#like the gas station didn’t get back to me. the grocery store said no. the library said no. like what the fuckkkkkkkkkk

[adrienneleclerc]

Slam the Door

Summary: Where Y/N slams the door on her boyfriend’s car to see how he would react.

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: this includes Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, Oscar Piastri, Logan Sargeant, Max Verstappen, and Carlos Sainz Jr. since I am writing about them now

Charles Leclerc

Y/N and Charles were in the gas station. He filled up the car and got back in the car to get his wallet.

“Hey, I can go in pay for it, I kinda wanted some chips and a soda.” Y/N said.

“Yeah sure, Mon coeur, here’s my wallet.” Charles said, sitting fully in the car, handing his wallet to Y/N.

“Thanks, muñeco.” Y/N said, before slamming the door. Charles was startled, his face like when he hit the camera in Australia.

“What was that about.” Charles wondered out loud. “Did I do something? I don’t think I did anything, can’t be her period, she would have told me, can’t be her birthday, not our anniversary, what happened?” He could think about dome thing else since Y/N got in the car. “Why did you slam my door?” Charles asked

“What?” Y/N asked, opening her bag of chips.

“Why did you slam my door? Did I do something to upset you, or…?” Charles asked, starting his car.

“What? Of course not, it’s just a TikTok prank.” Y/N said.

“Oh, okay, but did you have to slam the door so hard, the car actually shook, Mon ange.” Charles said, Y/N laughed.

“Sorry, muñeco, I didn’t mean to. But the car is okay.” Y/N said.

Lando Norris

Y/N and Lando were leaving the restaurant, they got into his car, Y/N looked in her purse.

“La concha de su madre, I left my ID at the restaurant, I’ll be right back.” Y/N said.

“Of course, baby, be safe.” Lando said.

“I will.” Y/N said, getting out of the car and slamming the door. Lando was in shock, rolled down his window, honked his horn to make Y/N turn around, and yelled.

“You muppet! Were you trying to cause a mini earthquake?” Lando shouted and Y/N was bent over, laughing. “What are you laughing about? I’m pretty sure my phone fell in between the seats.”

“Sorry, fresita, it’s was a TikTok prank.” Y/N said, walking back to the car and showing him her ID.

“Why can’t you be one of those girls who pulls the penal where they walk in on their boyfriends naked? I’d really like that one.” Lando said, starting the car to go home:

“Because that’s not a prank, Lando, that’s your dream come true.” Y/N said and Lando laughed

“Well you’re not wrong.” Lando replied. “Can you help me look for my phone when we make it home?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Logan Sargeant

Y/N and Logan were going to leave the parking lot when.

“Shit, forgot my phone upstairs, I’ll be right back.” Y/N said.

“Alright.” Logan said. Y/N slammed the door and Logan started looking around the car and looked at Y/N through the windshield. “The fuck was that about.” Y/N walked back to the car with her phone in hand. She got into the car and Logan was staring at her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/N asked.

“Do you love me?” Logan asked.

“Of course I do.” Y/N said.

“Then why did you slam my door? It felt like that scene in Jurassic Park where the dinosaurs shook the whole ground.” Logan said and Y/N laughed.

“Don’t be dramatic, I barely slammed the door.” Y/N said.

“Im pretty sure there is a crack in window.” Logan said, pointing to the passenger side window.

“Haha, it was a TikTok prank, let’s go.” Y/N said.

Oscar Piastri

Oscar and Y/N were putting groceries in the trunk.

“Tiburóncin, can you start the car and turn on the A/C? I want the freezer meals to stay cool.” Y/N said.

“Sure, darling.” Oscar said, kissing Y/N before he enters the car and did as he was told. Y/N finished putting groceries away. Y/N opened the passenger door.

“Im gonna our the cart away, okay?” Y/N said before slamming the door to put the cart back. Oscar just blinked.

���That was weird.” Oscar said, Y/N got back into the car. “Is there any particular reason why you slammed my door? I told you, it’s not the store’s fault they don’t carry your pumpkin seeds.” Oscar said.

“First; they all carry pumpkin seeds, they just carry them raw or dry roasted and salted. Why the hell are there never pumpkin seeds dry roasted in their shells? Anyway, it was just a TikTok prank.” Y/N said.

“Babe, this is my company car, you can’t just slam the door.” Oscar said.

“Sorry, tiburóncin, let’s go home before our groceries start to melt.” Y/N said.

Lewis Hamilton

Lewis and Y/N were in the parking lot of the restaurant.

“Okay, loser has to pick it up.” Y/N said.

“No way, I picked up food last time, it’s your turn.” Lewis said.

“Fine, give me money to pay for the food.” Y/N said, holding out her hand. Lewis handed her over his wallet. “Thank you, cariño.” Y/N said and slammed the door when she left. Lewis rolled down his window and honked his horn, causing Y/N to turn. Lewis poked his head out the window.

“Did you seriously slam my door because I made you pick up the food?” Lewis asked. “I didn’t know you were so bratty!” Lewis shouted

“You can’t shout that shit out, sir Lewis!” Y/N shouted back

“Watch me! Pick up the food, the sooner we get it, the sooner I’ll fuck the best out of you!” Lewis yelled.

“Dude!” Y/N yelled before entering the restaurant, Lewis winked and blew her a kiss before pulling his head back in. Y/N came back. “I have the food and just for the record, I wasn’t being a brat.”

“Then why did you slam the door?” Lewis asked.

“TikTok prank, you know, it’s a Gen Z, think, you wouldn’t know since you’re a millennial.” Y/N teased.

“You’re trying to call me old?” Lewis asked

“Not trying, I am calling you old. Now I’m being a brat.” Y/N said.

“Oh you’re getting it when we get home.” Lewis said, pulling out of the parking lot.

Carlos Sainz Jr.

Y/N and Carlos were in the Walgreens parking lot.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” Carlos asked

“Alguien te ha dicho que preocupes mucho? It’s not like I’m in an episode of criminal minds, we’re in broad daylight, I’m fine, don’t worry. I’ll be back.” Y/N said, before kissing Carlos and slamming the door to enter Walgreens. Carlos jumped from the brute force. Carlos rolled down the window.

“Hija de tu madre, por qué haces eso?” Carlos asked laughing.

“Let me get my shit, okay!” Y/N went in and got out quickly, getting into the car. “Ahora sí, whats up?”

“Why did you slam my door? My car has done nothing to you.” Carlos asked laughing.

“Sorry, amor, it was a prank.” Y/N said.

“My poor car.” Carlos said.

“No seas payaso, let’s go home, I got your dog a treat.” Y/N said.

Max Verstappen

Max and Y/N were sitting in a parking lot.

“Hey, I’m gonna get ice cream, I’ll be right back, okay.” Y/N said.

“Okay, darling.” Max said. Y/N slammed the door when she left and Max just stared at Y/N walking away. He blinks and went back on his phone. “Wonder what’s that about.” Y/N came back.

“So I bought you ice cream, you can eat it now or just put it in the freezer.” Y/N said, showing him the cup with the to-go lid., Max stared at him. “What?”

“You slammed my door, why?” Max asked.

“It’s a TikTok prank.” Y/N responded.

“Okay.” Max said.

“That’s it?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, I know you’re addicted to the app.” Max said.

“I am not addicted, you take that back.” Y/N said.

“You slammed my door because of TikTok, you’re addicted.” Max said.

“Fine, it’s my ice cream now.” Y/N said.

“Okay, okay, you’re not addicted, let’s go, I gotta see my cats.” Max said.

“Ugh, I gotta take my allergy pills.” Y/N said, continuing to eat her ice cream as Max drives off.

Hope y’all liked it! I tried something different, should I do more posts like this?

[milo-is-rambling]

Went to the pet store and they didn’t have any cats to pet

Life : 1 Me : 0

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

The itch

An: so I’ve never written for TUA, I think, I haven’t written anything in like a long time cause my brain is made of worms most days, but the new season and mostly five in his new attitude? Personality? His almost soft tired of it all way, gives me the feelings. As a 28 year old women it’s odd that a 68 year old trapped in a 18 year old body works for me like it does but hey, I’ve liked weirder (cough I was in the Hamilton fandom cough) so enjoy this sort of bonding with Lila over the new mundane life and the exhausting reality of having to live it, because I love Lila and hate what they did to her and fives characters with the whole 7 year time line romance. Like why make her a mum of 3 and married to Fives brother just to ruin it like that. But anyway enjoy this weird fic.

Readers power: molecular manipulation, think piper from charmed, overhaul from my hero, uhhh it’s hard to explain but basically it means you can make things explode, freeze people and things by fucking with the molecular structure of said thing.

——————————————————————-

You wanted to scream, to smash things, to burn yours and fives apartment down, it had been six years of calm, six years of learning to enjoy ‘normal’. Six years of working at dead end jobs because you didn’t pass the god damn psych evaluation for the CIA, somehow you are far more ‘unhinged’ than your husband.

You and five spent 30 years together, a decade in an apocalyptic wasteland when you ended up teleported there by mistake, and then 20 years at the commission becoming trained and ruthless assassins. Now, now Five worked doing CIA investigations and you got stuck working at a grocery store gas station. It was calm, it was normal, it was absolute hell on earth and made your skin itch.

So sitting in the parking lot of the play place for your nieces 6th birthday, you didn’t know why you couldn’t make yourself leave your car, five was already here, he had texted you as much, everyone else minus Viktor who was in Canada, and Allison who hasn’t shown her face irl to any of her siblings in the 6 years, you just needed to get out of the car and walk in with the gift you signed from both you and five for Gracie. It was a set of toy weapons, knives like her dads old ones, and a few other random ‘play pretend’ things.

Closing your eyes you leaned your head back against the head rest, taking a deep breath. Almost hitting the gas when the passenger side door opened and slammed closed. Turning eyes wide you saw Lila, the exhausted mothers face blank staring forward

“I just needed a minute, just needed” you nodded

“Take all the minutes you need. I assume it’s like pulling teeth in there with Diego?” Lila nodded sighing loudly

“Fives the same way, just on other stuff, like deciding if he wants to go out to dinner or stay in and order pizza, or if he needs new underwear because the ones he has have so many holes in surprised they still count as underwear, or just simple things like the dishes, like how hard is it to wash a cup, it shouldn’t be as hard as it is, how hard is it to just tell me when you need a quiet night cause work was stressful, and you are exhausted from stupid people all day, i work retail, he acts like I don’t understand being tired of idiots…I just…” you paused looking back out the windshield

“It’s like your skin is on fire and nothing stops the itch of being a once highly skilled assassin who could fuck with peoples molecules and freeze them in time or make them explode?” You nodded looking at her

“I find myself flicking my hands out and remembering I can’t just blow up or freeze people anymore, it’s like an itch and anytime I explain it to five he just…”

“Doesn’t listen? Or doesn’t understand that you are used to how your life was and now that it’s different, it’s not bad but it’s eye burning mundane clock ticking by slower then ever reality?”

Nodding you sighed

“Diego, he wants to listen, he just, from what five always told me he had a hard time understanding others because his brain is just, frazzled and he feels inadequate, how they grew up I guess shaped them in every timeline. Five is just used to being alone he was alone for 30 years before we met, then I popped up and it’s just. I don’t think he gets that sometimes I just need him to..”

“Let you Help with the itching”

You nodded smiling at her

“He just, it’s been a lot, and we haven’t quite got the ‘normal life’ down just yet.” Lila nodded

“It’s not easy in normal marriage land either, 3 kids and a chunky husband who, doesn’t make it easier is….”

“Not helping the itching. Well how about me and you, when the itch gets too bad, we help each other? Maybe find a way to do something, go to a rage room? Do a fighting class something to feel the….rush? Of what we did before. Have Klaus or someone babysit the kids, be me and you and just….”

“Fighting each other like the before days?” You laughed nodding

“Yeah…I miss getting to kick your ass and having you kick mine…”

Lila laughed looking around

“We could start a fight club, you, me, Ben when he gets out of prison. Just….maybe we’ll get used to normal eventually….” You frowned nodding

“You know if you ever need anything, help with the kids, a friend to vent to when Diego is being Diego…I’m not to far from your guys place. I can always swing by, let the munchkin tornados beat up on auntie Y/N.” You smiled at her for all the mess you and her had been in against each other, she had become one of your closest friends and family members through it all.

Soon enough you finally made your way into the building, the screams of children everywhere, the smell of sugar and something faintly child everywhere. You spotted five by the ball pit, speaking with Ben, walking over you hugged five from behind sighing as you rested your forehead against his back

“Hello, love.” You squeezed him in response before looking up and over to Ben

“Ahh Benjamin, free from jail, good to see you didn’t die, love that you still look like you want to murder us all” Ben didn’t laugh, just glared at you before sighing

“Not in the snark mood got it.” You felt five squeeze your arm a bit pulling away from you, making you groan

Turning to fully look at you, he looked you over smiling softly

“How was work?” You looked at him blinking slowly before sighing and planting your forehead on his chest, groaning

“Ahh I see” his hand rubbed your back softly, his other lifting the beer to his lips.

“People are stupid. How hard is it to put a gas nozzle in a car….”

“Apparently impossible if what you tell me says anything” you looked at him nodding before turning to look around

“10 bucks says Diego forgets to put up the piñata like Lila asked him” five laughed slightly

“Nah 20 says Lila has a mental breakdown before cake is served” you looked over to where Lila stood with Gracie helping the young girl fix her party hat,

“Nah I think she has a breakdown after presents when she sees what we got Gracie” five laughed looking down at you, brushing the stray hair from your face, smiling at him you sighed softly again,

it seemed even if you wanted to rip your hair out from the new ‘normal’ reality you all had to live in, even if your skin itched from the need to return back to what life was before somehow, it was nice that you still had small moments, where normal wasn’t so bad, normal birthday parties for your nieces and nephews, seemingly normal holidays, and normal, non murder happy work. As much as you loathed admitting it, sometimes it was nice. Like now, now was nice.

[lipglossanon]

I Know It Sounds Absurd (Please Tell Me Who I Am)

꧁⸺⧼ ❦ ✩ ☾ ✩ ❦ ✩ ☾ ✩ ❦ ✩ ☾ ✩ ❦ ⧽⸺꧂

Corrupt Cop!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Dedicated to all of you wonderful folks out there who enjoy my content! 🙈 You guys make my day every day! 😘 💜

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, dirty talk, fingering, DARK THEMES such as rape play, rape fantasy, rape kink, consensual non con (reader is very much into it although she acts like she doesn’t); rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, squirting

Roughly looked over but I’m sure there’s mistakes 😜 also this one is mostly smut not much plot, Leon’s been making me feel some sorta way lately 🥵 🤭

Title from The Logical Song by Supertramp

<<previous installment>> ||| <<next installment>>

꧁⸺⧼ ❦ ✩ ☾ ✩ ❦ ✩ ☾ ✩ ❦ ✩ ☾ ✩ ❦ ⧽⸺꧂

It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve actually spent any time with Leon. Your schedules haven’t lined up, you haven’t talked or even texted each other that much. You’ve been so busy with school that you’ve been putting all of your focus on that. 

Or at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself as you cancel plans again to work on your biology assignment. You’re starting to realize that as hot as you find it, Leon also kind of scares you. It’s nice to have someone so protective of you, but it’s getting to the point you don’t feel like you have any autonomy anymore. 

It’s nice to get the flowers and notes left on your door, but you think that he’s starting to overstep a bit. He bumps into you everywhere: the grocery store, the library, the gas station, the park, the hair salon. It’s getting ridiculous. 

Today, the guy you went out with ages ago to Lover’s Lane made eye contact with you in the library; you had your hand raised halfway to wave at him, to sort of say no hard feelings, but he blanched and took off in the opposite direction. Frowning, you watch him speed walk out of the library. 

A warm arm brushes against your shoulder, “Hey, sweetheart, you working late again?”

Leon’s voice sends goosebumps down your arms every time you hear it; the deep timbre makes you ache in all kinds of ways, but fear zings through your brain at the same time. 

You turn and smile at him, hoping he doesn’t see your nervousness, “Hey Leon, yeah, trying to cram in some study sessions before finals.”

“Really?” He smiles at you, boyish and sweet and it makes you soft for him.

“Mm yeah,” you hum, smiling more naturally, “Laura was supposed to meet me but she said something came up.”

“Oh, is that the friend from the grocery store?” He pulls out a chair and sits next to you, sliding a book out of the way to rest his elbow on the table. 

“Yeah,” your brows pucker in annoyance, “I think you spooked her when you ran into us that day.”

“Ah, I’m sorry baby,” he soothes, rubbing his hot palm across your knee.

You nod but don’t say anything, thinking back to that day. Laura convinced you to make a snack run where you both accidentally met up with Leon. But now you’re not so sure it was an accident. You stepped away to grab something, leaving Laura to chat with Leon for a few minutes. 

Hoping they got along, you came back to a tense situation that seemed to break up when Leon saw you. Laura didn’t really speak much for the rest of the day and now that you’re thinking of it, she’s avoided you pretty consistently ever since. 

“You okay?”

Leon’s low rumble pulls you back to the present. 

You nod and rub your eyes with the heel of your hands, “Yeah, I think I’m just burnt out.”

“Take a break, start fresh tomorrow. C’mon I’ll walk you home,” he stands up, helping you from your chair. 

You smile up at him again, “Thanks, Leon. You’re so sweet.”

You grab his hand and stand up on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. As you turn back to grab your things off the table, you don’t notice his blue eyes heatedly staring at you like he wants to eat you alive. 

You toss your pencils in your bag last and throw the strap over your shoulder, “All ready to go.”

Leon slips the strap off of your arm and over his, “Let’s get you home, sweet girl.”

The sweetness of Leon’s actions makes you feel light and giggly, “Okay. Thank you!”

He smirks to himself while you walk beside him filling him in on your school schedule. The walk home seems to go by more quickly with Leon beside you. Once you’re outside your front door, you take your bag from Leon. 

“Thank you for walking me home,” you smile shyly, biting your bottom lip. 

“It’s no problem, sweetheart,” he trails his fingers down your jaw, underneath your chin, to tick your head up higher. 

You sigh softly as Leon presses a kiss against your lips, quickly turning heated when he presses you against your door. You moan high in your throat, hands grasping the front of his shirt, fingertips catching on his badge. 

You pull back, to confirm that yes he is wearing his uniform. How did you not notice? Your eyelashes flutter shut when he sucks a bruise on your neck, making your legs tremble. 

“If I had the time, I’d take you apart right here, pretty girl,” he murmurs, kissing across your jaw, “make you cum all over me.”

“Leon!” you gasp, pussy dripping slick at his voice, “want it, please.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, slipping a hand underneath your skirt and panties to touch your bare pussy. 

“Can you cum for me? Get my fingers nice and wet?” He growls, slipping his ring and middle finger in your clenching hole to fuck up hard into your pussy, palm smacking against your clit.

You gasp, hips rocking down into his palm, pussy clenching around his fingers. He rubs his thumb across your swollen clit in rough circles. 

“Leon,” you whine, hands grabbing at his forearms, tendons flexing as he keeps finger fucking you against your front door. 

You pant, eyes half lidded as you look up into his hungry gaze. Your pussy squelches with every movement, getting wetter at the thought of doing this in broad daylight where any of your neighbors could see. 

His deep voice rumbles in your ear, “Love to just fuck you open on my cock, but we’ll have to save that for later.”

Slick leaks from your pussy all over his hand, dripping down his wrist. 

“You’re gonna get my uniform all dirty, sweetheart,” he laughs, tongue dipping in your ear before he places a wet kiss on the shell. 

You whine high in your throat, hips grinding down harder on his fingers stretching your drippy cunt open, “Leon!”

“Who’s gonna make you cum?” he growls in your ear.

“Daddy,” you buck your hips down into his hand and moan as his palm smacks your clit harshly.

“There we go,” he chuckles meanly, “my pretty girl needs to cream my fingers so daddy can go to work.”

Mewling, you roll your hips down into his rough finger fucking, “Daddy, please.”

He presses hot open mouthed kisses along your neck and jaw before licking into your panting mouth.

Your pussy pulses around his fingers, more slick wetting his fingers. 

You feel your orgasm ramping closer with every steady thrust of Leon’s fingers in your aching pussy, “I’m close.”

“Cum for me, soak my fingers, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear, voice low and smoky, “you can do it, be a good girl and cum for me.”

With one final swipe against your swollen clit, your back bows off of the door, thighs clamping tightly around his wrist. Your pussy clenches down on his fingers, trying to milk them with soft pulses as your walls flutter around the digits. 

“So good for me,” he kisses your cheek then your lips. 

He gently pulls his fingers away from your suckling heat, bringing them up to his mouth to lap up your creamy slick. He stares at you, eyes hot and heavy. 

“I really need to go or I won’t leave,” he kisses you again, deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You good to go out tomorrow night?” He pulls back and straightens his shirt, adjusting himself in his slacks. 

Your mouth waters at the thought of dropping to your knees for him, but you shake that away. 

Still high on endorphins, you smile happily at him, “Sure, tomorrow is good.”

He drops a kiss to your head and you sigh, “Thank you, daddy.”

“Oh my pleasure, sweetheart,” he kisses you once more, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You watch him walk back the way you both came until you can’t make him out anymore. Turning, you unlock your door and shakily step into your house. 

You walk over to your couch and drop your bag down before slumping onto the couch cushion next to it. Leaning your head back, you sigh into the empty room. Your body’s still tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm and you bite your lip, embarrassment crashing over you at letting Leon finger you on your front stoop. 

He just alters your brain chemistry, making you too horny to think clearly. You shift and can still feel how wet your panties are from a moment ago making your nose scrunch in discomfort. As you get up to go take a quick shower, you’re thankful this went more smoothly than when your friend Brad walked you home and Leon was waiting for you at your door. 

Your mood dips as you gather your clothes to change into, remembering how angry Leon was and how he almost hurt Brad; you’re pretty sure there’s going to be a scar across his face, but you hope not. Leon was awful in that moment, attacking Brad like he was some sort of rabid dog. 

Afterwards, he explained that he thought Brad was trying to hurt you, or worse, and he was only trying to look out for you—take care of you. You apologized profusely to Brad, but you haven’t heard from or seen him since that evening. Maybe you should check up on him after finals. 

Entering the bathroom, you set your clothes down on the counter and look at yourself in the mirror. You press the bruise forming on your neck from Leon’s mouth, the twinge shooting straight to your cunt. Lips thinning, you tell yourself you’re going to have to set some boundaries with Leon. It’s the healthy thing to do. 

Your mind flashes back to that night in the shower when Leon bruised your neck so badly you had to wear scarves for weeks on end. That dark look that came in his eyes as he held onto your neck still troubles you, but at the same time you think maybe you were just seeing things. He’s been nothing but a gentleman to you; being so sweet to wait on you, not saying anything about your flaky attitude as you keep canceling plans with him. 

You sigh, moving over to the shower. You’ll just talk it out on your date tomorrow night and work everything out. No harm, no foul. Right?

The next day passes by in a blur; you turn in your assignments, head home a little early, and get ready to meet up with Leon later. 

You dress modestly, a simple blouse and skirt with a pair of cute flats. In no time at all, Leon’s showing up at your door with a lovely bouquet of flowers. He waits for you by the door as you quickly put them in water, then follows you as you walk out, locking the door behind you two. 

He opens the door for you and you climb into the front seat of his car. After he slides into the driver’s seat, he makes sure you’re buckled in before starting the car. 

“Where are we going?” You watch him drum his fingers on the steering wheel as he pulls away from the curb. 

“You’ll see,” he grins at you and winks.

Butterflies dance in your chest as you peer out the window, trying to mentally guess where he’s taking you. After several minutes of comfortable silence, you feel a knot of unease forming in your stomach as he drives out towards Lover’s Lane. 

It feels like forever before he turns into an overgrown dirt road and eases the car down past a copse of trees. He drives a few more feet before parking the car and shutting off the engine. 

“Thought it would be cute to take you to our first date,” he grins at you, eyes dark and watchful. 

Taking in the thick foliage, you recognize the pull off Leon used so long ago to take you apart in his backseat. You can feel your pulse beating in your neck as you smile shakily at him.

“Oh, I, uh, didn’t realize you considered that our first date,” you laugh, hoping to ease the tension you’re feeling. 

His eyes narrow at you, smile ticking up into something mean, “Of course, I would,” his voice drops into a low octave, “it was the first time I got to taste your sweet pussy.”

You feel flush and jittery, “O-oh.”

“Why so tense?” He brings his hand to brush back your hair, eyes tracking your expressions. 

You try to smile but it falls flat, “Leon, w-we need to talk.”

“About?”

You take in a steady breath, “We need to set some boundaries. I’m j-just feeling a little smothered.”

He hums and you slowly let out your breath. 

“Okay,” he nods. 

You light up with a real smile, feeling proud of yourself, “Oh, so you understand? I—“

He returns your smile but it’s empty, making your belly swoop with fear, “No, baby. See, I’m only trying to take care of you, so I just don’t get how I’m smothering you?”

Your eyes widen as you press yourself against the door to face him better, “I m-mean you attacked my friend Brad outside of my house. Y-You scared off Laura when we were just chatting in the grocery store. You keep me from interacting with anyone!”

You pant, realizing in the ensuing silence how much you raised your voice. But you don’t care; you’re trying to make a point—make him understand your point of view.

“If we can’t agree on this,” you fidget and wring your hands, bile rising in your throat from nerves, “then I don’t know if I can see you anymore, Leon.”

He laughs then, loudly, tinging on crazed. You only stare at him, fear making your hands feel like static. 

The laughing dies off and he stares at you almost fondly, “Stupid girl, you really think you’re going to leave me? We’re made for each other.”

He grabs your hands, staring into your eyes—his gaze manic. 

“I just need to show you, teach you, that we’re meant to be. You’re my perfect girl. One I never thought I’d find in this shithole town,” he sighs, “and now you’re trying to leaveme?”

The grip on your hands tightens making you wince. 

“I’m not going to let you leave me. You just don’t get that you’re mine. Mine to love, to take care of, to fuck stupid,” he’s squeezing your hands so hard now your joints creak, “but that’s okay, this is a teachable moment. I taught that sweet little mouth manners, that pretty little pussy to cum for me, so I can teach you this too.”

Anxiety flares in your chest even as you feel yourself getting turned on from his crude words. 

“Leon—“

“No,” he growls, eyes sea dark and angry, “that’s not my name, pretty girl. Maybe I need to take you over my knee and start fresh.”

Your clit throbs as you clench down on nothing. At that moment, you’re truly torn between your want for Leon and having your line drawn in the sand. You feel like if you let him have his way, there won’t be any turning back. 

“I-I’m sorry, I just want—“

“You don’t know what you want,” he coos, “but that’s okay, I can teach my dumb girl til she knows better.”

He lets go of your hands to pull you by the arms and in that split second your brain goes into fight or flight. You twist the door handle and fall out of the car backwards, landing on your ass. Quickly, you stand up to face Leon, who’s still sitting in the drivers seat, watching you with an unreadable expression. 

“I’d think twice, sweetheart,” he warns, voice deepening, “don’t make me chase you.”

You feel a thrill of fear trickle down your spine as your heartbeat pulses in your cunt, making the gusset of your panties wet at the idea of Leon running after you. 

You shake your head, feeling mixed up with all these conflicting ideas and emotions. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, turning to run back to the main road—away from Leon, awayfrom the hot arousal at being at his mercy, away from that dark part of you that likeshis obsessive nature. 

While regretting your choice of a cute skirt and flats for tonight as you run, you hear a car door open and slam behind you. Your anxiety spikes again at the noise of his boots behind you. Leon’s footsteps are slow, but getting quicker and quicker until you know he’s running behind you—after you.

Another dark pulse of want flares in your body even as the anxiety blooms in your chest, making your fingers tingle and breathe quicken. Sadly, although you give it your all, you don’t make it that far. Leon’s broad form bear hugs you from behind making you lose your balance and trip.

Your knees sting as they break your fall, dirt and rocks digging into your skin. The adrenaline pumping in your body makes you lightheaded, veins thrumming with energy and endorphins. 

Leon’s body is on top of yours, shoving you further into the wet leaf strewn ground. You hate that you love this, arousal rushing through you. 

“Why are you acting like such a bitch?” He snarls in your ear, “all I’m trying to do is take care of you.”

Tears blur your vision as you arch your back, trying to buck Leon off of you. 

“Stop! Please, I just want to go home,” you cry out. 

“Baby,” he croons, “you should’ve thought of that before you wanted to act like a brat. Now, I’m gonna have to show you your place.”

You hiccup a sob, thrashing underneath his bulky build but not getting anywhere.  Realizing you can’t move, your panties fill with slick as your clit throbs with want. 

“You’re just making it worse for yourself,” he sighs, hot breath fanning the hair by your ear, “gonna just have to show you what I mean when I say you’re mine.”

You feel hot all over, pussy getting wetter at the thought of Leon taking you right here and now where anyone could see. To give yourself one last fighting chance, against him and yourself, you jerk your head back and feel it connect with his nose. He lets go of you with a low curse, hands going to his face on instinct. Trying to gain some sort of footing, you haphazardly crawl forward on your hands and knees, feet slipping on the foliage. 

You get out from underneath Leon and try to stand up when you feel a large hand clamp down around your ankle. 

“I don’t think so,” he growls, yanking you back towards him. 

Fingers scrabbling at the dirt as he drags you backwards leaves cuts and scrapes across both palms. You’re crying harder now, snot leaking down your nose as you gasp for breath. Dark arousal curls in your belly, nipples tightening to hard points in your bra. He’s so strong that it takes very little to manhandle you back down, face first in the dirt and ass in the air. 

“Just keep making this harder and harder on yourself,” he sighs, put out, like you’re some unruly child. 

“Leon,” you whimper softly, “please.”

One of his calloused hands presses your neck down to keep your upper body still, “Let’s not move too much, okay?”

He squeezes down when you don’t answer, “Okay??” 

“Okay!” You squeal, pain pinching your nerves making your rub your thighs together to alleviate the pulsing in your cunt. 

“Good girl,” he mocks, dragging his free hand along your ribs to your hip and around to fondle your ass under your skirt. 

“You’re sick,” you bite out, voice muffled, trying desperately to quell the want thrumming in your body. 

“Oh I know I am, sweetheart,” he coos down at you, “but so are you.”

He cups your pussy with his palm, fingers rubbing your slit through your wet panties. 

“Damn,” he chuckles derisively, “fucking leaking all over my fingers, pretty girl. Like when I get mean with you?”

You mewl as his fingers pinch your soaked clit. 

“Mmm got you real hot for me,” he rumbles. 

His fingers pause as he leans further over your body, “Say, I have an idea sweetheart.

“What would you think,” he taps his middle finger against your sensitive clit on every word, “if I raped this hot little cunt of yours? No one’s around to stop me, right?”

You moan, hands clawing at the dirt and drenching your panties further making him laugh in disbelief. 

“What a nasty fucking girl,” he chuckles, “getting soaked at that.”

He slips his fingers past the band on your panties and trails his fingers across your leaking hole and up to rub your clit. 

“Thought about it,” he muses out loud, fingers slipping back to press into your cunt, “just shoving my dick into your tight pussy whether you wanted it or not.”

You moan, the fight slowly leaving your body as he tells you about his sick fantasy, one that makes you clench on his fingers and drip down your thighs. 

“Yeah,” he growls, scissoring open your hole with his middle and ring fingers, “you make it so easy too. Walking home alone all the time. Don’t even notice me tailing you, pretty girl.

“Can just sneak up on you, drag you down that little alley next to the library and fuck this tight cunt until I’ve had my fill,” he fucks his fingers up into your clenching hole, “just leave you a dripping, cum filled mess right in the alley.”

You suddenly clamp down hard around his fingers, eyelashes fluttering as the orgasm hits you fast. 

He laughs at you, pulling his fingers from your drenched cunt, “So fucking nasty, knew you’d be perfect for me, just had to get you to see it.”

“Hope you learned your lesson, pretty girl,” he helps you to your feet, turning you to face him and pressing your back against the closest tree. 

You jerkily nod your head, feeling wrung out like an old dish cloth. 

“Good,” he pats your cheek, eyes dragging down your body taking in the state of your clothes. 

“Looking a little messy there, baby,” he grins, pulling out his pocketknife. 

Fear clogs your throat making you speechless. 

“W-wha—“

He grabs the hem of your shirt and slices through the material, going from the bottom all the way up to your neck. The blouse falls open showing Leon your bra. He lifts it from you chest and slices through it too, breasts spilling out into the cool night air. 

Leon pockets the knife and grabs your breasts, fondling them and pinching your nipples. 

“Oh I hope you didn’t think we were through,” he smirks, eyes glinting in the dark, “gonna let you run one more time, sweet thing. If you get away, I promise to be a little less.. intense with you. But if I catch you, I’m gonna ravage this sweet pussy again and again.”

You whine, cunt feeling swollen and sore between your legs, “M-my legs— my knees hurt.”

He looks down and pouts, “Oh poor thing. Okay, how about this.”

He grabs you by the neck and presses you even tighter against the tree. Your hands scrabble against his forearm but he doesn’t budge. 

“Let me try to rape this pussy,” his eyes are dark, voice deep, “fight me, bite me, scratch me, do everything you can to keep me from fucking you. Fight me hard enough and I’ll stop.”

He crowds against your body, hard nipples pressed against his shirt, “But if I feel you giving up, giving in, I’m gonna take you again and again on this dirty fucking ground til your swollen with my cum.”

You try your hardest against him. You bite, kick, scratch, spit (which he loved, spitting it back into your mouth making you wet), even clawing at his arms and back until you drew blood, but Leon still pins your weak body down on the ground. 

He lays between your legs to lick and bite at your nipples until you’re thrashing in his grip. 

“Aww tits too sore?” he grins at you, “too fucking bad.”

While his mouth concentrates on your breasts, he rips your skirt down your legs and tosses it away. You hear as he undoes his belt and unzips his pants. Using his hands, he wrenches your legs open and moves your panties to the side without slipping them off, feeding his cock into your dripping cunt. 

“That’s it,” he groans as you punch his shoulders and try to kick him, “fight me, gets me so fucking hard.”

“Help!” You scream out, pressing your head back into the ground.

“Yes,” he groans, humping deeper into your silky heat.

“Help me please!” Your voice breaks on the last word, a low cry slipping out as Leon plays with your clit. 

“Won’t be long, sweetheart,” he laughs at you, “got me really fucking worked up  this time.”

You whine, tears slipping down your face, pussy clenching and milking his cock while he rubs your clit just the way you like. 

“Please!” you cry out, no longer sure who you’re calling for. 

“We should do this every date night,” he laughs, a low rumbling growl leaving his throat afterwards as you clamp down at that suggestion. 

“Perfect, you’re so—,” he groans, “got me a nasty fucking slut.”

He spits on your mouth making you hiccup a moan, back arching. You let him tug your chin down so he can spit in your open mouth. You whine, tongue lolling out, silently begging for more. 

“Fuck me,” he grits out, leaning over you to drool all in your mouth. 

“Swallow it you little brat,” he rasps, eyes hungrily watching you as you do as he says.  

He fucks into you a little deeper and grinds his fat tip against your cervix making you completely tense around him. He rubs harsh circles on your clit as he keeps grinding until you scream out and cream all over his cock, your slick making his thrusts easier. 

“Yes, fuck yes,” Leon groans, letting himself cum inside you, hot jizz kissing the entrance to your womb as he fills up your cunt. He finally pulls out, painting the inside of your thighs white with the rest of his cum. 

“You’re so dirty for me, pretty girl,” Leon praises, making you whine, “gonna slip right back in this sweet pussy.”

You keen, hole fluttering around nothing. He grabs your hip and twists you until you’re face down in the dirt, knees digging into the rough ground. Tilting your hips up higher, the fat head of Leon’s cock presses against your opening. 

He slowly presses inside making you moan loudly—the angle stretching your pussy almost painfully. He finally bottoms out inside of you, the head of his dick kissing your cervix making you constantly clench around him.

“You can be such a good girl for me if you just learn to behave.”

“Leon,” you slur, drunk off the feeling of being so full. 

A sharp smack lands on your ass, “My name’s not Leon right now. Don’t make me tell you again.”

You clench down at the sting, pussy eagerly milking the thick cock stretching you wide, “Daddy!”

“Such a tight hole,” he hisses. 

Your legs spasm as your feet kick out, a low moan slipping from your lips. 

“Mmm, you like that? Like knowing how tight you are?” He laughs down at you, one hand gripping your neck as the other grabs your hip. 

He pulls out and thrusts back in, grinding against your cervix to make you squeal. 

“Y-you’re gonna— my pussy’s— you’re gonna ruin my pussy—“ you’re drooling in the dirt, body held down as Leon uses you how he wants. 

He growls, “Ruin your pussy? Fuck, baby. Yeah m’gonna ruin this sweet cunt for anyone else but me.”

Without realizing it, you press back, rolling your hips against his thrusting to make it easier for him to fuck you nice and deep. 

“How does it feel getting your juicy little pussy raped in the middle of the woods, huh?” He coos, fake sympathy coloring his tone, “sounds like it feels good, sweetheart. Sounds like you like daddy raping your cute cunt.”

“Daddy,” you keen at the truth in his words, walls fluttering around his fat cock, “daddy, please.”

“Tell me,” he slows until he’s barely grinding into your squelching pussy.

“Feels good,” you whimper, tears dripping down your face, “feels good when daddy rapes my cute pussy.”

He laughs and smacks your ass a few times as he picks up the pace, humping his dick deeper into your cunt, “Yeah it does.”

Leon grabs your hair and pulls until your back’s flush with his chest. His other hand cups your jaw before dropping down to your neck and gripping tightly. 

Gasping, you feel his hand tighten a fraction more causing you to drip at the sensation. Your hole greedily clenches down on the cock slowly fucking you into submission. 

Leon gives a low growl, “Want me to make you my own personal hole, pretty girl?”

You press back eagerly onto Leon’s throbbing dick as he thrusts harder into your tight hole.

Leon nips at your earlobe, “Gonna breed this wet cunt til you’re full.”

You mewl pitifully, clit throbbing, “Daddy, daddy.”

He snarls and shoves you face down into the earth again. You can’t really see anything, completely pinned down by the hand on your neck. 

However, you feel the thick cock stretching you, filling you more than you thought possible. You kind of hate it, hate feeling so full—so good. Your pussy clenches and spasms on his thick cock, slowly fucking into you. You feel yourself getting  even wetter, easing the way for him to fill your hole over and over again. 

Leon moans and grunts with each slow thrust inside your pussy, his deep baritone sliding over you leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He adjusts the angle and presses against your g-spot on every thrust, grinding against it making you moan loudly into the night air. The fat tip of his cock stretches your cunt so wide, it makes you clench tighter around his dick. 

His hips stutter before he begins deep, rolling thrusts that has you drooling in pleasure. You feel so debased and it only makes it hotter. You want more. Want Leon to stuff you full—stretch you out on his fat cock, cum inside you until it’s dripping down your thighs. 

“Daddy,” you mewl. 

“Fuck,” he grits out, “don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck you good.”

You try to beg, but only whine in pleasure as his fingers caress your clit with light touches before gliding over your slick pussy lips, spreading you further open for him.

“Such a good girl.”

He starts a rougher tempo, pounding his cock into you with abandon. You know you’ll be bruised around your knees and hands where the dirt and rocks dig into your skin from being pinned to the ground. Your tits sway with each thrust of his fat cock in your squelching cunt, hard nipples grazing the forest floor. You want to shout—yell at him but only moans and pleas slip past your lips. 

With a low tearing sound, you feel Leon rip off the rest of your panties leaving your pussy completely exposed. His hot hands caress what they can reach before grabbing handfuls of your ass to thrust harder, deeper into you. 

“Always so good,” he groans, “love fucking your tight pussy.”

You begin to cum, pussy walls pulsing and clenching around the thick cock stretching you to your limits. Whining and moaning as your orgasm crests, Leon fucks into you harder—his fingers  dipping between your legs to tease and pinch your clit. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, “cum all over my cock, sweetheart. Get it nice and wet so I can fuck you hard. Breed this hot little cunt.”

Keening, you keep cumming as his fat cockchead rubs at your g spot and pounds against your cervix. The pain coalesces into pleasure making your eyes roll back. 

“S’too much,” you slur, legs kicking from the overstimulation, “too much!”

Leon ignores you and rabbits his hips into your hot, wet pussy. You squirm, but he has you pinned with his strong arms so it only makes you whine as he rails you into the dirt, slick leaking down your thighs. 

“Ready for me to fill you up, pretty girl?” he groans. 

Without waiting for any answer, he buries his cock deep, shooting his thick load straight into your clenching pussy. You cum hard, body tensing all over, pussy walls eagerly milking his cock as rope after rope of hot cum fills you to the brim.  

He keeps thrusting, cock spurting continually until he finally pulls his half hard dick out, cum trickling out of your swollen cunt and dribbling down your thighs. 

His cock kicks and begins to fill out again at the sight, so he slides back into your willing hole. 

“Yeah, going to keep you here. Breed you until your full,” he smirks to himself, “you love it, don’t you sweetheart?”

You moan at the feeling of him thrusting  back into your cum filled pussy. His hands reach up to grope your tits, flicking your nipples roughly until your pussy pulses and clenches around his cock buried deep inside you. 

You mewl and whine as he keeps twisting and pinching your sensitive nipples.

“Dirty little slut,” he rasps, slowing down to deep rolling thrusts so his cock drags against your fluttering pussy walls. 

You moan, eyes watering, “Daddy, please.”

You try to squirm and move away from the overstimulation, but Leon holds you in place as he fucks your gooey cunt. 

“Fuck, gonna cum again,” he chuckles meanly, moving his fingers down to flick and pinch your swollen clit, “pussy so good, gonna milk me dry.” 

He cums in you again, just as your walls clamp down on his thick cock. You scream so loud it echoes back to you from the surrounding trees. Your pussy gushes out slick like a fountain as he fucks another hot load deep into your willing cunt. 

Leon pulls out slowly and watches his jizz drip out of your spasming cunt and down over the swollen, fat lips of your pussy. He quickly flips you over onto your back and pushes his middle and index finger into your pulsing walls to rub against your g-spot. 

“C’mon, squirt again, baby, really want you to soak me,” he bites down on your hip bone.

Your legs and arms are jello, no fight left in your body as Leon fingers your cunt. His other hand rubs circles into your clit while he slides three fingers in and out of your sore pussy. 

You feel it slowly ramping up higher and higher, thighs trembling, “G’nna cum.”

Leon fucks his fingers up into your pussy even harder, nailing your g-spot until you’re screaming again and gushing slick from your hole. He keeps up the harsh pace, prolonging your orgasm and making you squirt over and over, soaking his jeans and shirt. 

He gently eases up and slides his fingers out, giving your mound a light smack that has your hips jumping. 

“Daddy,” you whine up at him, body buzzing and head empty, trying to pull him down, “kiss, please.”

He huffs a low laugh as he licks past your drooling lips, tongue fucking deep into your mouth. You lazily make out on the cold ground until you start to shiver. Leon slowly pulls away, a strand of spit connecting your swollen lips.

“Think we should go home, baby,” his eyes rove over your spent body, taking in the mess he made. 

“Okay,” you whisper, voice shot and hoarse, “need help up.”

“I’ve got you,” he smiles crookedly, “I’ve always got you.”

You must be as sick as he says because instead of the usual anxiety, you feel a hot bolt of arousal shoot to your aching pussy. 

“I know, Leon,” you sigh, feeling something settle disjointedly in your mind as he picks you up, “thank you.”

[countrymusiclover]

2 - Doctor Nicknames

Part 3

Feisty Coffee Girl

Izzie and I had gone to the bathroom in the gas station since we needed some groceries and the nearest grocery store was an hour away. Holding a hand over my stomach my sister ripped open the package of pregnancy tests we had just bought. “Here it should show up in five minutes after you take it.”

“I can’t be pregnant right. Mom would be furious if I were.” I gulped nervously taking the test out of her hands going into one of the stalls.

Izzie leaned her body against the wall waiting for me. “We will worry about mom after you take the test. Right now just keep calm and do the test so we’ll have an answer.”

“Okay I’m gonna do it now.” I answered her back peeing on the stick and just sitting on the toilet until the time was up. Opening my eyes I blinked through tears so emotional about what was down in front of me.

Izzie knocked on the stall door gaining my attention. “Y/n, what does it say?”

“It uh ... .it's positive.” I croaked through tears with my sister kicking open the door since I hadn’t locked it. She helps me up to my feet getting my pants up seeing me begin uncontrollably sobbing.

She wrapped her arms around my shaking body and I cling onto her for some strength. “Shhh I’m here for you. We will get through this.”

“You really think that?” I asked her.

Izzie broke the embrace holding me by my shoulders sniffing through some tears. “You and I are extremely tough and we will get through this.”

“What do you think it's going to be? Boy or girl?” Moving my hands down to my stomach I sniffed through my own tears. Closing my eyes I paused just thinking about the choice I had to make. I could get rid of it or keep it and become a teenage mother so young.

Izzie clicked her tongue with a light smile. “I'd say girl. She'll be just as badass as you are.”

“I might hope it's a girl someday too.” I gave her a weak smile. Running one of my hands over my stomach would change everything the second the baby's father said he didn’t want to be a teen parent so I ended up on my own. “I've always liked the name Everly. I'll probably name her that.”

“Everly will be an adorable name.’ My twin sister grinned hugging me again and we just held one another.

My phone had been ringing the entire time I was driving home from work. It had been almost over two weeks since I had gotten the random guy's number. Driving towards the elementary school I was on my way to pick up my daughter from school. Caroline was only able to take her during the mornings. Pulling the car to a stop in a spot I entered the school going to her classroom. “Seriously, how many times are you going to call me.” Taking out my phone I ignored the call.

“Mommy!” Lifting my head up I saw my daughter running straight to me. Her hair getting thrown in every direction until she flung herself into my waiting arms.

Wrapping my arms around her I laughed into her hair dropping myself onto my knees. “I've missed you. I miss you all the time you're not with me.”

“Can we go get pizza?” Everly asked me when we broke the embrace.

Brushing hair out of her face I chuckled. “Sure we can. Oh one second it's your aunt Izzie….hey Izzie what's up?”

“Would you be able to come to the hospital? I am stuck here for the rest of the day and I have some gossip I really need to tell you about.” She explained through the phone.

Holding the phone up to my ear with one hand I take Everly’s with my other leading her out to the car. “Izzie I don't know if that's a good idea. I have Everly with me and we want some dinner.”

“Meredith is sleeping with one of the residents in the hospital. I think that's enough of a reason to hear the whole story.” My sister declared.

Sitting my phone in the cup holder I helped Eve get into the backseat of the car getting into my driver's seat switching the phone to speaker making our way home. “Izzie, I love you. I want to spend time with you too. But it is not a good idea to bring her to the hospital.”

“I want to see aunt Izzie.” Everly said from the backseat of the car.

Izzie heard her and kept convincing me. “See, she wants to come see me. It will be fine. I can even add on that there's pizza down in the cafeteria. So please come visit me tonight.”

“Fine Isobel Stevens. We will come to the hospital. Just do your best to not get my daughter sick because then I'll have to take care of her for two weeks.” I caved running my freehand turning the steering wheel changing in the direction of the hospital. Hanging up my phone I hoped that this would just be a good visit and the next time we could hang out at my apartment or at Meredith's house that she was living in with some of her fellow interns.

Everly was already undoing her seatbelt to get out of the car by the time I had parked us outside the hospital. Leading her inside by the hand we found my sister standing at the nurse desk with her three other friends who were Alex, Christina and George. “Aunt Izzie!” Everly removed her hand away from mine jumping up into her waiting arms.

“Oh there's my favorite little niece.” Izzie twirled her around laughing until she sat her down on her feet.

Alex came around the nurse station with a smirk on his face getting close to me. “So you’re her sister huh. I gotta say you might be hotter than Izzie is.”

“Uh…Hey Eve, I think I heard somebody say they have pizza in the cafeteria. Why don’t you go wait over there for a second and then we can go get something to eat.” Bending my knees to be her level I put my hands on my knees to be eye level with her.

Everly grinned skipping over to one of the empty waiting room seats. “Deal. Be quick, mommy.”

“Okay so what gossip were you dying to tell me that we couldn’t do at home?” I focused my attention on my twin sister with her standing in front of me.

She throws her hands up beginning to ramble off with such bright and bubbly excitement that she naturally showed off to her friends and her patients at the hospital. “The doctor that I told you Meredith slept with is the head of brain surgery and is named Derek Shepherd. But he failed to mention that he was married and then his ex wife came to work here. And now for some reason the guy who also cheated on his wife is now in the hospital in that room.”

George leaned his head to the side, getting our group's attention to focus on the open room where a guy was stitching up his own face even though Meredith was standing in front of him. “Why is he suturing his own face?”

Cristina replied. “To turn me on.”

Alex explained where I parted my mouth opened hearing he was clearly impressed. “Cause he's Mark Sloan. He's like the go-to plastic surgeon on the East Coast.”

George gasped in shock. “That's the guy Addison was sleeping with?”

“Who’s Addison?” I raised a brow at the name.

Izzie filled me in. “You can't really blame her, can you? So basically it goes like this. McDreamy is apparently been best friend up until Mark slept with Addison who was McDreamy's wife till he found them sleeping together.”

“Oh wow.” I didn't know what to say about all their crazy gossip.

Cristina said back. “No, not really.”

George gagged. “Yes you can.”

Meredith finally came around the corner entering our conversation. “McSexy wants an x-ray to check for fractures and I think it's a bad idea if I take him.”

George stammered. “Why? Why?”

Alex bolted towards the opposite direction. “I'm on it.”

George asked. “Why is it a bad idea?”

Cristina quoted. “McSexy?”

Izzie responded and Meredith made a disgusted face. “McYummy.”

Meredith and Cristina said in unison. “No.”

Meredith finally spoke up again with another nickname. “McSteamy.”

Cristina awed in agreement. “Oh there it is.”

Izzie glanced down at me. “Yep. What do you think about the nickname Y/n?”

George gagged running away the second the door open and I turned my head in the direction. “Uh, just ah choking back some McVomit.”

“I don’t see what the big fuss about him is - holy shit!” I felt my mouth hang open when a guy with dark brown hair came out wearing a black tea shirt and gray pants.

Everly spoke up. “Shit?”

“You can’t say that. Only mommy says that.” Whipping my head around I warned my daughter with a finger before putting my attention to the guy in front of our group. “I….I’ve met him.”

Christina, Meredith, Izzie and George gasped all looking over at me. “How?”

“Don’t I know you from somewhere…Feisty Blonde?” The guy that looked exactly like Mark made his way over to us. His green eyes landed only on mine and they remained there with him putting almost no gap between us. “What are you doing here, Y/n?”

Running my fingers through my hair I chuckled nervously feeling my face turn red with the interns watching our interaction. “I guess I’m meeting you for the second time, Mark Sloan.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[austonwithan-o]

Summer Job- Trevor Zegras x Reader

After a certain boy walks into your hair salon. How could you say no to him asking you on a date? I mean customer satisfaction right?

——————————————————————————

No warnings!

You had just recently moved to Bedford, NY to live with your grandparents. They offered for you to live with them during the summers when it was too expensive for you to fly back to Portland where your parents lived. Attending NYU completely on scholarship you didn’t have time for a job during the school year. You did cut hair on the side for some of your friends and they paid you some which covered some weekend excursions but nothing too crazy. Little did you know that side hustle would lead to you meeting the love of your life.

Sitting in your bed you scrolled through job listings, a lot of grocery stores, gas stations, target, fast food places were hiring but nothing really caught your eye. Annoyed you closed your laptop letting out a groan.

“I refuse to work at McDonald’s mom. I’m not coming home smelling like fries and grease and it’s a whole 40 minute drive from here! There’s literally nothing interesting here.” You were annoyed with the sparse selection of employment available and despite your obvious disappointment your mom let out a laugh much to your dismay.

“Honey I know you don’t wanna come home smelling like a fast food place but you’re gonna have to choose something. Plus it’s just for the summer! Just like what, 2 months? You can survive 2 months y/n or here maybe ask grandma and grandpa if they have any friends who have businesses. They know a lot of people around there.” Her voice rang through the speaker phone on your nightstand, it wasn’t a horrible idea, your grandparents did have a great reputation in the town and a lot of friends.

“Hmm you’re not wrong?” You said picking up your phone, “I’m gonna go talk to them it’s dinner time anyways.”

“Alright sweetie I love you! Have a goodnight and keep me updated on the job hunt.”

“Will do momma! Love you too!” Hanging up and making your way downstairs the smell of your grandmas food was heavenly. You loved it here.

“Oh perfect! I was just about to call you down!”

Your grandpa said pulling a chair out for you to sit. You smiled and thanked him as he pushed it in.

“So grandpa I was on the phone with mom, looking for jobs with her and I was wondering if you knew anyone who would be willing to hire me for the summer? I mean there’s fast food and restaurants and stuff but I just thought maybe you’d have more, I guess, connections around here?” Taking a bite of the chicken on your plate. There was a few seconds of silence before your grandma spoke.

“You know I actually do know someone who’s hiring but are you good with hair? My friend Carla has a hair studio 10 minutes into town and she’s looking for another employee.”

Bingo.

“I can cut hair! I have a little side hustle at school cutting hair for like $10. I mean I’m not professional but I’m definitely not bad at it. I can also style and dye hair too!” This was the perfect job you thought plus the tips would be great!

“Her name is Carla! I’m going in tomorrow to get my hair trimmed. I’ll introduce you to her, she’s such a sweet lady!” Your grandma said, “We will leave around 11? My appointment is at 11:15 and I like getting there a bit early.”

You agreed. After dinner you spent a few hours playing cards and chatting with your grandparents eventually heading up to your room.

You woke up around 10:30am a little tired from staying up watching hair tutorials refreshing your memory on how to cut hair but you didn’t need much reminding.

You showered, got dressed and ran downstairs grabbing the keys to your old Jeep.

“Grandma I’ll drive!” You exclaimed rushing out the door.

“Alrighty I’ll be there in a second.”

The drive was peaceful. Driving through the colorful country you couldn’t help but admire how nice and green everything around you was. Your thoughts were interrupted by your grandma.

“I don’t know if you watch hockey at all but Carla has a little bit of a celebrity customer you know.” She smiled, “I’ve met him before his name is Trevor Zegras. He’s a hockey player. I’m not sure which team but he’s a cutie. Maybe you’ll get to cut his hair.” She shot you a wink making you roll your eyes.

“Ah yes grandma I definitely need a hot hockey player boyfriend to distract me all summer.”

“He’s a very charming young man! I bet you two would hit it off!” You laughed at her statement. A relationship was definitely the last thing on your mind for the summer. Making friends? That would be fun but definitely no boyfriend.

“Grandma you know I don’t need a boyfriend. I mean especially since I would just be leaving to school in a few months.”

“You never know y/n! People come into your life for different reasons.”

You smiled at her words but it was true. You didn’t want a summer fling. It wasn’t your style. If you were gonna date someone it was going to be serious and having a hockey boyfriend was definitely not on your list of things you needed.

You arrived at the hair salon. The sign displayed on top read, “Bedford Village Hair Design” it was a cute little shop. You could see a few workers at their stations and a few customers in the chairs. You both walked in hearing the chime of the bells, “Alice! Good to see you! You’re a bit early but I’ll just get you started over here-“ the woman who you assumed to be Carla gave you a wide smile.

“And who might you be?” She asked pulling you into a hug.

“Carla this is my granddaughter y/n! She’s staying with me for the summer and I brought her here to introduce her to you! She’s looking for a summer job and I think she would be perfect for your salon!” She said as she sat down in the seat, you followed close behind the two, standing beside Carla.

“Well I definitely wouldn’t be apposed! Can you cut men’s hair? I have more and more male clients coming in and I need more help around here!” Carla spoke trimming away at your grandmas hair. She was definitely not new to this.

“Yes! I cut my guy friends hair all the time in school. It’s like a little side hustle so I can make some money during the year.” You explained.

“You know what that sounds great! If you want just swing by tomorrow let’s say around 9:30am and you can start if that’s okay with you? I have someone coming in at 9:45am who you can do. He’s very sweet.”

“That sounds awesome! Thank you so much!”

You waited in the corner for your grandma to be done her hair which took about 20 more minutes and with that you both left after.

The next morning you woke up throwing on a flowy floral dress trying to match the vibe of everyone’s outfits yesterday. You wanted to make a good first impression so you took your time with your hair and makeup. Rushing out the door it was 9:15 by the time you left luckily there’s never any traffic in the small town.

Walking inside the small business you were greeted by Carla and another worker Gracie. She was around Carla’s age and very very sweet as well.

“Hi you must be y/n!” She greeted you giving you a hug.

“Yes! It’s good to meet you?”

“Gracie! My name is Gracie! Well I’ll give you the heads up since you’re new I’m gonna let you take my regular client at 9:45 today. His name is Trevor! He’s very nice so don’t be intimidated and he will let you know how he wants his cut.” She said handing you an apron.

For some reason your heart dropped a bit but you didn’t know why. You hadn’t even met the guy let alone seen his face and already freaking out.

“Are you sure? I mean I can take someone else if you want-“

“Lovely don’t be silly! I insist don’t worry he won’t bite you! I’ll still be here I’ll just be organizing in the back and Carla will be in the front or back with me.” She said and with that the sound of the door opening and the bells jingling made you freeze in your place.

“Carla! Gracie! And new girl?” You shyly turned around to face him. His smiled was so bright and his eyes were so pretty. He walked over and gave Carla a hug all while scanning you up and down. He pulled away eventually giving you a firm handshake. His touch sending sparks up your arm, making butterflies form in your stomach.

Oh my God he was gorgeous.

“Trevor this is y/n! Y/n this is Trevor! She’s gonna be cutting your hair today Trevor.” Gracie said grabbing his hand. His eyes hadn’t left yours and you could sense the nervous energy radiating off of his tall figure. He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair which fell perfectly back into place framing his chiseled features.

“Oh cool! I’ll get a buzzcut this time.” The two older women let out exaggerated gasps slapping his shoulder making him laugh.

“Hey I’m kidding! You know I’d never do that Carla.” You couldn’t help but laugh as well at their reaction. You were already loving this job and you’d been there for about 10 mins.

“Trevor the day you get a buzzcut is the day I officially quit my job.” She handed you a barbers gown and he followed your lead by sitting down in the chair letting you throw it over him securing it in the back. Your hands were shaking and he could feel it as you tied the back lightly brushing the back of his neck.

“Alright y/n let me know when you’re done, I’m going to help Gracie in the back. Trevor no buzzcuts.” She gave him another light slap on the shoulder and he shot her a wink. The two ladies walked off exchanged glances at the two of you.

“You can lean back and I’ll wash your hair first.” He followed your directions placing his head in the neck rest.

“I’ve been coming here for a long time and I’ve never seen you here or around here for that matter. Where you from?” Trevor asked looking at you. You refused to make eye contact with him because you knew you’d fold under his eye contact.

“I’m from Portland but I live here in the summer times and I go to school at NYU.” You explained as you massaged his scalp with the shampoo.

“Oh that’s sick! Yeah I live here during the summers but I’m in Cali most of the year.” He was very obviously enjoying you running your hands through his hair and you couldn’t deny. You did as well.

“My grandma comes here a lot. She said you play hockey huh? I didn’t know there were hockey teams in California.” You admitted almost feeling a bit stupid letting those words leave your mouth. Trevor grinning at your remark.

“It’s a weird place for ice hockey that’s for sure but yeah the Anaheim Ducks. I’m guessing you don’t watch hockey?”

“Not at all. I’m not huge into sports but I played volleyball in high school.” You rinsed his hair off then wrapped his hair up in a towel and motioned for him to move to the hair cutting seat. His height shocked you a bit more when he stood up letting you really observe him. You caught the smell of his cologne as he walked by sitting down in the chair. You couldn’t get enough of him but you were fighting the feelings.

“I’ll have to get you to watch a few games. It’s important if we’re friends you watch hockey or at least know how the game works.” He stated looking at you through the mirror making it harder to concentrate with his gaze.

“Also, keep the shape but just make it a bit shorter. It’s kind of hard to see now.” Trevor grabbed a front strand of his hair pulling it down his face to see how long it was.

“Oh so we’re friends now?” Teasing him a bit. You snipped away at his hair following his request. You couldn’t help but notice all the tattoos on his arms as well letting your eyes scan his features more.

“I mean I’m trusting you with my hair so of course we’re friends but let’s say I ask you out on a date. Would that make or break the friendship.” The question caught you off guard.

Y/n you just said you weren’t gonna date anyone. Tell him no.

“I mean I don’t see how a date could hurt the friendship. I’m free anytime past 4 when the salon closes.” You couldn’t believe you just said that. It was like you had no control.

“Perfect I’ll pick you up at 4 tonight. What you’re wearing is perfect.” You blushed at his comment. Finishing up his hair and blow drying it. He stood up and you shook the barber cape off. You did a pretty good job you couldn’t lie.

“You know I might have you cut my hair from now on beautiful.” He turned around to face you.

“I mean I charge more so if you’re fine with that I’m fine with that.” Joking obviously you walked over to the wall grabbing a broom to sweep up all the hair you cut off.

“Worth every penny. I’ll pick you up at 4 from here. Leave your car here and we’ll just take mine.” Carla came back to the front soon after.

“Yay no buzzcut! You did really well Y/n.” Carla gave you an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Trevor made his way up to the front with Carla to pay while you cleaned up the hair on the floor.

“I’ll see you tonight y/n.” Winking at you he left the salon.

“I’m guessing you two hit it off huh?” Carla smirked.

“I mean I wouldn’t deny it.” You blushed at her comment making her laugh.

“He’s a great kid y/n. I wouldn’t let him near you if he wasn’t.” Carla smoothed out her apron retreating to the back again.

This was gonna be a very interesting summer and an even more interesting school year.

——————————————————————————

Tbh idk how I feel about this one but oh well

[strangeswift]

Will had assumed —reasonably so, he thought— that a year into the actual apocalypse, birthdays wouldn't be a very big deal. Maybe a passing acknowledgement, if that. Really, it felt a little selfish to expect anything at all. 

Like, People are dead, and your friend is still in a coma. She might not wake up. Congratulations on being alive, asshole. 

Though admittedly, for Will specifically, being alive was sort of an accomplishment in itself at this point, given everything. And Will was happy to be alive. Most of the time, at least. 

He just didn't expect anyone to throw a party about it. 

It wasn’t until Will groggily descended the Wheeler's stairs and spotted the notebook paper sign strung up in the kitchen, Happy Birthday Will, distinctly in Mike’s handwriting, that Will realized they were indeed doing the birthday thing. It still felt weird, but he couldn’t help the embarrassed smile that spread across his face as everyone in the kitchen sang Happy Birthday to him. Nor could he help the hammering in his chest when Mike made his way over to him and slung his arm across his shoulders midway through the song.

All in all, the day was fairly uneventful after that. They let him have the last can of SpaghettiOs for lunch while everyone else had watery vegetable soup, which was nice. 

He didn't have to go on the supply run they had planned for the day. Actually, he would rather have gone, especially since Mike went, but Mike was oddly insistent that Will stay behind, so he did. It wasn't until after Mike returned that Will found out why he had to stay behind. 

"Can you just trust me?” Mike asked.

“I do trust you,” Will said, “It’s just that letting the clumsiest person I know lead me down stairs blindfolded is a little nerve-racking.”

“I’m not gonna let you fall. Jesus,” Mike said, exasperated, as he slowly led Will down the basement stairs, “Just three more steps.”

Once they reached the bottom, Will asked, “Can I take this off now?” gesturing to the bandana that was tied over his eyes.

Mike answered by taking it off for him, and Will blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. Mike looked incredibly pleased with himself, and Will soon saw why.

On the coffee table, set out on a plate, were two perfectly square brownies with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles on top. A lit candle was sticking out of one of them.

"Where did you get these?" Will asked in disbelief. None of them had tasted anything sweet in months. "I know damn well you didn’t get this shit at the grocery store. Or Melvald's."

Mike grinned sheepishly. "Don't worry about it."

Will frowned "You– Where did you go for this?"

“Doesn’t matter,” Mike said, “just blow out your candle!”

“Mike,” Will said, crossing his arms.

Mike sighed, "You're relentless, you know that?"

Will looked at him expectantly. 

"The gas station on the other side of town, but it’s not a big–"

"Mike!" Will scolded, "What the hell is wrong with you? You went all the way across town? That is so not safe!"

Mike shrugged. "I didn’t go alone. I had Nancy and her big ass gun to keep me company,” he said, “Besides, it was for a good cause?” he tried.

“You’re an idiot,” Will said, grinning in spite of himself.

Mike grabbed his hand, and Will tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach as Mike led him to sit on the couch in front of the coffee table.

Once they were sitting, Mike dropped his hand, but he stayed close. He knocked their knees together. “Go on. Make a wish,” he said quietly.

Will shook his head, searching Mike’s eyes. “I don’t have one,” he said.

Mike cocked his head. “There’s nothing you want?” he asked, a teasing smirk on his face.

Oh. Well, Will could think of one thing.

“I mean, maybe,” Will said, averting his eyes, “It’s stupid, though.”

“If it’s what you want, it’s not stupid,” Mike said firmly.

“Well, it’s embarrassing,” Will amended, flicking his eyes back to Mike, who leaned in, ever so slightly.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Mike said, “But you don’t have to tell me, anyway. Actually, you can’t tell me. If you do then it won’t come true.”

Will huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

"Fine," Mike said, "blow out your candle, make your secret wish."

Will laughed and leaned forward, blowing carefully on the candle and watching the small flame flicker and fade into a wisp of smoke.

"Think it'll come true?" Mike asked.

"I don't– I mean, probably not," Will said, "I'm still not telling you, though."

“Really?” Mike asked, pouting. “Can I guess? I think if I guess it, the wish is still valid.”

“I think you’re just making up wish rules now,” Will teased.

“Maybe,” Mike conceded. “Can I guess anyway?” he asked, leaning even closer – and god, he had no idea what he was doing to Will, did he?

Will raised his eyebrows. “You have guesses?”

“I have one,” Mike said.

It was a bad idea, Will thought, to let Mike guess. A very bad idea.

“Please, share,” Will said.

"Okay..." Mike said nervously, "Yeah, okay." His cheeks went a little pink, and he flicked his gaze down to Will’s lips. Or– No, that was probably… Wishful thinking. 

“God, I hope I’m right about this,” Mike breathed, and he leaned in even closer, so close their noses were almost touching. Will watched with wide eyes as Mike brought shaky hands up to cup his jaw.

Mike let out a breath, and Will could feel it on his lips. 

Mike closed his eyes, pressed forward, and kissed him.

Kissing Mike was nothing like Will expected it to be. It was soft and slow, and Will wanted to melt into it. He wanted to stay in the moment forever. If Vecna did come for him, that was the happy thought he would run to. He wouldn't even need music, just the memory of Mike's lips against his – that would be enough. 

Mike pulled back, and Will resisted the urge to chase him.

"Did I guess right?" Mike asked breathlessly, letting his hands slide down to rest gently on the sides of Will's neck.

"What?" Will asked, dazed. 

"Your wish," Mike said.

"Oh," Will said. "Yeah. That was– Yeah."

Mike beamed. "Cool," he said.

"Cool," Will repeated, a smirk playing at his lips.

Mike leaned back. "Now eat your birthday cake," he instructed. 

Will picked up one of the brownies. "These are gas station brownies," he pointed out.

"Birthday cake," Mike insisted. 

Will took a bite. It was heavenly. 

"Oh my god," he groaned, "I've missed sugar."

Mike picked up the other brownie, taking a bite. "Oh. Wow, yeah. Holy shit," he said, taking another bite. 

"It's so good," Will said, laughing giddily. He popped the last bite in his mouth.

Mike smiled warmly. "Happy birthday, Will."

"Thanks," Will said, "but if you ever risk your life for brownies again–"

"Oh come on," Mike said, "Cut me some slack. I was romancing you."

Will's eyes went wide. "You– What?" he squeaked. 

Mike flushed. "I mean– Whatever."

Will burst out laughing, and Mike couldn't help but join him. Somehow, Will felt years worth of tension dissolving as he laughed so hard tears began to form.

After a couple of minutes, they settled into comfortable silence, grinning at each other. "I want to kiss you again," Mike announced.

"Well, if that’s what you want," Will said, leaning in.

And for a little while, nothing else mattered. Just Mike, who was warm and tasted like chocolate, who was romancing him with stolen brownies and kissing him like he needed it.

It was a good birthday. 

[reno2005]

A Tale of Two Pringles

Leon S Kennedy(RE4) x GN!Reader

Words: 645

Summary: things are looking bleak in your desperate search to get your hands on a can of the limited edition suspicious stew pringles

Notes and Stuff: I wanted to imagine that "I thought of you" moment / That swedish game with the blocks and mobs and stuff yknow the one // somewhat inspired by true events(I really did want to try those chips...) / I suck at titles

It was the best of promotions; it was the worst of promotions. There you stood in a sea of salt and crispy potato thins, your disappointment reaching an all-time high as you scanned the aisle in the grocery store for what felt like the third or fourth time. You were dying to try the limited-edition suspicious stew Pringles but every store you went to was sold out or didn’t even carry it. Grocery stores, liquor stores, retail stores, you stopped at every place you could imagine would even have it. None.

Defeated you headed home, head filled with daydreams of the strange and exotic flavors that could have danced in your mouth if you had only learned of the promotion earlier. Even then, scalpers would have gotten it for sure someway or somehow. You tried to comfort your mind on the bus ride home as you listened to the Minecraft soundtrack. You couldn’t have the flavors of the world dance in your mouth but you could at least have the sounds comfort your crying potato chip yearning heart.

You stepped into your apartment and softly announced your presence. Disappointment still eating away at your heart, you didn’t think to listen for a response. Glancing over at the dining room table you saw your laptop open, the screen black. Beside the laptop was the mad scribblings of your master plan, the exact route you’d take to get your hands on this can. You sighed deeply before taking a seat in front of the laptop.

“Fuck it.” You said before turning the laptop on. You couldn’t let a can of potato chips and corporate manipulation get the best of you and your love for the game. Sooner than you expected, the disappointment in your heart and the lack of greasy cholesterol was eating at you just a little less.

Just before you got completely lost in the block world you heard the apartment door open and a familiar voice calmly call out “Hey, I’m home.” Leon walked into the dining room to find you seated in front of your laptop, the Minecraft music blaring from the speakers as he set his things down. “You alright?” He asked slightly concerned at your fixation for the game, he was used to you cheerfully greeting him as he arrived home.

“Yeah, I’m just bummed. I wanted this limited-edition flavor and I couldn’t find it any-“ As you turned to greet him as cheerfully as you could your eyes widened as you spotted the can in his hand. It was the stew. He had the stew. “W-where’d you get that?!?” You stammered as you jumped up.

“Just some random gas station. I actually went to get a cup of Joe and I saw this. Figured you’d like it since it’s Minecraft.” He raised it up towards you as he gave you a soft smile, unaware of the priceless treasure he was easily giving away to you.

You pounced on him, wrapping your arms around him for the strongest hug you felt you’d ever given in your life. “Thank you!” You said as you choked back tears of joy.

“Woah, I think you’re happier to see these chips more than me.” Leon joked as he patted your back, stuck in your hug, although he didn’t try to fight it.

“Of course, not…” you released him and gave a cute pouty face as you looked at the can. “I’ve just been looking everywhere for these and you just waltz on in here with them like nothing.” You paused to look up and smile at him. “Thanks for thinking of me.” You said still fighting back the tears of joy.

“Anytime.” Leon said as he wiped a tear from your face. He patted your shoulder and smiled at you. He looked at the laptop behind you and then back at you. “C’mon, I’ll watch.”

[thedroneranger]

Call You Mine

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Précis: It's hard to get over Bradley Bradshaw. And who can blame you? Love makes us crazy. If it doesn't, are you doing it right?

Note: Excited to finally post this! Life made this one take a little longer. This is one of two entries for @cherrycola27’s #top gun taylors version challenge! Congratulations, on the milestone, babe—I'm sure we'll be celebrating another soon! This fic is inspired by a T. Swift favorite of mine, Don't Blame Me. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit: stalking, violence, attempted murder, masturbation.

Word count: 3.5k

What did he see in her? 

It wasn’t the first time that thought had crossed your mind, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

Her hair was down, and her outfit casual—light-colored jeans with a loose-fitting t-shirt front tucked. Sunglasses shading her eyes, she sipped coffee and scrolled her phone while she waited for him. After what seemed like an eternity, he joined her. 

Through narrowed eyes, you watched as she stood to greet him and they embraced. She threw her arms around his neck, getting on her tiptoes, while his arms slung low on her waist.

You and Natasha met a handful of times. Bradley insisted he and Nat were friends and nothing more. Of course, you didn’t believe Bradley for a second. Every touch, every hug, every late night phone call said otherwise. 

They were so natural together. Like birds singing as the morning sun rose or crickets crooning in the twilight. 

No wonder Bradley thought it couldn’t work with you. How could he when there was five-foot-seven worth of gorgeous grin and glowing skin staring at him over a coffee cup?

She had to go.

Sinking lower in the driver’s seat of your vehicle, you watched as they got up together. After disposing of their cups, Bradley walked Natasha to her SUV, which you knew was parked around the corner. As they disappeared, you punched the ignition button and pulled out of your curbside spot across the street.

“Catch you later tonight?” Natasha asked as she slid into the driver’s seat. 

“Absolutely.” Bradley rasped, holding the door open. They grinned at each other as he closed it. As she pulled away, and they exchanged waves through the window. 

Bradley waited on the street, hands in his jean pockets and watched until her tail lights illuminated at a stop sign before she drove through the intersection. Then, he walked a few spaces up to his Bronco and hopped in. 

This morning, when you tailed Natasha, her day was rather uneventful. You waited until you spotted her sleek SUV rolling out of the private garage of her condo building. Shifting into drive, you followed as she first stopped at the post office. Once she came back out, Natasha took a call while she sat in the vehicle, shuffling around, looking for something she eventually found. 

Next, she stopped for gas and went inside to get a shitty gas station latte. Seemed to be a routine indulgence for her. After that, she spent what seemed like an eternity in the grocery store. Once all her groceries were loaded into her vehicle, Natasha headed back to her condo that was tucked in a mid-sized building on the downtown main drag.

You’d found the building plans in the public records and knew which unit was hers. Although the building wasn’t that large, it was well-secured. In contrast, Bradley’s bungalow had a much lower security threshold. Plus, you were familiar with the layout. 

Since you’d followed Natasha this morning, and would bet your next month’s salary that she and Bradley were meeting at the Hard Deck tonight, you decided to see what Bradley was up to this afternoon.

Leisurely, you drove to Bradley’s, taking an elongated route. As you turned onto Bradley’s street, you killed the music, glided by his house, confirmed his Bronco was parked in the driveway and continued on to the street parallel to his. You parked in the spot that gave you the perfect view of his backyard and into his house through a couple curtainless windows. 

There he was. Shirtless. Floating around, bopping his head to the music surely streaming through the living room sound system. Watching through your camera lens, you snapped a few images. 

As you captured photos, you recalled the couple times you’d witness him and Natasha twirling around, dancing. Faces lit with laughter as he spun her around, and then dipped her for the finale. 

Bradley never did that with you.

The burn of jealousy you felt quickly washed away as your lens zeroed in on Bradley’s broad back. Your thoughts drifted to touching Bradley—every dimple, every tendon, every scar. 

Of course, the few months you and Bradley spent together weren’t sexless. For you, it was some of the best sex of your life, and Bradley seemed to have no complaints. A matter of fact, each moan or toe curl you were able to pull from Bradley seemed like a badge of honor.

Thinking about Bradley laying underneath you as your hand steadied yourself on his sculpted chest had you sighing deeply. You could practically feel his hip bones cradling your thighs as you rode him and his hands curving around your hips.

The memory of his thumb drawing tight circles on your clit had you sinking into your seat, squeezing your eyes closed and heat gathering in your lap. Replays of your sexcapades continued to flood your mind, filling your dam. You needed a release. Soon, your jeans were unzipped and your legs as wide as the car seat would allow.

Your lip disappeared between your teeth as you slipped your middle and ring fingers into yourself, slicking them to then paint your swollen clit so you could attempt to recreate even a fraction of the pleasure Bradley had given you several times over. 

Envisioning Bradley’s large hand palming your chest, and then sliding up to cover your throat, had you gripping the door handle with your free hand as your pace quickened. The heat in your belly was building to boil, the pot lid close to skittering off.

Bradley’s face as he finished—the furrow of his brow, twitch of his mustache—flashed through your mind and pushed you across the finish line. A sigh only for you left your lips as you let your release wash over you, dissipating the tension. Pulling yourself back together, you continued watching Bradley through the back windows. 

On his days off, he always hit the gym late in the afternoon. You attributed it to keeping his daily shower count to one. Because, undoubtedly, Bradley would come home post-workout to get ready for the Hard Deck. 

While Bradley was at the gym, you were going to the hair appointment you’d scheduled a few weeks ago. A smile pulled your lips as you perfectly parallel parked across the street from the salon. Marc, your stylist, was there to greet you with open arms and an Americano.

Like all trusted stylists, Marc knew all about your life, including Bradley. He knew all about Bradley’s longtime friend who had had her chance to shoot her shot with him. However, she hesitated too long, and now you were in the picture. But that didn’t stop her from crossing boundaries even though you asked her to stop. 

Tonight, you were going to end it once and for all.

After an afternoon in Marc’s hands, you were practically a new person. A cute sundress would compliment your makeover perfectly. Back home, you twirled in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, deciding which dress was best. Eventually, you decided on the knee-length one with flutter sleeves and a deep V-neck. 

Tonight was a night that your inability to be anywhere in a timely fashion paid off. By the time you reached the Hard Deck, the parking lot was fairly full, allowing you to park toward the back of the lot undetected. With one final look in the rearview mirror, you slid out of the driver’s seat and headed for the front door. 

Bradley’s Bronco was unmistakable, proudly parked as close to the entrance as possible. A few spaces down was Natasha’s luxury SUV.

The bar was crowded, so you easily disappeared into the sea of civilians and servicepeople. Head on a swivel, still waiting for Natasha or Bradley in your peripheral, you causally wound through the crowd, venturing around the venue. 

There he was. The floral print Aloha shirt wrapping his broad shoulders gave him away. Natasha stood tucked into his side, his arm draped over her shoulders. You recognized many of the faces they were laughing with from photos. 

With them in your sight, you headed to the bar to find a spot with a view but that also kept you in the crowd. The woman behind the bar didn’t recognize you as you ordered. One of the few times you’d been here with Bradley, he had introduced you to the bartender, who also owned the establishment. 

Drink in hand, you slipped into a seat that had conveniently opened up. Bradley and Natasha bantered with each other, with their friends and shittalked while facing each other in a game of pool. 

“Hey.” The greeting bore a hint of southern drawl. You turned to see one of their friends, the good looking blond, dragging his gaze over you. You coolly returned his greeting and took a sip of your drink. 

The man had no clue who you were. Not that you could blame him. He’d met you once and had seen you maybe two or three times total. Plus, with your drastic cut and color, you might as well be a complete stranger. 

He made small talk while he waited for a fresh round of drinks. As he departed, he invited you to stop by the group. Upon his departure, you gave him an open-ended response and a wink. 

It amazed you how few boundaries Bradley and Natasha had with each other. As the night wore on, you watched each touch grow more intimate. At one point, Bradley had his arm wrapped around Natasha’s hips with his hand in her front pocket. It was a move he had put on you while you two walked to keep you close. 

You watched as each drink made them a little looser, a little flirtier. At one point, you watched Natasha play wingman for every man in their group—except Bradley. 

At last call, the crowd began to thin. You finished your drink, cashed out and slunk to your vehicle. Hand on the door and a glance over your shoulder, you slipped into the backseat. Sitting behind the passenger seat gave you a better view of the building. To the unassuming eye, your vehicle was one of several destined to spend the night in the lot.

Before Bradley and Natasha spilled out of the Hard Deck, you watched the blond from earlier climb into a black F-150 Raptor. You were surprised to see him alone. Must be all talk. A few more familiar faces filtered out. 

Finally, they shuffled out with another friend. The friend you were convinced was pining for Natasha but was too shy to do anything about it. He and Bradley chatted while Natasha clung to Bradley’s side. She clearly was not driving tonight. They parted ways, the shy friend going to his vehicle, and Bradley putting Natasha in the passenger seat of the Bronco before getting in. 

First, Shy Friend eased out of the parking lot. Then, Bradley backed out and headed for the exit. A smile pulled your lips as he turned left, signaling he was taking her home with him.

This time you drove straight to the spot on the street parallel to Bradley’s that had the perfect sightline into his house. From there, you watched as he carried Natasha through the hall, disappearing in the direction of his bedroom. Eventually, the lights died and a stillness fell upon the house.

Quiet as possible, you slipped out of your vehicle. As you walked, you slipped on leather gloves you’d had for ages but never had a reason to wear. Knowing the family living in the house directly behind Bradley’s was away on vacation, you took the most direct route to his house. Under the cover of the thick trees and sparse streetlights, you snuck down their side yard and into the back. 

You easily scaled the standard chain-link fence that conjoined their yards. Thankfully, Bradley kept his yard tidy. Looking at his grill and the outdoor dining set made you think of the few times he’d grilled for you. Surely Natasha was reaping that benefit tenfold now. 

Standing in front of his backdoor, you gingerly grasped the handle and twisted the knob. It gave you zero resistance as the door floated open. Bradley would absolutely be locking his back door after this. Making sure the hinges didn’t  betray you, you took your time stepping across the threshold and closing yourself in. 

Enveloped in a new level of darkness, you stood for a minute, allowing your eyes to adjust. Slowly, you began to see the familiar lines of the counter and the silhouettes of appliances. 

You wanted to touch everything but knew to touch nothing. Your ears were on alert, listening for the slightest disturbance. So far, the only thing you could hear was Bradley’s deep breathing that, arguably, was a light snore. However, it didn’t sound like it was coming from his room.

Curiosity piqued, you glided toward the living room. Bingo. Splayed on the oversized, for his comfort, couch was Bradley. He was in a deep slumber. You admired him. Lips barely open, but enough to produce his audible breathing. Curls mussed and resting on his bulging bicep that acted as an extra pillow. The man ran hot, so the blanket he started his slumber with was now tangled at his feet, leaving his form clad only in drawstring gym shorts. 

As you watched him, the streetlight in front of his house gave the living room a bit more light, his chest rose and fell. Your mind wandered to why he was on the couch and not in his bed with Natasha. You didn’t think too hard about it, though. It made your task easier.

Releasing you had your fists balled at your sides, you unclenched them as you turned to head for the bedroom. The door was ajar, just the slightest. Using the back of two gloved fingers, you slowly pushed it open. 

Natasha was nestled under the fluffy bedding in the center of Bradley’s huge bed, sleeping soundly. Your eyes stayed glued to her as you crept into the room and put the door back the way you found it. Staying to the edge of the room, you calculated your plan of attack. Watching her sleep with a neutral expression, seemingly relaxed, you thought you might be beginning to understand why Bradley was so taken with her.

Gaze never leaving Natasha, you approached the edge of the bed. She didn’t stir. Removing a glove, you gingerly leaned onto the bed, knee first. Eyes still glued to Natasha for any sign of movement. Eventually, you were leaning over her, face-to-face, really studying her. 

Unable to help yourself, you ran your thumb along her full bottom lip. She was soft, angelic—maybe that’s why Bradley liked her so much. Your face was so close to hers—you really wanted to know what her lips would feel like against yours. Add evidence to the case for why Bradley liked her so much.

While you thought about Natasha’s lips, keeping your gaze on your face, you managed to mount her without disturbance. The amount of down bedding between the two of you was a huge aide in minimizing the movement ripples.

You looked at her one last time as you took one of the pillows her head wasn’t resting on and held it in front of your chest. “Sweet dreams,” you said barely above a whisper as you leaned forward to cover her face with it. 

Your grip was light until you felt her tensing. She was waking, trying to free her arms that were bracketed by your legs and trapped underneath the blankets. Her screams were muffled. “Shh, I’ll take great care of him.” Your closed eyes as you hugged her head with the pillow. Natasha was fighting less and less. 

“What the fuck?!” you heard from behind you. At the same time, you heard the door bang against the wall. You looked over your shoulder to see Bradley charging toward you. Before you could move, his hand was around your neck, ripping you off the bed. Natasha scrambled to the edge of the bed furthest away from you. Bradley was there, arms open, waiting to embrace her. 

Sheer size allowed him to throw you against the dresser a few feet away from the bed. You heard a thud and felt a sharp pain in the back of your head as you hit the heirloom dresser. Your eyes were having a hard time focusing as you slid to the floor. Involuntarily, your hand moved to the back of your head where the pain seared most. As your hand re-entered your field of vision, you could see your blood on your fingertips.

Bradley’s voice sounded distant. Question in his voice as he said your name. However, you looked up to see him kneeling in front of you. Your vision was slightly blurry. “You’ve gone too far this time.” Of course, Bradley still recognized you—some hair dye and a drastic cut wouldn’t fade your face from his memory. 

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice pulled you out of your mind and back into the room.

Natasha bound into the doorway, wearing one of Bradley’s t-shirts. He must’ve dressed her before he put her to bed. They exchanged looks before her gaze dropped to you on the floor. She quickly turned and disappeared.

“Let’s go.” Bradley gruffly grabbed your bicep. He gave you no time to get to your feet. Instead, three quarters of your body dragged along the floor as he pulled you to the kitchen. When he let you go, you slumped to the floor, your forearms stopping your face from hitting the tile. You were still lightheaded with fuzzy vision as you pressed yourself up on your palms.

“Bradley…” You slowly moved into a cross-legged sitting position.

“Don’t.” He cut you off. Bradley squared his body to you, arms across his chest. “There’s no coming back from this.” Bradley was pissed. 

You shook your head. “No, no.” Panic set in. “Don’t blame me!” you squeaked. Tears were beginning to well as you tried to get to your feet. 

“Stay on the floor,” he commanded. His look was deadly. Tears rolled down your cheeks. 

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. Bradley should’ve seen this coming. You were insane. The letters, showing up at his home unannounced, somehow frequenting the same places he did at the same. However, it never crossed his mind that you would try to murder someone, let alone his best friend.

While you reasoned with Bradley, Natasha was standing next to the couch, arms wrapped around herself, staring toward the kitchen. Eyes dilated from shock. She kept forgetting to breathe. When her body finally remembered, the sharp inhale would jolt her back to reality. She could hear Bradley’s voice but was not comprehending his words. The tones of your voice were grating her nerves, causing her arms to constrict tighter around her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the front door slowly open. Iced to her spot beside the couch, she watched fingers curl around the edge while the barrel of a standard-issue pistol poked inside. Holding the gun was a plain-clothes police officer. “Jay.” Relief washed through Natasha as she identified the face holding the weapon. 

“Hey, Nat.” Jay mouthed and flashed a reassuring smile. Quickly, he pressed his free pointer finger to his lips. A curt nod from Natasha let him know she understood his command, and then she watched as he stalked toward the kitchen.

A friend of Bradley’s, Jay was supposed to meet them at the Hard Deck earlier but had to cancel due to work. Of course, Natasha’s heart sank a little when she heard, but the text message from him promising to make it up to her eased the discomfort. 

Jay huddled in the kitchen doorway shadows, waiting for his partner to reach the backdoor. Natasha had briefed him on the situation when she called, so they plotted their entry on the drive over. Familiar with Bradley’s house, Jay knew the entry points, so your odds of escaping were minimal. 

Back to the door, you didn’t see a face appear in the corner of the window. Bradley noticed but did not acknowledge in a way that made you aware. Not that it mattered—your vision was hazed between your head injury and the tears. Plus, you were occupied mumbling apologies to Bradley.

Everything happened all at once. The backdoor sprang open, someone jumped on top of you, and a man you had seen a few times stepped out of the shadows, pointing a gun at you. Bradley had fallen back and was standing with Natasha in his arms at the living room-kitchen threshold.

Your mind was numb as the officers cuffed you and read your Miranda rights. The last thing you remembered was falling to your knees in the driveway and yelling for Bradley to forgive you. Standing in the doorway, he looked you dead in the eyes and closed the door.

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[weeeeeekly]

seeking shelter – lee anton x gn!reader

blurb Living in Florida, you knew a thing or two about hurricanes, your Chem lab partner on the other hand does not.

info lab partner!anton x lab partner!reader, reader is experienced, strangers to lab partners to to lovers i guess, no body shape mention, no mention of gender, reader is able to put hair in a hair it, dom!reader maybe, swearing, sucking dick

WARNINGS!!! NSFW, MDNI, 18+, not edited/just pure free flowing thought

this is FICTION!!! The stuff written out is not meant to be a representation of the people, places, or ideas mentioned & definitely not accurate to real life counterparts

wc 1.4k

You hated living in Florida especially during hurricane season. It sucks that the season is June to November. Usually, rolling your eyes whenever someone from out of the state would say “you were so lucky to live near theme parks and beaches!”

Florida had its charms sometimes, but this was not one of them.

Classes were cancelled and the university was going to be closed for the rest of the week. Maybe even into next week.

“Fuck.”

You turn over to see your Chem lab partner, Lee Chanyoung, with his head in his hands.

“Oh shit,” You pause from putting away your pens. “don’t you live on campus?”

He nods as your grimace. You didn’t know Chanyoung well as you two were just lab partners – friendly with each other but not friends.

“Can you go back to your parent’s house?”

He shakes his head. “They live out of the country.”

“What about your friends?”

Another head shake, “They’re throwing a hurricane party so it’s not safe.”

“Ah.”

You continue packing up as you think over everything you wanted to get perishable hurricane snacks. You had a bunch of bottled water, batteries, candles, fans, and flashlights to hold you over. Since you’ve lived here all your life you knew what to expect.

roomie i’m going to head back to my parent’s! leaving now. prob won’t make it until later tonight w traffic.

roomie i’ll keep you updated! stay safe love you!

you drive safe!!! i’m staying home <3

You’re getting up when Chanyoung’s hand grabs your wrist, looking up at you.

“Don’t you live off campus?”

“Uh yeah?”

“Can I stay with you?”

You’re taken aback as he looks at you with sad puppy eyes. You’re conflicted you feel terrible as you don’t think he has a car, and the university wasn’t going to turn into a storm shelter. He would have to travel to the nearest storm shelter, but then again you didn’t know him well.

“I can pay you!”

It would be nice to not have to buy your snacks as you need to get gas too.

Letting out a sigh, “Let me ask my roommate.”

He throws himself out of his chair, hugging you and repeating “thank you”.

“I haven’t even asked them yet.”

“Thank you for even considering.”

you hey can my lab partner stay over for the hurricane???

roomie yeah totally! stay safe!

“They said it’s okay. Let’s go now to beat traffic.”

Chanyoung hugs you tighter as you smile at him. It was nice to embraced by the soft spoken tall, pretty boy smelling like warm vanilla. You lean back when Chanyoung begins moving his head a little too close for almost strangers. You didn’t want to scare Chanyoung off by kissing him like the touch starved person you are.

You drive the both of you to your favorite grocery store to grab snacks that Chanyoung graciously paid for. Then filled the last quarter of your tank and some extra in a gasoline container. The two of you got to spend quite a bit of time together due to the business of the street, store, and gas station. Learning the basics of each other like favorite movie, tv show, music, chips, and candy.

Hours later, you were finally outside the door to your apartment.

“So yeah, I luckily live far away from any evacuation zone. The worst that can happen is a power outage or flooding both seem likely to happen.”

 Chanyoung hangs onto your every word as you give a quick tour of your place, skipping your missing roommate’s room.

“It’s best to stay away from windows so the living room is the safest. Let me just quickly fill up some buckets with water.

When you’re done, you find that Chanyoung has turned the couch into a pillow fort. Your extra blankets are used as a makeshift ceiling and pillows as makeshift walls. Crouching down to enter the fort, Chanyoung is sat to the right with a bag of your favorite chips opened and his laptop set up with his favorite movie.

He smiles as he pats the seat next to him, “Since you said you haven’t seen it yet.”

Sitting next to him, he starts the movie. It’s actually pretty nice to have this opportunity to spend time with him despite the unfortunate circumstances. You’ve always thought Chanyoung was attractive and thought the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on you when your lab’s TA made you partners for the semester. You wouldn’t get any work done if he was in the Chem lecture as you.

“Have you texted your parents?”

“Mhmm.” He says in between chewing. “They’re asleep. Right now, because of the time zone.”

 “This must be scary for you. This being your first hurricane and all.”

He shrugs before turning to look at you. “I’m glad that I’m with you.”

Chanyoung shifts in his spot as he gets closer to you forgetting about the chips.

“It’s a little embarrassing how it took a natural disaster for me to gain the courage to talk to you.”

“You were nervous to talk to me? Why?”

“Because I like you.”

If you were in a movie, the camera would zoom directly into your face as a little animation of your heart would jump out of your chest. Chanyoung likes you. He. Likes. You.

And you like him back.

“I like you too. I have since the first day I saw you in lab.”

Chanyoung giggles at this as he closes the laptop on the forgotten movie, grabbing your legs to put them on his lap.

“I knew we had chemistry.”

Normally, you would cringe at the pickup line, but you let it slide because it was Chanyoung. You take the opportunity to drape your arms over his shoulders as he leans closer.

“You know, there’s not that much to do during hurricane. It’s just us, in the dark, in the couch pillow fort.”

He raises an eyebrow at your innuendo and closes the gap between your lips. The kiss started off sweet with a simple pressing of lips upon another, bit it became heated when you tangled your fingers in his hair and began pulling. Chanyoung’s sweet moans filled your ears as you sneak a hand down to grasp his bulge, teasing him with your fingernails.

He pulls away with a pout, “Don’t tease.”

“Don’t be easily teased.”

Leaning forward, you bite his bottom lip and use this as an opportunity to keep kissing him. The kiss is hot, making you internally thank your TA and universe for this moment.

Pulling back, you put your hand down the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers.

“Wanna see what you’re packing.”

“Please.” He moans.

You move your legs to maneuver his bottoms off to free his dick. Like a sexually perverse Christmas gift. Hs dick is actually pretty which is crazy because dicks shouldn’t be. It’s bigger than average, but not insanely big that it will be impossible for you to take down your throat. You wipe his leaking tip with your thumb as you feel the veins.

“Wow, you’re gonna make me work for this.”

Before Chanyoung an ask what you mean, you wrap your mouth around the tip of his dick, swirling your tongue. Chanyoung shudders at the feeling of your warm mouth letting a groan of your name out.

Quickly, you tie your hair with the hair tie on your wrist and get to work. You wanted this to be the best head of Lee Chanyoung’s life.

Slowly, you worked your way down his shaft as you wrapped the rest with your hand. You look up at him to see his eyes closed shut and the furrow of pleasure of his eyebrows. You switch between bobbing and sucking his cock as your hand assists you. It’s when you hollow out you checks at the base of his cock do you hear him begin babbling incoherently. A mix of what sounds like your name and “I’m cumming”.

You don’t let up when you feel his dick twitch and release down your throat. Swallowing the salty cum, you sit back up and smile at Chanyoung heaving.

“Liked it?”

He nods his head, “Like is an understatement.”

Checking your phone, you see a few emergency texts telling people to seek shelter or stay inside due to the hurricane nearing your area. You’re about to text your roomie when the power shifts off in your apartment.

“Dammit.”

You look unfazed as Chanyoung stands up to check the A/C. “Yeah, power’s out. What now?”

“I could think of a few things.”

masterlist | kinktober masterlist

author’s note heyyyy i wrote this in a notebook while my power was out during the hurricane, everything‘s okay with me – luckily & thankfully

got the power back on earlier today & saw that riize is 7 again & seunghan is back 🙂‍↕️

[jeremiah-fisher]

all my summers

—a the summer i turned pretty fic about first love, first heartbreak, and steven conklin ♡

「chapter six: life after high school」

STEVEN

I don’t know how I manage it, but all morning, I have been able to keep one eye on my delegated tasks at the snack shop and one eye on Shayla and her friends. I don’t know all their names, but the one in the bright pink dress – the same one Conrad was making out with at Jumper’s party a few days ago – is definitely Nicole. 

After what went down between her, Conrad, and Belly, it would be hard not to remember her face. And honestly, it’s not a bad face to look at anyways. All of Shayla’s friends are gorgeous. It’s like she picks her friends based on looks alone. I’m surprised more of them aren’t models. 

The thought strikes a pain in my chest, and I fall back into a memory I tucked away.

“Are you joking?”

Her laugh is pungent in the air as she browses her closet for something to wear. “Why would I lie about this, Steven?”

“I don’t know. It’s just weird.”

“Weird good or weird bad?”

“Weird… confusing.”

She turns around and drops a pair of black, denim jeans and a flowery crop top on the bed next to me. I smell her perfume and try not to die from inhaling her scent too fast. Her entire room smells like vanilla and summer air, but it’s her I can’t get enough of. I want to bury myself in her skin forever.

“I needed a job and this was a job I could do between school and extracurriculars. It’s not a big deal.”

I allowed her explanation to play back in my mind for a moment. In a way, I could understand what she was saying. We were always tight on money at home, and Mom often worked two or three jobs throughout the year to make ends meet. 

When she first got married, her and Dad had a good plan for their future. They put money aside for me and Belly to go to college, they had a little extra to spend on holidays, and they never said “no” when I asked for the good cereal at the grocery store. But after their divorce, Dad moved out to an apartment near the university where he taught astronomy three days out of the week; and Mom had to spend most of her week at a boring office job with only weekends to spare for her writing. 

I remember when I got my first job. It was a few weeks after their divorce. I really wanted to go on a trip with my class to Montreal but Mom couldn’t afford it. I hadn’t even asked her. I saw the permission slip, the six hundred and fifty dollar price tag, and applied to work at Barnes and Noble the next day. I didn’t get the job. So I tried at the local Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, and even the gas station. In the end, Target was the only place which hired me. I worked there for four hours everyday after school and gave Mom what I had left over after footing me and Belly’s personal expenses. 

Summer didn’t like to talk about her family much, but I knew they were struggling. There had been rumours around town that her father had spent a few years in prison when she was younger. No one knows why and she won’t tell me. Not that I have ever asked. I guess I’m just scared to. How would I even bring it up? 

I clear my throat and tentatively ask, “So… what kind of modeling is it?”

Her smirk makes me grin. I love that she always knows exactly what I’m thinking. I laugh as I catch the cushion she throws at me. “It’s not swimsuit modeling, you sexist. It’s just some shots for Target.” 

I play with the frills on her white cushion. “I used to work at Target.” 

“What was it like?” 

“Hell,” I admit, thinking back to the miserly hours I spent shelving products just for assholes to come in and mess it all up after deciding that – no, they actually don’t want a jumbo ice maker for their garden party. I look up at her with a small smile. “It wouldn’t have been if I’d seen your pictures around, though.”

That’s when she climbs into my lap, causing me to lose my grip on the cushion which falls to the ground with a silent thud. Her arms wrap themselves around my neck and I grab her waist to keep her steady, although I know we’re not going anywhere as far as this soft bed is concerned. 

The hem of her skirt rides up, but I don’t think she even notices. Her eyes are swimming in mine, waves cresting as she rides up to my shore. 

I gulp, hoping she does not see the fear puddled in my own gaze. I want to hold her this way all the time. I never want to let her go. I don’t know what I ever did with any girl before her. They paled in comparison. As soon as I saw her that first night, I was a goner.

“I don’t really want to go out anymore. Is that okay?” 

I don’t even think before I nod in acceptance. “Yeah.”

“Good,” she says, and then her mouth is on my neck and I’m falling back in an endless sea of bedsheets and blankets. 

For a moment, I shut my eyes and will myself to forget. It used to work. Quite well, actually. I would be in class and someone would say something she would have said and I would close my eyes and beg myself not to remember. It was easier then, with life and responsibilities to crowd my head space. 

What am I supposed to do now that I have all this free time to think of her in a place where she is everywhere?

My thoughts are interrupted as Jeremiah walks up to the counter. He has a white t-shirt on that says LIFEGUARD in bold and bright red capital letters. He airs it out as he takes a seat on one of the tall chairs off to the side. Then he reaches out for a slice of caramel shortbread someone had ordered twenty minutes ago but never picked up. 

“This is delicious,” he says around a mouthful. “Did you make this?”

“No, one of the kitchen staff did.” I grab a slice for myself. If he’s eating, I might as well, too. When we were kids, me and Jeremiah could eat our way through Susannah’s entire pantry in a single afternoon – potato chips, salted crackers, chocolate wafers, and her saltwater taffy. We would start eating and never stop until we got sick to our stomachs. Conrad was smart, even back then, because he never ate more than a few chips and a couple of Jolly Ranchers. “Fuck, you’re right. This is amazing.”

Jeremiah grins and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He nods his curly head back towards the pool. “So what’s going on with her?”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Last night, as they were leaving the country club, Jeremiah and Daisy saw me get into Shayla’s car. Usually, I would hitch a ride with them or Conrad when he wasn’t busy doing who knows what, but Shayla had asked me to go to her house and I hadn’t refused. I should have. As soon as she tried to unbutton my shirt in her basement, I froze up. Like a fucking loser.

I shrug. “Nothing’s going on.”

Jeremiah appears pensive for a moment and then says, “I told you not to get sucked in.”

“I didn’t get sucked in.”

“So why are you avoiding her then?”

“I’m not avoiding her, jackass. I just…” I breathe out through my nose. “Fine. I’m avoiding her.” 

“What, did you find out she’s into some freaky shit?”

“That’s not–” Jeremiah snorts out a laugh as I shake my head. “I don’t know, man. I wanna like her. I do like her. Just not…” 

“The way you liked Summer?”

We don’t talk about it – me and him. We had spent almost a whole year without breaching the subject. Jeremiah is my oldest friend in the world, closer to me than even Conrad is. He knows everything there is to know about me, especially the stuff I can’t say aloud. I used to think he and I should have been brothers instead of him and Conrad. I used to be jealous that they had each other and all I had was Belly. I couldn’t talk to Belly about stuff like this. I couldn’t tell her about Summer or last August or even the fact that if Dad asked, I would move in with him permanently. You couldn’t say stuff like that to your kid-sister. 

“She’s a deb,” I tell him honestly. I look up at the ceiling for a second, trying to adjust my thoughts. “Like Belly… like Shayla.” 

A frown formed on his mouth. “Why do you sound sad about that?”

“Because we used to talk about it.” I swallow the lump in my throat as I think back to last summer when she told me her mother wanted her to be a debutante. She hadn’t cared much for it, which was surprising because I thought she was a perfect fit for something like that, but she thought it was pompous and dramatic and a little bit outdated for the twenty-first century. But her mother – who had been pushed away by society in Cousins after her husband went to prison – wanted a way back in, and she thought debuting her only daughter was the way to do it. “She said when the time came, I would be her escort.”

“You could still talk to her about it–” 

“No,” I shake my head, vehemently against the idea. “I can’t do that to her. If I try to get back into her life and I fuck it up… I just can’t.” 

Jeremiah sits back against his chair and stares at me. The intensity of his eyes grounds me in place, and I wait for what he has to say. “If I told Daisy I love her, do you think she’d believe me?”

“Yeah, ‘course she would. She’d probably chew my ear off about it, too.”

My friend chuckles, a little blush appearing on his cheeks. With other girls, he has always been the picture of cool and confident. There is not a single girl in Cousins and maybe not even Boston who has ever managed to make him shy. But Daisy? She does all that to him and more. It’s hilarious to watch because it feels like the slowest slow burn of all time, and I liked to write Dramione fic on the weekends. 

“When I think about life after grad,” he starts, this time, a little more quietly than before. Like what he is telling me is a secret he wants no one but me to know. “All I see is her. Us going to college together and living together and being with each other all the time. I think about us being married and how happy we would be.”

A sentimental sort of smile graces my lips. I tilt my head a little to peer at him. “You don’t think she wants that, too?”

“I don’t know. We’ve never talked about it.”

“Maybe you should.”

He eyes me, a little warily. “It’s not that easy.” 

“It should be.”

“Right? It should be.”

I blow out a puff of air. The atmosphere has changed. Jeremiah has the distinct ability to make me think deeply about everything we talk about. Belly thinks Conrad is the smarter, more emotional brother of the two but Jeremiah holds his own. He may not be a whiz around microscopes and encyclopedias, but he is emotionally intelligent and he never gets enough credit for that. 

“What are you saying, Jere?”

“It’s what I’m asking.” He gives me a small smile. “When you think about life after grad, do you think about being with her?” 

I shake my head. “That’s not allowed.”

“What’s not allowed?”

“I mean…” I shake my head harder as if that will somehow make the pressure of this conversation disappear. “I can’t think of a life with her. I fucked up. Last summer, remember? I broke her heart and then I left.” 

“You think you’re the only guy who’s ever broken a girl’s heart? Come on, man.” He hops off his chair and pushes crumbs off his shorts. “If she really loved you once, she’d let you explain.”

“What would I even tell her?” 

He starts walking backwards, back to pool duty where the little rich kids are causing mayhem in their tiny floaties. “Tell her what you told me.”

“And what was that?” 

“That you were so in love with her it scared you.”

. . . 

It’s insane what a girl’s anger can do to a guy’s psyche. Especially if there are two of them. 

An hour ago, Harry walked by the pool as Jeremiah and I were talking about a new video game we planned to play after work and asked me to help out at the Afternoon Tea Party the country club is hosting for the debutantes. I agreed because they promised to pay me extra, and I was not stupid enough to deny more money. Princeton is going to be expensive and the more of it I can pay off on my own, the better. 

Though now, standing in this room which feels like it gets smaller and smaller every time I breathe, I wonder if any amount of money is worth being on the tail end of female resentment. Because not only was my ex-girlfriend minimizing eye contact with me, I had managed to piss off my friend’s girl, too. Daisy looked like she was on the verge of tears as she walked around the room serving tea. I know for a fact that if she could make a voodoo doll of me and stab it ten thousand times, she would.

On the other hand, Shayla’s emotions towards me are the complete opposite. Every time she looks my way, it’s with hearts in her eyes. 

I know I should be more grateful. Here is this beautiful girl who’s really into me and wants to make out with me in the back of her car and wants to show me off to her friends and her family, and here I am, trying to abstain from all of that. 

Her attention feels suffocating, and I feel like I can’t breathe. And still, I can’t help but yield to her wants anyway. I let her kiss my cheek and I make a big show of bowing towards her like a prince, even as Belly makes a face that looks like a cross between disgust and surprise. I do it all to appease Shayla and I don’t know why. 

In the back of my mind, my focus is entirely on Summer. 

I don’t know why I thought it wouldn’t be when she’s dressed the way she is and she laughs the way she does and smiles for everyone but me. Her table is two away from Shayla’s and every time I pass by hers, I wonder what it would be like if I refilled Summer’s mug with black tea before Daisy could. 

When Jeremiah takes her away, a hand on her wrist and a worried look in his eye, I tell myself I will do it. It is the perfect opportunity to float over to Summer’s table and pretend to serve her and her friends just to be able to be near her again. 

At the precise moment that I decide I am going to do it, I notice Shayla and her friends passing a flask around. Paige is none the wiser, but if she gets a whiff of the situation, all of them are screwed. 

I make a selfish choice and I pretend not to see it. I turn my head and walk towards Summer’s table, my eyes trained on the back of her head. Her best friend, Vivian, who is apparently also a debutante, sees me coming. I don’t give her a chance to rat me out. I stretch a hand out to grab the small plate next to Summer’s tea cup. 

I watch her entire body freeze. It feels like a freeze frame moment in the movies when they break through the fourth wall and throw out a line that either makes you laugh or question your entire existence. 

“Can I interest you ladies in some mini quiche?” The words come out wobbly and uncertain, and I hope nobody picks up on it as I trade her empty plate for one with the quiche. I set it down next to her and ask, almost to the back of her head, “Anything else I can get you?”

Vivian speaks up first. “How about leaving us alone?”

I throw her an offended look even though I know I have no right. “I… sure, yeah. I can do that.”

And I almost do it. I plan on doing exactly as Vivian asked by taking gigantic steps away from their table with a promise to never return when my eyes fall on the plate of pistachios I shelled as I waited for this room to fill with guests. Even back then, I think I knew I would find a way to talk to her, to give her a piece of myself that I know I shouldn’t. 

Vivian casts me a dirty look, enough to fend off a guy much smarter than I, and I blatantly ignore it as I take a palmful of the pistachios and set them next to Summer’s mini quiche. 

My fingers shake the whole time and I don’t have to look at the girls to know they all saw it. I had managed to plaster my idiocy to a billboard for all to see. 

And like before, when I should have left, I know a part of me – really, all of me – should be embarrassed. Embarrassed enough to walk away with finality; embarrassed enough to say ‘sorry.’ But I don’t. I want her to look at me, to give me her raging eyes so badly that I know I would ruin myself for her forever. 

When she does not look at me, I take in a breath and start to move towards the sidelines again and wait for instructions from Paige. Every step is an ache and a pain and I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep myself from glancing at Summer again. I feel like I could die from wanting to see her face. 

By the time I return to my post, I hear Gigi giggling like a maniac with the flask from before still in her hand. I think to tell her off about it then switch gears and ask Daisy, who has just returned from talking to Jeremiah, to do it instead. I don’t know if I have it in me to be strict with Shayla’s friends when I’m still trying to make sense of what just happened to me. 

Daisy is reluctant at first but agrees to do it anyway. The whole thing lasts less than a minute. I see her grab the flask out of Shayla’s hand as she’s passing it to Gigi again. It disappears into the pocket of her slacks and then her hand wraps around Gigi’s teacup. I watch her say something to the blonde but she is hardly listening. Her hand goes inside Daisy’s pocket, evidently to grab the flask, and down goes the teacup into a thousand shards at her feet. I make a move to go help her, apologies on my tongue yet again, when Paige steps in with a tough voice and even harsher statements. I grab a sweeper and a dust bin. 

Daisy rushes out of the room in tears as I start to clean up the mess, so I quickly text Jeremiah to let him know. He’ll know what to do. He’s the only person in the whole world who can make her smile when it’s the last thing she wants to do. 

Paige thanks me after I finish cleaning up and set the materials aside. I only nod at her and step away into the back, heading for the restrooms to wash my hands. I don’t only end up washing my hands but my face, too. It feels hot to the touch and as I look at myself in the mirror, I wonder what would happen if I left my post and just went home. I don’t need money for school that badly. The government still gives out loans, as far as I know. 

I stride out of the restroom with my face still a little wet and droplets of moisture clinging to the hair at my forehead. Each time I push it away, more of it falls into my eyes. Eventually, I give up and start heading back to the tea room. 

A figure in a sage toned dress and her hair set perfectly under a fascinator stops me in my tracks. My breathing sharpens, and I cannot stop looking at her. I feel like I’m trapped in a whirlwind of chaos. 

Summer eyes me for a minute. Her brown orbs trail the length of my body, down and up until she finally says, “I’m not going to help you cheat.”

I stare at her blankly, my mind short-circuiting. “W-What?”

She lifts her shoulder off the wall and takes several steps close to me. From the short distance between us, I can smell her. Her scent. I will myself not to breathe her in like oxygen I’ve been deprived of until now. “I know you think of me as a joke, but I’m a person, Steven. I have feelings. Just because you can’t figure your crap out with Shayla does not mean I’ll be your side piece until you do.”

“Me and Shayla aren’t even dat–”

“That’s not the point,” she interjects, pure venom dripping from her words. “I see the way she looks at you. I looked at you like that once. I don’t know her so I really don’t care if you fuck her over like you did me, but what I won’t do is help you.” 

“I’m not–” 

Summer takes three steps towards me and grabs my hand. My body goes numb. Out of everything that could have happened, I didn’t expect her to touch me, much less take hold of a part of me that was so easy for her to do before. Back when we never gave affection a thought apart from giving it to one another.

With fingers that are much gentler than the solid discontent laced in her features, Summer opens my hand and drops the pistachios I gave her earlier right into my palm. They should not weigh me down in the least, but they do. They feel like the heaviest things on Earth. 

Her eyes meet mine. “I can’t do this again, Steven. I barely survived you the first time.”

I open my mouth to say something – to explain, like Jere advised me to – but nothing passes my lips. I stay silent, unmoving, even as she curls my fingers over my palm again and walks away. 

When she turns the corner, I finally find the courage to open my hand again and there they are – pistachios I shelled for her because they are her favourite snack. We used to eat them together whilst we watched movies. She’d even sprinkle them into the popcorn, and I hated that so much. 

I hated how much I loved her. 

I can’t help myself when the realization dawns and I notice there is one missing. 

I counted them out. I’m anal about numbers. I hadn’t been getting straight A’s in math since I was in the fourth grade for nothing. 

Ten pistachios. That’s how many I shelled and put on her plate. But now there are only nine. 

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

"The day my father died, I was at the grocery store buying bananas. I remember thinking to myself, “This is insane. Your dad just died. Why the h*** are you buying bananas?” But we needed bananas. We’d be waking up for breakfast tomorrow morning, and there wouldn’t be any bananas—so there I was.

And lots of other stuff still needed doing too, so over the coming days I would navigate parking lots, wait in restaurant lines, and sit on park benches; pushing back tears, fighting to stay upright, and in general always being seconds from a total, blubbering, room-clearing freak out. I wanted to wear a sign that said: I JUST LOST MY DAD. PLEASE GO EASY.

Unless anyone passing by looked deeply into my bloodshot eyes or noticed the occasional break in my voice and thought enough to ask, it’s not like they’d have known what’s happening inside me or around me. They wouldn’t have had any idea of the gaping sinkhole that had just opened up and swallowed the normal life of the guy next to them in the produce section.

And while I didn’t want to physically wear my actual circumstances on my chest, it probably would have caused people around me to give me space or speak softer or move more carefully,—and it might have made the impossible, almost bearable. 

Everyone around you; the people you share the grocery store line with, pass in traffic, sit next to at work, encounter on social media, and see across the kitchen table—are all experiencing the collateral damage of living. They are all grieving someone, missing someone, worried about someone. Their marriages are crumbling or their mortgage payment is late or they’re waiting on their child’s test results, or they’re getting bananas five years after a death and still pushing back tears because the loss feels as real as it did that first day.

Every single human being you pass by today is fighting to find peace and to push back fear; to get through their daily tasks without breaking down in front of the bananas or in the carpool line or at the post office. Maybe they aren’t mourning the sudden, tragic passing of a parent, but wounded, exhausted, pain-ravaged people are everywhere, everyday stumbling all around us—and yet most of the time we’re fairly oblivious to them:

- Parents whose children are terminally ill.

- Couples in the middle of divorce.

- People grieving loss of loved ones and relationships.

- Kids being bullied at school.

- Teenagers who want to end their lives.

- People marking the anniversary of a death.

- Parents worried about their depressed teenager.

- Spouses whose partners are deployed in combat.

- Families with no idea how to keep the lights on.

- Single parents with little help and little sleep.

Everyone is grieving and worried and fearful, and yet none of them wear the signs, none of them have labels, and none of them come with written warnings reading, I’M STRUGGLING. GO EASY.

And since they don’t, it’s up to you and me to look more closely and more deeply at everyone around us: at work or at the gas station or in the produce section, and to never assume they aren’t all just hanging by a thread. Because most people are hanging by a thread—and our simple kindness can be that thread. We need to remind ourselves  just how hard the hidden stories around us might be, and to approach each person as a delicate, breakable, invaluable treasure—and to handle them with care. 

As you make your way through the world today, people won’t be wearing signs to announce their mourning or to alert you to the attrition or to broadcast how terrified they are—but if you look with the right eyes, you’ll see the signs. There are grieving people all around you. Go easy."

John Pavlovitz

[werezmastarbucks]

the blurry sets in

masterlist

author's note: this one is a very passing chapter, nothing happens

word count: 1125

Saturday was a sunny day again, so at least Samson felt well. Because Kai was preoccupied and curious, and Tyler was properly miserable. The headache let go of him as soon as the blurryface, as they called it now, left.

Kai now had to go all the way to the other side of town to get groceries. Ever since that Walmart incident the usual affair took about an hour and a half instead of thirty minutes. But that morning it gave him enough time to think.

When he returned, he started taking the stickers off the fridge, and the picture, and the tabletops. One of the stickers said, “What are we going to do about aunt Anne-J and Adam?”

He took it off as well, and Sam, entering the living room, noticed that.

“Wait, you’ve solved it?”

“Yup”, Kai nodded, unbothered. “It kinda solved itself”.

“But Kai. Nobody can know”.

The screams coming from the basement resembled anguish of an animal in distress. Samson twitched a little every time one shrill yell stopped and another began.

“So, no headache today, I gather?” Kai asked.

“No. He said he feels energetic, healthy, normal, physically”, Sam reported. He moved into the kitchen hurriedly as if it could help him get away from the sounds. He took to helping his brother unpack his backpack.

“You bought the wrong kind of cheese”, he noticed.

“There wasn’t the one we usually buy”.

“Then you should look for another store”.

“There’s no other stores, Sam”.

As they put the groceries away, and Kai started chewing his gummy candy, Sam returned to the thing that kept nagging on him.

“Are you sure it’s solved? How do you know? Did she call you? What did you do?”

“Anne-J loves you two. Loves you too much. She won’t do anything about it. And it’s not like she can report Tyler turning into a cosmic demon monster to the police. What are they gonna do about it?”

Samson sat on the high kitchen stool.

“You are too laid-back about this, Kai! Too laid-back. You just hope for people’s inaction every time”.

“And what do you suggest, paranoid genius?” he smirked. Kai has been trying to see if something changed in his brother from yesterday, after he met the blurryface. Nothing, seemingly.

They didn’t notice that the screaming, aka music session, stopped, - they were so used to it. Tyler came up and, noticing the small gathering, marched into the kitchen. He wasn’t wearing his yellow hat anymore, because he didn’t have any headache anymore. This meant something.

He observed the boys with his doe eyes.

“Have you been to the store?”

“Uh-huh”.

Sam turned towards him this time, his body language screaming the need of support.

“Tyler, I’m afraid he’s not taking it seriously. He says Anne-J won’t do anything about yesterday, but too many things already happened. When mom and dad return, the police might tell them all the weird stuff, and count this: first, Kai killed that old lady from the gas station, then, the angry man from the store, and then, Teddy boy. And now Anne-J saw him mercy-kill the lady from the car crush, and then you attacked her…”

“First of all, cluster, Sammy”, Kai reached out for him and shook Sam a little. It didn’t escape Tyler how his older brother stopped the flow hurriedly.

“Second of all”, Tyler tuned in, “he is right. Anne-J will never do anything to put us in danger, no matter what she sees. She does love us, at least us two. And she feels guilty about ‘abandoning’ me and you with Kai”.

"You heard that?"

"I guess I hear through walls now".

Sam wasn’t too convinced. It was written on his face. Tyler and Kai exchanged looks but said nothing. Eventually, after tea, Samson went upstairs to work on his school project. He always bit into those with the force of ten sharks, and his perfectionism annoyed the hell even out of the teachers.

They were left alone in the kitchen. Kai was watching his brother. His neck was clean, his eyes were sad, but at least the lids weren’t heavy. Tyler looked with his eyes open now, and didn’t slouch. He looked young and normal again.

“I’m fired, by the way. I’ve skipped nearly a week of work at this point”.

“They’ve been very lenient with you”, said Kai.

“He is right about it, though, you are too relaxed about stuff”, Tyler nodded. He started peeling himself an orange after washing it properly in the sink. Kai noticed the corners of his mouth were bloody, with all the screaming. Sometimes his throat started bleeding from all the tension. Tyler spit carefully into the sink and turned on the water again.

“Why would I be worried?” Kai shrugged, “everything’s fine”.

“Fine?”

“You don’t even have the headaches anymore”.

“That means he’s won, Kai. He’s taken over me, and we don’t even know who he is”.

A shrug again.

“We could use him”.

“Use him?!”

Kai put his elbow on the table top and mused,

“Call it a hunch. Don’t get me wrong, I am fucking ecstatic about it. I want to know who is inside of you. And I think he’s no match for me”.

“What a cool guy you are”, Tyler hissed with sarcasm, “so big and badass. Gonna fistfight this interdimensional being? Who do you think you are?”

His eyes gleamed with something Tyler couldn’t decipher. There was a smile in them.

“Is that why you also want to tell Sam the truth about mom and dad? Because you think you can handle that all?”

“Are you willing to keep it from him forever?”

“His mind is a liminal space, Kai. He keeps living one day again and again. He doesn’t need to know that…”

Kai stood up and put his hands on his brother’s face.

“You need to calm down. Now that you’re free, get to understanding what’s happening to you”.

Tyler twitched and forced his brother’s hands off.

“I am so unhappy, Kai, you have no idea. My existence is nightmarish. You have no idea what’s going on here”, the boy put his finger to his temple.

Kai saw great amounts of hate in his eyes. The hatred that was almost biblical, and Kai, honestly, could not understand it. But it didn’t matter much.

“You’re a drama queen. Learn who he is, and I’ll help you put him to use”.

“I don’t even remember when it all started”, Tyler finally gave up. The red of his disdain burned out and died. He was a boy again, trying shyly to be heard.

“When you were four”.

“Four is a yellow number”, Tyler said. They both looked at the dining table, now clean, with the vase of yellow flowers Anne-J had brought.

[chloe-caulfield94]

Max the War Correspondent and Private Chloe

“Show me your war face, private Price!” – said Max Caulfield, the war correspondent for “Seattle Post-Intelligencer”.

It was September 1944, a rural area somewhere in Belgium. Max had been sent to photograph the brave boys and girls fighting to liberate Europe. She was assigned a junior staff officer, Alyssa Anderson, who drove her around from one unit to another, so that she could take pictures. It was important to keep the public’s support for the war effort high and photo ops like that were a way to achieve that.

Max tried to photograph as many soldiers as she could. They all deserved to be remembered for their bravery, for their part in the fight against evil. But when she met private Price, she decided not to save her camera film that one time and to expend an entire roll on an impromptu photo session. The other soldiers watched this, giggling, clearly seeing that private Price caught the eye of the gorgeous brunette war correspondent.

Chloe attempted to make a scary face, but the effect made Max laugh. Chloe was way too adorable to be making convincing war faces. Max snapped the last picture, fully expending the roll of film. The photo session was a success. Private Chloe saluting. Private Chloe in full panoply of war, presenting arms. Private Chloe resting her foot on a German helmet with a bullet hole in it. Private Chloe smiling, short strands of her strawberry blonde hair escaping from beneath her helmet.

Chloe approached Max.

“So, Miss Caulfield …”

“Call me Max”.

“Max … Are you really going to publish your photographs of me? Or is it just something you tell all the girls to make them like you?”

Max smiled at her joke. And blushed a little.

“When I get back home, I’m going to give all the photos to my editor. He’s going to decide whose pictures get published. But you can bet I’m going to recommend yours”.

“Your paper is from Seattle, right? And where are you from?”

“Oregon. Tiny town called Arcadia Bay. You’ve probably never heard of it”.

Chloe became visibly animated: “Arcadia Bay? No way! That’s where I’m from, too. And tiny town? Look at miss big city over here! There’s everything there one could possibly need. A cinema, a library, a diner, two different grocery stores, a gas station and an auto repair centre. That’s where I used to work. I used to be a car mechanic before I was conscripted. I hope they will still have work for me when I get back home”.

Max would love to show her around Seattle, with its multiple cinemas and multiple libraries, not to mention other establishments, like theatres and restaurants, where two young gals could spend some quality time.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Chloe. I didn’t hate Arcadia Bay. I left when I was a kid because my father found work in Seattle. City life is … different. Not necessarily better, but different”.

“Don’t worry about it, I was just busting your ladyballs, Max”.

“Chloe, I know we’ve just met, but …”

A piercing whizz announced the arrival of a mortar shell. Chloe grabbed Max in her arms and they both fell to the ground, with Chloe on top. While Chloe was very skinny, her gear made her quite heavy. The shell exploded nearby. Chloe felt a piece of shrapnel hitting her back. She rolled off Max.

“Are you okay, Max?”

“Of course I am. You shielded me with your own body! Thank you!”

“Uncle Sam is always happy to help his citizens”.

“Chloe, but what about you?”

“I … don’t know. I felt something hit my back. Can you take a look, Max?”

Max felt her heart drop. But when she looked at Chloe’s back, she instantly felt relieved.

“You’re okay, Chloe. The shrapnel hit your backpack and it was caught by your canteen. You won’t be able to eat soup, but you’ll live”.

“With how unappetizing our rations are, my health is set to improve”.

Max giggled.

Commander of the unit, lieutenant Madsen, barked orders: “Take positions! They are coming! You too, Price! Up and at them!”

Gunshots and explosions signified the incoming battle.

Max knew she had only one shot at this.

Before private Price had a chance to get up and head towards the firefight, Max placed her hands on Chloe’s cheeks, turned her face towards her and kissed her lips. At first Chloe was surprised, but she quickly began to kiss her back.

“I’m going to write you, Chloe. And after the war, come find me. You know where I work”.

Alyssa dragged Max away to the jeep. Chloe looked at Max dreamingly for a moment, having finally realized who she was fighting for. Then she ran to join her comrades in battle.

After two years and dozens of letters, one snowy afternoon Max left the offices of the “Seattle Post-Intelligencer” and to her surprise saw Chloe standing outside. She ran to embrace and kiss her.

“In your last letter you didn’t mention you were finally going to be discharged!”

“In the army they taught us that the element of surprise is crucial”.

“Come, private Price. Let me show you big city life”.

[writing-good-vibes]

loving you is like loving the dead (or fucking the dead)

y'all are going to hate me for this one 😈 corey has a sick little fantasy he wants to play out with michael.

big, big, big WARNING this time readers, for corey x michael, smut, age gap relationship (though it's not brought up), psuedo-necrophilia (no one is actually dead), autonecrophilia (again, no one is dead), ice baths, slightly unsafe kink practices (because corey has no idea what he's doing), heavy mentions of suicide and past suicidal ideation. dead dove; do not eat.

divider by @/firefly-graphics.

“I wanna try something,” Corey says, keeping his eyes on the outdated TV set at the foot of the motel bed while it crackles with static; a fierce wind outside meddling with the reception.

They’d been on the road for a few days, sleeping in the truck on the side of the road when they had to, and never for long. Lucky for them, there was only one attendant at the last gas station they stopped at, and it wasn’t difficult to clear out the till. Corey found he could be rather persuasive these days, particularly with Michael’s fear-inducing presence close by. Even without the mask – or, perhaps, especially without the mask, Michael was a cutting figure. The kind of man people trip over themselves to avoid. Either way, they had enough cash for a night in a motel, maybe even two if they found somewhere cheap enough.

Michael, doesn’t say anything, but his head tilts minutely in Corey’s direction from where he had been focused on the staticky TV screen, showing his apparent attention.

“Like…” Corey thinks of how to word it in a way Michael will understand. “Like play-pretend.”

Once again, no response, but he knows Michael is listening. He leans up on his elbows from where he was reclined beside the older man. “Play-pretend where you’re the killer, and I get to be the corpse.”

Corey had thought a lot about being dead. After the accident, they’d put him on anti-anxiety meds. His psychiatrist said he wasn’t coping. There’s talk of adding antidepressants to his prescription, but when he doesn’t talk much in his sessions, they’re worried it’ll do more harm than good. He overhears his psychiatrist telling Momma to keep an eye on him. Six months later and momma had got sick of all this psychology talk – “You’re fine, Corey. These doctors, they don’t know what they’re talking about, trying to dose you up with God-knows-what and putting silly ideas in your head. It’s hurting you, Corey. Now, listen to your mother, I know what’s best for you.” – and stopped paying for his refills.

He'd stopped taking them anyway, leaving the half-full orange pill bottle to gather dust at the back of the bathroom cabinet. They’d never helped his nerves, even when things were at their worst. Besides the therapy appointments, he didn’t leave the house for months. Not with the way people stared at him, the way they shouted at him across parking lots and while he waited in line with Momma at the grocery store. She warded most of them off, but it didn’t change anything. The acquittal had stopped him going to jail, but he was already damned.

The first time he went back to the Allen house was on Halloween. The surviving Allens had abandoned it after the trial; Corey wasn’t sure where they’d moved to, but he somehow knew they were still in Haddonfield. It had been a whole year since Jeremy had died and nothing had changed, Corey’s blood pumped through his veins so harshly he could hear it in his ears, just like he had that night. The house is empty, stripped of everything bar the piano in the front room and some clothes hangers in the closets. Corey checked every room, he didn’t know what for, until he got to the attic. That was the first time he tried.

By no means the first time he’d thought about it, though. No, he’d been thinking about it. He’d spent a disturbing amount of time thinking about it. But as he climbed over the railing, looking between his sneakers at the long drop and sudden stop, he really thinks he could do it. He thinks about it for a long time, but his fingers never loosen their grip on the banister and his feet stay planted between the spindles.

It happens more often than Corey knows is normal. He goes to the Allen house and climbs over the third-floor railing and looks down. He wonders how many times it’ll take until one day he just lets go. Not that it matters, he thinks. Falling would just be the final nail in the coffin; he feels as good as dead already. A cold, empty body in a cold, empty house.

When he gets home afterwards, he always uses the back door. He has every creaky floorboard memorised, and he’s almost silent as he passes Momma and Ronald’s room. She never even notices he’s missing; he knows she doesn’t because if she did there’d be bars on his windows and a new lock on the back door before he even woke up in the morning.

That all seems so long ago. These days, he’s never felt more alive. The longing he once had has been replaced with a sick curiosity to have just a taste of what he had wanted so badly back then.

Corey shivers as soon as he steps into the tub, full to the brim with cold water and ice that he had to run out to the icebox for.

Michael watches from the bathroom doorway, arms relaxed by his sides, as though Corey trying to freeze himself into a corpse is nothing out of the ordinary.

The shower curtain isn’t pulled over, and displaced water and chunks of ice spill over the side of the bath, splashing and skidding across the cracked tile floor when Corey lowers himself into the makeshift ice bath, wincing when his balls tighten as he submerges himself. Corey sinks down further, up to his shoulders and a shocked gasp leaves him, making it sound like he’s been winded. His muscles start to spasm as his body tries to maintain its own heat.

There’s a cup of ice sweating away on the counter next to the sink. Corey tips some into his mouth and rolls it around with his tongue, pressing another ice cube to his lips until it hurts, then keeps it there longer still.

He doesn’t think it’ll work but he props a leg up on the edge of the tub and shoves an ice cube up himself. He’s already slick with Vaseline, having prepped himself in bed while Michael sat and watched Jeopardy. Now the ice surrounding him was nothing compared to how cold his fucking insides suddenly felt. Corey cringes, his hips bucking as he clenches around the uncomfortable intrusion. He crunches on the ice in his mouth to distract himself. “Have to wait for it to melt inside,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

Michal watches with that faint sort of fascination he has for most things which he does not personally understand, yet are intriguing enough for him to consider.

While they wait, Corey grips the rim of the bath, fingers sore with cold-cramp. How did he get here? Jumping from the top storey. Overdosing on his meds. Slitting his wrists with Laurie’s knife. Hanging himself by the belt he’d stopped wearing. No, no. Those days are long gone. Now he’d just use Michael. “How did you kill me?” Corey asks.

Michael is silent. His head dips slightly, like he’s looking the younger man up and down. He approaches, crossing the small room in two strides, before crouching next to the tub. Reaching out, his good hand circles Corey’s throat, finger and thumb pressing ominously on either side of Corey’s windpipe. Strangulation, Michael is saying. Corey should have guessed.

Corey closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, the hand on his throat is gone and Michael has retreated back to the doorway.

It’s impossible to keep track of time like this. Hours could have passed and Corey wouldn’t be able to tell. Corey’s teeth are chattering hard and when he chances a peek at the clock, he manages to let out a shaky breath. Times up. With quaking arms, he lifts himself out of the water. Dripping onto the already-wet tile. As he stands there shivering, he glances over at Michael, still stood watch stoically.

Without a word, which is no surprise, Michael keeps an arm’s length away from him and hands him one of the scratchy motel towels. Corey pats himself dry, not wanting to heat up too quickly when they haven’t even started yet. Catching sight of himself in the vanity mirror shocks him more than he thought it would. He’s pale, sickly pale, and there’s a blue hue on his lips. Every inch of him is devoid of life.

Michael’s playing ‘killer’, isn’t he, so the mask stays on this time. He closes the gap between the two of them, blackened eye holes bore into Corey. Michael's come closer to killing Corey than this, but Corey never had the chance to really play the role of ‘corpse’ then.

There’s a voice in the back of Corey’s head that says they should probably talk about this before they go any further, but before he can indulge or deny that voice, Michael wraps his hands arounds his waist and heft him into a fireman’s lift.

Oh fuck. Michael’s weathered and scarred skin feels white hot against Corey’s, his heart pounds and he doesn’t know if it’s because he wants this so fucking bad or because his body temperature has dropped so much his heartrate is working overtime. Like a ragdoll, Corey doesn’t react when Michael tosses him onto the bed, or when he spreads his legs obscenely wide.

Thick fingers dip into the Vaseline and then into Corey, almost burning hot, replacing what might have been washed away in the bath. Corey breaths shallowly, past the point of shivering now that a dense numbness has settled in his limbs.

It’s more difficult than Corey expects, pretending to be dead. He wants so badly to whimper, to moan when Michael pushes his unreasonably big cock into him. To rock his hips up to meet Michael’s. To press his blueing lips to the rotten latex of the mask. But he forces himself to be still, to make himself go limp. Michael has always been able to manhandle him, but he feels so much more vulnerable when he can’t resist. Or assist, is more like it, he thinks.

He’s used to the stretch by now, but the intensity remains each and every time. Very rarely does Corey wish Michael spoke, but right now he desperately wants to know if his insides feel as deathly cold as his outsides. If Michael’s cock is really that searing of if he’s just forgotten what warm flesh feels like.

Corey tries to suppress a moan, but the sound still rumbles in his throat and slips from his slackened mouth. Michael’s hand comes up, clamps over Corey’s cold lips and squeezes just the right side of too tight. He holds the pressure for a moment before letting go – Be quiet, you’re supposed to be dead, the gesture warns.

Corey does as he’s told. It comes as a surprise when he feels himself get hard, he’d thought he couldn’t with how cold he is, his blood vessels must have closed off, right? Freezing right down to the bone it feels like. Although corpses can stay hard, if that’s how they died, Corey thinks.

As he stares at the ceiling and lets his eyes lose focus even more, Corey’s mind wanders back to the sewer. Thinks about the day he woke up, dazed and scared, and how Michael could have killed him. Could have squeezed the life out of him and fucked him while he was still warm. Or saved him for later when he’d be cold, just like he is now, only better.

He wishes he could see what he looked like from the outside. Wants to know how depraved and disgusting they look as Michael ploughs his prone form, ice cold to the touch and unable to stop himself being defiled. His limbs really do feel stiff from the cold, and he really doesn’t think he could stop Michael even if he wanted to. That mindless bliss he feels when he can just lie there and take it is heightened by the thought of him being like this forever, his skin getting colder and his eyes clouding grey with death and Michael’s cock rocking him into an endless sleep –

Abruptly, Michael pulls out and Corey wonders what’s happening, wonders if Michael’s suddenly decided he’s not into it, before he’s flipped over. His arm is trapped at an uncomfortable angle beneath him, but he doesn’t readjust, just waits until Michael forces himself back in, half-pulling Corey back onto his cock. The rough material of Michael’s coveralls – because he is the killer, right now, not the man – chafes Corey’s freezing thighs.

Corey’s twisted arm brushes against his own cock with each thrust. It takes everything in him not to react, not to move his arm just a little so he can grasp himself with an icy hand. He resists the temptation, after all, he’s dead, isn’t he? Mind long gone and nothing useful left of him except a cold, tight hole.

Being dead feels so mind numbingly good. So, so much better than he ever imagined. Even at his worst, even when he cried himself to sleep every night. He’s so fucking glad he waited – no, that’s a lie – he’s so fucking glad he never had the guts to do it. Because if he’d offed himself back then, his body would have gone to waste.

Getting bored, or maybe Corey just makes such a pretty corpse that he should be face up, Michael flips him back over, and Corey’s gaze briefly refocus on the ceiling once again, his mouth open and wanting. The thrusts get harsher, Michael is ruthless as the best of times, and Corey certainly isn’t going to break the moment to complain. He chokes back a moan, his leg twitching involuntarily when Michael’s hips smash against his in a final moment of primal desire.

Corey comes untouched, as soon he feels the explosion of heat inside him from Michael’s own release. If anything can bring him back to life, it’s Michael.

He blinks slowly; a long, slow breath rattles his chest.

“If you fucked me like that afterwards, I really would let you kill me,” Corey says, from the cocoon of blankets he’s swaddled himself in.

The friction and exertion from their fucking had warmed him up a little by the end, but then he’d started shivering again and realised he should probably do something about it.

Michael is sat beside him on the bed, leaning against the headboard, when he turns to face Corey properly. The mask sits between them.

Whether you let me or not, I’ll do it one day, Michael is saying. And Corey knows it.

[thewarriorspecial]

Alright so:

@hobicat suggested an office AU. I don’t work in an office. I work in a dreaded grocery store. So this is a slice of that. And you know, my insanity. Huzzah!

Also included a delightful Ke$ha detail for @kiseiakhun.

This is completely unedited and typed on my phone.

Welcome to Zippys

The only universe in which Barry Allen is fucking evil.

There be dragons at the end of the world. And there be Evil Barry. Deific powers. An unsettling craving for violence fueled by too many years of passive aggressively accepting spoonfuls of shit from middle aged women who felt entitled to discounts. Just because, no explanation really.

One day Evil Barry, who used to be Fake Nice Barry until a middle aged white bitch told him to “go back where he came from” because she didn’t like his accent, was nudged over the edge.

Evil Barry grabbed that haughty bitch by her early aughts bob and threw her through a plate glass window.

You see, the whole thing started because there was a sale on ribs. Barry was Summoned to the front of the store from the Dairy aisle where he had been cleaning up all the overpriced eggs an Elderly Karen had dropped on the floor in protest of ever rising prices. Elderly Karen’s rage was understandable. She’s on a fixed income. When Fake Nice Barry was once young and Actually Nice, he would’ve given her the eggs at a discount. Or for free even if he could find a way to manage it.

Nonetheless here comes the page. So Barry pastes a cordial if somewhat tired smile on his face and asks Meat Karen how he can help her. And it starts. The torrent of personal accusations. The list of made up sins the whole store had committed against her specifically.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” he gently explains, “Our meat manager had a family emergency and since he’s our only trained meat cutter on the team, he wasn’t able to cut enough of those ribs for the sale today. He or a replacement from another store will be in tomorrow to get us caught up. May I take your name and make sure a special order is reserved for you?”

“Well how does that help me today? I need them today. They’re on sale today! I specifically made a thirty minute drive over here just for those and I’m supposed to come back? I have to make two trips now because of your incompetence??”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Barry forces a steady tone, “What could do I do for you instead that would be more respectful of your time?”

“Have the shit in the store when you put it in the ad! You always do this! You lure people in here, nothing is stocked, everything is dirty! Do you get kickbacks from the oil people to make us drive more? Is that why you built that gas station? It smells! You cut down all those trees and stink up the whole neighborhood with your lies!!”

Barry had tried to answer her accusations as they came up but was stopped each time as she shoved her extended palm in his face, the universal symbol for Im not finished screaming at you yet.

And finally, after countless shifts, after countless hours of meaningless blocking and cleaning, and ordering and stocking and monotonous enduring—Barry snapped. An evil was unleashed in him so unbalanced it ripped a hole in the multiverse and created Zippys.

It is said that the lightning crack of every justified strike, every open hand, every Twisted Tea laid upon a Karen or Kevin results in immediate transmission to the store where you can check out anytime you like but you just respawn in the cart laden vestibule.

When that bitch got launched through the glass, her indignant shriek followed by the shattering glass each hit perfectly in time to the chorus of Keshas Tik Tok.

Meistro? Cue it up please.

Tik Tok on the clock but the party don’t—

“Stop! AGH!!”

Oh woah oh oh

Crash

Oh woah oh oh

A red streak appears next to Barry who’s still frozen in perfect pitcher form.

“Oh SHIT!” Wally cackles like a witch, ripping his cell phone out of his hoodie pocket and leaping after the woman. “World star!! World star!!”