#kits here like sigh everyone HATES ME

[witchlingcirce]

This is literally Kit in every scene he has to talk to ANYONE 😭:

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mentions of violence, mention of putting down / death, etc. words -> 4.2K

abstract -> “I hope we can get along” 

y/n’s perspective

“I’ve missed this place,” Wooyoung said as he got out of the elevator first. 

“You know, Taeyong is angry with you” I heard as I saw Yuta and I smiled. “He should’ve expected this,” I said and he chuckled. “Yes… but he needs to bring some sense to Kun” he said and I nodded.

“I can at least text him you're okay and you've made it back safely. Johnny also told me you needed a lot of rest, and to change the bandages once a day at least and clean them. He said that if you feel weak or tired, slow down and let your body rest you just got out of a coma” he scolded and I chuckled. 

“I can clean your wounds, '' Seonghwa asked and I smiled. “Thank you,” I said and I chose to ignore Yeosang’s glare at him. “Please take care of her… and y/n this place is clean but Johnny said avoid your room in case it triggers a bad memory,” he said and I nodded sadly. 

“Sleep early tonight, by the morning everyone's gonna know you're awake,” he said and I nodded as he left. “Come on, let's get ready for bed first,” Yeosang said and I nodded. Preening… or grooming a dog's version of taking care of their mate. I smiled softly at the thought. 

“I’ll make you some tea!” Wooyoung said as he went to the kitchen looking through the cupboard. “I’ll get the first aid kit ready,” Seonghwa said and I was happy to feel relieved around them again. 

I woke up to Seonghwa’s voice saying breakfast was made. Yeosang and Wooyoung tightened their grip on me. “A few more minutes,” Yeosnag said, still sleepy… “yeah a few more– WHY ARE YOU MAKING BREAKFAST THAT'S MY JOB!” Wooyoung yelled and I laughed. 

“It's already noon, and you were in a deep sleep. It's technically lunchtime already” Seonghwa said and I chuckled. “Thank you, Seonghwa,” I said and he smiled. 

“I did what I could with what was in the fridge. There was a lot of old food so I cleaned it out” he said and I nodded. “Oh. Seonghwa, that's your job now” Wooyoung said and I laughed. Wooyoung did hate to clean the fridge and after he cooked. 

We ate our food while I looked at my messages… Everyone was texting me to feel better and that they were glad I was okay. Kun still hasn’t texted me…

“Are we going back?” Wooyoung asks and I smile softly. “I can go alone, if you’d like?” I asked and he looked sad about that. “I’ll go with you” Yeosang and Seonghwa said at the same time. 

“I think it's best if I go alone… I need to talk to San and maybe see how bad it is” I said and they nodded. At the end of the day… San was my first hybrid I promised to him. I wasn’t gonna let him down now. 

“Are you gonna see Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asks and I sigh. “I… should’ve been more professional about handling Hongjoong. I got too into my head and I forgot the tell signs of a hybrid. I’m licensed in handling red code hybrids… so I feel like I owe him a try” I explained and they looked nervous for me. 

“I’ll have to talk to Kun first, however”

“You’re… okay,” he said speechless. He came up and hugged me tight… There was a time when my parents didn’t care what I did, they just made sure I had enough money to take care of myself. 

Kun was one of my friends who became like an older brother to me… he was protective and overall cared a lot about my well-being even after my breakup with Hendery. Even when my parents found out I studied writing and not business or a respectable white-collar degree. 

“I saw… your heart stops, I thought you weren’t gonna make it” he cried out and I sighed. “Well, here I am,” I said and he only tightened his grip. 

“When Doyoung said you were here yesterday I didn't believe him… and then Johnny and Taeyong confirmed and– I’m just happy you’re okay” he said and I smiled as he let me go. 

“Wooyoung was really bad. He’s never experienced a depressive episode that bad, he’d at least eat and go outside but not once did he move. He’d stare at the door constantly to see if you’d appear” he said and it broke my heart. “Yeosang’s owner was trying to bribe our shareholders to be given Yeosang but my family wouldn’t give in” he explained. 

“Thank you for trying your best even when you assumed I was dying” I said and he sighed. “Why did you take that tiger with you?” he asked and I sighed. 

“I… I didn’t tell you but Hongjoong got to me when I interviewed him. He mentioned a hybrid would do anything to survive and compared it to them” I said and he looked at me disappointed. 

“You should’ve known better. Those hybrids… has anyone told you about San?” he trailed off and I shook my head. “They said he was a code purple and his mind is scattered, can't tell time, aggressive?” I said and he nodded. 

“San… we originally had them all together when they were first here but he turned violent wanting to hurt Hongjoong. When we isolated him the next day he kept muttering to himself ‘any second now’ as if you’d pick him up. Hours after he attacked you… you came for him only hours after and he thinks that’ll happen again. No matter if we remind him three times a day he'll forget… I'm worried about how he’ll behave when he’s with you again” he said and I sighed. 

“I need to see him. '' I said and he sighed “Let us… make sure he’s okay first” he said and I nodded. “In the meantime then… what happened to Hongjoong?” I asked and he shook his head. 

“He's not going with you–” “He’s already my hybrid… I didn’t give him a chance or anything to prove him wrong. I let him get to me and in return only proved him right” I said and he scoffed. 

“Those bandages on your neck are because of him. Your hybrids suffered because of him and I still want to help him?” he asked me angrily. 

“Kun… when we were kids, you saved a hybrid and he’s still with you today but remember Sicheng with Yuta and how he was just as aggressive. Abused and neglected, his parents wanted Sicheng dead but you made a promise to Yuta and now he’s in a sanctuary in China at your family’s estate. You told me you’d help any hybrid you could and that's why you have this job… please do me this favor” I begged and he sighed. 

“You owe me” 

It was like it was almost a month ago. 

Preparing to interview him… the difference is I'm not here for business nor do I have Seonghwa’s protection. I took a deep breath and entered the red code area. It had hybrids locked behind impenetrable glass and a metal covering in front of it instead of the curtains the other hybrids had. 

I made it to his kennel when I saw his report… it had a determined sign. He was gonna be sent to a different center… in China?

I noticed the metal covering was now being lifted. They must've noticed on the cameras I was there already. He was in a corner… his tail twitching and his constraints were clearly uncomfortable. 

“Hello,” I said and his ears lifted up… he looked over his shoulder to see me. He shook his head… “You're not real” he muttered as his head faced the corner again 

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I'm here to haunt you” I joked and his ears twitched… “Why did you do that?” I asked curious if he’d answer. “I didn’t… want to kill you. I-I want… just want to be free” he said his voice only getting more vulnerable. 

“Seonghwa hates me now… I have no one, I'm alone and I'm going somewhere I don’t even recognize. I have your blood on my hands… it won’t go away” he muttered.

“I… never killed anyone. I didn’t… I wanted… I don’t know anymore. I’m sorry” he said and I could see how his back shook. Was he crying?

“Did you know… I went to your show when I was a kid” I confessed and he froze. “My parents were busy… they couldn't take care of me. So they had a hybrid take care of me. She was a bear hybrid, and they made her take me to the Circus… I had a front-row seat, I remember seeing you” I said and he now turned to look at me. His eyes are glassy and red.

“You looked like you liked to perform. I may have been naive to what they did to hybrids… but you were a part of the main show with Seonghwa” I confessed and he shook his head. “You’re not real” he kept muttering to assure himself. 

“I remember a different ringleader than the one I interviewed… he approached me and asked where my parents were. When my babysitter tried to explain, he yelled at her to be quiet. That a lowly hybrid shouldn’t talk to him that way–” he furrowed his eyebrows. He stood up and tried getting as close to the glass as the chains let him. 

“–I told him my parents were busy and she was taking care of me. He laughed and said that bear hybrids belong to the circus not taking care of kids like me–” he now sat down and looked at me confused and probably questioning if I was really here “–she cried on the drive home. The ringleader gave me a phone number and told me to tell my parents he offered a ton of money for her. I know… that she didn’t trust me. So when we came home my parents were already there… They asked if I liked the show. It's when I remember looking at her and she smiled a sad smile at me with glassy eyes…” he looked at me curious and maybe interested in what I was saying?

“I started to cry. I hugged my mom saying the ringleader yelled at me and her, demanding to see them. They were… angry to say the least, and he was fired, but that didn’t mean the place was shut down” I said sadly. 

“What happened to the hybrid?” he asked and I sighed. “She… stayed with me until I had to go to college. That night she tucked me in and she muttered a thank you. I loved her like I did my mother… but one day when I returned from college to visit her they told me she was no longer needed, and so they sent her away” I said and he nodded.

“I remember that night…  men in suits came and said they were gonna sue. The next ringleader was a co-owner of his so nothing changed… are you real?” he asked and I smiled. 

“Am I?” I asked and he sighed. 

“I’d like to believe you are… even if I'd be lying to myself. Can I ask… where's Seonghwa?” he asked and I debated on telling him. “Happy,” I said and he smiled softly. 

“I hope he is. I hope he gets adopted… he loved seeing the amazed kids when he did a trick and even the hybrids. He always would say to me, he wants to be as oblivious as them… where he doesn’t know what abuse is any more” he said as he cried again. 

“I would always tell him… that it would be impossible. He’d have to be human, it's when I learned you could buy citizenship and a species change” he said… the illegal black market in Korea was dangerous. However, the surgeries they offered were hybrids… it was nearly impossible to achieve but an even smaller percentage rate of survival… 

“It’s stupid… that was my plan and now I don’t even want it. Seonghwa spoke highly of you–” he was now lying down facing his back to me “–he got along the best with Wooyoung and he’d explain to him how you saved all three of them. I never understood what you did” he said and I sighed.

“It wasn’t until they told us… San was a part of the illegal fighting rings for hybrids. No one survived over a month and yet he was a survivor of all his life. Wooyoung abandoned and Yeosang prostituted… and now us, circus captivated tigers…” he said as his whole body shook as he cried. 

“Wooyoung he said how… you wrote about hybrid rights, but I thought it was an act” he confessed and I sighed. “What would you do if you were ever given a second chance–” “I don’t deserve it. I’ll suffer the rest of my life like I was born to,” he said and it made me freeze.  Did he really believe that?

“I’m sorry, y/n. I wish you never met me” 

I walked out and I immediately hugged Kun. 

“Does he really believe that?” I asked and he sighed. “Maybe I judged him a little harshly. Maybe I was a bit biased that he almost killed you in particular,” he said and I nodded. “Do you want to see San now?” he asked and I nodded… I was worried about how he’d react. I was led to an area where the hybrids had no privacy. They were allowed to do the danger to themselves. We stopped at a kennel… San. 

“San, you have a visitor,” Kun said and he looked up and saw me. “y/n!!” he yelled with a big grin on his face. “Hi, Sannie,” I said and he smiled… until his eyes wandered to my jaw. “I’m okay, how have you been?” I said, trying to get his attention. 

“I did that to you…” he said, confusing me. “What?” I asked. “I didn’t mean to hurt you… I love you, you're the only one who cares about me” he said as he put his head down almost in shame.

“San… this wasn't you” I explained and he looked at me confused. “Do you remember Hongjoong?” I asked and his eyes darkened “He hurt you!” he yelled now angry. 

He lost any recollection of time…

“San… who am I?” I asked him and he looked at me shocked. “What do you mean? Why would I forget you? You're… my mate” he said, unsure of himself. 

“San… please get better”

“Please stop crying,” Kun said as I cried in his office. He wasn’t sure of anything… What does he even think of me? Of Wooyoung… of Yeosang?

“You should get back home… you need rest” he said and I shook my head. “But San… what if he forgets I was here–” “He hasn’t… he’s pacing his room muttering your name. Give him time to finally think for himself,” he said and I was satisfied with that answer. 

“I… I was never meant to own hybrids, was I?” I asked and he shook his head. “You're an amazing owner… you’ve rescued them at their worst and given them a second chance. Give him time” he said and I didn’t know if I believed him. 

“How’s… Hongjoong?” I asked and he sighed. “Are you sure you want to take him with you? He needs to be tested and analyzed first… I need to see if he can go down to at least an orange” he asked and I nodded. “Can I see him before I leave?” I asked and he nodded, leading me out of his office and to Hongjoong again. 

I entered again with the button and went in front of his kennel. I waited for the metal curtain to open and he was right where I last saw him.

“You’re… back? You are real… you’re alive” he said and I smiled. “Hello, Hongjoong,” I said and he looked at me confused and… scared. 

“Improve… you're still my responsibility. So when you go down to an orange, you can live a life like Seonghwa. Or… I can pay for your freedom”

I went back home. 

I cried to Wooyoung all night. Seonghwa and Yeosang were worried but I wanted to be with Wooyoung. He has been here since the beginning. 

He… somehow convinced San to trust me and now it was gone. It felt empty with San.

“Why won’t you tell me what's got you like this?” Wooyoung asked me and I could only tighten my grip on his body. I didn’t want him to leave… 

“I made breakfast… I’m sorry Wooyoung but–” “She needs to eat, thanks hyung” 

I was suddenly lifted up to my bed. “You need to eat… then you can get dressed and see him again. That's what you need right now” he said and I couldn’t stop the tears spilling.

“Angels aren’t supposed to cry…” I heard as I saw Yeosang. “Eat, please for me,” Wooyoung asked and I listened. I didn’t know what to do…

“What happened yesterday?” he asked and I sighed as I picked at the food on the plate in front of me. “San… his memory is all over the place. He thinks he attacked me… then I reminded him it was Hongjoong and he turned angry… and he could barely tell me who I was” I confessed and they sighed.

“I also gave Hongjoong the option of living here again–” “No!” Yeosang said and I smiled. “Trust me… he doesn’t seem bad. Besides… I also gave him the option for his freedom” I said and they looked at me confused. 

“I… can get in contact with a surgeon to make him look human. I can find him an identity and give him enough for a fresh start” I said and they looked at me shocked. 

“Those surgeries are low survival–” “That's mainly because they don’t have enough money… I would have to ask a hefty favor to Taeyong but I can get in contact with a good surgeon, and pay them enough to make sure he was okay” I said and they looked at me… concerned. 

“Seonghwa, if you wanna go with him–” “No… I don't want to be human. I’d rather live here if you'd let me,” he said and I smiled. “The offer will always stand… for any of you,” I said and Yeosang and Wooyoung shook their heads. 

“We’re happy with you” 

I was back here… 

I was in front of Hongjoong’s kennel. The curtains raised up and he was pacing almost like he was waiting. “Hi, Hongjoong!” I said trying to offer a grin despite how drained I felt. 

“No offense but it looks like you haven't slept,” he said and I chuckled. “I haven’t… have you decided or need more time?” I asked and he sighed. 

“Seonghwa… is he happy?” he asked and I didn’t know. “I gave him the option to be free like I could do for you… but he declined '' I said and he smiled. “Why are you offering me so much? Thank you for helping Seonghwa… you can give him everything but why are you doing this for me?” he asked and I shrugged. 

“You deserve a chance…” I said and he shook his head. “I don’t,” he said and I tried to offer him a smile. “I could’ve killed you” he cried out. “San… he hates humans you know?” I said and he looked at me confused. 

“He… hated me. Said I only adopted him to abuse him… I admit my reason for adopting him wasn’t too great. When I first saw him I was captivated… but I learned that he couldn’t be adopted because of his past and his code. So I took my chance and did what I could… but he never did trust me. So he yelled… and he taunted me. He hurt me a little bit but he accidentally knocked over a vase I had to push him out of the way so he didn't get hurt. I… got better and went to make sure he was okay but he didn’t want me to be his owner” I explained and he looked at me painfully confused. 

“He loves you… I may have tormented you and planted lies but the way he looks at you… he really does love you” he confessed and I smiled softly. 

“Overtime… he trusted me. He made me his mate… he's important to me” I said, trying not to cry. “Is he okay?” he asked and I couldn’t answer. “Hongjoong, I gave him a second chance too. So… what do you wish for? Freedom or… live with me?” I asked and he sighed. 

“Does… Seonghwa hates me?” he asked and I knew he valued his companion a lot. “He doesn’t… I gave him the option too, you know?” I asked and he chuckled. “He chose to stay with you, I know that for sure,” he said and I smiled softly. 

“I… want to give you a second chance too, and I want to redeem myself” 

While Hongjoong was getting checked out, I was led to San. 

He was staring at me once I came to view… his tail swishing behind him. He was still so pretty… and I loved him so much. 

“You're… y/n. I hated you… then I trusted you… then I loved you” he said and I felt my eyes widen. “I hurt you… then I met, Yeosang?” he asked me and I shook my head. “Wooyoung,” I said and he nodded. “The fox… he had a pathetic crush on you,” he said, making me laugh softly. Kun was beside me… he also looked confused. 

“Yeosang… his owner abused him? He’s… friends with Wooyoung. Doberman and Fox” he said… he was concentrating on facts. “You… adopted two dogs?” he asked while looking at me and I shook my head. “Uhm… cats?” he asked and I shook my head again. “They're from the circus– Tigers!” he yelled and I smiled. “One of them… hurt you,” he said and I nodded. 

“How long… have you left us here?” he asked me with a sad tone. 

“San… I came back for you as soon as I could.” I said and he nodded. “What happened to you? Why do you have those big bandages on your face?” he asked and I slid. “I was in a coma for a long time,” I said and he let out a breathy sigh. 

“Hongjoong’s claws cut a bit too deep into my skin… so I have bandages on. I woke up the day before yesterday” I explained and he nodded. “I trust you… I know you're my mate and I know I love you my head just hurts” he explained and I nodded. He was gonna be like this for a while… 

“But I… just wanna go with you. Please don’t leave me here again”

“San!” Wooyoung yelled as he tackled the panther who tensed up. “This is Wooyoung… the fox you met,” I said as I pulled Wooyoung away from him. San nodded and I could see their confused faces of what was happening.

“He’s mated to you too,” San muttered as he pulled me to him.

“Do you not remember us?” Wooyoung asks and San shakes his head. “Dissociative amnesia is what they're calling it… in his case it's because of an event that causes his brain to go into shock. Kun says in his case he should be able to regain memory with everyday activities but… we should also be prepared if he doesn’t” I said and I could see the worry on Wooyoung and Yeosang’s faces as well as the guilt in Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

“I hope we can get along” 

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[strawberryforks]

blue walls, blue eyes, and the blue blanket // cole walter x reader

summary: you don’t have a good home life and end up unofficially moving in with the walter boys.

warnings: physical & verbal abuse, underage drinking, counsellors depicted in a negative light, swearing, canon divergence–jackie’s family never passes away, so while katherine and her mother are still good friends, they’ve not met/moved in with the walters.

word count: 5957

there’s a ding, and the principal is speaking over the pa. everyone stops what they’re doing so nothing is missed. after all, this doesn’t happen often.

the teacher freezes, dry erase marker still pressed firmly against the board, the end squishing and ink bleeding atop the letter he was writing and danny, who’s sitting beside you, gives you a look. you know its meaning, recognize the weight behind it, and know this routine. you stand up quickly. the backs of your knees slam into the hard plastic you had been sitting on and the chair goes skittering back, bumping into the pair of desks behind you.

you’re too tired to send that apologetic smile to anyone else. fortunately danny isn’t. making sure you aren’t alone, aren’t the only one being disruptive and making noise in an otherwise silent classroom, he braces a hand on the back of his chair, twisting around, to face your wide-eyed classmates. “sorry about that,” he whispers.

your movements are all harsh. they’re fast and full of annoyance, as you swipe your textbook, pencil kit, and water bottle off your desk and into your awaiting tote bag.

standing up, you make your way to the door. the teacher stares daggers at you the entire way. They go to grab your arm and you flinch away. “don’t touch me,” you grit, hands gripping around the doorknob so tightly it hurts. air is hitting your face, propelled towards you by the door you shoved open, when you hear your dismissal “please send y/n l/n to guidance,” spoken over the announcements. your teacher follows you out into the hallway, shouting instructions that you reluctantly follow, after you.

you count the tiles on your way. nearly running into the blue door, you end at fifty six.

ms jacobs, tara, as she’ll insist you call her, is a nice enough lady. she has curly brown hair, brown eyes, and perfectly painted on lipstick. she looks disarming, as a counsellor with the numbers of everyone that could ruin your life on speed dial, you suppose she has to. still, this isn’t new. she leads you further into the room and gestures to a chair “take a seat.”

when you don't, her smile becomes more strained. “please, y/n. this doesn’t need to be difficult, we just need to have a chat.”

you sigh, shoulders sagging as you plop down into the hundredth blue thing in this office. doors, trim, there’s a ridiculous amount of the colour and you don’t like it. blue, represents sadness. it’s something you’ve had enough of. sure, there’s other colours. posters upon posters–some neon, and green leaves stuck onto a large potted plant. there’s other colours just like there’s other feelings, but the one you’re stuck on, the one you can’t get over is sadness; it's blue.

“i hate the colour blue, Ms. Jacobs.” You tell her.

“why?” she asks, interested in you opening up further. you don’t.

“are you going to give me the run-down? tell me what i can and can’t say?”

her brows furrow. “do i need to? i called you here to talk about your grades but if there’s something else going on–”

“there isn’t ms jacobs. i do appreciate the concern, though. about my grades. they’re passing, i don’t see the problem.” you didn’t have a single grade above fifty five. it was hard to, when all of your teachers assigned heaps and heaps of homework and you would rather take a deep-dive into hellfire, brimstone, and lakes of lava, then return to the place you were expected to complete it at.

“call me tara.” you don’t.

“ms jacobs, if it would make you happy, i’ll try harder.”

“it would, y/n. thank you.”

you gather your things and stand. a glance at your phone lets you know your second class is over, so you plan to head to the cafeteria. “and y/n, just know that whatever you say to me is confidential.” Unless you are or are planning to hurt yourself, someone else, or if someone is hurting you.

“bye ms jacobs.”

walking into the cafeteria was masochistic in a way, when they were serving your favourite food, and you had no lunch or money to buy any with. still, in your hurried text chain with danny, this is where you had decided to meet. If you had to sit with the theatre kids to score some time with your friend, you would, although it would be better if you could grab him and go somewhere that didn’t make your mouth water and stomach ache.

walking over to his table, you noticed alex was there too. Just chatting with his brother. You and alex weren’t the best friends, but he was nice enough, and like issac, lee, nathan, and cole, you had his number written down in your notepad under the ‘just in case’ column. you didn’t mind alex, he was polite and much like his brother, danny, never made you feel less than. alex was always armed with a smile.

“danny!” you called, announcing your presence so you wouldn’t scare anyone. you smiled at Alex who as expected, mirrored your expression. “nice to see you. mind if I cut in and steal your brother?”

alex nods, “be my guest. i’ll see you at the end of the day danny!”

he leaves and then you’re pulling danny up and along with you. he barely has time to grab his lunchbox before the two of you are leaving the cafeteria and heading outside. you slump down against the brick wall and danny takes a seat across from you. cross-legged, he pulls out two sandwiches and hands one to you. you eyes widen.

“i’m pretty observant,” he supplies, shrugging.

“thank you, d” you eat the sandwich, and it’s a good one. “do you have plans after school?” ‘please don’t be busy, please don’t be busy, please don’t be busy’ you repeat in your head over and over again. it’s a mantra, you’re manifesting. hoping, hoping, hoping.

“y/n/n, i’m sorry, i actually do. erin tried out for the school’s production and she wants help going over her lines–i would invite you to tag along but…”

“no, no!” yoy laugh. manifesting doesn’t work, mantras are pointless, and shit, what are you supposed to do about tonight? “no, danny. don’t worry about it. i know you like erin and this is the perfect opportunity! if she’s asking for help with lines–i mean you’re awesome–but let’s be real, you can go over lines with anyone. so, if she’s asking you specifically for help, that's such a good–a really good sign!”

you two talk for a while longer but it’s easy to see your mind is elsewhere.

the bell rings, you head to your last classes, and then home.

you’ve got to go home.

well, to your house. that place, those four walls, they stopped being your home a long time ago. when your dad got drunk and your mom got mean.

cole walter pulls up beside you on your way home. his truck slows down, nearly to a stop, and you keep walking. your headphones are on and you’re pretending you can’t hear him. you can, but, you hope he’ll tire of shouting, slam his food on the gas pedal, and leave you in a cloud of dust. “y/n, hey! l/n, you need a ride or what?”

the truck stops, pulls off the side of the road and then you’re hearing a door slam and cringing, face crinkling as you realise you should’ve just said no. shouted it, even.

cole walter jogs up to you. he knows your house is quite far away. too far away to be walking. he calls to you again but you’re still walking forward. he places his hand on your shoulder. you know he’s there. you know he’s beside him and still you fucking flinch. the second time today and you're feeling pathetic. you shouldn’t be–really shouldn’t be. it’s not your fault that people can’t seem to respect the concept of personal space, not your fault that your trust has been violated, shredded and spat out, so many times that touch makes you jump. makes you want to jump, or crawl, your way out of your own skin. you flip your headphones down, letting them fall around your neck, but turning your music up a few clicks so you can still hear it. music is your vice, but no one’s complaining because it’s better than alcohol or drugs or, i don't know, being an asshole–you do that too. unintentionally sometimes. like now.

“what?” you snap. on the defensive.

cole isn’t surprised by your flinching. You were dead to the world, listening to music so loud he could hear it from where he stood paces away from you. if he were you–if it was your hand that had sat down onto his shoulder and surprised him he probably would have shouted. he caught you off guard, he was sorry. both of his hands stuck up in the air. “that’s my bad. sorry for scaring you.”

“sorry for–” you guess he did scare you. in a way. “it’s fine. what are you doing here?” you take your time looking at cole. his sharp jaw, full lips, his blue eyes. usually you hate that colour, but on him? it’s not so bad.

“offering you a ride. youe place is pretty far from here, yeah?”

“it is but i like walking.”

“walking is fine and all, but it’s getting colder and it gets dark around five now. by the time you make it home it’ll be past that. my truck has heat, comfy seats, and i’ll even let you have aux.”

you’re not a stranger to the effect cole walter has on everyone. not at all. when he smiles at you, you feel your cheeks warm. you’re an idiot for not taking him up on that offer. your feet already ache and your legs burn.

some things hurt more, though.

actions, all of them, have consequences.

“i’m fine, cole. but thank you. you’re sweet.”

he shakes his head. you aren’t walking anymore, instead, stopped on the side of the road just waiting. this conversation, it’s going places. places you don’t like. “i can’t let you walk home alone. not in good conscience.”

he’s jogging back to his truck and pulling up beside you. he’s leaning over the centre console and pushing the door open. leaning over further, and helping you up, not starting to drive again until your seatbelt is buckled. if only that was the least of your worries. if. only.

“so what do you want to play?”

you plug in your phone and queue up your playlist. a sad song blasts and you hit skip very quickly, not missing the questioning look cole sends you. you laugh, “don’t tell me you’ve never listened to sad music while you’re reading.”

“i don’t read much, and most of the music i listen to is because of the lyrics. those ones were… dark.”

choosing to disregard most of his statement, you echoed his words back to him. “you don’t read much?”

“alex reads a lot. you two would get along.”

“shared interests aren’t everything. we don’t have much in common but i enjoy your company and danny and i click and we both hate each other's favourite tv show with a passion.”

“what show is that?” you tell him and he grins. “that’s my favourite too–seriously. we should get together and watch it sometime.”

“i’d love that!” so, shared interests aren’t everything, but they’re certainly something. you smile for a couple more kilometres and then it gets harder. when you see the sign with your civic on it, you know that the ride, no matter how awesome it was, and how much fun you had, wasn’t worth it.

you hop out of the truck–cole offered to walk you to the door but you denied, knowing you were already in for it. “thank you, though.”

He nodded. “i can give you a ride tomorrow, too. anytime you need one, really. just ask–or get danny to. I really don’t mind.” you smile. thank him again and climb out of the truck. you walk confidently until he pulls out of the long driveway and onto the road. then you sigh, and it’s because of cole’s conscience that you get home before it’s dark enough for you to slip in unnoticed.

you pause on the porch. you don’t want to go in, but you don’t have a choice. not really. what are your other options? run off into the woods and let yourself be some colorado woodland creature’s lunch? knowing what’s coming, it doesn’t sound too bad. you open the door and nearly sob when the wind slams it shut behind you.

your heart beats hard in your chest like your father’s boots do on the floor. “where the hell have you been! days, gone for days. you couldn’t call, couldn’t fucking text,” with each word, most of them slurred, he storms closer. it’s not even suppertime and his eyes are glassed over with that familiar film, his breath a pungent reminder, as obvious as the one in his hand, of what he’s been drinking all day. your mother is behind him in the hallway, puffing on a cigarette, uninterested. “there’s no respect! ya here the brat? thinking they run the place. comin’ and goin without a care.”

“i don’t–i know i don’t run the place.”

“damn right you don’t!” the half empty–you’ve never been a glass-half-full type of person, not growing up in this–bottle of beer come flying at the wall. it hits just above your head, the liquid and brown pieces of glass falling all over you.

“look what you made me do now! gone and spilled m’drink.”

you had taken your converse off at the door. always being yelled at for trekking in mud and dirtying the floor, the hurried steps you take backwards, hurt. your dad is wearing work boots, steel toe, but the only thing between you and the broken glass is a thin pair of socks. your skin splits. the light blue fabric on your feet turns dark red.

you whimper and each step hurts more than the last. then you bump into the wall. “dad, please.”

“calling me tha’ like you think it’ll make me forgive you. fuck,” he throws a glance over his shoulder. “how’d we make something so… so pathetic?”

your mom shrugs, like she hasn’t a clue, either.

“dad, please. i’m sorry, okay? i’ll call next time.”

“there won’t be a fucking next time! get your shit and get out. all we do for you, all we do and you’re still impossible. keep you fed, clothed, give you a place to sleep and just get attitude, attitude, and disrespect. i’m done being disrespected. done!”

“you can’t just kick me out! i have nowhere to go.” you yell. you yelled. you yelled. oh god. oh hell. oh shit. you see his leg rear back and you go to jump out of the way. you’ve already been kicked out–you just need to get out, and quickly. you jump over his leg but then his fist is wrapped in your hair and you’re falling. then the boot you dodged is slamming into you side. again, again, again. tears are streaming down your face. you’re sobbing.

then he’s picking you up by your shirt. lifting you, dragging you. he opens the door, grabs your bag, your shoes, and throws them outside. then, then he throws you. you land on the porch, body aching and pressing into the hardwood.

the door slams and you’re still sobbing. you’re pretty sure that your new mantra is ‘fuck’. it’s what you repeat over and over again as you drag yourself up and away from the front door. You need to get away, you need to get away. You really need to. creating distance between you and that door, you and those people, is priority.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.”

running isn’t really in the cards for you. you limp away and don’t miss your mother peering out the kitchen window. you guess that from her perspective you do look pathetic. but no more pathetic than your dad, the grown man who had to hurt you to feel powerful and get his point across. your pace is terrible but the darker it gets, the further you get. you’re in the woods now, with no idea where exactly you are and not much supplies. maybe you will end up as woodland creature dinner. there’s not much you can do to help it now. you think about calling someone and then you realise your phone isn’t in your bag. you start to shake. choked laughter bubbles it’s way out of your throat. you’re laughing and then the hysterics shift and you’re sobbing. arms wrapped tightly around yourself you cry for what must be hours.

later, slumped against a tree trunk you decide to tackle your feet. one problem at a time, one shard at a time. you pluck pieces out of your skin and the blood makes you feel nauseous. when the job is done, you slide your socks back on, and walk towards the sound that comforts you most. Rushing water. you find a river, and kneel at its edge. you wash your socks, yourself, and dry on a stone in the sun. you scrub the dirt and grime from your feet. when your socks are mostly dry and the cuts have stopped gushing blood, you put on your shoes and lace them up. then you follow the river. you’ll reach town soon enough. your face isn’t marred, just the rest of you, all hidden beneath layers of clothes–a long sleeve, a flannel, blue jeans.

ideally, you’ll find danny.

you don’t live in an ideal world. the boy you find is not danny but he wants something you can give and has something you need–a place to sleep. you do so without clothes, lying next to him. What you did was in the dark, would stay that way, because before he woke, before you were made to converse with the nameless boy, you dressed and snuck out. the walk of shame was just that, shameful. you felt horrendous. your body still hurt and you found yourself walking into a cafe you knew haley, will’s wife worked at.

asking for handouts made your stomach sour but you couldn’t do much else.

haley was scrubbing down a table when you approached her. “hey, haley.”

“y/n, hey, how’s it going?” then she turned to you and realised, not good. that it was not going good. you shot her a flattened smile. “i really hate to ask. like, i really really do, but i haven’t eaten in a bit and was wondering–”

“yeah, yes. of course. just have a seat, i’ll grab you… do you have any dietary restrictions?” you answer her, and when she comes back, handing you a wrapped meal you thank her profusely. “is there anything you need done around here? i appreciate this so much, but i don’t want to take advantage. i can clean–i’m not a great cook but I can make coffee.”

“you don’t need to do anything. you aren’t taking advantage. not at all. is there anything else i can do for you? anyone i can call? your parents?”

fear fills your eyes and perceptive as ever, she catches it. “not them, please.” is what you whisper. haley nods, disappears behind the counter and makes a phone call. then, she dotes on you for the next ten minutes until wil pulls up outside. he comes in, walks over to your table and sits down across from you.

you’re pretty sure you’ve been caught. the ruse, it’s very much up.

“what’s going on, y/n?”

you shrug and sip at the hot chocolate haley made for you. “well, come on. you don’t have to say anything right now but let’s get you home.” you stand, ready to go anywhere but, and will stops you. “my parent’s home, danny’s. katherine knows you’re coming. come on, kid.”

you follow him to the car. most of the drive is silent, but you thank him when the walter’s house homes into view and katherine is waiting outside on the porch with a smile. up the few stairs, and you head straight for her. you’re grateful for her gentle nature, because as you throw your arms around her and squeeze, she simply rests hers on your back, rubbing soothing circles. “they–they kicked me out.”

she takes a minute to respond, only because she finds this hard to process. you were a good kid, a great one, and she, having so many of her own, couldn’t think of a single thing that would make her abandon or discard one of her own children. “you’ll stay with us then.” it isn’t a question and you’re glad because how would you have answered? your mouth is dry but your eyes aren’t.

you sit in danny’s room. he isn’t home from school yet but he will be soon. katherine and george are upstairs making room for you. you feel like a burden, they assure you that you are not.

you’re waiting for danny, only he isn't who makes it home first. it’s cole. he walks in, tosses his bag down onto the bed, none the wiser that there’s another person in the room. his back faces you and he’s rifling through a drawer when he hears you hiccup. he turns around quickly. Sees you, crying in his brother's bed and immediately his brows are furrowed. “y/n?” he walks closer. the bed is near to the ground so he drops onto his knees. he’s close to you know but he’s made himself less intimidating. “y/n/n? hey.”

“hi Cole.”

“are you okay?”

“i’ve been better.”

cole doesn’t ask, he doesn’t push. instead he opens his laptop, logs into his netflix and puts on the favourite show you both discussed watching together. when the two of you are settled. him on the floor, face resting on the mattress, where you’re curled up in a blanket that belongs to his brother, he breaks the silence. “do you want me to get danny?”

“where is he?”

“he’s with erin at the school. i think they’re going over details for the production. but i can go get him if you need him. do you need him?”

you shake your head. as danny’s best friend you were the biggest ‘derin’ shipper there was. plus, cole was here. he made things okay. “no, no thanks. i don’t really want you to go anywhere if that’s okay?”

“that’s more than okay, but i will say, my bed is comfier.”

you smile for the first time in a bit, looking at the uncomfortable position he has himself in. “yeah? well, we should definitely watch this, over there then.”

“my thoughts exactly.” cole grabs the laptop, grabs you, still wrapped in the blanket he tells himself he’ll replace from the linen closet, and carries both over to his bed. you squeal a bit and bite back a real whimper when his hand touches what you know has to be a massive bruise, sitting you down.

you fall asleep, leaning against him. he pauses the show, closes his laptop, and promises to resume it when you’re awake to watch it with him. then he sends a threatening text to his brother, danny.

COLE: Y/n/n has had a rough day and is sleeping in our room

COLE: Wake her up and you’ll get hit

DANNY: is she okay??? ALSO since when do you call her y/n/n???

COLE: I’ll see you later

COLE: Tell Erin hi for me

DANNY: fuck off

george and katherine didn’t receive that same threatening text but when they peeked into the room to check on you and found you cuddled up against cole, snoring lightly, and looking peaceful they left you be. your room was ready and in the morning you moved into it. your clothes were dirty and katherine washed them for you but in the meantime… well it was her dresses or… or what you went with.

you knocked your fist against the door and cole opened it, shirtless.

“hey cole,” look at his face. just his face. only his face.

“hey y/n. What can i help you with?”

your hand flew to the back of your neck which you rubbed awkwardly. “can i, uh… would you mind if I borrowed a pair of jeans and a belt?” cole chuckled, then realised you were completely serious. then he gave you the jeans. then the belt. “need a shirt too?”

you laughed, cheeks stained pink. “i wouldn’t mind…”

he handed you the plain black one in his hand. “riding with me to school?”

“if i’ve got shotgun.”

“‘course.” he said, grinning.

you headed upstairs and got changed. the pants were big but with the belt, and them cuffed they fit alright. then, came the shirt. it fell mid thigh but once you tucked it in a bit it didn’t look too terrible. you brushed your hair, your teeth, and headed downstairs. george looked at you with wide eyes and you shrugged, “i don’t really like dresses?”

katherine sighed. “we’ll get you some clothes after school.”

“from the thrift store!” you amended.

she rolled her eyes but agreed anyway. then, you were sitting beside cole on the way to school, during the one class you shared, and at lunchtime. you weren’t ditching danny, just his time was split between you and erin now. they started dating. they were sweet, good for and to, each other.

you’d only been living with the walters for two days, but everything was great. until cole invited you to the lake house. two coolers had you feeling buzzed and when it was your first turn, playing ‘truth or dare’, you picked truth and ended up faced with a question you didn’t want to answer. so you turned, and pressed your lips to cole’s. his lips parted in surprise, but then he kissed you back, tongue slipping into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. his hands flew to cup your face, your eyes were shut, and you were feeling things. until someone whistled and another yelled: “get a room!”

next round, you were three coolers in and ballsy enough to pick dare. “i dare you to jump into the lake!”

you rolled your eyes. like that was difficult. sure, it was a bit chilly, but you’d been in the river days ago. rushing water compared to water the sun had beat down on all day was nothing. you grinned, and ran to the edge of the dock, canon-balling and sending water flying everywhere. when you surfaced you saw the asshole who wore cole’s jersey shaking water out of his hair like a dog. you grinned, and started to swim back over when you saw something that caused you to sober up quickly. the foundation and powder you had painted on top of the hand shaped bruise on your arm had worn off. gone. It was gone and fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.

when you didn’t get out of the water immediately cole was curious. when your face reflected horror, he was concerned.

“you good?” you weren’t. he walked over to the edge and dipped his hand in. the water was freezing. “come on out, you’ll get sick.”

you shook your head, plastering a clearly fake smile on your face. “my immune system is really strong and i want to swim! i’ll be fine cole, gonna go that way.” you make a gesture with your head and begin to paddle in that general direction. away from the lakehouse, away from the people, away from the party. away from cole—or, you tried to get away from cole. he walked on the bank, steps matching your strokes as he followed you. “get out of the water, y/n.” you were still swimming, and now cole was having to duck under and climb over branches and bushes to continue following. now, you couldn’t even hear the people at the lake house.

“no thank you.”

“don’t be stubborn. this was—it was funny thirty minutes ago! It’s lost the charm. just get out, we’ll go back and…”

“i don’t want to go back.”

“then we’ll go home. would that make you happy? we can leave, we don't have to go back to school, i can take you home.”

“i want to stay in the water, cole.”

“y/n, just get out of the fucking lake. it’s not that hard! i don’t understand why you won’t—“

you’re in waist deep water and all of you is submerged until it isn’t. you stand up quickly. teats sting your eyes and emotion clogs your throat. “you don’t understand, huh?” your voice breaks, shatters, and cracks. “does this help? do you see why when i say i want to keep swimming, i mean it? do you see why i want to stay in the water cole?”

he sees something. he sees bruises on your arms. deep purple handprints put there by too big hands and with too much force—force that never should have been used on you. he’s blinking, his eyes are seeing but his mind isn’t thinking, not fast enough.

“do you see?!” you’re shouting now, sobbing too. “because the makeup washed off and now you can see it. bow everyone can. everyone will see and then they’ll report it and i’ll end up in the system in an equally shitty situation! cole,” another wave of sobs interrupts, “cole don’t make me get out of the water.” he doesn’t, he climbs in with you. water soaks his boots, the bottoms of his jeans, you hear it slosh as he takes large steps and closes the distance between you both. “y/n/n.”

“what?” it’s a sob, a plea.

“we’re going to get out of the lake. i’m going to walk you through the woods, out to the road and then i’m going to go get my truck. i’ll be ten minutes tops. i’ll grab my hoodie too.”

“it’s… it’s back on the chair.”

“the red one, i know.”

“okay…”

cole keeps his word, but after five minutes you hear his truck. it stops, he hops out. he sets the hoodie on top of you and you shimmy into it. “No one will see, no one you don’t want to know, will know. but y/n, you will never go back there, okay? not to that house, not ever, because if you go, i’m following, and the things i do, most authorities will not agree with.”

“i don’t ever want to go back there.”

“you won’t ever have to.”

“thank you.”

“don’t thank me for helping you with something that never should’ve happened. we’ll get you some ice as soon as we’re home.” cole cranks the heat up and angles the fans to point your way.

he opens your door for you and walks closely behind you. no one else is home—katherine and george both working and the others at school. cole raids the freezer for anything remotely icey and heads up to your room. he makes a pit-stop to grab his laptop and some snacks from a drawer none of his brothers would ever know about. he steals the blanket you like off of danny’s bed too—the soft one with the blue plaid.

you both watch the show, he looks concerned when you press the frozen peas to your side too. you lift your shirt, show him the damage and he freezes. “ugly, huh?”

“nothing about you has ever been ugly, y/n/n but jesus, maybe we should go to a hospital.”

“flattery will get you everywhere cole but there’s no denying i looked like van gogh fucked up starry night��and no hospital. they’d like immediately call someone. plus i think they’re just bruised and not broken so that’s good.”

“i’m sorry that this happened to you.”

“oh don’t do that. i hate when people apologise for things that aren’t their fault.”

“can i apologise for danny, then? for him not realising what was happening sooner?” cole asked. people weren’t perfect, you realised that then, cole having said the first thing that genuinely upset you. this was no one’s fault. No one but your scum of the earth parent’s.

“no. danny didn’t do anything wrong. i didn’t want him to know and usually i’m good at hiding these things.” a bitter laugh, and: “usually.”

“i blame the alcohol, but, i guess it’s nice that you know.”

“i’m glad i know.”

and he is. he carries your bag, your books, even goes thrifting with you and katherine. “i like this one,” he’d said, holding up a shirt that barely had any fabric to it. you rolled your eyes for the fiftieth time and picked out a baggy graphic tee shirt instead.

at school he walks you to and from your classes. he sits with you at lunch and helps you come up with excuses—none so awesome that they work without the grin and charm he lays on your pe teacher.

weeks later, your bruises were healed, and to the blind eye, the only indication you’d been abused was the occasional flinching. cole tended to call out his moves before he made them, especially if you weren’t sure exactly where he was. your arguments–few and far between, seriously, the only thing you’d argued about so far was where you went for lunch, were had with calm voices and distance between the two of you. cole was perfect. he never caught you off guard, he was just always there.

wouls see you getting anxious and move closer. “i’m going to hold your hand,” he’d whisper. when you needed someone to talk to it was always him because he was always there.

then, one night, the two of you were sitting on that same blue plaid blanket. the one you loved–the one cole had paid danny $40 for. you were both staring up at the same stars, both wondering the same thing: when had you become so close? you weren’t sure if there was a turning point, a particular defining moment, but cole had taken danny’s place in your heart as ‘best friend’. cole had done that and more. he was more to you than that. he baked your favourite pastry, would go just about anywhere with you, and he made you smile. he made you feel safe. he had told no one your secret–but katherine and george had a clue, enough of one that they welcomed you with open arms and seldomly raised their voices. enough of one, that for that first few weeks, the ice was always restocked in the freezer.

they had an idea.

but cole knew. knew everything. knew and made you feel okay in spite of everything. he knew and still.. still looked at you like… like that. cole, he leaned in closer. you waited and listened. “i’m going to kiss you. because i want to. because i love you how you deserve to be loved. and not because of some truth or dare game.

“it wasn’t bad though, right? because i thought it was a pretty good ki–”

cole walter kept his word. he kissed you, and sure, the kiss at the lake house was good. this one was just better.

[apomaro-mellow]

CC Ransoms Steve 5

Part 4

Eddie hated being woken up and being woken up rudely made it even worse. "What the hell?!", he demanded to know when Doug pushed him to the floor.

"What the hell? You were supposed to be watching Harrington, that's the hell!"

"He's right th-", Eddie pointed to the couch, which was now devoid of their meal ticket. "Oh."

Doug crossed his arms. "Check the kitchen."

Eddie scrambled to his feet and did just that, only just now noticing the smell of breakfast cooking. And there was Steve, standing in front of the stove like he owned the place. Then he pointed an accusatory finger at Gareth and Jeff, already seated and eating.

"Traitors!"

"Hey, it's my house. These pancakes are my property", Gareth said.

Eddie had half a mind to smash his face into those hot cakes. "You made everyone breakfast?", he asked Steve instead.

"I made myself breakfast. I just happened to make too much and these vultures scavenged it", Steve said, flipping a pancake one handed. Showoff.

Eddie didn't doubt that they did in fact scavenge. Who could resist fresh, hot breakfast on a cold winter morning? Instead of asking Steve anymore though, he turned to Doug.

"What was that rude awakening for, he's right here!"

"Not the point. You fell asleep watching him. Have you never heard of taking shifts? You didn't wake any of us up to give you a break", Doug said.

Eddie rolled his eyes just as Steve handed him a plate of pancakes, bacon, and eggs.

"Eat", Steve said. "Big plans today."

Eddie got away without confessing that he'd spent way too much time staring at Steve's sleeping face. The guy had good genes, he could admit that. He stuffed his face to keep from saying so though as the rest of them decided on the specifics of the plan. The house was empty now and they needed the money as soon as possible. So they bundled up and left right after finishing breakfast.

"No weight tied to my leg? No shackles? You're not even gonna tie me up?", Steve asked as they piled into the van.

"Don't tempt me, Harrington", Eddie said as he started her up.

They drove to the next neighborhood and parked right in the driveway. Eddie sighed. "So we just walk in the front door and take whatever we want? Easy enough."

"Well, no, we don't just walk in", Steve said. "I don't have my keys."

"What do you mean you don't have your keys?", Jeff frowned.

"Someone jumped me at school and I dropped them", Steve shot back.

"You don't have a spare under the welcome mat or something?", Gareth asked.

Steve rolled his eyes like that was a ridiculous notion. "No, I don't. You guys are amateur kidnappers, but doesn't any one of you know how to break into a place?"

Eddie sighed. "Alright, let's head to the back."

Behind the house, Steve almost warned Eddie to not smash the glass of the back door, only to see him pull out a small kit from his coat pocket. Within a minute, the back door was opened. He bowed and held an arm out for Steve.

"After you."

"...Impressive." Steve walked in, knocking some of the snow off of his shoes before going too deep inside. "Just take anything that looks important. NOT the TV", he said quickly, noting how Gareth was already eyeing it.

"Alright, Jeff, you go through the kitchen. Silver, fine china, you got an eye for that stuff. Doug, to the basement. Gareth, living room is yours, but not the TV", Eddie said, giving Steve a look.

"Where are you going?", Jeff asked.

"Upstairs with the man of the house. Gotta make up for not keepin' an eye on him before", Eddie grinned. "Come on Steve-o!"

Steve stuck his hands in his pockets and led the way up, taking Eddie straight to his parents' room. Eddie whistled. It sure did look like the bedroom of people who were pretty well off. Mr. Harrington had a bunch of nice watches on display. A couple of cologne bottles too. Mrs. Harrington had one of those hand displays for her rings.

Eddie looked at Steve. "You're just gonna let us take this stuff?"

"I said I would, didn't I?" Steve was leaning against the wall by the door.

"And you're not gonna call the cops on us right after?"

"If I do, you'll tell them I'm the one that robbed that convenience store."

Eddie chuckled. "Lifting a few beers is hardly the same as breaking and entering and grand theft."

"You saying you need something else on me?" Steve raised a brow and crossed his arms.

"It wouldn't hurt to have a little more dirt on King Steve", Eddie shrugged, stepping closer to him.

Steve looked him up and down. "I know you were staring at me all night."

Eddie froze in his tracks. "Staring? Or guarding?"

Steve didn't respond at first. He didn't take his eyes off of Eddie as he closed the bedroom door. "I know about you. What they say about you."

People said a lot of things about him. But Steve didn't seem to mind the criminal side. And he'd yet to poke any fun at any of them for being apart of a club that played games. Eddie could only think of one other thing.

"Maybe...maybe they'd say that about me too... If they knew", Steve said.

Eddie felt his mouth go dry. "Yeah? How do you even know it's true about me?"

"I saw you. Behind this bar one time."

"Steve Harrington goes to bars?", Eddie smirked.

"I was next door. But when I came outside, I saw...", he trailed off and Eddie didn't need him to finish. He could imagine. Eddie frequented bars for band, business, and booze. And sometimes, there was someone of a similar inclination. And if the bathroom was occupied, the alley way it was.

"What would the people of Hawkins say if they knew Steve Harrington wasn't what he appeared to be?" Eddie began walking towards him again, only stopping when they were at last, toe to toe. "They might run him out of town. If it was true, that is."

Steve leaned in closer. "Wanna see if it's true?"

Eddie missed Steve glancing down at his lips only because he was staring at Steve's. When he looked back up, he saw a light in his eyes and closed the space between them. Steve's hands went right to his hair, pulling him in even closer as they devoured each others mouths. Eddie pressed Steve to the wall and the layers between their bodies were suddenly unbearable.

They started by removing their coats and Steve turned them to lead Eddie towards the bed. Steve fell backwards, pulling Eddie on top and their kissing resumed. Just slightly more controlled this time. Steve licked into his mouth and Eddie's hand was already trying to get under his sweater.

Eddie groaned as Steve's leg slid between his own. The fact that they were making out in his parents' bedroom wasn't lost on him. It made it all hotter honestly.

And then the doorbell rang.

Part 6

Taglist

@tinyplanet95 @dammitjim02 @chaotic-waffle @missarte-beltane @im-sam-fucking-winchester

@persnicketysquares @estrellami-1 @spookycollectorcandies @chocolateraccoonlights @exasperatedsighohmy

@disrespectedgoatman @yesdangerpls @me-ig7 @imaginary-maggie-waggie

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Healer (Chapter Five)

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood and fighting, slightly angsty

It was fourth year now. Last year felt like you really made progress with Mattheo. He was opening up more, you caught a few smiles from him. Though, they were mostly at the expense of someone else, but he wasn’t so closed off anymore. He always gladly accepted the sweets you gave him when you came back from Hogsmeade, still never daring to tell you he hated them.

The fights and trouble-making didn’t seem to end, though. In fact, it seemed to get worse at times. He would never tell you about them either, you always had to find out through other people or when you’d see him covered in new injuries.

Today, you were walking to the Great Hall when you found Mattheo bloodied and injured outside in the courtyard, sitting on the ground against the tree. He was hissing in pain as he smoked, but otherwise, showed no indication that he was hurting. Everyone else either didn't notice him, or was too scared to approach him and headed to the Great Hall for dinner. You decided to check on him instead, coming up from beside him.

“What happened?” You asked, standing a few feet away from him.

He looked up at you as he exhaled some smoke. “Got into a fight.” He said simply, almost monotone.

“Are you in pain?” You asked, kneeling in front of him, ignoring the cold of the snow on the ground on your knees.

“What do you think?” He responded in a frustrated tone before sighing, closing his eyes for a moment. “Yes, I am.”

“Let's get you back to your dorm and get you cleaned up.” You said, standing up and offering a hand to help him up.

He looked at your hand for a few seconds before standing up without your help and dropping the cigarette, stepping on it to put it out. He started walking, wincing and leaning a hand on the tree to steady himself. He sighed again and clenched his jaw.

“Here. I got you.” You said, coming up to his side and wrapping an arm around his back to help steady him.

He didn't look happy, but he let you guide him back to his dorm, even if you had to stop a few times.

You finally got to his dorm and guided him over to the connected bathroom, making him sit on the toilet seat. He sat down with a heavy sigh, leaning his head back as you scoured his cabinets for a first-aid kit.

“Under the sink, behind the towels.” He said without looking at you.

You grabbed the first-aid kit and placed it on the counter beside him, grabbing the antiseptic and a cotton pad. “This is gonna sting. I’m sorry.” You said, putting antiseptic on the cotton pad before placing it gently against a cut on his cheek. He let out a wince and you apologized again. “I’m sorry. You know, we wouldn’t have to do this if you didn’t keep getting into fights.” You say with a small sigh, moving onto another cut.

“I know.” He muttered, looking down, refusing to meet your eyes this whole time.

“You’re not gonna stop, though, huh?”

“Probably not.” He shrugged.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? You’re so stupid. It’s like you’re intentionally getting hurt. What would’ve happened if I didn’t find you?” You’ve never really gotten upset at him, never insulted him, never criticized his choices, and now here you were, ridiculing him.

He finally looked at you, silent for a moment. You were so sure he was upset at you, pulling your hand back from his face as you looked back at him, waiting for him to tell you to get out.

“You don’t have to care about me, you know? I’m aggressive, and a dick. No one really likes me. The boys barely tolerate me. I get into fights what feels like more often than not. You don’t have to take care of me.” He said, looking between your eyes.

“I know. I’m not caring about you or healing you out of obligation. I’m doing this because I want to. Also, those boys do more than tolerate you. You can be a dick, but they all do love you and care about you. You know that, right? And it’s not out of obligation either.” You didn’t look away, having a small staredown with him.

“So you just care about me out of pity or something? You have no reason to care about me. And how would you even know what those guys feel? They could hate me and hide it. They could pity me too because I have no one else but them, so they tolerate me. They could just be tolerating my bullshit.”

“They’re not friends out of pity, Mattheo. They aren’t the type to go out of their way because of pity. If they didn’t like you, you would know it. And I don’t need a reason to care about you. I don’t care about you out of pity. I just care about you.”

He shook his head, looking to the side with a sigh. “That’s such bullshit.”

You took a deep breath through your nose before cupping his face gently to turn his head back to you, making him meet your eyes. “I promise it’s not. I’m telling the truth. I care about you. Those boys care about you. We’re not just tolerating you.”

“How do I know that?” He asked quietly. You could see a hint of sadness behind his eyes.

“You don’t. You just gotta trust us.” You replied just as quietly as him.

“Yeah, trust isn’t exactly something I’m good at.” He let out a huff, pulling his head back from your hands.

“I know. But I mean it. I’m telling the truth. Have I ever lied to you?” You asked, dropping your hands to your sides.

He was quiet for a moment, looking down. “No. No, you haven’t.”

“So trust me then, please?” You asked quietly, crouching down to meet his eyes without touching him.

He sighed softly. “Alright.”

You smiled at him before standing back up. “Let’s finish getting you cleaned up, yeah?”

He just nodded and looked back up at you, letting you clean and bandage his cuts in silence other than his small winces and your quiet apologies.

“How do you feel?” You asked once you were done, packing up the first-aid kit.

“Like hell.” He said, watching you.

“Well, maybe some rest will help fix that.” You said, putting the first-aid kit back in the cabinet.

“Do you wanna go to the Yule Ball with me?” He asked suddenly and you tried getting up quickly, hitting your head on the counter.

“What?” You asked, looking at him as you rubbed the back of your head.

“Do you wanna go to the Yule Ball with me?” He repeated, keeping his normal expression.

“I, uh-” You stood up, looking at him in confusion. “Um, yeah. I’d love to.” You nodded.

“You alright? Didn’t hit your head too hard?” He asked, standing up to look at the back of your head.

“I’m fine. Just a little bump.” You said to reassure him.

“Good.”

“How’s your leg? You were limping earlier.” You asked.

“It’ll be fine before the ball if that’s what you’re asking.” He said, and it was hard to tell if that was a joke or not.

“I mean now. Is it alright?” You asked, frowning slightly as you turned your head to look at him.

You saw the faintest smile on his face. “It’ll be fine in a few days.” He said, turning to leave the bathroom. “Come on. You don’t wanna miss dinner, princess.”

“Two years later and you’re still using that pet name. Are you ever gonna drop it?” You asked with a small smile, following after him.

“Probably not.”

“Fine then. I’m calling you Matty from now on.”

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff @leandre2006

@yours-truly-5 @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121 @leovaldezsbitch

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddleluvbot @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15

@jolly4holly @st0n3dbarbi3 @kurumbukaari @whydoireadanymore @sweet-afternoon

@ilovehpb0ys @satosugu4-ever @rcailleachcola @mattiesgirl

@alwayslatetothefandoms @satosugu4-ever @whydoireadanymore @dustie-faerie @mcdonaldshelppage

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@hereticdance @cindyss @saint-marvel @atadoddinnit

@simpforromance @yours-truly-5 @kenjikishimotoswifey @fallingblackveils @simpforromance

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@lhotse8801 @eneywey @suna-rintired @maxsisly @ur-local-wizard

@notavailibles-world @tantrumbaby

[idanceuntilidie]

i also like that you're rly friendly with requesters:DD

+ idrk how you are doing but remember to take care of your health and improve ur memory unlike me>:...

<33!

Hi thanks! I like my anons and generally everyone so yeah :D I also like being nice

I decided to add ur request to this response so there would be a bigger chance u see that I have finally done ur request! I am sorry it took so long and well enjoy!

this person agreed to make the reader gender neutral!

YAN CHEATER X GN READER

warning/s; yandere behaviours and acts, stalking, mentions of kidnapping and forcing one to be dependent on the other

requests are still open

You grimace looking at your phone. Seen. Of course it was seen, he wouldn't even try to reply. You are hurt. Naturally you try texting again and even calling. You are worried and hell you could be even mad at him but you can’t bring yourself to.

A small thought blossoms in your head.

No, he couldn’t have, right? Of course he couldn’t, he swore he wouldn’t cheat again. He stayed home as much as he could, he worked harder. He became sweet and when “those” times happened he became sweeter. You are stupid, maybe desperate but you can’t be mad forever no? That would be stupid.

You bit your thumb, that small little thought was growing roots. What would you do if he in fact did that again? You stopped, the question danced in front of you laughing in your face. Shit, what would you do? Forgive? A metallic taste fills your senses. Of course you would.

The music blasts loudly, it makes your head spin. You only came to the party since you thought he would come. He didn’t.

You were so deep in your thoughts you didn’t notice someone approaching you.

“Jesus you! What in the world are you doing?”

Someone grabbed your now bleeding hand. You are hurt, odd, you didn’t notice.

“Ginger?”

Ginger grimaced at the sight of blood. Personally you liked the color, but that is beside the point. They sighed, looked at you with disappointment and dragged you back to the loudest place on earth that currently exists; her house. That’s right, you were at a party before you decided to try and get Ciaran here.

You almost forgot.

„You can’t be so careless, what were you doing outside?”

You aren’t sure you want to answer, Ginger has a very short temper. She hates Ciaran with every fiber of her being, hell, she hated him ever since you introduced him to her. At first you didn’t understand why, then those accidents happened. That answered a lot but still you couldn’t get angry at your boyfriend, naturally you forgave him very easily. Ginger said you let him walk over you and maybe she was right.

„I thought Ciaran came since he didn’t reply”

Ginger frowned. You could feel your stomach knot, it felt sickening.

„You, listen, I know you love the guy but look how he is treating you.”

You shamefully looked at the ground as Ginger was dragging you through an overwhelming group of people that had fun. Your stop was at the bathroom where Ginger began to look through the cabinets for the first aid kit.

„I know but-„

„Oh stop it, I really had enough of that fucker. He is destroying you from the inside!”

She huffed as she tried reaching for the very thing she was looking for on the highest shelf. You helped.

„As much as I like you, I can’t just stay here and nod to whatever bullshit he is spewing. He is probably fucking some fucker right now. People who cheat once, do it again.”

She took care of your bleeding thumb. It was a little rough but you could tell she was so annoyed. Not at you of course, at Ciaran. That didn’t make you feel better.

Ginger was right, and that made you feel like shit.

You can’t sleep.

Your once cosy house felt unfamiliar, threatening. You felt like you didn’t know where you are.

Every creak, shadow and murmur made you question if you were truly alone. Were you? You hoped.

It’s been a month since you kicked Ciaran out. You dropped him, like he did you everytime he decided to sleep with some random asshole. He fucked around and found out, the irony.

You couldn’t say you have gotten rid of him completely. He was everywhere, seeing him made you physically unwell. Ginger had to take care of you.

He blew up your phone with messages, photos. He sent you gifts that were still probably rotting outside since you haven’t even tried to move them. Ginger said that they smelled like rotten meat. You didn’t want her to clean that. She has done too much for you already.

There was one time, you recall, few weeks ago when you considered murder. Would it really be that since you only wanted to protect yourself whe he was banging on the door? He was too focused on those to smash any windows luckily.

His screams fill your head now and then.

You swipe the sweat from your forehead. It’s hot.

„Come back!” he yelled, wailing. He sounded like an animal that was getting its stomach slashed. „I was so stupid, look, look! I changed! don’t you believe me?” You didn’t know what the change was, he blocked those people on his phone or told them to fuck off? Why does it matter if he would just come back to them?

You would wail, weak in the knees, your lips dried and sore. „Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone.” Like a mantra, a prayer. You weren’t really religious but would some deity take him away? If that would be the case you would kneel and pray until you fell unconscious.

You feel like you are overreacting. It’s funny. Your eyes wander to the corner of your room. There was someone sitting on the chair next to your desk. They were sprawled out on your chair, you smiled.

„Ginger?” you rasp out. „Did you seriously fall asleep while you were supposed to watch over me?” You kind of regret taking that nap, even if you felt slightly better.

Ginger didn’t reply, you can’t hear her breathe.

Despite your body yelling at you to stay in bed you get up to turn on the light. That usually woke Ginger up but when you turned it on, the silence remained. Slowly you turned around and were met with the sight of blood. It blossomed on the carpet, Gingers t-shirt. Your eyes slowly followed the source, someone slashed her throat.

You felt sick, dizzy. The fever didn’t help, ir was so fucking hard to think.

You need to get out of here.

You want to turn around but someone graps you and hugs you very close. They stink of sweat and blood.

„Sorry honey, had to do something. Why Are you up? You are burning. Here I will help.”

A scream cought in your throat, painful. Who is that? Why did he kill Ginger?

You were turned around to face the killer. Ciaran. Fucking Ciaran. You wanted to scream, to cry or run. He only smiled as he swung at you, knocking your unconscious.

You wished you died that night.

[annie-creates]

The greatest mistake | Part 3

Pairing: Dain Aetos x Riorson reader

Genre: angst

Words: 2915

Note: Be aware there is a detailed description of self-harm. Get ready to feel some feelings in this long part. Please be aware not every detail might be completely true to the canon source material. Let me know what you think and if you want to be reminded for the last one!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

A month into the summer and everyone is still ignoring you. You’ve never seen Xaden hold a grudge this long, it would honestly almost impressed you, if his wrath wasn’t directed at you. The worst part was you were starting to see his point of view, and with the way he treated you, you started feeling like he’s right. Maybe you really weren’t worth even a glance to him. Maybe you weren’t worthy of your family’s name and role. Lucky for you you still had Violet and her friends, and your squad, but even surrounded by people you felt alone. You never knew how much you needed your family until you lost them all, only because of one stupid decision.

Things between you and Dain were strained. He tried to talk to you a few times, but you were adamant in not letting him back in. He hurt you beyond imagination and you didn’t know if you could ever forgive him. It was one thing to have the whole world hate you, but for your boyfriend, the one person who warmed their way into your guarded heart and you confided your deepest secrets and insecurities in them, to turn on you and twist a knife into your heart like the rest of them, that was a new level of pain you never wished to experience.

On one particularly hard evening, when you’re not spending the time with your squad, you pick up the switch blade with Tyrrendor emblems and your family’s crest engraved in the handle your father gave to you back when he started teaching you hunting. Would he even still want you to have it, or did you really tarnish his memory? You absentmindedly trace the relic lines on your forearm with the blade that leaves thin red line behind it, the pain taking over your psychological pain for a little bit. You breathed just a little bit clearer with the sting of the blade on your skin. Until there’s a harsh knock on your door and it swings open, showing Violet barging into your room without waiting for an invitation.

“Violet!” You shouted at her, hiding your arm and blade behind your back.

“What… are you doing?” She asks dumbfounded, her original reason for coming long forgotten as she watches you squirm, too embarrassed to meet her eyes.

“None of your business. What are you doing here.” You carefully fold your arms over your chest, hiding the droplets of blood into your shirt.

“You can’t do that. Let me see.” She demands, sitting on the bed in front of you.

You give her an annoyed look but reluctantly show her your arm, the relic having almost a perfect, angry red shadow on both sides of every line. It looked almost like a page in a coloring book, intricate design of dark black and bloody red. Violet examines your forearm before slowly letting it go, looking for a first aid kit instead. You lightly trace the lines with your fingers, imagining the scars that will accompany the already existing ones over the relic. You’ve learned it’s actually easier and less painful to cut the natural skin and not the tattoo in itself, as if the mark tried to fight back and hurt you for it at the same time.

“You can’t tell anyone.” You warn Violet as she starts to carefully clean and wrap your forearm. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

 “Fine, but you have to stop doing this. I thought you were feeling better.” She sighs after a minute of contently watching you without a word.

“It’s hard.” You admit quietly.

“But you have friends, and…” You talk over her not letting her finish.

“They’re your friends. And even with people around, even the whole damn quadrant, I still feel alone.” You concede.

“Xaden should know you’re feeling like this.” She tries but shuts up at your angry look.

“Xaden doesn’t care. He hates me. I could die tomorrow and he wouldn’t even bet an eye, maybe would be even glad about it. Happy he doesn’t have to bother with me anymore.” You argue, tears stinging in your eyes.

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just…” Violet clearly realizes that what she was about to say wouldn’t make the situation better, but it was too late to take it back.

“Disappointed? Ashamed? Let down? Pissed off? Yeah, I know.” You turn your sight down. “No need to irritate him further.”

You knew, even when he hated you right now, there was always a way to disappoint him further, and this was definitely something that would achieve just that. Xaden never believed in self-blaming, not for other people at least. He would hardly be able to sympathize with you, he wouldn’t pity you. He’d see it as another sign of your own weakness.

“You need to find a real friend of yours. Just one. And I won’t tell.” Violet promises.

You think about her counter for a minute, clearly unsure of it. You weren’t that interested to be establishing any personal relationships now to be honest, but if it meant Violet would keep her mouth shut in front of your brother and anybody else, it was worth a try, right? You give her a look of uncertainty.

“It could be Rhiannon?” She offers.

“Nah, she’s your best friend. And she’s a little too nosy.” You shake your head.

“What about Ridoc?” Violet guesses next.

“He makes fun of everything. I could never talk to him, really. Not about anything serious.” You ponder.

“What about Sawyer then? He’s smart, funny but serious, and can listen very well.” Her eyes sparkle as if she just found the perfect partner to talk to for you.

You try to come up with something wrong about him to reject that offer too, but you come up empty handed. He was actually smart and nice to be around, you suppose. He was a year older than the rest of Violet’s group, which gave him a certain level of maturity above them, but he wasn’t a dry prick. Sawyer did sound like a safe friend option, all things considered.

“Fine, I’ll make Sawyer my friend.” You finally agree.

“Great!” Violet celebrates as she finishes safely wrapping your hand and then points at her work and warns you. “And no more of this.”

You can practically feel Violet watching you like a hawk for the next couple days. You also know Xaden has noticed her doing so too, if the pissed look he has on every time she doesn’t pay attention to him but watches you instead is anything to go by. So you make a show of sitting directly next to Sawyer at lunch or in your study sessions, you always ask him about topics you don’t fully understand and you even spar with him on the mat sometimes. All the effort just to show Violet that you’re trying and she doesn’t have to tell on you to your brother.

Relationships are good for you. Your dragon reminds you, as if he didn’t tell you almost daily.

Yeah, the ones with the people I considered closest worked out great. You sass back, feeling lucky you were good enough at shielding to not let him know about your bad habits.

You had a feeling your dragon would flip out at you for harming yourself, and he’d definitely complain to Sgaeyl, and Sgaeyl would tell on you to Xaden and your hard work of hiding everything would go out the window. Honestly trying to be friends with Sawyer felt less and less like a chore, he was really a bright guy who you felt a real interest from. You started enjoying the late afternoon picnics where he told you stories about his family and home, and you were willing to share some of your own for the first time by the setting sun.

The transformation into the new school year was full of expectations and quiet hum of curiosity. Everyone was less stressed over the summer, but that would change with the arrival of new cadets, classes and challenges. You tried to be present in the conversations, pay attention to the jokes and light teasing, but there was always the little voice in your head telling you you’re not worthy of the group you surround yourself with.

In the second week of challenges you get paired with a particularly harsh opponent, a third year known for sending most of those who counter him into the healers wing. You hold your own, countering his strikes and attacks, but as he swings at you and you doge, you don’t notice him pick up his dagger until it’s swinging at your face and you feel the sting of the blade cutting your face and eyelid as you try to move away, holding the side of your face with a guttural scream that has everyone in the gym stopping in their tracks.

 You kick him in the chest, both of you on the ground now. You don’t register much after that other than the primal drive to survive until the match is deemed tied and you’re stumbling back, holding half of your face in pain, until your back connects with a stone pillar. You’re hyperventilating, a panic attack rising in your chest as you clutch your eye, blood quickly dripping through your fingers. You hear Garrick, then Bodhi, and then even Xaden trying to coax you into slowing your breathing, but their touches only stress you more. Maybe a few months ago they’d be your saviors, but now they were nothing more than another deadly threat.

You don’t scream, but you’re lost in the survival drive, until Dain’s face is the only thing that appears in your limited line of vision, your one eye working hard to focus on his moving lips. It’s like your brain is shut off from all the other functions of your body, unable to connect one thing to another. You can’t focus on anything, not even being alive, and not a single thought flies through your mind. Lucky for you, your dragon’s voice is able to break through the fog.

Breathe. Listen. Focus. They’re trying to help you, my stubborn child. He orders you, forcing your focus on the face in front of you.

“Stop. Breathe. Slowly. In… and out.” Dain orders you matter of factly and it’s a stark contrast to the babying words the others tried to calm you with.

You try to follow his orders, your fast lungs and heart coming back to almost a normal pace as they mirror his own. He takes your free hand timidly, placing it over his own chest so you can feel it and match it with your own. His heart beats faster than it should, but it’s nowhere near your skyrocketing pulse. Your lungs slow down, allowing you to become aware of your surroundings.

“Good. Now let me see.” He says more nicely, holding the hand that clutches your face but not forcing it away. He waits until you show him yourself, slowly peeling your blood-soaked hand off. His other hand gently holds your chin to angle your face so he can see better. “It’s not so bad. I need to take you to the healers.”

And before you can register the change, he’s holding you in his arms, speed walking to the other part of the college. You don’t even utter a word, still in shock but also feeling safe in the embrace you longed for for so long. You’re set on the edge of a hospital bed, a young healers student taking care of your fucked up face. She washed the blood away and rubbed a stingy antiseptic in, neither making much to settle you. You felt your eye pulsing with every breath, it’s swollen form about twice the normal size.

“It seems your eye wasn’t affected, only your eyelid. And your eye socket might be irritated. After you let it heal you should be able to see.” She tells you, a heavy stone falling off your chest. “Hopefully the scar will heal too, but we will have to wait and see about that one.”

She adds as she puts a balm over the scaring and covers your eye and face with a big cushion bandage. You can tell she’s trying to sound positive and supportive, but it’s not really picking up your mood right now. At least you won’t go blind, you suppose that would not do much for you in the riders quadrant.

No it wouldn’t. No dragon can carry a rider who can’t see for themselves. Your dragon confirms coldly, his voice snappy at you.

Jeez, thanks for reminding me, you really are a sunshine. You roll your healthy eye at him. What an indispensable support you are.

I’m not here to support you but make you stronger. And that fight wasn’t your brightest moment. Was he really being pissed at you for almost loosing right now?

“Show me your hands please?” The healer asks you politely, cutting of your silent conversation. You show your palms forward in confusion. “I’ll need to cut this off to give you inner antibiotics.”

She points at the dressing over your left arm you forgot you were even still wearing until this very moment. You clutch your arm back, holding it with the other. You weren’t willing to let anyone else see your scars, imaginative or literal, much less someone you didn’t even know. For all you knew she’d go blabbering about it to whoever later and you weren’t fond of your secrets being dragged out by other people.

“No.” You simply shake your head at her.

“You don’t want to get any infections in, do you?” She warns you sternly. “You’ll have to stay here for a few hours with it.”

You challenge her hardened gaze for a while but lose the silent fight and defeatedly let her cut the bandage off. Dain, who kept lurking around and you were so far successful in completely ignoring, audibly gulped for his breath as he saw the obvious pink scaring around your relic. Luckily the nurse doesn’t even look twice before she goes to snatch all the supplies she needs now.

“What is that?” Dain asks quietly, as if afraid if you’ll even answer.

“What does it look like?” You mumble coldly not meeting his eye.

Lucky for you the healer comes back before he can get too pushy and guides you to lay in the bed as she puts a needle in your arm. As the antibiotics drip in, she smudges a balm over your scars. You’re weirdly appreciative of the gesture, and even more that she’s not nosy about how you got them. She has an air of understanding and calmness about her.

“She’ll need to have this applied again in two hours. It’s a double working solution.” She informs Dain and turns to leave for the last time before looking at you. “You can take the rest with you.”

Dain sits in the chair by the bed, reaching out to hold your hand but flinches when you take it back. For once you were grateful the bandage on your face covered a big part of your sight and you weren’t necessarily forced to look at him. After the weeks of him trying to reach you, you still didn’t know what to tell him, or if you even wanted to speak with him.

“Why are you even still here. Last time I checked you didn’t want anything to do with me.” You challenge him, finally looking at his worried face.

“I’m so sorry Y/n. I never should have said that.” He starts apologizing.

“But you did. Saying sorry won’t fix that. It won’t fix the damage that’s already done.” Only if it was that easy to glue your broken heart back together.

“I…” His breath shakes. “I know, but I want to do everything I can, anything in my power to try and fix what I broke. I know you probably won’t believe me, but you’re my person Y/n. You’re the only one I care about, the only one I seek validation and comfort from.”

You shake your head, hiding the healthy part of your face in the pillow. You can’t look at him, you can’t think about all the things happening right now. You didn’t know what was hurting more, the deep cut on your face, the fact he left you, the fact he tried to come back with just a weak ass apology thinking it would fix things, or the fact he now knew about your deepest scars?

“That’s not what it looked like with your father.” You blame him quietly.

You didn’t realize you drifted off in his presence, but after a few hours you’re woken up by a calming cool sensation on your forearm. You open your one healthy eye to see Dain carefully applying the healing balm on your self harm scars, so focused on his task he didn’t perceive anything else. He gave you some gentle touches before, but he never touched you as tenderly as he did right now. As if you were a glass doll ready to fall apart if he grabbed you too hard. Like a delicate feather swept by the wind. Like he was afraid it’s going to carry you too far away from him and never give you back. But was there still anything to come back to?

Tags: @desprrssooo-espresssooooo @bellblake @lagrandeourse

[rainylana]

“Stay the night.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: after eddie gets his ass kicked for helping you out, you show up to his trailer to aid his wounds.

warnings: enemies to lovers, fighting, slight harassment, very brief smut sorry y’all, jason carver as his cunt self, mostly told from eddie’s perspective, i don’t want to give away the major plot twist in this so all i’ll say is that there is talk of major physical trauma/abuse, also credits to @vol2eddie for helping me with the idea! also, should i do a part two to this?

pt 2

The only reason he even debated going and helping you was because of Wayne’s golden rule. Always respect women. Help them when they need it. Protect them. Wayne was old fashioned when it came to his viewpoints, but he made sure Eddie was raised well and had a good morale compass. Right now, Eddie was cursing it. Of all people.

He was just about to hop in his van to leave school for the day when the basketball team caught his eye, and the pretty girl they surrounded. He threw his backpack through his rolled down window and rested a hand on his hip, watching through his dark sunglasses. “Oh, shit.” He said, realizing you were the girl who’s attention had been caught from the pubescent young men.

Eddie hated you, and you him. It had been like that for years. Everyone knew it. Everyone knew you too couldn’t tolerate being in the same room together. The school guidance counselor even had to change two of his classes so he wouldn’t have to engage with you. He didn’t like to think about way back when, the days you where once friends. It almost made him sad.

“Fuck,” He turned to get in his van, let it be, but it was clear whatever they were saying to you was making you very uncomfortable. When he seen Jason Carver, enough was enough. “Damn it.”

He trudged up the hill to the patch of grass you were standing in, a beating in his heart indicating his nervousness. “Hey!” He barked, getting the attention of everyone. He tried his best not to look small. 

“Munson?” Carver raised a brow, surprised to see him. “May we help you with something?”

You locked eyes with Eddie, face masked in surprise and curiosity. Jason had cornered you, along with his goons, trying to get you to go out with him. As if you’d ever go out with him. You loathed him. He wouldn’t let you pass, wouldn’t let you say no. By the time he had grabbed your elbow, Eddie Munson had shown his face in the crowd, the last person you had expected to see.

Eddie and you had history. Not good history, either. You used to be very close in 7th grade. Almost best friends. To this day, Eddie didn’t know why you dipped and broke his young heart. You never gave him a reason. It wasn’t important for him to know. Besides, it was easier to hate him.

“Just seeing what the problem was.” Eddie shrugged, looking away from you to Jason, trying to keep his shoulders tall and broad. Jason was significantly taller than him.

“Problem?” Jason shook his head. “No, no, there’s no problem. Just curious as to why you suddenly give a shit about y/n over here.” He laughed, along with his friends.

He laughed, too. Carver had a point. Still, golden rule, Eddie. Golden rule. “Yeah, well,” He took a step toward him. “Just making sure no one was uncomfortable.”

He ignored you completely now. He wouldn’t look at you.

“Uncomfortable?” Jason scoffed. “Freak Munson is getting brave, boys! I think if you don’t step back, man, the only one who will be uncomfortable is you.”

God, he’d almost broken his record. He’d gone almost 10 days without a black eye. He sighed heavily, bringing back his fist.

•

“What do you want?” Eddie was surprised to see you on the porch of his trailer, caressing a first aid kit in your hands. It was late, almost nine o’clock. There was a chill in the air and you had a thick coat wrapped around you.

“You have a black eye.” You pointed out awkwardly, shifting your weight. “I came here to…well, thank you for what you did. And to patch you up. You’ve got a little cut up there.” You lifted your finger.

“Mhm, I’m aware.” He said, holding a cold beer to his eyebrow. “But I don’t need your thanks and I don’t need you freezing to death on my porch. I didn’t do any of that for you.”

You sniffed in the cold, closing your arms to your chest. “Oh? Then why did you?”

He rolled his eyes, debating kicking you off his porch steps. “Look, my uncle taught me to respect women, okay? Look out for…well, your breed.”

You held your head high. “I see. Very admirable of you. You gonna let me in so I can help?” You let yourself in anyways, pushing past him. You tried not to stare and recall the memories of when you’d last been inside his home. It had been many years.

“Hey!” Eddie slammed the door shut. “This is breaking and entering!”

“You’re gonna preach to me about the law?” You raised a brow, taking off your coat. “You of all people?”

“How bout shuttin’ the fuck up, eh?” He plopped down on his couch, glaring at you. “I don’t need any of your help to begin with.”

“But you let me in.” You kicked off your boots, giving him a pointed look.

“I can kick you out anytime, L/n.” He stared at you through his lashes. “I suggest you doctor me up before you’re kicked to the curb.”

Your both stared at each other for a moment before you sat beside him on the couch. He stiffened when you touched his cut with an alcohol wipe, making you apologize softly under your breath. Neither him nor you thought you’d be in such close proximity ever again. It felt awkward, at least that’s how Eddie saw it. It was awkward and unconscious. He wanted you gone, but he couldn’t deny that your touch was almost a little bit comforting to his throbbing headache.

“I really do mean it,” You broke the silence, noticing the small cuts on his knuckles. He’d gotten in several good punches, but he looked like shit. “I appreciate what you did, even if it wasn’t for me. I owe you this.”

He flexed his fingers when you started dabbing at his ring finger. “You don’t owe me anything.”

You wrapped a small bandaid around his pinky finger, switching to his other hand where it had been bruised. “Still. Thank you, Eddie. Those guys are jerks.”

“What did they want, anyways?” He found himself contributing to the conversation.

“Jason was trying to convince me to go out with him,” You paused to look at him, the sudden look of your eyes startled him, his body tense and uncomfortable. “I said no but he wouldn’t listen. He grabbed my arm. That’s when you showed up.”

Eddie scoffed lightly. “Yeah, sounds about right for Carver. Piece of shit, if you ask me.”

“I agree.” You nodded, wiping away dried blood around his knuckles.

You both found it odd that you were having a normal conversation, not a screaming match. It was kind of nice actually. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.” You sighed, wrapping another finger in a bandaid. “How’s Wayne?”

“He’s fine.” He said dismissively.

Your eyes dropped and you looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at you this time, only the floor. It killed you that Eddie hated you so bad. It killed you that you had to hate him. You wished you could explain things to him. Make the world twist back in time. But again, it was easier to hate him. Wasn’t it?

“I’ll get this done so I can go.” You halfway muttered, causing Eddie to look at you. He found himself not wanting you to leave.

“Sorry.” He licked his lips. “Old man is fine. Working everyday. Bringing home the bacon. Same old. You remember that, I’m sure.” He leaned back on the couch, allowing you to decorate his fingers with bandaids. He didn’t question the girly designs on them.

You breathed heavily. “Yes, I do. I miss him.”

When was the punchline? You two didn’t do this. You didn’t coerce with one another. “Why are you really here?” Eddie questioned you.

“What do you mean?” You paused your work.

“You come here to mock me or something?” He raised his brow, an inquisitive tone in his deep voice. “Tell me I shouldn’t have gotten in the way?”

“No.” You said firmly, placing his hand down. “I told you why I’m here.”

“Well, I don’t believe you.” He sat up to glare at you, dark curls tossed behind his shoulder.

“I’m not out to get you, Eddie!” You raised your voice. “Believe it or not, I came here with sincere intentions.”

He scoffed. “Sincere intentions, huh? That what you thought when you ditched me in eighth grade? Was that sincere intentions?”

“You don’t know the whole story, Eddie!” You snapped, gathering your trash and standing up. “You can hate me all you want but it’s not fair. Nothing about anything is fair!” You ranted, throwing your bandaid sleeves in the trash.

Eddie’s eyes were wide, startled. He looked down to his hands, seeing the pink and purple bandaids. An awkward silence ensued.

“I’m really sorry, Eddie.” Your voice broke across the room, making him snap his head up. Were you crying? “I never wanted any of this to happen. It just…I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.” You were crying.

Eddie stiffened. He didn’t know what to do. Here, his mortal enemy was crying in his home. He had the urge to kick you out, yet comfort you at the same time. But how was he to do that? “You’re not making any sense, L/n.” He said awkwardly.

“I know, I know.” You had your back to him, waving your hand. “I’m sorry, I know. I just…wish things could be different. I wish you could know…how sorry I am that things turned out the way they did.”

He raised one singular brow, mouth falling in ajar. He’d never been more confused in his life. “Listen, Y/n, I’m feeling very uncomfortable right now so…you want a beer or something?” He tried to contribute to the conversation in some helpful manor.

You turned, stilling his movements at the sight of your tears and snotty nose. He swallowed hard. “You alright?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I just…can we talk about somethings?”

“What things?”

“Things from back then.”

“Back then as….?”

“Eighth grade.”

No, not really. He didn’t want that. But did he? This could be his chance to get some answers, and it was clear you were ready to give them. He halfway wanted to turn you away, but the sight of your tears made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want you crying, oddly enough.

“Yeah, okay.” He gave up with a heavy sigh, patting the seat on the couch next to him for you to sit.

When you sat down next to him, your shoulders brushed and he stiffened. He cleared his throat, fiddling with his hands. You wiped your face with your sleeve. Maybe he should’ve offered you a tissue. Did he even have those?

“You remember my parents, right?” You started, making him scoff.

“Yeah, they’re assholes. Why?”

Here goes nothing. You turned to put your back to him, placing your hands at the side of your shirt. With one movement, you lifted it over your head, leaving you in your red bra.

Eddie jumped like a startled deer, but settled when he saw what was in front of him. Your back was decorated in thick, red marks, splatted across it’s length. Eddie couldn’t help but move closer, his jaw falling slack. He placed his hand on your shoulder to get a better look.

“You knew they hated you.” Your voice was thick with tears. “Especially my dad. He said you were evil and wicked. He said you’d…you’d take- advantage of me. He said if I didn’t stop being your friend then he’d..he’d, he’d kill you.”

Eddie felt like he was going to be sick. He knew these marks were from a belt. A thick one. You were bruised everywhere. He stomach churched and he thought he was going to be sick. He traced a bruise with his finger.

“My parents are creative when it comes to dealing out punishments.” You laughed without humor, a crack in your voice. “Eddie, I know you hate me, but I hope you don’t really hate me. Because I don’t hate you. I never have. It was just easier to let you go. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

It was like Eddie had been transported back to eighth grade. His hair was buzzed and he had horrible acne scars and buck teeth, but you were still as beautiful as he’d ever thought. Eddie’s heart had broke and it was as if no time had past, there had been no water under the bridge you were standing on.

He got up and moved to the other end of the couch where he could see your face, and he pulled you in for a hug, careful where he put his arms. “Y/n, I’m so sorry.” He pleaded with you. “Forgive me, I’m so so sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t help but cry in his arms, relishing the feeling of having your friend back. “It’s okay. Just hold me.”

He scooted closer and held you tighter. Mentally, his mind was a battlefield, connecting dots and pieces of a puzzle that he hadn’t known existed. Everything made so much sense now. He hated every bit of it.

Eddie held you for almost an hour. You both laid on the couch where you stayed on top of his chest, torsos flush against the other. It was extremely intimate. Eddie asked the questions he wanted, to which he finally got answers to. It made you feel so much better, a weight that wasn’t no longer pressed against your windpipe.

Within the minutes, you were both looking at each other, staring into each other’s eyes with a gentle softness. Eddie wanted so badly to kiss you, a thought he never imagined would cross his mind. He also hoped you weren’t aware of his slight hard on. After all, a beautiful girl was laying on top of him, shirtless.

“Kiss me.” You said through a whisper, brave and quiet.

Eddie gulped, giving a slight nod. “Okay.”

He leaned in until his plush lips were soft against yours. With a tiny movement, he kissed you, opening his mouth ever so slightly to deepen the kiss. It really wasn’t even much of one. It was so delicate and soft as snow, but it meant the world to you. When you put your hand on his cheek, he took it as a sign to kiss you harder. He did, pressing his face into yours and opening his lips wide to give you his tongue. Your lips lapped and licked and your breath was hard in each other’s faces.

You felt the heat between your legs throb. You couldn’t but moan. He groaned right back. As much as he wanted to have you, now wasn’t a good time. It wasn’t the right time, not of all circumstances. He gave you one last kiss before he pulled away. You were almost sweating. He smiled, pulling you back into his chest. “Stay the night.”

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I was thinking about the Voice, and how much people outside of the Bene Gesserit actually know about how it works, and how much Chani understands about what's happening to her while she's being controlled by Jessica, and now we have fic. (pspsps more Paul x Chani here if you like this.)

Just imagine this is one of the times they come back to the sietch, some time before Paul drinks the Water of Life.

"What is the Voice?" she asks, trying to keep her tone casual.

They're sitting in her yali, both of them with their battle kit spread out on the floor around them, cleaning and repairing and restocking what's needed after weeks in the desert.

Usul has his own rooms, in a branch of the sietch near his mother, but there are always...hangers-on lingering outside, waiting to catch a glimpse of the Mahdi. Those people have learned by now that she won't hesitate to draw a knife on them if they come around here.

His gaze flicks up when she asks the question. But he doesn't ask where she heard about it, or why she's curious now.

"It's a Bene Gesserit skill," he says, eyes focused on the rip in his stillsuit he is mending. "A way to control people. Make them do what you want."

"So your mother can do it?"

"Yeah. She's a master at it."

"Is that what...all this is?" She gestures vaguely around her, to the corridors where increasing numbers of people keep wanting to bow to him.

"No." He gives a rueful smile. "That's just good old-fashioned propaganda. The Voice doesn't work on large groups of people. It's individual. Everyone has a specific pitch that reaches them."

He seems to know a lot about it. "Can you do it?" she asks.

For a moment he doesn't answer. Then he says, "Yes. Sometimes."

"Let's see it, then."

"What?" He looks up sharply this time.

"Go on, I'm curious," she says, leaning back on her hands. "Voice me."

"No." He has that little half-smile on his face, the one he gets when he's nervous or embarrassed about something.

"Why not?" she asks, because now that he's refused so flatly she is curious. He is usually so eager to share, to teach and learn. She's not sure why this is different.

"You'll hate it," he says, and now she has to make him do it, because she'll decide that for herself, thank you very much.

She goes straight for the argument she knows will convince him. "If it's a weapon, I should know how it works. Right?"

After a minute he sighs and says, "Yeah. All right."

He sets his stillsuit and the patch kit aside. Sits with his hands on his knees for a long moment, watching her with an unreadable expression. She holds his gaze, because she's used to other people finding him a little uncanny by now, but he's always seemed like just a person to her.

The longer she watches him, though, the more it feels like there's a charge building in the air around them, like the crackling feeling on the wind that tells you a sandstorm is coming before you can see it.

"I'm going to tell you to stand up," he says, his voice quiet and even.

"Okay. Can I resist?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "You can try." He exhales a long breath and lets his eyes drift closed.

She's ready to be indignant about that, but then he opens his eyes and says, "Stand."

His voice is hardly louder than a quiet conversation, but it reaches into her like a physical force. Her muscles simply move without her input. She is on her feet before the thought of resistance occurs to her.

The jarring feeling of foreign control is gone as instantly as it arose. She stares down at him, and the surge of sick horror in her gut must show on her face, because he winces.

"I told you," he says. He shifts uncomfortably, pulling his knees up to his chest, turning his face away.

Her heart is pounding, adrenaline flooding her bloodstream, like her body knows something hostile has been done to it. She forces herself to take deep, calming breaths. There is no danger here, just Usul sitting on the floor looking miserable next to her.

She makes herself sit back down, landing heavily on the low step up to the bed platform behind them.

"Have you been able to do that this whole time?"

"Kind of." He's still not looking at her. "It doesn't always work for me. It takes years of study to learn to use it the way my mother can, at any time on anyone."

She shivers at the thought.

"It was easier with you because I know you." His voice is low and guilty. "I knew the right pitch."

"How?"

He shrugs. "I can't really explain it, I just knew."

She realizes now that his hesitance hadn't been secrecy or false modesty, but fear.

She gets up off the ledge and moves over to sit down next to him, her shoulder bumping against his.

He turns toward her suddenly. "You know I would never...for real--"

"I know," she says. He's still searching her face urgently for reassurance. "I know that," she says again.

His hair has fallen in his face. She tucks an errant curl behind his ear. "I know you would never hurt me," she says. Even though, for the first time, she's convinced that he could.

[saintsir4n]

CALM DOWN

in which brian gets mad!

___

“Hey! Hey! Back off — Vince outside, put down the vase, you’re not breakin’ shit in my house. Brian go upstairs, Summer you go with him, clean those bruised hands,” Dom’s voice carried through the living room that was practically turned on its head. One small conversation turned into a big argument and then it eventually got physical. “What did I say? No fighting on Sundays. It’s a day for family and you two do the exact opposite, so now everyone cool off until dinner's ready.”

Vince scoffed, his glare never left Brian’s retreating figure until Leon and Jesse pushed him outside. Letty followed Dom, deciding to help him with the rest of the food prep, whilst Mia and KeKe helped pick up anything broken to toss in the trash.

Carson rolled her eyes as she joined Brian in the upstairs bathroom. Her dress would’ve gotten ruined if she hadn’t moved away from her boyfriend who had tussled with Vince until Dom got involved and pulled them apart with Jesse and Leon’s help.

Brian was against the sink, watching as she pulled out the first aid kit in silence, brows pinching together when she didn’t say anything to him, and just sighed to herself.

“You’re gonna give me the silent treatment, really?” He exacerbated, as she pulled out bandaids, cotton pads and hydrogen peroxide.

“Just stop movin’,” she muttered when she got him to wash his hands.

“He insults us and I get the cold shoulder? I don’t believe this, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

She frowned, “There are no sides Brian, and drop that base from your voice, I’m not the problem here.”

He laughed in disbelief, “Oh, and I am?”

“I never said that," she sighed, trying to wipe the cuts as he winced at the pain.

“You’re not denying it," Brian stressed, annoyed that she didn't have a problem with it.

“You didn’t have to react," Carson hated violence and her boyfriend seemed to be constantly around it.

He scoffed, “So I’m just supposed to take his shit.”

“I never said that either," she retorted, "Hold still." Brian cursed when the hydrogen peroxide coursed over his open wounds, "Sorry."

“Then what are you sayin’? ‘Cause to me it just sounds like you think I’m in the wrong," he gritted out, body digging into the sink as he felt some pain. "That I’m the issue, and I should just sit back and let guys like Vince walk all over me.”

She rose a brow, “Guys like Vince?”

He rolled his eyes, “Here we go.”

“Here we go what?” She looked at him, seeing how heated he was getting about this.

“You’re focusin’ on that, really?”

“He’s my family so watch how you talk about him," she exclaimed.

“I’m your boyfriend and you’re actin’ like that don’t mean nothin’”

“You know that’s not true," her shoulders slumped. "You mean so much to me. Brian, you know that.”

“Do I?”

“You know you do.” She paused, pulling out a large bandage and cut it in half, “It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“You didn’t have to punch him," she stressed, applying some cream before wrapping his wounds.

“Yes, I did," he groaned, as she took a step back, “We hold hands and it’s a problem, we smile at each other it’s a problem, You sit on my lap and we kiss suddenly he can’t take it anymore and makes digs. If it’s at me I get it, he hates me, but the second he calls you naive, or an idiot, I'm not gonna sit back and do nothin'."

"Well I can see that," Carson gestured to his sore hands, "and I'm not some pushover, I can handle Vince, I'm just tired of the drama."

"He's the drama," he said, calmer.

"Says the guy with bloody fists," she teased, putting away the first aid kit and coming to stand between his legs.

"Well, they match his busted lip."

She couldn't help but laugh, "I appreciate you defending me, I do."

"I'll always defend you, you know that," Brian wouldn't let any harm come to her, even if it was just stupid words.

"But you need to keep that temper under control, you could've ripped my dress."

"Let me see," he cooed, trailing his hand down to the hem, "Sorry baby."

"Yeah I know, it's fine just calm down sometimes," she pleaded, with a pout.

"I'll calm down when he learns that I can kiss you whenever I want," Brian said, sternly, snaking his arms around her waist, "touch you, take you out and he can't do a damn thing because we're together alright? or I'll start thinkin' he's actin' more like a jealous ex and less like a brother."

"Alright, alright, you’re all cleaned up," she gently patted his chest, "lets go."

"Wait, wait, wait, let me kiss you, before we go down stairs, couldn't wanna get interrupted again would we?"

Carson laughed into the kiss.

—

[violetarks]

CONGRATULATIONS ON 3K VI !!!!! THAT'S SO EXCITING !!!! could i pleaseeee get something with denji !!!! with patching each other up and rivals ???? TYSM 😘

"why are we so complicated?"

anime: chainsaw man

character: denji

summary: being devil hunter yourself, you have to be there for the other workers. when one of the more annoying hunters gets hurt, kishibe places you in charge of fixing him up.

warnings: g/n! reader, no pronouns used (you didn't mention any specifics, i hope this is okay :D), reader and denji don't like each other because they think the other thinks they're better than them, reader and denji are the same age

"ow! you pinched me so hard!"

"oh, no i didn't."

you make sure to squeeze his cheek a little harder between your thumb and index finger, to which he yelps at again. he pushes your hand away from his face after you apply the square bandage to his forehead. he glares at you while you innocently look through the first aid kit.

while you respected your older fellow devil hunter, kishibe, you were pissed art him that he put you in this position. denji got himself scratched up during the last mission, and nobody wanted to donate any blood for him to consume and heal himself. kishibe, your captain, assigned you to patch him up while the rest either went to a briefing with makima or helped the clean up crew deal with the debris.

you offered to switch with someone else like kobeni or arai, but both of them sourly refused, as they didn't want to spend more time with the devil who prolonged their mission by two more hours for being stupid and messing around.

"ugh, i can do it myself!" denji groans as you wipe away at the cuts on his arm. the antibacterial wipes seemed to be working well so you ignore his pleas. "y/n! you're not even listening to me!"

"can you just shut up for a second? you love to hear yourself speak." you grumble out as you discard the red tissue in the bin beside you.

you regret even letting denji step foot in your apartment, but per kishibe's orders, you had to take care of him before sending him back to aki.

“y/n, you’re so mean,” he grumbles back to you as you pop open a spray bottle of disinfectant, “could ya’ stand to be nice for once?”

“could you stand to not die every single mission?” you scoff at him, “god, you make my job so much harder. ultimate devil chainsaw man, bleeding out in the bathtub.”

he looks away from you with an angered expression before you spray his cuts. he jolts and you narrowly evade his elbow as he hisses at you.

“you act all high ‘n mighty and you can’t even deal with some first aid,” you groan as you toss the disinfectant back into the box, “i don’t get what makima sees in you.”

“i could say the same about you!” he yells back with an accusing finger, “you think you can just show up n’ be the best!”

“i was here before you!” you argue back.

“nuh uh!”

“yuh huh!”

he grits his teeth as he forcefully looks away. you roll your eyes at him as you press the bandaid to his wound.

you didn’t really know when you started disliking denji, but you think it was around the time he saved meowy to cop a feel. your opinion of him went down when you stood next to aki while he called upon his devil to dispose if the enemy. the whole entire time you were deadpanning with your weapon in hand.

denji decided he didn’t like you because you were always getting praised by makima. she pat your head once and he got even more jealous when he saw that you looked embarrassed and irritated. you didn’t deserve it, he thought.

however, everyone else was just a little confused. why would you two hate each other? you never interact unless it’s to insult the other.

“drink that,” you sigh at him and hand him a glass of water and medicine, “i don’t want to see any dirt on my floors. clean up your mess before you go.”

leaving him in the kitchen, you go back to the bathroom. he reluctantly chomps down on the medicine and gulps down the water. his face sours before he hears you let out a hiss of pain.

peeking into the bathroom, he sees you with your back to the mirror, looking over your shoulder to see the slash the devil made on your skin. you let put a groan and drop your tissue in the bin. denji scans you in your tank top, how your muscles move with your hand as you try to wipe away all the dried blood on your shoulder. you din’t even notice denji watching until he clears his throat.

“you, uh…” he begins. you glance over to the doorway. “need help?”

“from you?”

“who else, dumbass?”

“don’t get quick with me, smartass…” you grunt towards him.

you think about it. you’ve seen denji try to patch up aki, and it looked like he didn’t know half of what he was supposed to be doing. though, you’re too embarrassed to call up aki or himeno to help. so you roll your eyes and nod your head.

denji makes his way over and you face the mirror, hands bracing the sink as he grabs an antiseptic tissue for medical use and presses a bit too harsh against your cut.

“ow!” you hiss and lean away from him, “denji—!”

“my bad,” he mutters out before gently wiping at the dark blood, “sorry.”

“‘s fine,” you reply shortly. you hang your head with your button up and jacket slung on the bathtub. your grey tank top was drenched on the shoulder and upper back areas. “what are you guys havin’ for dinner?”

“i dunno’,” denji responds with a shrug of his shoulders. he sees your downcast eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “aki said he’d call you when he can pick me up.”

you sigh and lift a hand to brush your neck, “right… well i’m cooking curry tonight, if you want some.”

“really?” he chimes with raised brows, “i can have some?”

“yeah,” you huff as he drops the tissue into the bin. you hand him a patch to put on top of the slash. “it’s like 6:30. i’d feel weird eating dinner while you were sittin’ there all sad and hungry.”

he rolls his eyes at you with burning cheeks. “shut up…”

his fingers gently press the bandage to your shoulder, smoothing it out shortly after. his fingertips dance across your skin, as if itching to get closer. but he pulls his hands away and shoves them into his pockets. “all done.”

you seemed so tired but denji’s never seen you so relaxed around him. you were always uptight, sure, but now, you were more loose. it took him a few seconds, but he realises how nice you look in the lighting. messy, yes, but still… you looked good.

“thanks,” you mumble to him as you roll your shoulder and turn around to him. grabbing your shirt, you button it up and look to him. “you’re gonna’ help.”

he nods slowly as you look to the mirror again and wash your hands and face. splashing water onto your face, you feel denji bump his hip against yours, trying to get closer.

“denji…” you groan as you pat the water from your face with a towel, “what is it?”

he furrows his brows at you with a heavy blush taking over his face. you blink at his state before a smile breaks out on your lips.

“oh,” you hum as you tap your own cheek to mirror the patch set on his, “want me to kiss it better or somethin’?”

denji doesn’t reply when you laugh at his reaction. he only grows a little more irritated at your response. “w—what? stop laughing at me!”

“i thought you hated me, denji,” you state, stance now up straight, “look at you now.”

“i do! shut up!” he argues back to you, “you’re so stupid! i don’t like you!”

his stammering stops as you lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his bandaged cheek. your lips are warm and it distracts him enough that he lets your fingers dance along his other cheek.

your kiss leaves him confused. why would you do that if you didn’t like him? were you playing with him?

when you pull away and notice the hot blush on his face. his surprised is permanently painted on his face, which causes you to chuckle and your gaze to soften. he’s a good guy, really. but he just needs a little guidance. even though you’re the same age, he’s so vastly different from you. the thought makes you sigh and reach out, hugging him tightly.

“it’s okay, denji,” you mutter against his shirt, “you’re pretty alright.”

“i—… whatever…” he grunts as he squeezes you back. you let out a slight hiss and he pulls away as you rub your wounded shoulder. “sorry.”

“‘s fine,” you reply whilst craning your neck, “let’s go make dinner. don’t want you rummaging through aki’s cupboard when you get home.”

he watches as you leave the bathroom, early following after you. you weren’t so bad after all, but he’d never admit that out loud. it was his little secret that you knew all too well.

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Thirty-Nine

(AO3 counterpart here.)

As the patrol trudged through the snow and into the camp’s tunnel entrance, Fireheart dully wondered if he was doomed to always come home with a dead body.

It didn’t take any time at all for them to be noticed. Goldenflower jumped to her feet with a cry of shock, turning the heads of every cat present. A crowd formed almost immediately, barely giving Fireheart room to help lower Speckletail to the ground in the center of camp. Questions rained down on him. He said nothing until the deluge of voices softened a little.

“We were attacked by one of the dogs,” he said, loud and clear and painful. “She saved me.”

The noise fell to a drizzle, now consoling murmurs and grieving breaths. Fireheart stepped back to let everyone nose Speckletail, whispering their goodbyes, blessings and mourning last words.

“I’m glad you’re okay, at least,” Ravenwing said as he came up to his friend and gingerly leaned against him, followed by Greystripe on the same side.

Fireheart didn’t have it in him to say anything but, “I don’t know about ‘okay’.”

Dustpelt crouched at his mother’s head, pressing his forehead against hers. Sandstorm sat beside him, a paw on his back and her usually fiery eyes solemn.

He’s going to hate me for getting his mother killed, Fireheart thought, jaw taut. If I’d just kept up with her, she’d still be here.

Greystripe interrupted his musing by resting his chin on his head—but just as ginger as Ravenwing, like he was afraid to touch Fireheart too firmly. Fireheart was dimly aware that he probably looked awful right now. He didn’t care too much about that.

Cats continued paying their respects, with Whitecloud being the last one. He rested a gentle paw on Speckletail’s shoulder, blinked slowly, and raised his head, looking at Fireheart.

“Is the dog gone?” he asked.

Fireheart gave one nod. “I don’t know where it went, but it didn’t come back for us.”

Whitecloud looked down at Speckletail with a soft sigh, murmuring, “Rest well. We’ll take care of each other in your stead.”

After a stretch of silence, Mousefur spoke up. “Someone needs to tell Bluestar.”

Automatically, Fireheart said, “I’ll do it.” He faintly heard someone questioning him, but he simply turned and walked for the entrance, his tail dragging on the floor.

He found Bluestar awake this time, absentmindedly plucking at a prey-bone with a claw. Her toes had mud caked between them, and her usually-pale claws were spotted dark with the stuff. Fireheart couldn’t help a sigh of grief at the state of the rest of her body.

“Bluestar,” he said, quiet and kindly like he was talking to a kit, “something bad’s happened.”

The skeletal head turned to him, dull eyes blinking blandly. “Oh. Hello. Who are you?”

The blow that question landed on Fireheart’s innards could have made him vomit on the spot. Instead, he stayed dignified. “I’m Fireheart. Your Clanmate.”

“Ah.” She didn’t look like she remembered him any further, but she let the matter drop. “What’s happened, then, Fireheart?”

Does she even remember who was her deputy? “Speckletail died tonight.”

“Speckletail…?” Bluestar frowned childishly, squinting, then perking up. “Ah, my deputy. She’s dead?”

“Yes,” Fireheart said softly. “I thought you might like to come say goodbye.” 

Bluestar said nothing for a long, long moment. She simply stared down at the bone in her claws, first thoughtfully, then blankly.

Fireheart hesitated to broach the next topic on his mind. “We… we also need to decide our next deputy, and I don’t want to rush you, but we should be quick about it.”

Bluestar tilted her head. “Why?”

Because you aren’t fit to make decisions. Because nobody will listen to you. Because we need a leader. “Because the Clan will be very upset without a deputy.”

“Ah.” Bluestar slightly nodded. “Yes. The Clan. Well… who should we make deputy?”

That was not a question Fireheart was prepared to answer. “Do… do you not know?”

Bluestar blinked again, almost stupidly. “Right, yes. Ah… perhaps…”

She hummed, frowning deeper. Abruptly, her face went blank, and she stared at nothing. Fireheart stayed perfectly still, his mind frantically scrambling for any of the cats who could lead.

Don’t deputies need to have mentored an apprentice? Who’s mentored that everyone would listen to? Do half-raised apprentices count? Oh– maybe…

“Well…” he said at last. “There’s Whitecloud.”

Bluestar returned from the blank space in her head, perking up. “Whitecloud. Whitecloud is our new deputy.”

“Oh, uh… well, there’s also—”

Bluestar stood up, legs quivering, and brushed past Fireheart out of her den. Fireheart had to follow her quickly, marveling at the speed someone who was just skin-and-bones could trot.

The crowd had spaced out a little when they entered camp. Everyone looked up in surprise as Bluestar, seeming not to notice Speckletail’s body, went to the meeting stump and clambered up it, turning to face everyone and sitting down heavily as her back legs gave out.

“Speckletail is dead,” she announced, like no one else was aware. “We pray that StarClan… that StarClan accepts her soul and she moves on peacefully.”

Silence, a tense and awkward kind. Cats gave each other apprehensive looks.

Bluestar paused for just long enough that Fireheart nearly went up to her and prompted her to continue before she blurted out, “Whitecloud will be our new deputy.”

Whitecloud blinked, surprised, but he straightened up and gave a solemn nod. “I’m honored, raprem*.”

Bluestar didn’t look down at him. She simply peered around the clearing, eyeing each of her Clanmates with growing confusion. She paused on Brightpaw the longest, head tilted and eyes slightly squinted. Abruptly, she jumped down from the stump, collapsing onto the ground with her unsteady legs sprawling out beneath her. Fireheart ran to her side, but she was already getting up and wobbling past him like he didn’t exist. The Clan watched her go, mute as she disappeared through the tunnel.

Whitecloud was quick; he went to the stump and smoothly leaped up onto it, turning and facing his new charges. His elegant fur fluffed out a bit, just enough to make him look as regal as Bluestar once had. Their eyes, both pale yellow, certainly looked the same. For a moment, Fireheart settled into a vague comfort that he’d felt in the spring and summer after he’d joined the Clans: the comfort of having someone in control who he knew he could trust and rely on.

“Bluestar didn’t speak to me about this,” Whitecloud said, his low and raspy voice somehow echoing in the clearing. “I’m sure you’re aware of that. But I’m pleased to take on the role of deputy to serve you all as well as I can.”

The Clan, in unison, relaxed their postures, their fur settling on their backs and tails.

Whitecloud continued. “If there are any issues or questions that come up, please come speak to me immediately. I ask that you leave Bluestar in peace for now—we’ll decide what to do about her once things have settled down a little and we can have a moment of calm. Until then, I can serve as temporary leader, and we can consider her an elder.”

Fireheart’s stomach twisted on the last word, but the rest of the Clan murmured agreements and relief.

“Thank you, Whitecloud,” someone called, echoed by a few other cats.

Whitecloud bowed his head respectfully. “Let’s say our goodbyes to Speckletail and bring her out to be buried.”

Now he slipped down off of the stump, approaching Speckletail’s body again and sitting by it, gazing down at her with serene sorrow. Fireheart carefully wove around the crowd gathering around her again to step up to Whitecloud’s side.

“Can I help bury her?” he asked.

Whitecloud looked at him with mild surprise.

“Just…” Fireheart swallowed a lump in his throat. “She saved my life, and… and I’d like to pay her back in some way. If it’s not too late for that.”

The deputy’s surprise melted away and he nodded. “Once we’ve said our farewells, we’ll take her.”

It seemed to take no time at all for everyone aside from Mousefur, Dustpelt, Fireheart, and Whitecloud to back away from Speckletail. The remaining cats maneuvered to carry the sturdy body together, walking close enough to each other to have to adjust their paces so their legs moved in tandem. Fireheart stayed silent as Dustpelt directed the others to head to a tree with unused bird nests in its many branches (“She always hunted best here,” he said), and as Mousefur and Whitecloud worked together to dig a big enough hole to contain her. He said nothing until they all stood together around the hole, Speckletail resting inside with a peaceful look despite her broken legs and neck.

“Scoop in a pawful of earth,” Whitecloud instructed, “and let them bear your final words, if you have any.”

There was a slight pause before Mousefur pawed up a lump of soil and pushed it in the hole, her words quiet. “You were a great mentor, Speckletail.”

“And a great mother,” Dustpelt added, copying Mousefur.

“ThunderClan honors you until there are none who witnessed you in life.” Whitecloud’s pawful fell in at her head.

Fireheart felt everyone looking at him expectantly (and with concern), but he had no idea what he could say. It took him a moment to figure out something, and he bit his own tongue at how weak it felt.

Pushing in his soil at her front legs, he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

It was quiet again after that. The cats worked together to fill the hole, Fireheart keeping his head down so he didn’t have to look at anyone and see if they were angry with him. They should be, shouldn’t they? He could’ve just caught up to her, and things would be fine.

Some part of him tried to protest that it was an accident, that she didn’t have to come back for him but chose to. That part quickly wilted and died at the guilt gnawing his innards into mulch and its single growl for silence.

He stared at the ground the entire walk home, dully aware of the earth on his paws and not having the energy to clean it off. There was a mild attempt at conversation around him, but it fell away too. Evidently, everyone was in their own heads at this point.

Somehow, the night passed like nothing had happened. Fireheart slept through the day without a dream, but with guilt coating his mind, his sleep was uneasy. He was the last cat out of the warrior’s den. No one said anything, but he felt their eyes on him. He didn’t notice what prey it was that he ate for breakfast.

As soon as he finished and started grooming himself, Whitecloud jumped on the stump again. The Clan gathered around, ears perked and glances exchanged of curiosity.

“Speckletail is in StarClan by now,” he said, calm and soft as ever. “We can be grateful for that. Unfortunately, she left an apprentice behind who needs someone to continue her lessons.” Whispers of worry faded as soon as he blinked slowly at his Clanmates. “Fortunately, I’ve spoken with her new mentor, who has happily agreed to train her. Aspenpaw, please step forward.”

The pretty little molly must have been alerted before this, because she was already at the front of the crowd and stepped up a bit, tail high and head raised with dignity, ignoring the one-eyed scowl coming from Darkstripe on the edge of the crowd.

“Speckletail was a fine mentor to you, and we are all grateful for her service in raising you as far as she did,” Whitecloud said. “But she’s gone now, and unable to continue your training. With StarClan’s permission for me to use my powers as deputy, I now transfer your training to our matriarch, Goldenflower.”

Aspenpaw brightened immediately, her tail curling over her back. Goldenflower walked out of the crowd and went to stand by her, purring at the delighted look on her new apprentice’s face.

“I entrust her to teach you kindness and fierceness together, and to pass down everything she knows.” Whitecloud gave Aspenpaw a warm look before continuing. “Goldenflower, you have chosen your successor as matriarch, and now we ask you to mentor her with the ferocity and love of a queen, and the wisdom and dedication of the keeper of our bloodlines.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Goldenflower said, sounding as proud as if it was her own daughter she was mentoring.

“Then, with StarClan’s blessing, I name you Aspenpaw’s mentor.” Whitecloud waved his tail with muted cheer.

The pair of mollies turned to each other and touched noses, both purring loudly now. Aspenpaw bowed her head with deep admiration, and the Clan called her name like she was a new apprentice: “Aspenpaw! Aspenpaw!” Followed by this were cheers and shouts of congratulations.

“We have a future matriarch at last,” Frostfur said to Willowpelt in delight. “And trained by one of the best ThunderClan’s ever seen.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Teaselfoot added, though speaking to his sister. “This is a good night already.”

Fireheart maneuvered through the crowd to approach his mother and her new apprentice; his heart lightened with happiness at the pure joy emanating from the pair. When he was close enough, they looked over at him.

“Congratulations,” he said to them both. “How do you feel, Aspenpaw?”

Aspenpaw’s grey fur fluffed out like a cloud. “Like I’ve been blessed! I get to stay in camp and take care of kits now!” She ducked her head a little sheepishly. “Honestly, I’ve always really wanted to do this, but I didn’t get to tell Bluestar that before she made me an apprentice. Speckletail was nice, but… I dunno, I never really enjoyed hunting and fighting practice.”

“You’ll be having plenty of fighting practice, either way,” Goldenflower said in a jokingly chiding way, touching her nose to her apprentice’s forehead. “We need you to be as strong as you can be to protect the mothers and their children that will come along in your lifetime.” Her golden eyes sparkled. “But we’ll get to do it in camp as much as you like, within eye view of the kits.”

Aspenpaw purred. “That sounds fine to me.”

Fireheart regarded the mollies affectionately, verbally stepping out of their conversation as it turned to bloodlines and genetics. The very air of camp radiated with warmth and contentment—not just from them, from seemingly everyone and everywhere. There was a tinge of safety, like the dogs didn’t exist and no one had died the night before.

Fireheart turned and walked away, glancing back once to see Aspenpaw’s tail wagging in excitement and Goldenflower beaming at her.

Maybe life isn’t all that awful after all, he thought, and went to find his apprentice.

*”Raprem”: aunt.

[sportspuckball]

writing prompt: Matthew is a hockey player but Leon is not and instead works on the team as a nutritionalist and gets all grouchy at Matthew eating stuff he shouldn't and they snipe and flirt at each other over it

My fics always include Long Suffering Besties/Siblings - this time it's Sasha's turn

~*~

“What?” Matthew snapped at Sasha. 

“He’s just doing his job,” Sasha replied calmly. 

“He doesn’t have to be such a dick about it,” Matthew grumbled and shoveled some (perfectly cooked, fuck him so much) salmon into his mouth. 

Sasha snorted. “Pot, kettle. That’s the saying, right?” 

“You know it’s the saying, you’ve been here for a fucking decade or whatever,” Matthew gritted out. 

“He saw you with an entire bag of jellybeans, Matthew,” Sasha pointed out. “Which is two days after he noticed that you threw out the protein powder he’d laid out for you, which is a week after you filled out your dietary request form and included burgers, which I happen to know you hate. That’s why he’s a dick about it, because you are, too.” 

“Marsha was fine, great even, amazing, why did we have to get a whole new chef in the middle of the season and why did he decide to make me his personal fucking project?” Matthew asked. Whom, he wasn’t sure. The universe?  

“Because if you would fucking listen to me, you’ll literally be able to breathe easier.” 

Matthew looked up to see the Panthers new Head of Nutrition (chef) Leon Draisaitl leaning over him being all large, and menacing, and large. Jesus, he is built like a fridge. The Insta comments were not wrong.

“I breathe fine,” Matthew said. “No one is upset with my breathing.”

“Your pulmonary tests say different, 19,” Leon spat out. “I know everyone is claiming you recovered fine from that fucking shit show in Vegas, but –”

“My name is Matthew,” Matthew snapped, “or Chucky if you’re feeling overly friendly.” 

Something passed over Leon’s face and it looked like Matthew won a small victory, because he nodded. “Fine, Matthew, you need to eat kale, and beets, and pumpkin and I’d really like if you considered eating a fruit that wasn’t in juice form.” 

Matthew took a deep breath and summoned every inch of the midwestern oldest son he had in him. “Fine, okay. I give in. Feed me whatever you want here and I’ll be a good boy and behave.”

Okay, so maybe not the level his mother would have liked him to achieve, but still. 

“Great, what about at home. Do you have a chef?” 

Matthew barked out a laugh. “No, bro, I have meal kits.” 

Leon dramatically huffed and Matthew thought he heard elite athletes with bricks for brains but couldn't be sure. “Then i’m going shopping with you to show you what to do when you’re at home.”

Matthew could think of a few things he’d like better – salsa dancing on the sun, sliding down a banister covered in barbed wire and landing in a vat of vinegar, having one of Ovi’s slapshots hit him in the nuts – but he also knew he had no choice. “Fine,” he sighed. “I have two more physio cycles, and then I’ll come get you and we can go to Publix.” 

Leon nodded and stalked away. 

Sasha got up really quickly and Matthew pulled him back down. “Where are you off to?”

“I want Alison to be there with her cameras because you two killing each other in the produce section might win her some sort of social media award,” Sasha grinned. 

Matthew put his head down on the table and let out a loud groan. What had he gotten himself into? 

~*~

I'm having so much fun with these - feel free to keep prompting me whenever! And to head over to Ao3 and make sure you're subscribed because I cannot tell you when any of these will manifest in actual fics.

[broooooo]

A Jocked dream

_______________________________________

A rewrite for my first story on this blog, I hope to make it better

I am Aaron, a high schooler, I've never been very social, I was a very protected child as a kid, I'm also asexual, meaning I don't find sexual attraction to any gender, I have long hair, I'm skinny and have bland style, I'm not very smart, and I hate most lessons.

To be honest I hate it all, I'm quite jealous of everyone , wishing I could be one of the popular guys, hot and muscular with lots of courage.

Occasionally I get the chance to talk with the older guys, I feel happy around them, they said I was there friend and I could always talk to them.

Its the closet I get to my dreams

_______________________________________

Whilst sitting alone under a tree, Jason, one of the popular guys and football jock from the group comes and sits with me

" yo Arron what up ma bro"

Extends fist for fist bump

I look up a bit confused but happy to see him

"hello Jason" fit bumps back*

"nutin much , just waitin for class"

"isn't it math?" I say

" yeah bro that shit sucks ass"

I laugh " damn right, I fuckin hate math , sucks major ass"

Jason's a little shocked but understanding.

"YOO damn right bro, sports so so much better, why don't you join a sports team bro?

I sigh saddly

Jason notices and sits next to me

"yo bro, what's wrong"

"well.. As a child my parents rejected the notion of me wanting to do sports, quite surprising if you think about it"

Jason's head almost blew up after hearing that.

" WHAT BRO, your parents suck for that, you wanted to play?"

I look up and smile

"yeah... I wanted to play football, and I still wouldn't mind , just It's too late for me, I'm no longer a child"

Jason puts his hands on my shoulders and looks me straight in the eye.

"bro, let me help you, it's never too late, coach can definitely help you"

I look up shocked and excited

I smile back and say

"yes, sure go ahead"

"YOOOOO BROOOOOOO"

Jason runs around excited as hell

He extends his hand to me

"come with me Aaron, let's get started right away,

I'll take you to coach!"

I take his hand

_______________________________________

Me and Jason walk through the school until reaching the sports hall where coaches office is

We walk up to the door and Jason opens it guiding me in.

Jason walks up to coaches desk

"Yo coach gotta minute?"

Coach sits up and adjusts his shirt that's tightly pressed against his large muscles.

"Jason my boy, need something?

And hm? Who ?, Looks me straight in the eye"

"well he's why I'm here, this is Aaron, my best bro, he wants to becum like me, he wishes to play football and becum a jock"

I'm feeling nervous hearing this.

"well Aaron, is that so, I can definitely help you , thank you Jason for bringing him here,

Jason please go to the locker room and get a kit ready"

"yes coach!, See you later bro",

he says to me as he leaves

"Aaron, please, sit down, let's chat"

I sit down in front of the his desk

" care for a beer son? It's a favourite between the players"

(Hmm I don't drink all that often but sure, I think in my head)

"Sure sir, I don't mind"

"please, call me coach, and take as many as you like, I just know you will want more"

I smile back, "thanks"

I take a big gulp of beer and start to sip it

"so son, you want to play football? You don't look like your very active?"

I pause for a second feeling calm from the beer

"as a kid my parents didn't want me to play sports, I was Hella protected, it's only because of Jason that this is happening"

Coach looks shocked and pale from what I said

"well that's no way to live is it! I'm glad you're here today because from now on you're gonna be a football jock, ill be the father you never had"

I am shocked by his words but also comforted by them

"thank you so much coach, I hope to make you proud"

I go to take another sip of my beer but find it's empty

Well now...

"yo coach, hand me another beer ?"

(Yo? Did I just?.. well whatever)

"hah, what did I say, the jocks love this stuff, and you're pretty much one of them now" he hands me another beer.

I go pale now, and my dick is extremely hard now my heart beating and my thoughts cloudy,

Wait.. did I just finish this beer ?

Well damn

"well son, you really like it, I'm impressed, heres another, come with me to the locker room, and don't worry, we have a stash of beer in there too!"

I take the new beer bottle and walk with him to the locker room, where my bro Jason went

(Bro? Yeah... Broooooooo)

_______________________________________

Walking into the locker room , coach guides me to one of the benches , it and a big screen TV Infront of it.

"sit down son, let me help you out of your clothes

watch what's on the screen"

I sit down and just stare at the screen, drunk out of my mind as I had finished the 3rd beer on the way here, coach stripping me. I begin in drool and leek pre as I look at the screen

"stare Aaron stare"

"Listen to its words, let it becum who you are meant to be, who you want to be"

I stare hard , foggy... dick... Hard.. huhu

The screen fills me up with tactics and football, all about football, and sex, locker room sex with the bros, huhu.. brooo. Im so horny now...

He moves on with his plan

He injects a serum into me, body grows

He starts to play with my expanding nipples, as my chest becums inflated and flat, my arms exploding in hard muscle with hands hard and rough from the sports and the gym

My legs becum tree trunks with thighs of steel, with a tight ass.

My feet grow and expand .

Finally my washboard 8 pack cum gutter abs.

Coach then pays attention to my hard and leaking, now 12 inch dick and lemon sized balls swirling with jock cum

"having fun Aaron, don't worry, were almost over'

Now say it, recite the words you know are true

He starts to jerk me off

" I.. I am a football.... Jock

I ... Big.... Dumb

.. football....

Yeah...

I am a football jock,

.... Hee I AM A FOOTBALL JOCK BROOOOO

And within 4 jerks i cum

I cum all over, me, coach, the floor,

Ropes of cum spew for minutes as I lay there a drooling sweety dumb mess of a jock

Jason comes in with a full football kit, he's happy at what the sees

" Yoo coach, u did great"

"Jason help your bro get changed, practice is soon'

"right"

Jason comes over to me and starts to dress me.

"sup bro, what up"

As my mind clears i say

"broooooo what uppppp ,I guud brahhh that was amazing, thank you bro, thank you

"that's great bro! Anytime"

He helps he dresses in the kit, from the jock strap to the cleats and pads, all were tight and arousing .

"damnn broo I'm so horny now"

"bro same, let's help each other out after practice bro"

Yeah brooo

Once all ready, Jason gets changed and we wait

Coach comes in to check on us

"well look at you boys, ready for practice"

We say in unison

"yes coach" we laugh at that

"Aaron, come , i will need a picture of you"

"right"

I walk over to stand at a camera, my cleats clinking on the floor

"ready son? "

I nod

As the picture is taken, I'm filled with confidence

My jock fills with more pre and cum as I am

A football jock

Damn Im still so horny

Me, Jason and the team run onto the field for practice, coach bringing out caskets of beers for us at the end

"drink up boys, you earned it"

In the locker room it's a ogy of cum and beer after a good practice.

Beer, cum and football

Bro that's the life

_____________________________________________well... What do you guys think?

I think it's better, different but better

Damn if only it could happen to me

[popcornforone]

Santa Baby

A Mr Ben Fan Fic

I have incognito been asking random Pedro Gitlies who would be the best Pedro for a Christmas Fic over the last couple of weeks & everyone comes back with different guys for obvious reasons. But the one thing that kept popping up was a secret Santa. So here we are festive fic writing a secret Santa story.

Synopsis:- you are excited about the secret Santa for the school staff, Ben less so.

Word count:-3100

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV sex, rough sex, sex at work, naughty photos, swearing, alcohol, choking, mention of sex toys, rimming, also lots of bad Christmas puns.

Thanks as always for the read peoples. All feed back in always welcome. I hope you all enjoy.

Ping!

Urgh another email you thought. This term just dragged on & on at school. You were so looking forward to the couple of days off for thanks giving & then the Christmas break shortly after that. But with exams coming up & lots of marking you really just wanted some you time & not to have to look at emails whingey parents had sent you. You half open it not really reading it but then your eyes light up at the emails content.

You enjoy secret Santa. You & your friends do one every year. This year your all gifting each other Christmas jumpers. You’ve already found yours for Grace, she hate the film elf so obviously you’ve got her one with elf’s face on it that so huge. She’s the only person you know who doesn’t like the film & knows she will take it in good humour.

“Babe” you shout out to your partner whos in the kitchen also trying to do work while keeping an eye on dinner.

“Yep”

“Works doing a secret Santa”

“Urgh another one” you hear his exasperated sigh. “It’s been going on for donkeys years” you giggle “what?” He looks confused. “What did I say”

“You said donkeys years” you shout back at him as you send a message to Megan to say that you’re accepting. “You’ve clearly been dating me for long enough, if you’re picking up my British slang” you hear foot steps behind you before two arms wrap around you.

“Have I now” he says kissing your neck making you shiver as he blows a raspberry at the end.

“Ben stop”

“Make me” he takes off his glasses & smoulders & you kiss him hungrily.

“I bloody would & all but your kisses are to addictive”

“Also we’d get no marking done” he smirk resting his head on your shoulder.

“Markings not as important as you baby”

True to form you receive another email on the 2nd of December saying the emails would be put In to the generator today for the secret Santa & in the next 48hours you’ll receive the name to buy for. You announce this as Ben drives you both into work.

“Babes you know I love you, but I really don’t get what all the fuss is about” he says as you scroll through the rest of the email, to say that people need to put down allergies to their own name if others want to bake or cook for them as the gift.

“What’s not to love Ben”

“Okay so you get $15 to spend on a colleague you might not even know or like, & you’ve either got to get something funny enough that it doesn’t offend, or something predictable or something bland, you could all just go out have have money for a take away with that”

“Spoil sport” you say. “Can I just say that my gift last year is still in use & you like it.” You point out.

“It was a cocktail making kit & fancy bottle opener, useful, people know you like a drink sometimes, a bit predictable”

“Well Ben” you sigh “I’m sorry that you don’t get it I really do, cos some of the gifts are boarder line rude & disgusting”

“Look” he says as he parks the car. “I love that you put effort into every gift you give & it makes you happy, I just don’t see the point in it”

“Well if that’s the one thing we disagree on Ben that’s fine by me” you undo your seatbelt & lean across the car & kiss him. His lips always so plump ready to take you. He taste of coffee, his cologne filling your nose. He sighs when you break.

“Why’d you have to be all sexy & bossy like this right not when we both have to teach in 30mins”

Ping!

Your email is here.

Your excited. You open it & it send you to the website to login. You know this site & how it works. Your preferences you update each November when it comes to doing secret Santas knowing you always do at least 2. You put in your work email request to verify & the names start to generate.

Up it pops.

You almost drop your glass of water on the floor.

It can’t be.

But it is… saying the name in confetti.

BENJAMIN BLANCO-ALONSO!

You are not sure if this is a joke. So you close the screen on your laptop & then sign back in. But there it is again all refreshed.

BENJAMIN BLANCO-ALONSO!

Ben is actually out playing tennis tonight with 3 friends so it’s not like he’s around to see this, but after his protests about this & how it’s a waste of time, you’re shocked. This has to be a mistake.

You call Megan. Just to check that all the names are all correct & this isn’t a bluff. As host she can see when all the names have been picked & who’s been assigned them & they have been opened not that she can see who has got who. She confirms that your name is correct & that there are 33 people taking part this year. She even runs off all the names for you. Being a Blanco for a surname Bens name is high up the list.

You thank her & hang up.

Your man is your secret Santa. After then giggling for a good 5minutes your mind then Thinks about what to get him for $15 as you’ll have to live with it. Inspiration suddenly strikes.

4pm December 19th, all 33 members of staff who have taken part in the secret Santa have gathered in the drama theatre & you pretend quite convincingly to be shocked when Ben walks in. A few others are too.

“Baby” you seem perplexed “what on earth”

“Surprise” he said “thought I’d see what all the fuss is about”

“I can’t believe your here”

“Honestly neither can I still” he says as he grabs a mince pie. “But it then means we can make joke about everyone’s gifts together later.”

“True, very true”

Megan is very good at organising all this stuff so it’s not long before the gifts are handed out. Everyone sat with their present or parcel or envelope ready to be opened. Bens face drops a little when he sees a plane red envelop with some mistletoe on it. Clearly believing who ever he had, didn’t actually know what to get him. Little does he know that what’s in the envelope is something he could only dream of.

Megan even has a random name generator to see who opens gifts when. Your gift is before Ben.

“To the art elf from your secret Santa” you read the gift tag & open your box & start laughing.

“What is it?” People ask before you pull out a bop it extreme.

“I had no idea they still made these & I know exactly who got me this as we talked about this like a month ago, about childhood games” you wink at Ryan 4 seats away. You’d asked your 14 year olds to design board games in art & they said yours back in the day weren’t cool to which you then had to explain what a bop it was & how the extreme version was better. Ryan works as support for one of the kids in that class & it was just the two of you talking about 90s & 00s games for the rest of the lesson as your class rolled their eyes.

“Thank you” you mouth at him.

It take a little while to get to Ben. But eventually it does. You wait with bated breath, for his reaction as he clears his voice.

“BENJAMIN BLANCO-ALONSO MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM SANTA BABY” he reads out. He then also hummus the song afterwards.

“I didn’t know the other half of your surname was Alonso” Cliff says.

“Well it legally has to be on the school records, so I’m guessing that’s where you got it from Megan & why that person has put it all down”his long fingers, which are so good at getting into things sliding open this envelope. He take a peak & then does a double take. He blushes. Bright red. So red it almost matches the envelope.

“Erm…” his voice shakes.

“What is it Ben?”

“Yea Ben what is it”

“I erm I need to apologise cos this… I mean “he’s stuttering “whoever got me this thanks but…” he clears his throat & undoes the top button of his shirt. “I don’t play golf” he gets out the american golf voucher “I mean I do wear some snazzy trousers & jumpers sometimes so maybe I can get that from there” he’s still blushing. Some people are seeing it as him being embarrassed. “I just want to thank whoever it was, I’ll think of a way to use it I promise.” He then raises his eyebrow at you. You smirk back.

The rest of the presents are opened & Ben at the end of it wishes a couple of people a happy holidays before he dashed off.

“I wonder who did get that gift for Ben” Ryan says to you “bless them”

“Im the queen of deduction Ryan I’m sure..” but you stop mid sentence as your phone goes off.

“MY CLASS ROOM NOW!” The message reads.

“Erm I gotta go Ryan, merry Christmas & thanks for the bop it extreme”

You dash to his class room, you know what’s coming. You knock on the door when you get there & he says yes. You make sure to lock it behind you. He’s already pulled the blinds down.

He’s sat on the edge of his desk. A few more buttons on his dark blue shirt undone. The tie is on the floor & his belt is undone. Your man always smoulders, but right now he’s making you feel extremely feral.

“Care to explain this, Santa baby” he holds up the red envelope.

“Yes someone got you a…”

“Nope” he interrupts. “You got me what I can’t resist” he watches you walk towards him, your heels tapping, the dressing clinging to your curves. Your hair styled to perfection, a slightly reder complexion due to the alcohol you had at the party without really eating. He licks his lips as you reach him & ruffle his hair.

“So what did Santa get you baby.”

“Apparently my hearts desire” he removes the fake golf voucher that’s in there, & produces the 10 Polaroids of you. The first of you in just a nice matching set of underwear, but by the time he shows you the tenth as they all get naughtier, its you spread naked on the chair in his study he works in with your rabbit vibrator pleasing you. You let out little whimpers at each of them & kiss his neck, noticing his erection get larger in his trousers. You’re glad it’s having the desired effect.

“They are bad enough” says Ben before he gets out the actual voucher you got him”what even is Adam & Eve?” He says. You go to explain before he hushes you by putting his large thumb over your lips. “Cos when I tried to Google it… it said I was in a school & couldnt view that content” he raises an eye brow.

“You know what Adam & Eve is Ben”

“I need a reminder Santa baby” he says you’ve now leaned against his knee & his hand is running up your thigh. Goosebumps cover your skin.

“It’s an adult shop, I thought maybe we could get something together to enjoy so that Santa can come more than once a year”

“I do believe I always make my Santa baby come every time” he questions.

“You do Ben, but I want you to get even more pleasure from it, you always take care of my needs you need some fun & pleasure too”

“& what if I don’t want it & im happy with bending you into a pretzel each night” he reply’s. His eyes filled with passion.

“Then buy new lube or buy me new underwear”

“Are you wearing the underwear you wore in the Polaroids Santa baby” he asks licking his lips as you start to undo more of his shirt button.

“Do you wanna find out”

“Fuck yes” things turn primal quickly as you toss his shirt away & kick off your heels as he peels your dress off. His face is a picture. You are in the same set of underwear.

“Jesus fucking Christ I’ve won the lottery” his head instantly buried in your chest as he unhooks your bra”it looks better on the floor though.” His lips latching onto your nipples as you grind on his knee.

“Fuck Ben”

“Shh baby shh” he says as he stand up, both your hands & his push down his trouser & boxers in the one motion. He then slips his hand into your panties. Your clit trembling as he teases it. Your have one hand on his shoulder & the other leisurely stroking his length. He’s moaning already.

“Fuck ben, I want you”

“You always want me”

“True” he then removes his hand & turns you around. Kisses trailer down your spine & over you bum as the slowly removes the panties. He then stays on his knees parting your cheeks & rims your arse with his tongue.

“Fuck oooh fuck yea”

“I know what I’m buying from Adam & Eve” he says after he removes his head & you lean on his desk. Legs as wide as possible, much like in Polaroid number 9 which was just of your sex. He’s groaning trying to keep calm. Your own fingers your suck & softly trial across your arousal to micks your saliva with it & his that he left behind.

“What baby” he rubs his angry swollen head all over your sex, lubing it up.

“A but plug” he snarls & then thrusts deep inside your cunt, filling you up instantly. You gasp as the air is pushed out of you, grabbing his monitor. His eyes filled with desire.

“Ffff…ffff… fuck” you groan.

“Like that’s Santa baby” he said his hands firmly on your thighs, feeling them tremble as you clamp around his long thick cock. He almost takes it all the way out before slamming back in. You moan again. “I love how this tight little pussy takes my throbbing cock so well.”

“Fuckkkkkk” it’s the only word on your lips as he picks his rhythm. Slow but jolting to start, licking his lips each time your eyes go wide. He’s whimpering, each clamp around him when he hits that special spot has him closer to the edge. This might not take long but he’s damn sure he wants you to cum.

“Oh god Ben fuck fuck fuck” it’s high pitched as he picks up the pace, you can feel every inch of him pleasuring you. Making you moan his name & beg him for more”

“You like being Santa baby?” He snarls his movements getting faster each thrust has him closer to the edge. His fingers will leave dents on your thighs from his grip. “You like being a little hoe hoe hoe?”

“Ben?”

“What”

“Say it again” your panting sweat is dripping down your body. Your trying to keep eye contact with him as you know if your close your eyes you will quiver & cum instantly.

“My hoe hoe hoe”he says in his full on bedroom voice.

“Fuck Ben” he then grabs you around the neck, you hold tighter into this desk & pulls himself towards your ear. His hips & pelvis now at a blinding speed.

“My little hoe hoe hoe” he whispers & then licks your neck.

That’s all it takes. You scream but nothing comes out of your mouth. It’s too intense. You drench him, cuming around his penis. He can feel the extra spasm from you & the tenseness in your body. The blissed out look in your eyes & how you are squeezing him has him jolting.

“Fuck fuck fuck baby” he cry’s his hand tighter around your neck as he fills you up. He’s always got a good neck & shoulders but they always seem longer & broader when he cums. His nipples are hard as he coats your pleasure. You lean forward into him a little more & wrap your arms around him. Both just sat in his classroom blissed out from pleasure. You nuzzel your head into the crook in his neck.

“Benjamin Blanco-Alonso, I fucking love you” you whisper.

“Not as much as I love you” he says your name falls from his lips before they meet yours. A man of fire & passion is always so soft & gentle with his aftercare from sex. You may be his hoe hoe hoe, but you’re also his girl. This is proven once he slowly removes his cock from inside you & goes into his draw to get some hand wipes to help you both clean up. You’re both still all over each other. Kisses covering each other’s flesh until it is all covered again. Giggles & smiles filling the air.

“so a but plug?” You ask, going back to the secret Santa gift you got him. He looks confused & then remembers his statement.

“Oooh yes, I just erm thought it was something q different we’ve not tried before, a Christmas treat” he blushes a little.

“I’m up for that Ben, I’ve only ever let one man go vip before so this is a first for me too” you say as you put your shoes back on.

“& I always ask permission”

“You didn’t just then”

“Eh?” He thinks”that was only my mouth” he states. “& who says I’m done”

“Well we are here”

“Fair point” Ben states as he grabs his bag & secret Santa gift as you both leave the class room so you can go grab your bit before you leave. “So am I getting an invite tonight”

“Depends”

“On what”

“On if your on my naughty or nice list”

“Oooh Santa baby” he smack your bum”I think we both know the answer to that makes no difference whatsoever”

[aerodaltonimperial]

katy i bet the inside of the bus is cold and lonely when all your friends have left and your opponent proved you wrong and you lost your belt in front of ten thousand people and you’re 2800 miles from home

All things considered, Jack didn't actually think the night could get worse until the bus doors slammed open with enough force to rattle the whole damn carriage beneath, and he's midway through tugging a new shirt on, one arm wiggling to find the right spot, so he's been good and thoroughly proven wrong. His heart flies up into his throat as every fear he's harbored for the past two years screams against his ears, but—

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jack demands.

Darby yanks the doors closed again once he's in, breathing hard and smelling of engine grease and burning motor oil, and then he slides around on his knees. "I gotta fucking hide."

"In my fucking bus?" It's a miracle Jack gets the shirt on after that, but his bones are gonna rattle out of his skin. "What do you mean you have to hide?"

Darby scoots back until his shoulders hit the wall. "They fucking came back."

"Who came back?"

Darby's eyes flicker up past the seat, to the windshield, which at this point, is mostly just reflecting the lamps the staff has on in the loading bay. There's really nowhere else to park this rig, 'cause it never fits into any of the spots, so Jack ends up just sort of angling it near where the big mack trucks unload. "Claudio and Pac."

"Why the fuck would I—" Jack stops and leans in, squinting. "Are you bleeding?"

"No one's gonna look for me here."

Jack huffs. "Yeah, 'cause I hate your guts. Claudio and Pac won't—"

"No, I mean no one will," Darby interrupts, drawing his knees in as his skull falls back and clunks against the metal wall. "There's no one here for you. No one's gonna come here."

And that... Jesus, that steals the air right out of Jack's lungs. Sure, Darby isn't even wrong, but it's far different thinking it and having someone put it to words like that, giving it life. He glares at Darby while the onslaught of all the shit he's spent the last hour trying to put to sea crashes into him, a tidal wave.

He must go silent for long enough that Darby notices, because the guy lifts his chin, regarding Jack a few feet away. "You lost tonight. You lost the belt."

"Yeah, well," Jack mumbles, throat thick. "Happens to everyone eventually."

Darby lifts his finger to his mouth, chewing on the skin near his thumbnail. It's red again; they're all painted red. They simmer in silence while outside, Jack catches the sound of footsteps passing near enough to echo. He doesn't even care if the Death Riders throw the back doors open and haul Darby out by his stupid pink coat, but Jack's breath catches anyway, involuntary.

Neither of them so much as twitches as the sound circles, pauses, and then, by some miracle, recedes again. Jack exhales in a somewhat rushed gasp. "What the fuck, Darby. What did you do?"

"Ran into their truck."

"With your face?"

Darby cracks a smile, and it seems genuine. "Ha. No, dumbass, with a car. What kinda fuckin' question is that?"

Jack shrugs. "Well, you hit the bus bumper with your forehead before, so it seemed like a logical jump."

"You hit my forehead with the bumper."

"Semantics." With the footsteps gone—and Jack doesn't even know if it was them or not, though it really doesn't matter—the tension has siphoned out of the interior. He stretches his legs out, wincing. He's gonna bruise the colors of the rainbow in the next few days. Then he sighs, looking at the red smeared across Darby's skin. "You're bleeding."

"Happens when your head bounces off the dashboard," Darby says.

"God, you're a dumb fuck," Jack grumbles, as he pushes up onto all fours and retrieves the first aid kit. There isn't much, but at least he's got antiseptic wipes. "I don't know how social Darwinism hasn't taken you out yet."

He ends up kneeling sort of half over, half across Darby's legs, and the guy doesn't push him off, so Jack thinks it's awkward, but acceptable. There's a lot more blood than he'd thought up close, so Jack gets started trying to clean up the worst of it streaked across Darby's forehead and temple.

"He was wearing his ring gear," Darby says, apropos of nothing.

"Who?"

"Pac."

Jack shakes his head. "So? What does that matter?"

"Everyone else was fully dressed," Darby says. "But Pac came out in his fuckin' ring gear, the little panties. That means he was riding in the truck the whole time, shirtless, with his fuckin' panties on. Just starin' at the god damn road while they all took their sweet ass time getting here, probably listening to some undecipherable German death metal." Darby's hands spread to either side. "Isn't that fuckin' weird?"

Jack can't help it. He fucking laughs, and he can't tell if he's pissed off about it or not. "You think Marina gave him some tittie-twisters in there while he was just chilling shirtless?"

"Dude, she's scarier than that fuckin' One Piece clown," Darby says, dead serious, "and she probably has nipple clamps in that fucking briefcase chained to her wrist."

And then they're both just gone. Giggling like schoolgirls as both of them try to shush the other one, and the only thing Jack can think about is Pac sitting stoicly in the driver's side of the Death Riders truck that Claudio has the AC blasting in while he's freezing his bare tits off. It's ridiculous. It's only funny because it's not actually funny, on account of the Death Riders doing a fantastic job of running through every person in the company who would tell them that ritualistic murder isn't exactly a great idea for boosting ticket sales if all the talent ends up dead, but Jack can't help it. The overwhelm of adrenaline loss and the hollow sensation sweeping through his stomach and the fact that he did think he was gonna be alone all night... it's too damn much.

It takes awhile for Jack to recognize that they're both just sort of staring at each other through it all; they've never really done this, been this close. Oh, sure, they've had their faces pressed against each other when they were trying to maim each other, but it never felt like this. Never... easy. Comfortable, in a way that shouldn't work at all but does.

Jack drops the hand holding the antiseptic wipe onto his thigh, mirth abruptly stolen. "Why'd you come here? I could have turned you right over to them."

"Yeah, but you didn't," Darby says, and runs his tongue along his bottom lip once, then twice. A bit of the blood must have caught there.

"Could still do it," Jack tries. "Could go out right now, call them back. Let 'em destroy you for the damage to their truck and dignity."

Darby leans forward. "Sure." He doesn't sound concerned, and he's leaning forward, and Jack ought to back away. "You could."

Jack lost the TNT belt tonight. He tried to prove a point, and he was wrong, and he lost the belt anyway. There's no one here to commiserate with because the Bucks fucked off without a good-bye and Okada disappeared in his fancy car. Danny is probably already gloating to the roster backstage with the belt in his hands, and Jack's here, in the back of his bus, kissing a guy he swore up and down he hated more than life itself.

He absolutely should not be doing this—shouldn't be prodding Darby's mouth open, shouldn't be slipping his tongue in across the corner, shouldn't be liking the way Darby sighs against him, the way the exhale echoes through his cheeks. But he lets it go for a little while, long enough for his thoughts to go hazy, before he draws back just enough to ask, "How hard did you hit your head?"

"So goddamn hard, man," Darby says, another laugh buried in there. So at least Darby has an excuse for this. Jack? He's gonna have to hope the defense of I'm experiencing what is probably an acute mental health crisis holds weight in court.

"Kissing me is a concussion symptom, I think," he murmurs.

Darby moves in to catch Jack's lip between his teeth. "Probably."

"Honestly, we should probably both go see medical," Jack whispers, because Darby tugging on his lip is doing way more for him than it should, and if he's going to have a full-on nervous breakdown, he thinks he shouldn't be operating any heavy machinery. It comes out muffled, on account of, well, Darby's mouth getting in the way.

"Okay," Darby groans, and clearly they aren't going to be going anywhere near medical, since Darby's hands slide out to find Jack's waist.