worry.

It was almost nice to have company - even if your company was a former enemy who you weren't sure if you could trust yet. It just felt nice to have someone that could bask in the silence with you while the rest of the world slept soundly.

"Wow. Is it really that time already?" Chris asked, peering over at the analog clock on your wall that read 2 a.m. You yawned and took a sip of your coffee before rubbing your tired eyes. "Time flies when you're having fun," you dryly replied, stretching your arms above your head.

"I should probably head out. I told my girl I'd stay over at her place tonight," Chris responded, glancing down at his phone to see if he had any missed texts. "I can drive you," you offered. "No, I can't let you do that. Look at how tired you are," Chris declined, getting up from your couch.

"Trust me, Chris. It's safer if I drive you. Neighborhoods around here can be sketchy at night," you warned him, gesturing towards the bundle of cash he'd made from the deal. "Ah, you got a point, ma," Chris smirked at you, reconsidering your offer.

"You know, if you're gonna be my partner in crime, you gotta be smarter," you joked, reaching for your keys. Chris followed you out the door, stepping out into the stormy weather.

Your heavy eyelids struggled to stay open as you fixed your gaze on the freshly paved road. The soothing vibration of your tires driving over the smooth asphalt almost made it harder for you to stay awake.

The two of you rode in silence, Chris tapping away on his phone and looking up every few minutes to direct you down different side streets.

You rolled to a stop underneath a flickering streetlight when you pulled up to Daisy's house, a single light bulb lighting up her doorstep. She always left the porch light on and the door unlocked for Chris when she knew he would be coming over late after work.

"Hey," you stopped him before he stepped out of the car. "Thank you for tonight. I'm really impressed with what you did back there with the deal and everything. Plus, we bagged up the product in half the time that it would have taken me to do it myself," you told him.

"Told you I could be valuable to you, ma. Thanks for giving me a chance, and thank you for the ride," he said, cracking a smile. "Yeah, of course, and thanks for the company. It was.. nice," you shrugged, fiddling with the gear shifter.

His stare lingered on your lips for a second before flickering back up to your eyes, and you swore he was about to lean in and kiss you, but his eyes darted straight ahead, and his hand flew up to the door handle. "Night, ma," he murmured, gently easing your car door open and stepping back out into the drizzling rain that was finally letting up.

You got about half a block before you heard the vibration of your phone in your cup holder. Chris' contact information appeared on your screen. Thinking he must have left something in your car, you picked up and slowed your speed, preparing to turn around. "Chris?" You said into the speaker.

"Hey, ma. I just wanted to stay on the phone with you and keep you up until you get back home. You looked pretty tired," Chris quietly answered. "You didn't have to do that," you replied.

"I know, but I could never forgive myself if you didn't make it back safe, ma," Chris replied, still standing outside on Daisy's porch and staring up at the clouds that were passing over the moon. You couldn't help but to smile at his words. It felt nice to have someone care about you. "Plus, I wouldn't know what to do with all this coke if you croaked," he added.

There it was. Every time Chris said something somewhat endearing, he always ruined it by following it up with something perverted or vile. "Gee, thanks, Chris," you sarcastically murmured.

"What are you gonna do when you get home, ma?" Chris casually asked. "I'm probably gonna pass out the second my head hits the pillow," you said, straightening your back and rapidly blinking your eyes to refocus them. "How about you?"

"Probably smoke a joint. Maybe jerk off," he casually admitted, shrugging his shoulders and putting a hand in his pocket.

"Well, you're just an open book, aren't you?" You replied, your heart racing as you pictured him with a pleasured look on his face, pumping his fist around his cock. "I mean, you asked, and I have nothing to hide," Chris replied.

After a moment of silence, his voice came through again. "You're imagining it, aren't you?" A smirk crept into his expression. "What? Gross. I-I'm not. No," you defensively responded, his assumption catching you off guard.

"Relaaax, ma. I'm fucking with you," Chris chuckled. You rolled your eyes as you cranked the steering wheel, turning onto your street. "Well, Chris. Have fun with that. I'm about to pull into my driveway. Goodnight."

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"Goodnight."

click to read chapter 3 ✨️

[taintedcigs]

Steve loves driving you around.

Picking you up, dropping you off, random late night drives, random 'please come with me to run some errand' drives.

Everything.

You always assume he would hate it, get bored, annoyed, from having you just sitting there. But it's all he wants. needs.

Have you right there by him, pretty smile curving on your lips, the light wind from the cranked down windows whiffling through your skin, hair, causing your scent to linger in the air. Comfort filling the space.

His thick palm gripping the wheel, while the other is lightly pressed upon your thigh, squeezing three times to let you know he is there, protective, sticky-sweet, enough to fill your stomach with all the butterflies.

Your hands return the favor, tender fingertips brushing against his possessive grip, almost to ground him, bring him all the comfort he needs, his world turning on its axis every time he realizes you're his. How lucky he is to have you by his side.

You glance at him with your nose scrunched, smile adorning your glossed lips, he wants to kiss it all over, run his fingertips along your features, admire it, have it etched on to his brain. He'd do just about anything to see your pretty expressions.

Yet, all he can utter are endless compliments, "s'pretty... just like an angel, hmm?" He admires the heat traveling up to your cheeks, smile growing wider as you tell him to stop, but he could never.

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing gentle kisses all over the back of it, warmth traveling through him instantly.

Rest of the ride is filled with shared, tender kisses, whispers of compliments, and the two of you singing along to your favorite songs he made a mixtape of, it's nothing short of caring, attentive, and everything you need wrapped up in a bundle.

He hates when it ends, when he inevitably has to drop you off to your destination, heart leaping out of his chest when that small smile disappears from your lips. His does too - knowing that the warmth and comfort would leave with you.

"What time should I pick you up, honey?" It always makes you feel bad, like some sort of a burden, and he can sense it in your anxious gaze.

"Stevie, y'know I can just walk-" And he tuts quickly, never letting you finish. You don't realize it, how much he enjoys this - the comfort you bring to him just being by his side, and his incessant need to keep you safe.

"Nuh-uh, will you be done by 8:30?" He asks with a smile, you tilt your head with a narrowed gaze, all adorably that Steve melts, all over again.

"Steve."

"Sweetheart," he parrots, wicked grin on his lips that makes you giggle, dreamy gaze that you can't say no to. "Mhmm, 8:30 is perfectly fine," you give in, so easily, so quickly, giving him comfort when he leaves you with a simple goodbye kiss.

And just like promised, he's there, at 8:30 - not a minute late, with that beaming smile, glint in his gaze that makes you feel so giddy that you skip your way into his BMW.

Steve turns toward you with a beaming grin, one hand holding the door open, while the other is stuffed with a bouquet of flowers, warmth filling your heart instantly.

You squeal at the lilac Asters and the eggshell white Baby's breath adorning the bouquet - you know to acquire those flowers he had to make an almost twenty minutes trip away from Hawkins, but Steve would do anything for you. Speechless and grateful, your big doe-eyes look up at him, tears almost welling, before you can speak, he gives you a light kiss.

"I picked up something to eat on my way here," he mumbles, smile so big his cheeks hurt from the stretch, but he can't help it. He'd do anything for you, his pretty, pretty girl.

And he knows you so well.

The two of you drive back the same way he got you there, munching on the fries, his hand on your thigh while you helped him sip on his cherry coke, telling him about your day, his mixtape for you serves as a background drop.

And he doesn't understand how you'd think you could ever be a burden, because that's all he wants anyway, to take care of you, have his passenger princess by his side.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 26

part 1 | part 25 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobia, recreational drug/alcohol use

He’s marching over the grass with a couple of varsity guys; two on his left, two on his right; V-formation like a flock of geese. Jason's at the head of the group, self-assured purpose of a leader, and it’s weird, seeing this little runt all grown up. The kid used to worship Steve; used to follow him around practices like a lost puppy, called him Captain before he’d even earned the role.

“Is this freak bothering you?” Jason asks. His voice is harsh, winded, winding up for a fight. Steve can see it in his stance: the tightening of his jaw, the clench of his friends’ fists. Plant your feet.

Steve’s gotta shut this shit down before it goes where it always does. Smashed plates, broken bones. All pissing contests flow toward the ocean or whatever.

“Nah, man,” he answers, standing up to dust himself off. The coke zips under his skin, makes him jittery and hot. Hard to play it cool. “We’re good. Busted my ass on the rocks; Munson was just helping me up.”

Munson. Like they’re buddies. Like Eddie’s thumb isn’t still damp from Steve’s tongue.

Jason doesn't seem to buy it. Little pastor-cop in training, he narrows his eyes and turns on Eddie. “Were you following him, Freak?”

Eddie's eyes flash in warning, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Steve shifts his weight to stand in front of him, and his fingers twitch around empty air. He wishes he had his nail bat with him; kind of wants to glue the handle to his palm.

Never know when monsters will come crawling out of the woods.

"Well?" Jason barks, "Answer me!"

His lackeys all pipe up then, the guy to his right sneering, "Not so talkative without his lunch table to stand on, is he?"

"Look at him shaking," adds another.

"Think he was trying to do some Satanic ritual shit while no one was looking?"

"I don't know," says the guy on Jason's left. "Looked like they were sucking each other off to me. Hey, maybe Harrington’s turned fag.”

“Andy!” Jason warns, and Steve—

Steve staggers forward with three arrows in his chest. One for every letter of that stupid fucking word that's been haunting him for years; raging fire in a black box in the far reaches of his brain, belching thick, black smoke, singing his fingertips whenever he gets close enough to touch it.

He wonders if Andy can taste the sulfur in it, too.

“No, go on,” he seethes, voice deadly calm when he lays a hand on Andy’s chest. Steeple his fingers, tips his chin. “Say it again; don't think I heard you right.”

Andy swallows hard, grinds his teeth; tenses to square off for the fight, but Jason throws an arm in front of him. "Easy," he says.

Easy. Down boy.

Andy snarls and backs off.

Jason lowers his voice, searching Steve's face. "You sure you're good? Can't be too careful with..."

His gaze slides over Steve's shoulder, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Steve's never wanted to risk a concussion more. "I'm fine," he grits out, balking at the diplomatic bullshit that's about to slither from his mouth. "Really. Thanks, though, man; appreciate you looking out for me."

Jason gives him a serious nod. "Any time."

—

“So, uh…” Eddie squints at Steve once Jason and his goons run along. His arms are hugged tight around his middle, and he's biting his lip; nervous jiggle of his leg. “How, um— How are we playing this, exactly?”

Steve scrubs at his face; swoons where he stands. Feels like all the blood's drained out of him without the adrenaline to prop him up. Goddamn, he's still so drunk. “Playing what?” he asks, confused.

Whatever it is, it’s already been played, hasn’t it?

Fight’s over; Steve’s exhausted. He just wants to go home.

But then Eddie shakes his head and tuts softly at the ground, his expression gone sour and sad, and there it is again. That feeling that Steve’s fucking everything up somehow.

He’s so tired of that feeling.

Slowly, so slowly, he reaches out a hand. Skims Eddie's side; leather jacket, bony hip, and then he hooks his pinky finger into the belt loop of his jeans. Tugs, just a little. Not hard enough to topple him, just—

Enough.

He hopes.

—

part 27

tag lists in separate reblogs with the tag "#trailer park steve au taglist" if you'd like to filter that content, comment and let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

[zvdvdlvr]

can you please do a johnny cade smut? thank you!

- 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 '𝗏-𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽'

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : '𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍? 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎!'

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : 𝗏𝗂𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌, 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗅 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖵𝖸 𝖠𝖯𝖮𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖮𝖯𝖧𝖤 𝖴𝖲𝖤; 𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖳𝖲 𝖧𝖮𝖶 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖦𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖲𝖤𝖱'𝖲 𝖳𝖠𝖫𝖪 { 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗇 }, 𝗋 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗋𝗍, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗀𝖺𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗑, 𝗎𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗂 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝗏𝗂𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇!𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗑 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽!𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗂'𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍. 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖾'𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗒 :)

✦✦✦

"What's on your mind, Johnnycake?"

Johnny looked up from the fingernail he was picking at to see his best friend intently watching him with a thoughtful expression. He shrugged. "I's jus' thinkin' 'bout Valentine's day. Everybody's gotta dame except me 'n Pony..."

From her position on her bed, y/n laughed lightly. "That's really what you're thinkin' about? You could prolly pick up a broad by just lookin' at 'er- Them puppy dog eyes could make anyone swoon."

Johnny's neck flushed dark red. "I just... Darry and Soda's broads are... mentioning, uh, things... that... they're all really loud at night, y'see? Pony and I been- Stop laughing," Johnny spoke weakly. He couldn't count the number of times certain words had been screeched or screamed, moaned or groaned while he and Pony tried to sleep.

y/n clutched desperately at her desk to keep from falling off her awkward position on her chair. Johnny watched, lying on his side on y/n's bed, entire face as red as a tomato.

Four minutes later, y/n choked down her amused cries and settled back into her perch. "I'm so-" she was cut off by another wave of giggles. "That's truly a horrible situation to be in, Johnny, I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Even though Johnny knew y/n was poking fun at his discomfort, it still felt nice to hear that unfiltered laugh only heard in the private confines of y/n's room.

Finally, however, y/n managed to stop laughing all together. She rolled her shoulders back, ready to keep talking to her best friend. "Why does talking about sex make you so uncomfortable Johnny?"

Taken aback by her outright questioning, said boy swallowed. "I- It's just- You don't think sex is weird?" He stuttered.

y/n looked at him oddly. "No, I think sex is perfectly fine." She watched Johnny squirm under her stare and resumed her questioning. "You've had sex before and didn't tell me?"

"What?!" Johnny spluttered. "Where did you get that idea?"

"I just figured," y/n began, "that if you thought sex was weird then you had to have had it before, and if you have had sex before, you would be a shitty best friend for not telling me who you had sex with."

As Johnny fumbled for an explanation, y/n stood up to go get a bottle of Coke. She was sure to grab two bottles of Coke and made her way back to her room.

"So..." Johnny began, having regained (most of) his composure.

"So..?" y/n replied, handing the second bottle to Johnny.

"I haven't," Johnny said, red faced. He opened his drink and popped the tab off.

Blinking, y/n opened her can too. "Haven't what?"

"Had sex, y/n."

y/n's jaw slackened, and she blinked. She didn't know what to say to that. "Oh!"

Johnny swallowed. "Yeah. Sorr-"

"Don't," y/n cut in. Her tone made Johnny look up. "Don't apologize about that. You don't need to."

"I, uh, was thinking," Johnny began. His face was still facing the ground and he was still fiddling with the pop tab. Johnny's voice grew quieter and quieter with each spoken syllable. "That I wanted my... firsttimetobewithyou."

"What?" y/n asked. Johnny couldn't enunciate for shit when he grew bashful.

"I want you to take my virginity."

There: bomb dropped. Johnny waited, paralyzed, for y/n to usher him from her house- he thought she thought it would be weird to think that. His stomach sank further and further every moment y/n didn't reply, and Johnny wondered how he would explain to Darry why his favorite "ankle-biter" wasn't coming around anymore.

Gathering all the courage in his body, Johnny looked up when he felt the Coke bottle be gently taken from his hand. y/n set it on her desk and then sat down beside Johnny, while he anxiously prepared himself for the demeaninv speech ahead.

"Are you sure?" The seriousness in y/n's voice made Johnny's mind stop whirling. He looked at her with an unreadable expression. "I'll do it if you truly want, Johnny, but I just... I need to make sure you want this with me," she explained. In all honesty, y/n wanted to make sure Johnny was sure because she liked him; like-liked him, and if this whole situtation didn't make y/n feel some type of way...

"I need it to be you," Johnny whispered, eyes locked directly on y/n's. "Please."

Swallowing, y/n nodded. "If you want me to stop at any point-"

"I'm in love with you," Johnny cut in. "I've been in love with you since the first grade when you came up beside Pony 'n me an' helped us off the ground after Betty Smith pushed us down in the gravel. You helped us clean our hands and bandaged a cut on my right hand. I remember you said 'you guys looked sad' when Pony asked why you helped some lowlife Greasers, and that limited-vocabulary answer stuck with me because you stuck with me. I love you y/n. Please make me yours." Johnny's rant ended abruptly with his final plead.

Without hesitation, y/n threaded her hand through the short hair at the base of Johnny's neck and pulled him in to kiss her. His kisses were sloppy and unpracticed, but y/n found it cute. Johnny caught on quick, however. Lips moulded together as tongues danced, teeth fought, and quiet moans filled each other up.

y/n pulled apart first, wide eyes watching Johnny. He opened his eyes and gave y/n a breathless smile. y/n smiled right back. "Lay down," she said, patting Johnny's knee. He listened well, y/n thought. "I'm gonna take your pants off," y/n explained. "That sound okay?"

Johnny nodded and felt awkward just laying there, waiting impatiently as y/n swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped Johnny's pants. She pulled them down to his ankles, letting him have plenty of room to move if needbe. Johnny bit his lip harshly at the feeling of y/n settling herself on Johnny's thighs.

"I'm gonna suck your dick, sound good?" y/n blunt question only made a dazed Johnny nod. At this point, there's probably nothing Johnny wouldn't let y/n do to him. "Relax," she murmured, hooking her fingers on the waistband of Johnny's boxers. After he exhaled, y/n pulled down Johnny's boxers and felt her eyebrows raise.

Johnny squirmed. "I'm sorry if I'm-"

"Jesus Christ you're big," y/n muttered, voice low. "Nothin' to apologize for." Looking back up, y/n made sure Johnny looked at her before beginning again. "You want to stop, you tell me to stop," she said right before licking a fat stripe along the underside of Johnny's cock.

Immediately Johnny felt his knees buckle and his hands clutched the sheets as y/n kitten-licked all the way up Johnny's dick before taking it all in her mouth. An actual cry left Johnny's throat at the feeling. His whimpering and moaning fueled y/n on. She hallowed her cheeks, swirling her tongue on the above average sized cock in her mouth. Johnny's hips unconciously thrust up, burying himself further in y/n's throat.

"Oh my- shit!" Johnny cursed. A beautiful, teasing warmth bloomed in Johnny's belly, and he could only assume this is the sensation Dally had talked about many many many times. He was so close, almost there, right on the edge of the cliff.

But y/n pulled away, wiping her lips. Johnny felt tears spring to his eyes at the pleasure and denial of pleasure. "Please y/n, please. Feels so good," he whined.

y/n cooed down at him, wiping away tears that fell from his eyes. "Sweetheart, I wanna feel you in my pussy. You want that too, hm? Wanna feel me?"

"Yes, God yes. Please!"

So y/n scooted forward and hovered over Johnny's thighs. She wiped away Johnny's tears and pressed a kiss to the scar on his cheek. Reaching behind her, y/n grabbed Johnny's dick and pressed it to her enterance. y/n sank down on Johnny's length with a sharp gasp.

Johnny's hands moved to hold onto y/n's arms as she slowly rocked herself back and forth on her best friend's dick. "Oh shit," y/n mumbled, closing her eyes.

"Please, y/n, please. I need you, I need it, pleasepleaseplease," babbled Johnny.

y/n moved faster, Johnny was meeting her thrusts now. Sweat beaded on Johnny's forhead as he grit his teeth, trying to keep himself from crying out in pleasure.

Barely understandable curse words flowed out of Johnny's mouth as y/n's pussy fluttered around his cock. "Cum, Johnny. I got you, just let go," y/n said, voice hoarse.

The teenage boy felt as if a coil had snapped deep in his belly. He felt himself tense up and relax, y/n pussy fluttering around his cock.

"Shit," y/n whispered, letting herself rest against Johnny's chest. Still warming her hopefully more than best friend, y/n twirled a loc of Johnny's hair around her finger.

"Thank you," Johnny murmured.

Swallowing, y/n relaxed further into Johnny's warm body. "Did you mean it? When you said you loved me?"

"Yes," Johnny answered. "I'm in love with you." The moment of silence that followed scared Johnny; had he permanently lost his best friend? That would be an awkward thought, especially since Johnny was balls deep in y/n's pussy.

"I love you too, Johnny Cade," y/n mumbled tiredly. "But I think if you love me that much you should draw us a bath and clean us up."

Johnny looked down to see y/n already looking up at him with a cute smile. He chuckled. "Yes ma'am," he replied, pressing a sweet kiss to y/n's forhead.

[steddieas-shegoes]

from garage to library

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'in the garage'

rated t | 601 words | cw: mild language | tags: they're really just trying to make it, they're all idiots

🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

Jeff's tired of being the only one with a garage, and he's tired of hearing the neighbors complain, and he's tired of his parents making them rehearse at 3:30 in the afternoon.

It's the least metal time of day.

It's also the hottest time of day, and the fan blowing hot air at them may actually be more detrimental than if they didn't have anything at all.

Eddie is laying down on the concrete, shirt up to his chest and hair spread out above his head. Gareth is leaning over his drum kit, groaning every few seconds as if he's in pain. Frankie went inside ten minutes ago, face flush and shiny with sweat.

"We can't survive like this," Eddie grumbles. "It's too fuckin' hot."

"I'm not sure what other options we have." Jeff sighs as he rolls his sleeves up. He should've just worn a tank top for practice. "I'm the only one with a garage."

"If we practice right after school, we can do it at my house," Gareth offered. "There's not that much room, but it's better than dying in this garage."

"We aren't gonna die."

"Speak for yourself!" Eddie yelled from the ground, sitting up and glaring at Jeff. "I can barely feel my fingers. Do you know what guitarists need to be able to play?"

"Let's just go get some lemonade and then finish up," Jeff ignored Eddie's question.

"Fingers! They need fingers, Jeff!"

"Are you guys still out here?" Frankie said from the doorway, sipping on an ice cold Coke, looking much better than when he'd left them there to suffer.

"Yes, we're trying to have band practice. You remember our band?" Jeff was done. The heat was too much, this was too much. "But I'm calling it. We can't practice like this. Let's try again next month."

"Next month?" Eddie gasped. "We can't wait until next month to practice."

"What else do you suggest?" Jeff threw his hands up. "We have nowhere else to practice and we can't do it out here in this heat. We aren't even practicing anyway!"

"What about the library?" Gareth asked.

"The library. The place you have to be quiet. Right. Brilliant." Jeff shook his head. "Any other great ideas or is that the winner?"

"Don't be an asshole," Gareth rolled his eyes. "They close early every weekday for different clubs to meet. Their Tuesdays are open and my mom knows for a fact they've been having trouble filling it. If they can't fill it, they have to stay open later and none of them want to work the later hours. So. We'd actually be doing them a favor."

"And you think they'd just give a key to a group of teenagers in a metal band?" Eddie asks.

"I think that if it means they don't have to work past dinner time, yeah, they would."

They all stare at each other, then around at the garage, air so thick they can almost see it.

"Fine. But only until it cools down. Acoustics will be weird in there," Jeff finally says.

"Rehearsing at a fuckin' library. That'll be fun to tell Rolling Stone someday," Eddie says as he joins Frankie inside.

"Better than nothing at all," Frankie shrugs as he closes the door.

"Hopefully, they don't kick us out after one time," Jeff says as he closes the garage door and turns off the fan. They're definitely done for the day.

"If they do, we'll find somewhere else." Gareth pocketed his drum sticks. "Gotta have some bumps in the road to make our story more interesting, right?"

[meiandue]

pls do newjeans reaction / headcanon where their s/o and then previously had an argument and their s/o got injured badly?

okay !! but the injuries are not that brutal hehe, once again sleeping late to fulfill your requests. doing this on my tablet is hard bro tumblr doesn't stretch to the screen, BUT is fun bc i'm listening to music <3

new jeans masterlist | main masterlist

MINJI —

why did this even happen? minji asks herself, she's currently tending your cut on your palm. an argument between you happened earlier before dinner, she's supposed to get the ingredients at a nearby store, but instead she comes home holding two bags of chips and coke. was that the reason why she was all smiley before going off?

earlier...

"minji! what the hell did you buy?!" you say as you stood by the kitchen, eyeing the bags full of chips and bevarages and no sign of the ingredients you asked her to buy.

"you said buy something for tonight?" she asks back, putting down the bags and hanging her jacket.

"no. i said, ingredients for dinner tonight!" you reply, there's no way you'll be having what she bought.

"whatever, you're going to eat those for dinner and don't even dare to ask me for some of what i cooked." you pointed your index finger at her before walking off to cook.

now...

"you're so dumb sometimes." minji states while she wraps gauze around your palm. you glare at her.

"says the one who bought chips." you roll your eyes, then watching her take care of you wound with a small blush on your face, she looked so focused...

"hey- i only misheard." minji argues back, slapping your injured hand, seemingly forgotten that it's wounded.

"ow! what the heck?!" you retract your hand from minji, glaring at her while you soothe your poor hand.

"i'm sorry! i forgot." minji sighs.

"now look who's dumb." you laugh.

"oh, now look who can't cook." minji fought back and laughs as well.

"i'm not eating your chips." you roll your eyes.

"but you have nothing to eat." minji replies.

"then cook for me, idiot." she sighs and nodded in defeat, you smile and kissed her, now she's forgiven.

HANNI —

you both had an argument about her clean clothes and laundry. you thought the clothes on her bed were dirty and put them in the laundry, and it was unknown to you that she's going to use them later on their shoot of new jeans zine.

earlier...

"where are my clothes on the bed?" hanni asks, entering the living room where you are.

"oh, i put them in the laundry." you reply, looking up from your phone.

she groans and puts her hand on her head with a frustrated look on her face. "why would you put them in the laundry?!"

"i-i thought it's used and dirty.."

"why wouldn't you ask-!? ugh, forget about it." she walks out before you could speak, you sigh. well it's also her fault for putting them in the bed so messy.

now...

"are you okay?" hanni asks for about 30 times now, you lay on the couch clutching your side which has a big bruise.

good thing you haven't set the pile of laundry that has hanni's clothes in, rushing to get it, there was a piece of your clothing on the ground and you slipped because of it. landing on your side, you groan in pain and the next thing you see is hanni rushing to you with a worried face.

"yes, i'm fine now hanni, thank you for asking." after you said that, your side aches and you clutch it in pain, another reason for hann to be worried again. she slaps your hand away and lifted your clothes up to check your side, gasping when she saw a big purple bruise.

following her eyes, you gasp as well. "do you think it's a broke bone?" you ask, getting scared now, you're definitely not okay. she sighs in relief when she just misread tha date today and there was no filming, she has to take you to the hospital now.

DANIELLE —

she never starts the argument, she gets scolds by you, it was raining outside and the girl decided to shine her light outside and play outside like a little kid. but you said something that really hurt her. rushing to her room, you follow behind, saying a lot of sorrys.

SLAM-! THUD!

you fell down, holding your head after you groan in pain. danielle didn't know you were, that, close to her door and she accidentally slammed it too hard.

"are you okay?! i'm sorry.." she asks multiple times, her hands fly everywhere, not knowing what to do.

she hugs your head, but every minute passes, the bruise forming on your forehead gets worse. danielle panics once more, reaching for your hand and helps you stand up, leading you to the kitchen.

danielle took some ice from the refrigerator and wrapped them around her precious handkerchief and held it against your bruise gently, she was so worried but at the same time guilty.

"i'm so sorry... i didn't mean too..." she whispers, her lips quivering. you look up to her with a small smile through the pain.

"it's okay, i'm sorry too, baby." you held her hand, took the ice and aid yourself. before she can reply, she sneezes, you sigh.

"i told you not to go outside, it's raining." you chuckled and ruffled her damp hair.

"but it's nothing compared to your bruise..." she sniffles, pouting.

"it's okay, really. i just don't want you sick." you hug her, and you both watched as the rain falls outside your kitchen window.

HAERIN —

you sat on the floor, checking your wounded knee, she stood in front of you in silence. you bleed from the cut on your knee, because you were following after haerin as she walks to her room to avoid the argument. but while you do so, a sharp edge of an object wounded your knee.

haerin stood there is shock, not knowing what to do, shaky eyes stare at the blood dripping from your leg. her unsteady legs kneels down beside you.

"i'm sorry.." she silently says, looking at you from the side. she's apologising even if it's not her fault? poor girl.

"no, no, don't apologise. it's not your fault." you reassure, holding her hand tightly as you endure the pain.

"i-if i didn't try to go back. you wouldn't have gotten injured." she mumbles, looking at your knee and back to you.

"no, haerin, it's fine. i can just bandage it up." you struggled to stand up, but a pair of hands helps you up to the kitchen.

"look, i'm sorry for what i've said earlier. i know you were tired." you spoke, caressing haerin's cheek with a weak smile. besides it's better to have a cut than continue the argument and you'll hurt haerin more. seeing her cry hurts more than a wound.

haerin nods, "it's okay... but let's worry about your wound? yeah?" she made you sit down as she kneels to bandage your knee.

feeling so guilty and thinking you got this wound because of her, even if it's not, she can't help but feel that way :( like minji, she's very focused on aiding you, but winces when she presses too hard that your wound gushes out blood. so sad about it, her eyes won't even leave it for a few seconds. very careful about it, reminding you not to put too much pressure on your knee :(

HYEIN —

earlier...

again, you scold her for the 3rd time of the day, was very picky about her food and acts very dramatic. telling you that she doesn't want to eat anymore and storms to her room. sighing, but still, you went to the kitchen to cook some food for you and her later, just incase she gets hungry. plus you won't let her starve because of a stupid argument. knocking on her door for a few times, asking what she wants, she just tells you to go because she'll just order her own food.

now...

she finally exits her room with her phone in hand, ignoring you on the living room while she pays and takes the food she ordered. placing it down the coffee table, she noticed that you're wrapping gauze around your three fingers. her face turning into a worry mess.

"what happened?" she quickly sits down beside you, takes your hand and helped you with the gauze. glancing up at you, you were avoiding her eyes.

"i got cut, while cooking." your face flushes in embarrassment, after being so professional and bragging about your cooking skills, you got cut? eh, it's part of the cooking life anyways. hyein lets out a breathy chuckle, cupping your cheek.

"don't be embarrassed, it's okay. i just ordered food for us, you don't have to worry about anything related to food." hyein pats your palm, indicating she was done with the bandaging. she motioned to the bag of food on the coffee table, handing yours and taking her own. it's good to see her happy again, and not so mean, like earlier.

p/s : laziness season done! i'm terribly sorry for the wait anon :( i had to do so many chores around the house, weather updates, and it's raining heavily here 😭 anyways, hope you enjoy !!

[annaphoenix1994]

Silver Run

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

The group returned to the safe house, Ghost wanting to desperately push everyone aside to get to her, but he knew he couldn't make it obvious, but a part of him didn't care anymore. He needed to know if she was alright. 

"Watch the plates." Ghost warned Price as they entered the home, seeing that the lights were on and the long corridor that led to where he was sure Kiera was. Alejandro walked up to greet them, Ghost's eyes immediately going to the bloodstains that were on his shirt. Her blood. 

"How is she?" Soap asked him. 

He sighed, "Pretty rough, Hermano. This way." 

They all followed the Colonel through the corridor, opening up the double doors to reveal a workbench-type table, Kiera sitting in one of the chairs, weakly holding her vape pen to her lips. Thank God, they didn't take it from me, she thought, releasing a long drag, knowing damn well she needed it. It was stained with her blood, her cracked knuckles grasping it as if it were her lifeline as the prints from the pads of her fingers stained the glass of water next to her. She was still yet to drink from it. 

Ghost's heart sank and his fists clenched, suddenly wishing it was him that found her, knowing he'd kill those Shadows a hundred times over knowing they touched her. Soap was astonished as well, not able to take his eyes off her battered face. If he didn't recognize her by how she smoked or sat, he wouldn't know who she was. 

Her blonde hair was matted in the back from Graves' grasp, some strands still sticking to her face as the blood acted as a bonding agent. She hadn't looked their way as she was still stunned by the attack, thankful that she was still alive. 

"How are you feeling, señora?" Alejandro asked as Ghost and Soap followed him, Price and Gaz soon joining after relieving their tension with a much-needed drink. And a bloody cigar, Price thought. 

She exhaled another puff of smoke, looking his way with half-lidded eyes, her right fully swelled shut, "Like I just left the fucking spa." 

Her sarcastic remark caused Alejandro to chuckle as he admired her attitude. Soap couldn't take his eyes off of her damage, wondering how she was still conscious, but he could tell she was in throbbing pain. Ghost was still silent, desperately fighting the urge to tend to her like he would if they were home, but he knew he couldn't. Not now, anyway. 

"Jesus Christ..." Price muttered as he entered the room, taking a good look at her. 

"You need to drink that water, señora. And eat something." 

"It's fine," She sighed, slowly and steadily standing to her feet, reminding Soap of a newborn fawn. "I'm going to go lay down." 

She inhaled another drag, making eye contact with Soap before speaking, aiming her exhale towards the ground to avoid blowing the smoke in Soap's face, "You should see the other guy," She whispered to him before her gaze turned to Alejandro. "What doesn't kill us, Alejandro-" She began to say regarding the popular saying. 

"No, I don't believe that. I don't believe it makes us stronger. Harder, perhaps." 

She scoffed, "Hard is the goal."

Alejandro smirked, "I don't think you can get much harder." 

"I'm shooting for Teflon." 

He chuckled, "Down the hall and to the right. There's a shower in there as well. I'm sure you need it." 

"Very much so. Is my bag still in the car?" 

"Yes, señora. I'll go get it for you." He replied. 

"Bless you." 

Before she stumbled away, she glanced at Ghost, his eyes holding so much pain for her state. She knew he was angry as well as heartbroken, his eyes telling her that he wouldn't be far behind her. 

»»-------¤-------««

The night was still young - Price and Gaz taking guard duty as the others slept, the pair puffing on a cigar as well as a can of Coke. 

Ghost awoke to the sound of water rushing through the single line above his head. Looking around, his other comrades were sleeping soundly, perhaps better than they have in days. Soap was sleeping on his stomach close by, his rifle ready to fire as his vest was hung on the nearby chair, ready to slip on when it needed to be. 

He slowly stood to his feet, remembering the layout of the house as he made his way to the bedroom that Alejandro let her use as it was the only room that had a bed as well as a shower. 

He slowly entered the bedroom, unaware that Price had glanced back after hearing movement, watching him go the direction of the bedroom. He knew Ghost had a spot for her, but he chose not to say anything. The bloke deserves it, he thought. They're just alike. Price had always been a type of father figure to both Ghost and Soap, as well as his second Sergeant, Gaz. 

Hell, Price had met his own wife while on duty, except she was a field medic. He would occasionally recall the times he and his wife would sneak off to spend time together in between missions. He shook his head and returned to puffing on his cigar, wishing the lad well in his relationship, hoping that they both made it. I'll be sure to make it to the wedding, He chuckled to himself.

Ghost watched as steam came from the area that the shower was in as well as a dim light. She had kept all of the lights off as any light shot a beam of nausea to her through her damaged eyes. He leaned against the doorway, watching her stand under the water, facing it as she let it roll down her bruised face. She hadn't noticed him yet unless she already knew he was there and waiting on him to join her. 

He slipped his clothes from his body, setting them aside, and stepped into the shower, wrapping his arms around her waist gently, afraid to hurt her even more. She continued to cry, her insecurities taking their toll on her. "I don't want you to see me like this." She frowned, referring to her naked body and not her wounds.

He placed a gentle kiss on her bare shoulder, "I see all of you, love." 

He looked down to see the battered areas on her body - bruises littered her back and legs, her face, arms, and hands being the worst of it. 

She scoffed, "Yeah, how's that going for you?" 

"I don't mind. Never will." He replied in a low tone, pressing another kiss to her shoulder. He wasn't there to be intimate but to be comforting to her in her time of need. Hell, if she told him she didn't want to see him naked, he'd put his clothes back on and still tend to her in the shower. Whatever it took, he didn't care. 

He heard her whimper out another set of tears. He wanted nothing more than to hold her for eternity, to show her that he would never hurt her, but love her with every fiber of his body. He didn't give a shit that she had cellulite on her legs or that one breast was bigger than the other, nor did he care that the polish on her toenails was flaking off. She was fucking real and natural, and that was enough for him. 

He let her cry, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. Instead, he reached down to grasp the only bottle of shampoo that was on the side of the tub, putting a small dollop into his palm before gently putting it in her hair, careful not to put too much pressure on her head as it was swollen as well. "He hit me here," She whispered, carefully touching the area around her temple, warning him to stay away from that area. "It hurts." 

"Okay, sweetheart," He whispered. "Does this feel okay?" He asked as he slowly massaged his fingers through her wet tresses, using his fingers to separate the strands that were matted together with both of his hands. 

"Better than I imagined." She replied, a smile desperate to show on her hurting face. 

"Good." He replied, continuing to massage her aching scalp with his massive fingers. I knew they'd be good for something, he mused. 

He heard her sigh before helping her turn around to rinse the shampoo from her hair. He didn't let go of her hand as she leaned her head back to rinse her hair, ready to catch her if she fell off balance. To anyone else, any man would've taken the opportunity to glance over her body to "see what they were working with," but Simon didn't. He knew she was insecure about her body, and he wasn't about to take advantage of it by looking. Instead, he kept his gaze on her head, ensuring that she was taking her time and advantage of the hot water. 

Once she was done, she was terrified for Simon to see her face, but she knew there was no going back now. She desperately tried to open both eyes, but it was painful, so she kept her right eye closed and looked at him through her battered left. She looked ahead at his torso, his dog tags dripping with water as she tilted her head in curiosity at the deep scar on his left pectoral. "What happened?" She whispered, bringing her hand up to trace along its jagged edges. 

His hand covered hers, "Knife fight." 

"What about here?" She asked, using her other hand to trace along the less-aggressive scar on his right shoulder. 

"Gunshot." 

She frowned, bringing both arms above her shoulders and wrapping them around his neck, the water showering the both of them as he held her, careful with his hand placement as he didn't want to cause more pressure against her aching skin. She ignored how he smelled of lead, sweat, and nylon from his gear. He was real. She felt his thumbs trace against the thin column of her back, feeling no restrictions there as it was another area that wasn't battered and cut. 

He hid his face in the crook of her neck, placing delicate and needy kisses there, afraid that she would be taken from him again, enjoying the feeling of her fingers running through his hair. "You don't have to do that, love - taking care of me when it's you that needs it." 

"I need to," She replied, the vibration from her bare chest on his enough to send a chill up his spine, the feeling of someone caring as much about him being foreign to his being. "Reminds me that I'm not in the pit of hell anymore." She said, referring to the prison. 

"I love you." He blurted, his lips connecting with her shoulder as he was still too afraid to tell it to her face, ignoring the gnawing denial at the back of his mind. He knew she wanted him to say it when it saved her, but he didn't care anymore. He wanted her to know now - to know how much she meant to him before anything worse could happen, and he didn't care if it was too early in their relationship, but he knew that she was who he wanted to be with. 

He felt her pull back to look him in the face, her hand coming up to cradle his cheek, her aching thumb swiping at the growing stubble. She's going to tell you to fuck off, Simon, he thought. "I love you, too." She whispered, desperate to smile, but it was just too painful. 

He smiled, easing his forehead to press against hers, letting her close the distance. 

They held the position for a few seconds before his lips kissed her forehead where it met her hairline, "Let me take care of you." She whispered, looking at the bottle of shampoo that he sat on the side of the tub. 

He chuckled, "I'm too tall for you to reach, sweetheart. Wouldn't want you to strain yourself." 

She scoffed, "Just because I look like this doesn't mean I can't take care of you. Guess you'll just have to bend down, huh?" 

"I'll be fine, love. What you need is to lay down," He replied, kissing her forehead again, desperately wanting to kiss her lips, but he knew he'd cause an unnecessary sting to the split on her bottom lip. "I'll be in there in a second." 

"Really?" She replied, her eyes softening at the thought. 

"Only if you want me to." 

"I mean, you're risking yourself, Simon..." 

"Loving you is a risk I'm willing to take," he said, helping her rid her hair of excess water before letting her cling to his arm as he stabilized her to step out of the tub. "It also proves I'm not afraid of anything." 

She couldn't help but smile at his words, "You got that right." She poked. 

»»-------¤-------««

After his shower, he changed into a clean set of clothing from his bag that was along with Kiera's, thankful that they were still able to re-steal the same Jeep from that night during the prison raid. He knew he had to return to where the other men were to avoid suspicion, but he was to the point that he didn't care. He knew nobody would say anything to him about it if he woke up before the others. He slipped on one of his long-sleeved shirts before easily lowering himself down onto the bed, watching how her body stayed still as she moved to lay on her aching side. 

"Goodnight, sweetheart." He whispered, assuming she was asleep and bringing the thin sheet to cover her chilled shoulder. 

"Simon?" She whispered. 

"Hm?" 

"Lay with me." 

"I am, love. I'm not going anywhere." He whispered. 

She motioned for him to spoon her, craving his warmth. He slowly slid his arm to where it was between her head and the pillow, cradling her against his chest as his hand gripped her upper arm, rubbing smooth circles on her skin as his left leg was between hers, holding in a wince as her cold feet came in contact with his leg as the pantleg rode up with his movement. "I wish we could stay like this forever." She whispered, toying with his fingers. 

"Me too, but not here," He replied, his fingers toying back with hers, rubbing the pad of his thumb along the top of her pinky and ring finger. One day, he thought as he rubbed the ring finger, mentally picturing that finger with a diamond ring on it. "Get some sleep, sweetheart." 

[cibeeorsomeshit]

teach him your handwriting (ao3)

fluff; established relationship

Blitzø slumped into Stolas’ lounge chair and groaned about paperwork fucking up his life for the eighth time in the past two weeks. Stolas couldn't help but feel like he was missing something.

“Blitzø, darling, do you need help?”

“He finally fucking got it.” Blitzø rolled over and onto Stolas, burying his face into the covered puss that had no right being this soft to lie on. “Moxxie keeps bitching at me to hire someone or get my shit together.”

“I see. And you wish to—hire me?”

“What? No, I can't focus if you're there.” Blitzø groaned immediately and pinched Stolas’ thigh hard enough that it would have bruised if it were anyone but Stolas. “You didn't hear that. I didn't say that.”

“Of course.” Stolas managed to comply before the urge to scoop his lover up and kiss him senselessly overwhelmed him. “How may I help you then?”

“Tell me how you do all those boring admin work. You go through them like drug addicts with a bathtub full of coke.”

“How classy,” Stolas said dryly. “I'm just a faster reader, I suppose”

A beat of silence. Blitzø turned his face so it was no longer smothered between Stolas’ legs and started playing with the fine down feathers on his wrist.

“I can't read very well.”

“I know.”

“Most of the words don't make sense. Moxxie is less of a prissy princess than you but he still came from money. Got all the proper education and all that crap. Our imp circus didn't really — It's not like we're legally required to be educated.”

“Actually, it is a legal requirement for children in entertainment to have 180 days of schooling in a year—”

“No one in hell gave two fucks about legal requirements! We didn't even have safety nets, you think they'll hire a teacher?”

“Well, if you want, I could teach you.”

“You have better things to do than to teach me how to fucking look at words, Stolas.”

“There are rarely things better than spending time with you, Blitzø.”

“…this isn't some weird sexy teacher kink, is it?”

“You think I'm sexy?” Stolas hurriedly pushed down his urge to have every part of Blitzø kissed at least twice, more if Blitzø was in a good mood and let him.

“Fuck you. You know what you look like.”

“I don’t want to overstep.” Stolas pulled Blitzø upright so they faced each other, which was exactly the position Blitzø didn't want to have this conversation in. “I know I can be overwhelming when it comes to things I’m passionate about and it definitely doesn't help that this involves words and you…”

“Ugh, oh my god, don't — you know I don’t think—I just need your he—fuck, I can’t say it. I'm going to be sick.”

Stolas’ smile was all gooey. “Will you satisfy my desire to spend time with you under the pretense of helping you with readings?”

The vaguely nauseated twitches to Blitzø’ mouth smoothed out, along with the rest of his body.

“If that's what you want, you attention whore.” Blitzø half-said, half-purred as he curled up in Stolas’ lap, back spines flared up in pleasure as Stolas’ finger massaged between his horns.

“Thank you for indulging me,” Stolas said, in the most indulgent tone since the beginning of hell, probably.

Spending time with Blitzø in his study or in the kitchen or on the bed pouring over books was what Stolas imagined heaven to be like. They scribbled in the margin of books, Stolas annotating or explaining, while Blitzø took in things in the fascinating way he did. Stolas was enjoying it all way too much to realize his mistakes.

A pile of papers and sticky-notes were dropped onto his desk.

“Ah,” Stolas said, very regal and dignified and not panicking at all. “It seemed I forgot I had some prior engagement I forgot about, but I’m sure you can manage without me. You’ve improved so much, you know—and my library is your to use, so I think I’ll just—”

“Stolas, what the actual fuck.” Blitzø was standing on the desk and towering over Stolas, presumably to assert dominance, even though he did that very well already at ground level.

“To be fair, you told me you don’t read them.”

“Yeah, because I go cross-eyed at your fancy rich people cursive.”

Most of the papers are dented and crumbled because Stolas folded them into little owls or lizards and had them sneak into Blitzø’s office when he was gone. Blitzø always took pictures when he came back and sent them to Stolas, but never indicated that he read them, or even opened them, let alone—

“I didn’t know you kept these.” Stolas said weakly.

Blitzø’s face darkened. “Yeah, well. I have a drawer for them.”

“You do?”

“That’s—fucking hell, that’s not the point! You were just never going to—shit, goddamn it, God fucking damn it!”

Stolas realized Blitzø was genuinely and not simply comically upset, and that made him rather miserable. “I’m sorry,” said Stolas, in a small voice. “I didn’t mean for them to be so upsetting.”

“Well, they are!”

Stolas started to gather all of them and deliberated between the fireplace or some exorbitant spell, maybe he would throw himself into the mix as well. A few blissful moments of oblivion sounded perfect right about now.

But Blitzø snatched all of them back before Stolas could finish and hissed with every part of him, clutching them to his chest with a sort of animalistic protectiveness. Stolas was baffled.

“You’ve been writing me love letters for—for so long and I didn’t even know.” Blitzø bared his fangs. “I thought they were just smut! I made fun of them to people! To you! And you let me!”

“I’m sorry.” Stolas repeated, and stood up when he noticed a shine to Blitzø’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

Blitzø bumped his forehead to Stolas’ chest, sunk in, wetting the feathers there. “Why do you let me treat you badly?”

Stolas wrapped his arms around Blitzø tight enough to cut off air. Blitzø forced the words out anyway: “I’ve been trying so hard to make up for the way I was with you before. Now I just keep thinking about how you felt when I fucking…tell you I don’t read them, or that it’s just cluttering up my office, likes they’re garbage. Fuck, Stolas.”

“Please don’t cry, Blitzø. It doesn’t matter now. You’ve been so good to me, don’t you understand?”

“Were you upset? When I said those things?”

“Darling…”

“Were you?”

Resigned, “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for apologizing.”

Blitzø needed that, to know he was forgiven. He finally wrapped his arms around Stolas. Legs, too. And tail. Sotlas happily sustained all his weight.

“Do you want to take a rain check on our lesson today?” Stolas asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Blitzø mumbled.

“What would you like to do? We can watch a movie, or I can have someone prepare the spa room—”

“I want you to read to me.”

“What?”

Blitzø stuffed all the letters right into Stolas’ face. “Read them to me.”

“W-well, that’s quite embarrassing…”

“And I’ll reply to them.” Blitzø removed his face from Stolas’ chest and glared up at him, made completely non-threatening with the snot dripping down his face and the way his tail caressed Stolas’ back. “Prepare some fucking coffee, sweetheart, because I don’t care if it takes all night. I’m replying to every single fucking one, and I’m going to do it when I’m balls deep inside you too. Make sure it really gets in there until you never forget.”

“O-oh.” The sensitive place between Stolas’ legs tightened and he could probably just hump Blitzø there like that and finish, but he was so desperate for Blitzø to fulfill his promise that through some sort of miracle he controlled himself long enough to get them back to his bedchamber. And all night it took, alright. Blitzø hadn’t got an ounce of regret when he showed up for work the next day completely sleep-deprived.

It was all good though, since a paper owl was waiting for Blitzø in his office.

[fun-k-board]

Got a cool idea for you my friend.

The insomniac spider-men, both Peter and miles. And how they’d go when y/n offers to do a horror movie night with the likes of classics like Halloween or modern stuff like talk to me

The Insomniac Spider-Men with a horror movie night

Note(s) : I did Headcanons for how the Spider-Men are with horror movies and then a scenario at the end where the reader does the horror movie night.

I don't know anything about Talk To Me so I chose M3GAN instead, and I haven't seen Halloween in years so I'm sorry if I got something wrong.

Peter Parker / Spider-Man

I don't think Peter would really watch movies or shows all that often, he probably hasn't even finished any piece of media since before the spider bite. Even then, he was probably that kid who watched those really bad ones to make fun of with Harry and MJ.

I imagine his tolerance is most likely high, because of his real life experiences, he can handle fake blood, he can handle the fake injuries, most of them can't compare to what he's gone through.

But what he really can't handle? Psychological thrillers, and really good kid actors.

That scene in the shining where the two twins are standing there? He had to hold MJ's hand, Harry made fun of him for an entire month.

He tends to humanise fictional characters, especially the victims in horror movies. Maybe for some slashers he can understand their motives, but most of them hurt people who can't defend themselves and it makes him a little sick.

To see movies where this is used so effectively is honestly a little uncomfortable, he appreciates the mastery of how it's crafted and how realistic the pain is, but he can never watch it all the way through.

Peter's always been terrified of Carrie because he was also bullied, she, in a way, reflected on him. Of course, she also experienced abuse from her mother, unlike Peter, but the scene of everybody screaming in that hall will probably haunt him forever.

In a way, it keeps him grounded, it makes him remember Uncle Ben's words, it makes him remember to use his powers for good, and not for evil.

Miles Morales / Spider-Man

Miles and Ganke most likely sit down and watch some shows or movies every once and a while, he's never been a huge horror fan, and he's never watched any that really stuck with him.

He's mostly impressed with the art direction most of the time, the way they shot that scene in Carrie where it goes all around the prom in one, long, continuous shot?

It's beautiful, it gets him so engrossed he forgets it's supposed to be a scary movie.

Miles can't handle any that tackle and treat the loss of a parent as a main plot point, he could maybe handle it as a side plot, but it reminds him so much of how his dad's death affected him, his hands clam up, he feels sweaty, he just can't handle it.

It never really makes him connect with the story, it just makes me remember it as the 'oh God don't watch that' movie

The ones that get him truly terrified are honestly any that involve children and the elderly as the villains, that's not to say he'll be completely fine if he watches an adult brutally murder people.

Both

Peter and Miles haven't had a day off in months, they've been so focused on saving the city, helping their friends and family, they just don't have time for themselves.

Until today.

You had finally convinced the two, after hours of subtle and not so subtle convincing, they relented, under the promise that if any serious crimes were reported, they would get Ganke to check if the police have it handled or not, if they don't? They're abandoning the movie night.

Which you agreed with, because one night having fun is better than no time to yourself at all.

Peter and Miles sit down on the couch, while you make the popcorn and drinks, carrying the bowls of food and bottles of coke to the table, the microwave hums, drowned out by the two men chatting.

"Can you believe that Electro got out again." Miles sounds exasperated, and he looks it too, he and Electro had fought for what felt like hours, in reality it was only a few minutes, shocking each other until they couldn't fight any more.

"You get used to it, he'll probably stay a month in prison at most." Peter shrugs, leaning back on the couch and wincing slightly, an aching pain in his back started up again, but he was honestly too tired to ask for someone to crack it.

"This job is crazy." Miles laughs, shaking his head with an amused smile. "I can't believe it, each day, fighting bad guys, swinging for hours and hours, it's just... I love it." You cut the conversation short by bringing in the last bowl of popcorn.

"Whooo! Movie time!" You happily say, placing the bowl on the table with the other snacks and drinks, making sure it's perfectly placed before sitting on the couch. You grab the remote next to you and smile at Miles and Peter.

"What should we watch?" Before either can respond, you suddenly gasp, your eyes snapping back to the TV. "Oh! Actually, there's this new horror movie called M3GAN, I bought it a few weeks back and forgot to watch it." You ramble, turning the television on and searching for the movie.

"I guess we go with that one then." Peter mumbles, raising an eyebrow in amusement, you all haven't hung out in a while, even then, you do wish that Harry and MJ could've made it. So, it's clear you're just excited to spend time with them for once.

"It's about this robot that this lady makes after her niece loses her parents in a car accident." You cheerfully say, pressing play on the movie and taking a swig of coke. "After this, we're so watching Halloween."

The movie was something different to the two, when they think horror, both Peter and Miles would typically think 'man with knife stabs people', so it was a refreshing change.

Both men went through a flurry of emotions, the movie was sad, then funny, than horrifying, then funny, then scary, and then funny, it was a constant switch.

The fact that the girl lost her parents and she's clinging to the first thing that shows her respect, the lady stepped up at the end and proved she's a capable mother figure, it broke their hearts, but the jokes made them forget that temporarily.

They laughed, they went quiet in shock, and most of all? Peter cried, he couldn't help it, he isn't ashamed about it either, the girl losing her parents at such a young age reminds him of himself. Miles feels a similar way, he cried like a baby, he sobbed so much at that scene where the girl and the robot have that test and she breaks down.

Now it's time for the next movie.

"Halloween! You can't go wrong with the classics." You click on the movie. "Well, that's a lie, actually, plenty of classics suck." You mutter under your breath, pressing pause and turning to the two Spider-Men.

"Okay, first, bathroom breaks and refill time, you two ate all the popcorn so I'm making double." You get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen, both Peter and Miles go to the bathroom in that time, refilling their drinks with the bottle of coke on the floor, you return a few moments later with the multiple bowls of popcorn.

You all sit down, grab your bowls and drinks, and press play.

Overall, both men did enjoy the experience, they liked the costume of Micheal Myers, the mask and coveralls are iconic, they also both enjoyed the acting, if a bit subpar at times.

The plot was something they found to be interesting, the characters as well, they thought the therapist was a strange and weird character, who seemed a bit more unstable than Micheal.

Laurie Strode is a really inspiring character to the two, a survivor, someone who managed to take down one of the biggest threats her towns ever faced.

Just as the movie ends, you turn to the two men to see if they have any movie recommendations, but to your surprise, they've both fallen asleep.

Peter's mouth hangs open, his body pressed flat against the couch, his arms crossed and occasional light snores escapes his mouth. Miles is leaning his head on his arms, his body bent in an awkward position so he's sitting and leaning on the armrest.

For a few moments, you debate on whether or not you should wake them up, but decide against it. They need the rest. You gently move them into slightly more comfortable positions, placing blankets over the two, you stand up and reach for your phone.

You text MJ and Rio Morales, letting them know that the two would be staying at yours for the night.

[richeeduvie]

stupid groomer kendall unknowingly makes baby OD and so he leaves her be. roman finds her when she’s in the process and he puts her head in his lap and she’s just sobbing that she doesn’t wanna die and stuff. idk something tragic

TW: Angst, drug addiction, ODing, DogandBone!Kendall open the door tern haven parallels incoming heeee

He leaves Baby with a kiss to her hair. She's almost gone, but she kind of just looks out of it. Like how Kendall...not likes her, but how he has her most of the time. She looks sweet, sleepy. He should be better on that. But he has to go.

"I gotta go, okay?"

"...M-m...kay."

And so, Kendall goes. He leaves her alone.

Baby can't breathe right. She doesn't know what's going on, but she doesn't feel safe. No one else is here, is she the reason why she's in danger?

Roman calls when he usually calls and Baby doesn't answer. At first, he's just fucking annoyed.

"I sorta know you're not having an awful sex fest with my brother cause he's coming so...pick up. Pick up."

And she doesn't. Not to any of his calls. Roman gets more annoyed, twitchy and bitchy to randos that walk on the grounds of Waystar.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be back, Shivvy. Have to see what our brother Kenny fucked up. Fucked. Bye, love you."

He goes. Really, Roman wouldn't make the choice to just break into Kendall's place just Baby's not answering his calls. He'd just berate her when she eventually picks up. But today, he's in a mood to have fun.

Roman shows up to Kendall's place. He knocks on the door.

"Bitchy, open up. You are a sad person who doesn't really do anything but coke in Ken's house so...open up."

She doesn't open up. Roman gets more pissed off, but worried. Really worried because he knows he's right. She really doesn't go anywhere else now. That's Kendall's fucking fault. His too, but he doesn't want to think about that because he's angry at her now.

"Open the door."

Roman says her name because it might make a difference. Open the door.

"Open the fucking door. You can't just fucking hate me. Literally nothing has happened. No big-wig fight, we're fine for what you've made for us so...open the fucking door."

No open door, but he's staring into it as he hears a thud. He calls out her name.

She doesn't know what's happening, but she's scared. Baby's fucking terrified and it's like dying, maybe? She doesn't want to die alone. She'll open the door.

Roman's pathetic in the pounding of the door, the shitty attempts to open it from the outside. But the doorknob turning, left to right.

How do you open a door so you don't die alone?

"..Ro...Roman?"

The door opens and Roman's fucking gone.

She looks like she's dying. His best friend - the person that was supposed to be his and literally no one else's and vice versa and all the stupid shit, that's her on the floor. She's crying and she looks sick. She shouldn't look so sick. Roman shouldn't feel so small and scared so quickly.

"What the fuck?"

Roman's desperate in picking Baby up, he barely can. But he looks like he's gonna vomit. What the fuck?

What the fuck did he do to her?

She's already vomited. This isn't just coke. He's been - Kendall's been feeding her fucking murder.

He manages to lay her on the couch as she cries.

"Breathe - just fucking-"

Roman's dragging out his words, making them go high and angry in his voice. He doesn't know what to do but just scared because she's not gonna fucking die. She was supposed to be okay and not like this with him and what the fuck did Kendall do to her?

"I'm sorry! I-I I don't wanna die, I thi...I-"

"You're not gonna die! Don't fucking-just breathe. Just don't sleep or...listen- I need to call-why didn't-"

Why didn't you come back to me?

Roman's hands shake when he pulls out his phone to call the fucking cops.

"Hey. Don't fucking fall asleep!"

Roman shakes her. She rolls her body, pulling herself in a slump to come down on his lap.

If she does, it'll be the easiest place to fall asleep. She doesn't want to die, but she'll die here.

Roman stares and tries not to because he's going to call the cops. But she needs to keep breathing. She shouldn't be talking like she's going to die because she's not going to. She's gonna never see Kendall again.

"...I'm sorry."

He makes himself uncomfortable before he presses the call button. Roman bends himself hunched and forehead to put his head to her temple. She's got her face pressed against his stomach. Somewhere else, this is where she should be.

"Don't fall asleep."

He's always been her beggar. Roman has to force himself to come up from her touch. He calls 911.

She can't leave him alone.

[grunge-innie]

______________☆______________☆_______________

Talk too much [🦊]

Genre:fluff,blurb,established relationship

Pairings:Yeonjun x GN!reader

Pronouns:none

Warnings:one curse word,and slightly suggestive at the end

Summary:Kissing in the night,on a hammock,in a nature is everyone's dream,right(not just me?)

A/N:this is fully inspired by TALK X TODAY season 4 ep 9 so if you haven't watched it i recommend you do just for the better visuals and understanding.But you can ofc still read this without watching it,it's just a very comforting video for me.This blurb is inspired by a song Talk to Much by COIN,so I recommend listening to it while reading.Enjoy😊

________________☆____________☆_______________

After a very fulfilling and upbeat day it was safe to say that you were exhausted.

You see,the boys were swimming in a pool for the majority of the day and their upbeat and excited behaviour wore off on to you and other staff members.

You are mutual friend of these guys and you were very grateful that they decided to invite you to their little vacation,even though you wouldn't be able to talk to them as much bcs of the cameras.

After spending some time with Beomgyu watching him blow the balloons and seeing what Soobin,Hyuka and Taehyun were doing,you decided to check up on your boyfriend Yeonjun.

You weren't really sure where he actually was,so you were kind of just walking around with two cups of coke in your hands.You didn't mind walking alone though,because the night was so beautiful and it contrasted the vild morning and day that you had.

After some walking you finally saw a familiar head of black hair lying on a nearby hammock,camera pointing at him.

You approached the hammock from the behind,slowly putting cups down on the ground.

"BOO"You said grabbing Yeonjun's shoulders.

"GAAAHH"He screamed almost falling off the hammock."Oh it's just you"

"Yeah,who did you think it was?"You said crouching down and taking the cups of off the ground.

"I don't know one of those assholes."He said sitting up so he can make some space for you."Most likely Beomgyu"

"Nah,he's really calm right now,just blowing the bubbles in the corner"You said pointing a cup in his direction,which he gladly took with a silent thank you.

You two just sat there in a comfortable silence enjoying the scenery around you and your alone time without any cameras until Yeonjun saw you slightly shivering.

"You cold,sweetheart?"

"Kind of"You said rubbing your arms in an attempt to make yourself warmer.It seemed like you underestimated the cold summer nights.

"Here"Yeonjun said taking off his flannel and wrapping it around your shoulders.

"Better?"

"Yeah,but now you will get cold"

"No I won't"

"Yeonjun you are literally in short sleeves right now."

"It's fine,better me than you"He said sending an over the top wink your way,which made you punch his arm.This made him let out a dramatic groan and wrap you in his arms pushing you both into a lying down position,with you on top of him.

"Now none of us will be cold"He said kissing the top of your head.

"You're too much Junnie"

"I know"He said showing you one of his charming smirks,which made you raise your eyebrows at him.

"Oh,you know you love it"He said referring to his flirty persona.

"I kind of do."You said raising your head to look at him in the eyes.

"Oh,just kind of?"He said holding your chin in his hands and pulling your face closer to his,now speaking his word right next to your mouth,your noses touching.

"You talk too much Yeonjun,I want to see you in action"You said with a sudden urge of confidence in you.

"You want some action,alright,then honey put your lips on mine"

And put your lips on his you did,slowly moving them in the silence of the night,with crickets in the background.Yeonjun placing his hands on the back of your head and pulling you closer to him,like asking you for a challenge on who could hold on longer without oxygen.At the end you pulled back but still kept your face close to his.

"You still think I talk too much?"

"For sure"

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Taglist:@wccycc

[roadyblr]

NO! DONT. TELL. HIM. HE IS MY HUSBAND AND I WILL NEVER LET GO (me saying this like I haven't said it to 25 other idols..)

this you??? but all jokes aside I'm so proud of myself for taking this beautiful picture from their kindergarten TRICKY HOUSE episode. its beautiful. and the best part is that JUNGHOON IS ACTUALLY THERE ASKFKFKSFSFFJKAFFSK

can I know what ur main is so I can follow?? I don't really mind what kind of blog it is, I just wanna follow

anyway, Haru is one of my obsessions (YECHAN IS STILL FIRST. DONT SAY ANYTHING.) as of right now. like he's so pretty.. and he's so talented. there's this video of nexz singing live and their voices are SO CLEAR!! like they're literally so freaking talented its crazy. AND THE BEST PART IS, theyre 5th gen.

so sorry to be a hater but illit and I've could never (don't use me, I love their music)

back to yechan, on kprofiles his favourite foods are ramen (a no-brainer, who doesn't love ramen), tteok bokki (I love it but I had to search up how to spell it), sushi (another no-brainer) AND THESE LITTLE CRACKER THINGIES THAT ARE SO GOOD WAIT HOLD UP.

THESE THINGS. THESE ARE SO FREAKING GOOD, THEYRE MY WHOLE LIFE (I mean he is but like..) it says on kprofiles its called gorabab??? someone fact check

AND TO MAKE IT EVEN BETTER HIS FAVOURITE DRINKS ARE COKE, BOBA AND TEA!! WE'RE SO ALIKE!! (except one can skate and one cant :D)

also, I played a game today and we won by idk how many. anyways, there is this one girl that plays for that team. her nickname is triple C or CCC because her eyes are so far apart she looks like a chameleon. and during training camps she would wear the same cheetah print shirt like three out of the five days. that translates to Colour-Changing Cheetah. (shes such a pick me like nobody likes her. she reeks of main-character syndrome fr.)

anyways. there was this time she scored a goal during the game and on her way back to the bench she was showing off to her teammates how she did it. (she spun around and shot it. annoying) to be fair we didn't have our regular goalie and this girl has only played goalie like twice in her life.

and she scored twice within the last 20 seconds of the game.. like girl. let it go.

anyways, we won like 13 or 14 to like 7 or something. ME. I SCORED A WHOPPING, drumroll please...

5 goals. :D

it was a great day. and I got to hangout at my teammates house the rest of the day.

(sorry for being a certified yapper)

love ya!!! <3333

YECHAAAA-*gets shot*

i keep saying how much i want new tricky house episodes but that usually means album on the horizon *touches ground* i feel it coming... it's already in motion (sumin spoiled the vibes, and considering they learned choreo for watch out not even a month after trial and error that album is already pre cooked)

also it's @vanumanum 💜!! i've exposed myself on here before for my silly edits but full warning i 9 times out of 10 forget to post but i've been trying to be more active im just dumb (xikers drop more spooky photos so i can edit sh monsters in them)

5th gen actually pulling out a bunch of good groups ("XLOV DEBUT AAAH" i screm) and honestly considering what company their under it's almost expected (jype boy groups eat)

also me, an illit liker, as tick-tack plays in the bg: 🧍but also understandable (this is fine everyone's entitled to opinions/i can't speak for ive i can't speak for 99% of ggs that's not my area)

oh i've had those before! the korean reads as goraebap but take what i say with the biggest grain of salt because it could be read differently but i think i'm close enough

i love when i understand nothing about sports i was a shotput/discus clown that's all i got :> (i played three way soccer and took a ball to the face i was like ACTUALLY this is not my sport andalsoididntgetalongwithsportsplayers-) but you got five goals!! that's like 36-39% of the teams goals so i'm gonna say you carried for funsies and because i have giving blatant favoritism💜

[inseparabiles]

So it's been. However long now since we dropped sertraline? Today four weeks exactly since the last 25mg?

And things have been, uhhhhhhhhh, interesting since - without a doubt got hit with SSRI withdrawal syndrome, and it's been a bitch, but significantly less than online promises us it could be and could have been, like, life is fine and this is all so balanced by the fact that we are experiencing such clear, vivid, in-depth emotion as we've NEVER felt before. Legitimately, this has changed things that have been true for us since we've been here: never crying at music if the feeling wasn't already there, never laughing out loud at jokes or funny things if not in company, and everything feels so beautifully raw and on the skin. Part of this, of course, is just the chemical balancing act happening in here. But part of it is genuinely for the first time in our lives not being depressed, and this feels... like the most beautiful thing ever. Nothing damping the full extent of our human spectrum anymore. Truly being and feeling alive.

Okay. So there's that. But the fucking withdrawal syndrome. First half of the week, that was mostly the expected, heightened anxiety and recurring panic attacks. Then it got so fucking weird: we've been having tremors like no tomorrow for weeks now, every time we're even remotely in a cool environment or tired, they hit like we've been dipped into a frozen lake and thrown out on the ice. These are worse for some parts than others, as hilariously exhibited by two parts having a conversation out loud with one having little difficulty producing words while the other could barely get a word out from shaking. Back to back.

So that's been fun. Another thing is that we haven't been eating for like two weeks now. This household runs almost exclusively on Greek salads once a day now. Is it the new splits? Is it the withdrawals? Who the fuck knows.

This whole whatever the FUCK happened with Gladiator? Like talk to me about reality, I do NOT know her. Hit the most massive combination of a withdrawal-induced manic episode together with a blossoming special interest and that shit made us ride a high that I don't think I'd be able to replicate if I snorted coke and ecstacy combined. The brain has not been here for some time. Things have been going so hard you have no idea.

It's calming down now, we can actually... think, at least some of the time. Instead of having this incessant buzzing sound and a total and complete loss of any semblance of grounding and/or control of our actions and what the fuck we're saying. For a solid week we could not shut up for the love of life or gods combined. Nothing but a bullet would have shut this shop up

And for the past few days it's been mostly just the tremors and the lack of an appetite and the panics. Today and yesterday, no panics, all good. Slept a decent nine hours last night and feel like a human person today.

Been playing Overwatch here on the off while thinking about blorbos and the Roman Empire. And just now, clear as day, with sound and all, a thumb-sized white paper origami cockroach/scarab pranced the fuck across my mousepad. It took its damn time too, at least four seconds, which is by far the longest and clearest hallucination this shit brain has ever produced. The buzzing of the beetle wings, the soft clatters of paper folds and weight. I just looked at it like what the FUCK was that and can there be ANY other explanation but a hallucination, but there's genuinely nothing over there that could have moved even a little bit. There's a strip of leftover photo paper there but it's heavy and it hasn't moved for a day, nothing's touching it, it's pinned down by two scissors. There's a napkin stuck inside the standing microphone's platform, but it's similarly just not fucking around at all.

What. Just genuinely what the fuck. I do love me a brain and some chemicals.

Also we might have a third split and we've all collectively agreed that since this one is benign and benevolent, we'll be leaving him be until a further date unless something dramatically changes or requires immediate processing. Entirely possible the front push of the chaos parts and this absolute madness that has accompanied and surrounded their settling in has dislodged another part and this one actually wasn't here before/earlier than when we started sniffing him out a couple days ago at earliest. Like splits can happen that way, too, I guess. Acute destabilisation can breed parts to help stabilisation. It happens. But our splits are usually much slower and brew for weeks and there's signs. This one is weird.

I guess though we also haven't quit a decade on sertraline ever before so there's that.

also I'd like to thank Caracalla personally for allowing us to write totally unhinged fiction that nobody whose brain has not been totally and completely fucked will understand just how literal all of the description we've been sliding into these stories can be. sometimes what a girl needs is, checks smudged writing on wrist, is an unhinged roman emperor with neurosyphilis to express the full spectrum of her reality.

[sparkedblaze]

(modern au) morris and oscar having briefly attended manhattan’s high school during all their moving around before they both left mainstream school, so the manhattan boys would sometimes find evidence of them around the school.

race noses through behaviour ledgers while in trouble himself and finds a file on oscar, the biggest and most detailed he’s ever seen and including several police reports on the brothers’ many guardians and carers. crutchie sees morris in the back of a class photograph, scrawny and skinny and covered in bruises, hunched into himself like he’s trying not to exist. one of the boys is in a SEN (special educational needs) class and sees morris’ name on a drawer of work, wonders… what was wrong with him. if he’s over it now. trying to connect these glimpses of these boys with the ruthless monsters jack talks about.

Ooooooooo

@emmedoesntdomath

*

Toni chewed on the pencil in his hand, watching the teacher move around with the other kids. Stupid common core math making them all have to learn one specific way. Toni looked down at his paper, over the thirty or so problems he had to solve by the end of class.

He was surprised she was making them do it the 'correct' way. Eight or ten kids with mild learning disabilities trying to conform to society's thinking? It'd be a feat if they even finished the page.

He read through the first one, a paragraph of words he had to sift through. He scribbled down the numbers in the problem, labeling what each of them was, huffing as he wrote down what he was solving for.

That was as far as he got before he started doodling in the margins of the paper. The drawings were crude and messy, of simple things like sports balls or flowers. He looked up at the clock, thinking it had to have been at least ten minutes.

No more than three had passed.

For fucks sake.

He chewed at the end of his pencil again, knee bouncing in an attempt to focus.

Put your energy somewhere else. Find somewhere to channel it.

He shifted the binder he was wearing, the fabric rough and uncomfortable against his skin.

His leg bounced faster as he scrawled the formula across the page. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this.

If he couldn't, ma would be disappointed. If ma got disappointed, he'd have to sit through another one of her lectures, and he wasn't sure he could handle that.

He glanced toward the window, and his hand shot up, looking up at the teacher. "Ma'am? Can we finish class outside?"

Miss Tawri looked outside as well, then at the few other kids in with them, who were all looking up at her, beaming with excitement.

She sighed, nodding. "Fine, fine, alright. Everyone get your things! We're going to sit under the oak."

The announcement earned cheers from the group, and they all scrambled to get their stuff.

They followed her outside, Toni walking arm in arm with Jonathan, bags slung over their shoulders.

"Y'know, Johnny," Toni started with a smirk. "You'd probably do better at reading if you had a pair o' glasses. I could get you Julian's, if you want. Their folks can get 'em another pair."

Jonathan laughed, shaking their head. "Absolutely not. You think I'm gonna be able to see through those coke bottles?"

Toni laughed with them, rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say, Johnny Boy."

They laid their blankets out on the ground, sitting on them, in a circle around the teacher. Toni patted his pockets, checked behind his ears, and checked his mouth.

His hand shot up again. "Miss Tawri, I don't have my pencil!"

"I don't have one either, Antonio. Go and get yours from inside."

He sighed dramatically, dropping his books onto the blanket next to Jonathan. “I’ll be back, I guess.”

He headed inside, taking his sweet ass time, wanting to get away from the worksheet for as long as possible.

He pushed open the door, flipping the lights, going to get his pencil off the desk, immediately bringing it to his lips again, chewing absentmindedly.

He turned slowly, looking at the filing cabinets behind the desk. His eyes went alright as he found the drawer labeled ‘Projects’.

That was where she kept all their old stuff. Toni had seen her thumbing through it when she thought they were all busy or distracted.

He went over, pulling the drawer open, thumbing through them. He grinned as he found his own file, reaching for it, but stopped dead in his tracks as he saw one labeled with only a last name, unlike the others which had a first and last.

Delancey

They had been in this class?!

He sank to the floor, getting comfortable as he thumbed through the file. He saw worksheets that had been doodled on instead of filled out. There were coloring sheets that looked like they'd been colored by a toddler-outside the lines and colors all over the place. There were a few worksheets that were half-finished, written in Oscar's tiny, illegible handwriting.

He found some IEPs, eyes widening.

He shouldn't look at this. he shouldn't read through the teachers' notes on the brothers. His eyes shouldn't wander the red writing warning of violence and threats and tantrums and breakdowns and demanding something change. He shouldn't be skimming the worries about what was happening at home, the notes to CPS and principals about how the teachers worry about them showing with bruises and cuts and broken bones.

He shouldn't do that. He shouldn't do any of those things.

He set the IEPs aside, looking through drawings. They were clearly by Morris, of simple things like home and a family.

He found a drawing of someone who looked suspiciously like Medda, holding hands with someone who was almost definitely Morris, who was also holding hands with a grumpy boy who was absolutely his older brother.

He sucked in a breath, staring at the paper in his hand. He turned it over, Morris's name written across the back, Oscar's neat handwriting dating it beneath.

He did some quick math.

It was before she'd even fostered Jack.

It was the first time they'd stayed with her.

He looked through a few more, finding different drawings of different things Morris thought was important. They were all happy drawings.

How could the boy who drew all of these be the monster Jack wrote him out to be?

The kind to attack someone over something as simple as a blanket.

What happened to them?

He jumped as the door opened, ducking behind the teacher's desk, scrabbling for the papers, shoving most of them back in the folder, and putting it back where it belonged, silently pushing the drawer closed.

He held his breath, waiting, listening for footsteps.

"Toni?" he heard Jonathan's voice, and let out a sigh of relief.

He folded the paper and tucked it into his shirt pocket. He popped up with a smirk.

"Miss me already?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "No, Miss Tawri was wondering where you went."

They looked over him, raising a brow suspiciously. "What are you doing, Toni?"

He grinned. "Looking through my file."

They scoffed. "So, nothing interesting, then?"

Toni's eyes went wide. "Johnny! How could you?"

"Pretty easily, actually."

Toni stood, rolling his eyes, going to his bag, slipping the drawing into it, digging through it. "Johnny, do you know where I set my pencil?"

Jonathan laughed at him, moving over, yanking it from his mouth, making Toni whine. "What? You asked."

"Let's go, before she gets mad."

[angelaofwhite800]

Supernatural x sister!reader (Bring It) Chapter 3 - Sammy's gone

Fluff + angst

TW: Abandonment, angst

Word count: 1,298

Songs: "Waste" -kxllswxtch

"Young" -Vacations

"Softcore" -The neighborhood 

"Bubblegum" -Clario

7 hours later

Y/n and Dean sat in the Impala at a rest stop. Dean was scarfing down a gas station burrito, but Y/n didn't feel like eating. Her stomach was turning and her mind was racing, thinking about seeing her brother again after years. Y/n was only 9 when Sam left for Stanford, but she remembered that day like it was yesterday

Flashback

Y/n was sitting outside the motel room with Dean, sat on the sidewalk in the rain. It was cold and dark out as the rain poured down from the sky. The two of them were sent outside and pretending like they weren't listening to the yelling match that was happening between Sam and their dad, but anyone within the motel complex who said they couldn't hear what was going on would be lying. Y/n didn't know the backstory for the argument, but she didn't need to. from listening she gathered one thing. Sam was leaving... And he wanted to take her with him

"You're insane! You think im going to just let you take my daughter away from me?!" John shouted at the top of his lungs. Despite what anyone might try and say about John Winchester and his parenting the one thing nobody could deny was that he loved his kids, and the idea of one of them leaving, let alone two, was unbearable

"Dad I don't want to abandon you guys! I'm just going to college! I just want to give her a normal life!" Sam tried to argue back. The truth was Sam had no intention of abandoning or cutting out his family, nor did he want to separate Y/n from John or Dean. But that wasn't how it felt. This felt like the end of the world. Like life was being torn apart. in the eye's of John, Sam was abandoning ship

"Then why go at all, huh?! You said you wanted to "Get out", Right?!" John kept raising his voice at Sam. This fighting had been going on for quite some time. Y/n and Dean, sitting outside just sat silently, sharing a diet coke can between the two of them. Y/n glanced over at her older brother, but he kept his gaze forward, zoning out 

John put his foot down one last time "Well you aren't taking her!" Sam threw his arms up exasperation, starting to give up. "You know what, if you wanna leave so bad, go ahead! We don't need traitors around!" As he spoke he started pulling Sam's things out and packing them up for him. Hurt and angry Sam spat back

"You know what, fine! I will!" He started packing his things too. the two of them kept yelling for the duration of Sam packing his things. Minutes passed when suddenly the door to the motel room flew open and Sam stormed out, John following behind him, the two of them still arguing. Sam stormed passed his siblings, who stood up expecting him to say something to them, but he didn't even look at them. Y/n, panicked, tied to follow after her brother to ask him what was happening, but was quickly stopped by her father. He grabbed her arm harshly in fear that she was trying to leave him too. Accidentally redirecting his anger at his daughter he yelled at her

"NO! You aren't going with him!!" Y/n stopped in her tracks, looking up at John who was squeezing her arm, tears started to fill her eyes. All she could see in her fathers eye's was rage, leading her to believe she'd done something wrong, though she didn't know what. Little did she know that sat right behind the expression of rage was a scared hurt man, who's world was falling apart once again. Dean tried to calm his father and break him out of the daze he was in

"Ow! Daddy! You're hurting me!" Y/n cried out as she tried to pull her arm out of Johns grasp. Sam's attention snapped back to his family from where he was in the parking lot. He dropped his bag and ran back to them on the doorstep. He and Dean pushed him away from Y/n as she fell to the ground, tears silently pouring out of her eyes. Sam screamed at John more than before, angry at what he'd done. John tried to defend himself, already realizing what he'd done. Dean knelt down beside Y/n gently checking her arm, seeing the bruise that their dad had just left on her. Dean was angry. Angry at Sam for leaving them, angry at his dad for hurting Y/n, angry at himself for not being able to stop it from happening. angry at the world that it had lead them to this point in the first place. One last verbal punch was thrown by John before slamming the door shut in Sam's face

"If you leave don't you dare come back!" And with that Sam was stood on the doorstep of a motel. he things in a duffel bag, his bruised sister on the ground, his brother knelt next to her. Sam knelt down beside her as well, trying to check out her bruise, before Dean spoke up

"I think you've done enough, just leave us alone Sam" Sam looked at Dean, shocked, hurt. He slowly stood up and Dean did the same

"So that's how it is huh?" Sam scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. Dean nodded his head slightly before adding on

"Yea, looks like it is" And walking inside the motel room, also slamming the door shut behind him. And then there were two. Sam and Y/n, sat on the doorstep, alone. Y/n and Sam had always been close, due to often being left just the two of them while Dean and their dad were on hunts. Sam sat down next to Y/n and she looked at him, tears in her eyes. 

"Sammy I don't want you to stay done..." She choked out, and Sam's heart broke inside his chest. Was this really right? Was this really what he wanted? 

"I don't want to either." He put his hand on Y/n's shoulder trying to comfort her. she immediately threw herself into Sam hugging her big brother so tightly it hurt both of them. He hugged her back almost as tightly. After upwards of 5 minutes of Y/n crying in Sam's arms, and Sam silently letting tears roll down his face, she pulled back and looked at him, saying

"If you're going to go, you should do it soon, before dad comes back out to get you to stay." Sam looked at her shocked. She stood up and offered Sam her hand. He smiled at his little sister, chuckling a little bit. He stood her hand and stood up. Looking down at her he promised

"I'll call you. every chance I get I'll call you. Okay Y/n?" She nodded. and with one last hug, Sam walked away, grabbing his things, and disappearing around the street corner. Y/n walked back into the motel and sat on the floor of the bathroom, with the door locked, silently crying. she didn't come out until 5pm the next day.

End of flashback 

"Y/n You have to eat something" Dean said trying to hand her a bag of salted peanuts. She looked at it as she was pulled out of her thoughts

"I'm really not hungry" She said. she wasn't lying. it wasn't because she didn't need to eat, but because she was so distracted but her own thoughts to remember that she was actually starving. Dean rolled his eyes and tossed the bag into her lap before starting up the car

"Well eat something anyways. We'll be at Stanford in 4 hours, so we aren't stopping unless it's an emergency 

'Great' Y/n thought '4 hours until we see him...'

To Be Continued...