#shut up peyton

[toppermostpoppermost]

TOMMY BOY (1995) dir. Peter Segal

[starleska]

a recreation of me accidentally stumbling across Royal Margarine Cookie's voice lines for the first time at 2am last night 😳😳😳😳

[pey-up]

tale of ceacura or however the heck u spell it (dear lord why did i name it the worst word to spell. Ever.) Will be updated soon! Promiseeeee!!!

[mudblccd]

@slythzriins sent a letter : 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 .

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 , 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 ⎯⎯⎯⎯ the way words make peyton stare dead ahead for a long , drawn out moment ; hand with a pinch of herbs hovering over the cauldron , eyes flicker downwards towards the bubbling liquid , snapping and groaning from the mixture that swirled together . she's never been very good at potions , but she tries , each time , and what she needs now isn't mattheo doubting her ( HE HAD EVERY REASON TO , especially after nearly blowing up the castle first year , then her face second year , hair third . . . WHY WERE THEY STILL MAKING HER DO THE LESSON , AGAIN ? ) her eyes focusing on professor snape with an intensity that leaves no question on the way she wanted him to hit her so hard she collided with the desk ❛ i have a death wish ❜ peyton dead panned , eyes shifting to the side to watch mattheo , landing back on the swirling liquid , the anxiety she tried so hard to swallow down suddenly feels like a rock is lodged in pit of throat ❛ and should i end up looking like two face , you'll get front row seats to my origin story , you're welcome ❜ and out of everyone to sudden turn into , harvey dent would be the one person she'd be more connected with ; gotham city's youngest district attorney , a shining star that turned tragic by an attack beyond his control - though should she happen to become insane , she doesn't the successful backstory . . . she was a good qudditch player , but not exactly reaching harvey dent level infamous . . . and unlike dent , the insanity would completely be her own fault .

but she had to do this , had to keep trying ; it was the one grade holding her down , the rest ? she was thriving , was damn proud of what her grade sheet looked like , but potions was like an itch , a violent , aching itch buried in her very being that would ever fade , a jump of a grade , a fraction of improvement , at least ; WHY WAS IT SO HARD ? just as she's about to drop the ingredient in , there's hesitation ❛ that . . . does look like the right measurement , right ? ❜

[contradictivs]

it’s giving fuck boy but at least he’s pretty <3

[pupplushy]

chat how do I tell my bf that when he was helpin me shift into a plushie last night and he said that plushies don't think and that he would think for me how do I tell him that reading back and seeing it was kinda. It was uh. Mhm >//<

[cobra-salt]

Antis and sexual harassment, name a more cursed pair

[cloveroctobers]

wishlist — 5. Luca (the bear) [Winter prompts]

A/N: My work for this past season kinda flopped but i haven’t written a winter themed one for Luca so here goes nothing!

WARNINGS: loosely connected to my fic here (since I didn’t want to write in 2nd POV) but not heavily done so can still work as a standalone piece. + some intimate scenes.

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: ACTIVITIES — Shoveling snow + DIALOGUE PROMPTS — "Turn on the heat." // "Oh, I will." // "No, I literally mean the heat! It's like ten degrees in here!" + "Who needs a sleigh when I can just ride you?"

ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ

Luca was used to rainfall and maybe twenty-four hours of snow, whereas Peyton was used to these kind of brutal winters. Being back in Chicago for months at a time has a much different impact on Peyton than it did Luca. Yet the two felt like they didn’t need to be apart any longer so they came to some sort of agreement.

Luca was in Chicago to see what it had to offer and decided maybe half of the year could be divided between there, Copenhagen, and London mostly would be for holidays. Copenhagen has always been Luca’s comfort zone, his true home, yet he had that itch to explore and he’s already had connects in Chicago…along with the funeral for Ever; it just made sense to circle back…for him.

He wouldn’t push Peyton if the city got too much for her, which means there were times when they were apart. Due to their work it consisted of travel, more so on Peyton’s part but she’s always loved to see different sides of the world. She was not the kind of woman that preferred one place over the other because then that would result in a feeling of being trapped. That’s unfortunately what Chicago gave her. Luca hated being away from his fiancée but he understood why so when Peyton was here, he always made the most of it. Which oddly entailed, him telling her that he would handle the snow outside by himself while she finished up editing photos that she shot and could attach to a well known blog in Chicago, Palette Feast, that she wrote a piece for.

They always knew how to keep busy and it’s almost as if they didn’t spend a good portion of their day at the soup kitchen together, yet here they were in their own spaces…still working.

She raises her arms above her head, sitting at the leather stool at the counter, stretching in her open cardigan after sending over her work to the websites publisher. Slamming her laptop shut, she scoots from the counter, taking her laptop with her as she moves around towards the living room and placed it onto the computer desk before peeking out the double doors across from the couch.

Knowing that view wouldn’t grant her with the sight of Luca, she braces herself before unlocking one of the doors to step out onto the balcony. She steadies herself against the light slush, hugging her cardigan against her as the winter air whipped against her skin. The woman doesn’t bother placing her hands on the snow covered railing—especially without gloves—and glanced over in search of Luca.

It never takes her long to find him.

He’s leaning against the handle of the big shovel, a hand pressed against his hip, almost as if he’s surveying his work. It makes the woman laugh a little before she calls out, “Hey Romeo, hurry up will you? I’ve got a surprise for you.”

His beanie covered head lifts up at the voice and he puffs out a breath that swirls into the air, “A reward, yeah? I’ll take it.” He grins.

Peyton winks at him before going back into the home. She knows she would have been scolded if she was caught outside in just this attire by a certain parent but pushes that bad thought away. Once locking up, she tip toes through the condo, heading to the primary bedroom at the back of the home, stripping out of her faux leather pants and bodysuit, trading it for a ice blue lingerie attire that looked so vibrant against her skin.

She places the cardigan back over for extra warmth as she hears the front door creep open. Peyton takes her time walking back to the front of the home, meeting Luca while he tosses his puffer coat onto the coat rack.

He doesn’t even get the chance to blow into his hands as he slowly turns to be engulfed by voluminous brown hair and arms locking around his neck. He hides a groan as he leans down a little, hands going to the back of her cardigan. “Oh, hello. Is this my surprise?”

“Part of it.” She turns her head slightly, pressing her full lips to his cheek, then traveling her kisses to his ear.

Peyton can feel Luca shudder and it’s not only from his body starting to heat up as he asks, “…What did you have in mind then?”

She steps back to do a little twirl and poses in the lingerie piece she quickly threw on. Luca’s eyes take no shame in drinking his fiancée in, his hues appearing darker as they meet her own eyes, “All this for shoveling snow?”

Peyton interlocks her hands together, sides of her arms pushing her cleavage together unintentionally, “Maybe…or maybe we need to get everything out of our systems before your mom stays with us for Christmas this year.”

It was only three days away and she was flying in tomorrow morning.

Luca hums as he takes a step towards Peyton, who playfully steps back, “Is that so?”

“Or…we get can get those THC cookies going if you prefer a snack first?”

“With you dressed like this,” Luca points with a natural curve of his arched brows, “Not a chance.”

Peyton lets out a squeal as Luca spins her back and away from the U-shaped kitchen tucked in the corner, his forehead pressing down against her’s as they breathed each other in. His cold hands make Peyton let out a sharpened breath but she still leans into his frame, as he hands run down the skin of her sides.

“Sorry love,” he apologizes, “I think you’ll have to turn on the heat.”

Her tongue reaches out to run against his bottom lip, his new facial hair that Luca decided to sport this season met great approval from Peyton, even tickled against her tongue, making Luca tighten his hold on her.

His eyes closed shut, trying to control himself at her teasing, her nails gently scratching at his upper back, “Oh I will.”

“No, I literally mean the heat! It's like ten degrees in here!" Luca hated to break up the moment a little but he had to say something as he shivered.

Peyton met his eyes, knowing that he wasn’t joking. She steps back but not without gently pulling him back to their bedroom, “Not the Brit being unable to handle Chicago’s weather.”

“Oh shut it,” Luca comments, yanking her back to his front to press his cheek against her’s, “It’s massively different and you know it.”

“Course…it’s not like I was raised here or anything.” Peyton wisecracked as they continued into their bedroom.

Luca let’s go of Peyton as she makes her way over to the fireplace. She squats down, making Luca thankful that he did snag this place, a fireplace in the bedroom for the harsh winter nights was a blessing in disguise. Peyton moves to grab Luca’s hands and place them right on her slightly bare backside, “That should help some, no?”

A smirk splits over his lips while he tightens his grip, “A bit, yeah.”

Peyton gets closer, their lips only just a space from touching, her hand travels down his torso towards his waistband, “Would you like some more assistance then, Chef?”

Once she had him in her hold, he nearly sunk into her, “Absolutely,” he manages to get out before taking the initiative to place his lips down on her’s.

They’re both squeezing each other, invoking moans that filled the quiet home. Just by kissing and touching was enough to get the other riled up. Peyton made it known that she was in charge this approaching evening as she’s on top. Luca’s back and chest were two of her favorite physical attributes but deciding to be generous, she allowed him to keep his crew neck on but she couldn’t speak for his lower half.

“Who needs a sleigh when I can just ride you?” Peyton whispered as she swirled her hips in the perfect figure eight, making Luca hiss.

Starting off slow was sort of their thing but at unexpected moments Peyton would speed it up, always catching Luca off guard. He made the mistake of bringing up some activities he and his fiancée both could get up to once free time was granted, being a blabbing mess and overstimulated as soon as she let go to sink down repeatedly.

It hurt so good.

Only because Luca was hiding something.

When she really started to ride, his fingertips dug into her flesh, trying to hold onto her hips, to slow down the process but as soon as she slapped his hands away, leaving Luca redder in the face, she raised his arms above his head, leaning forward, ready to press a nasty kiss to his mouth, but the whimper escaping his mouth, and the way he didn’t attempt to Buck up into her made a red flag go off.

She sits back, a frown appearing in between her brows.

“W-why did you stop?” Luca rasps.

Peyton breathes, “…something’s wrong.”

Luca immediately shakes his head, “No? No. Keep going.”

It’s Peyton’s turn to quirk up a brow, “Get up here and kiss me then.”

“Babe.”

“I’m not moving until you do.”

Peyton watched as Luca rests both of his hands against his face, sighing. Carefully he fists the comforter of the bed, immediately wincing as he tried to push himself up. One thing about Luca is, he took care of his body and sit ups never resulted in this much pain.

“You son of a bitch, you’re hurt!” Peyton’s mouth is agape, “Why didn’t you say anything? Did I—

Luca shakes his head, “It wasn’t you. Fucking hell it truly wasn’t…it was the snow! And how could I resist when you look like this?”

He runs his hands up Peyton’s thighs but she smacks them away, making him suck air between his teeth. “This is not okay and now I’m pissed.”

“Babe, it’s quite alright.”

Peyton mocks him, “But it’s not quite alright. You probably pulled a muscle and I’m making it worse. Which is exactly why I told you to leave it to the HOA.”

“They’re taking too long.” Luca huffed, “People are on a schedule here.”

Peyton rolled her eyes.

Of course Luca Hodgson always being the one to take matters into his owns hands, would want to shovel the snow and probably did the elderly neighbor’s portion as well.

Now look at him!

He was all busted up yet still looked so handsome even when he was trying to play his pain off! His hair was already fattened by his beanie, hair was coated with sweat now as it lay against his forehead, flushed skin, and watery deep blue eyes.

“These sidewalks are not a one person job. You should have waited and let me help you.”

“You can still help me,” Luca tries to persuade, “…in other ways.”

Peyton scoffs, “Oh you want me to stop riding you to either blow or give you a handy instead, as if you lying to me is okay? That I’ll let it slide? You’re unbelievable.”

“I didn’t lie…I just didn’t bring it up?” He weakly attempts to send the woman a smile but she glared at him.

“We’re not twenty-one anymore, don’t know if you noticed.”

“What are you on about?” Luca scoffs, “There’s no way you’re calling me a old geezer?”

Peyton raised her hands, “I’m not calling you a thing, baby.”

Luca tenses as Peyton eased herself off her fiancé, their body’s both tensing and still clenching at the loss of contact. He’s making grabby hands at her as she sticks her nose up in the air.

“Looks like you’ll be needing those cookies much sooner than I thought.” Peyton sasses as she starts to make her way over to the attached bathroom.

Luca grumbled, “I was perfectly fine with the ones right on top of me.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Luca calls back, struggling to roll onto his side as he watches Peyton’s hair disappear behind the wall.

Peyton returns with some cream, stare was heated enough as she peered down at him, knees brushing against the side of the bed, “Looks like this is starting to become part of our routine huh?”

“Of you telling me, ‘I told you so,’?” Luca guessed as Peyton carefully gets onto the bed and steps over him.

She yanks up his sweater, seeing the beads of sweat on his spine as well. It was safe to say that he was warmed up now, “No. Taking care of each other.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” Luca sighed, leaning on his elbow.

Peyton makes a guess of her own, “Lower back.”

“Mhm.”

Her fingers go into the jar, the menthol and ginger scent was strong but it would do the trick. It was actually an old remedy from Peyton’s paternal grandmother who still made these jars full of peppermint, spearmint, and ginger. The woman has bad arthritis and decided making her own medicine was better than being forced to take pills. She was never a fan of doctors and when she found out about Peyton’s stormy battle with mental health, the spunky woman was ready to raise hell.

She was never a fan of Peyton’s mother.

“Here I was being a ho ho ho and my man needed medical attention.” Peyton says making Luca snort.

Once enough coated his back, Luca took his time turning to face Peyton who sat on her knees, his hand gently rubbing at the top of her knee, “It’s not your fault babe…and you didn’t see me exactly backing down. I completely consented to you having power over me.”

“You dog!”

“Correction: your favorite.”

Peyton adds, “You’d definitely be a wolfhound.”

Luca frowns, “Not a reindeer?”

“I don’t believe that’s in the same category—

Luca already has his hand on the back of Peyton’s neck, pulling her face to his lips, “Uh huh.”

He’s kissing her in a way that makes her toes curl underneath her ass. She manages to pull away and says in a warning tone, “Luca Hodgson…”

“Think you can spell it on my tongue?”

Peyton gasps, “I think we found the new ho.”

“Only Mrs. Claus’.”

“You’re on a roll!”

“…well we didn’t get to finish.”

“With good reason.”

Luca sighs with a caress of his facial hair, “You on my face has nothing to do with my back.”

Peyton thinks about it but again it’s taking much too long for Luca’s liking. He turns onto his back carefully, his hand moving to hold onto Peyton’s wrist, slightly tugging her. They haven’t tried this with his new facial hair and it’s not a position they did often but this season was supposed to be full of love anyway.

And as Peyton got comfy in her new seat, she had no problem professing her love as she rode out her high all while guiding Luca’s rolling pin in all directions equivalent to a compass.

She’s laying beside him, they’re both fighting to catch their breaths. Luca’s got a shit eating grin on his face as he lolls his head to meet Peyton’s who’s staring up at the ceiling in bliss.

“Is it fair for me to say I told you so.” Luca quizzes, shuffling to place a kiss on her bare shoulder, thanks to the cardigan slipping from its space.

Peyton scoffs, “Whatever, I make you see stars and now you suddenly think you’re Superman.”

Luca rests his head against his wife to be’s shoulder, “actually it’s because I’ve got the number one thing on my wishlist.”

“Hold on, Christmas isn’t here yet, bud.”

“Might as well be.” Luca whispers, “I’m just glad that I’ve still got you.”

“Awww you sap!” Peyton cooes, moving her own head to press a kiss against his brow. Luca lifts his chin so their lips could reconnect, his tastes even better for obvious reasons.

“I mean it.” Luca’s stare turns intense and he doesn’t have to say more, although Peyton knows he could, but the man lets his eyes do the talking this time.

Peyton nods after a while of staring longingly into each other’s eyes. She intertwines her hand with his right, as he brings their hands to press a kiss to. “I love you, Luca Hodgson.”

“And I love you immensely, Peyton Hodgson.”

The way in Luca’s mind Peyton was already his wife, which is why he referred to her as such, always made her heart swell with a warmth of its own. She pressed her temple against Luca’s ready to catch an evening nap as the fireplace crackles on, providing further warmth and safety in the home.

As they lay side by side, the couple continued receiving checks off their wishlists, as long as they continued to be in each other’s space.

ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ ☼ ᨒ ོ

Continue with my winter anthology prompts here.

[shadowuponstorm]

Stay Away From The Coach's Granddaughter

A/N: I recently started watching One Tree Hill and when I searched it, I noticed it's rarely posted about on this platform. So, I thought "Why not write up something for it and be a part of those who want to keep it alive?". Hope you 'Ravens' enjoy! (I just wanted to mention, I love all the endgames! This is just another scenario separate from the show)

Summary: Coaching basketball for Tree Hill always seem to be first place on the list of Brian "Whitey" Durham's pride and joys, when it's in actually fourth place. The third place belongs to his son, Dale, the second for his granddaughter, and the first place is always reserved for Camila. When he gains custody of his granddaughter, he vows to always have her best interest at heart, even if it means warning his boys to stay away from her. What would happen if one of them breaks one of Coach's rules?

-4 YEARS AGO, WHITEY'S POV-

I was about to sit down to eat dinner when a knock came on the door. I grumbled as I tried to get out of my recliner, complaining that all I needed was peace and quiet. I opened the door to see two police officers standing there, with the lights on the squad cars still on.

"You Whitey Durham?" The officer on the left asked as I nodded my head and confirmed I was, "Your son, Dale, was in a car accident. I'm sorry to inform you, sir, that he didn't make it to the hospital."

Hearing those words, ripped a chunk of my heart out. "No, no, not my boy." I kept thinking over and over again, trying to stay upright.

"Thank you for coming all this way to tell me," I said to the officers as they nodded in understanding of my reaction to the shocking news I've been given, "H-have you informed his ex-wife? What about my granddaughter, was she with him?"

"Someone is going over there right now to tell her," The officer on the right responds, he then tells me, "As for your granddaughter, we have her in the back of the squad car. She wasn't in the accident with your son."

I sighed in relief as I looked past the cops' shoulders to see her just sitting there, looking devastated, and I couldn't blame her, she just lost her dad. I asked, "Is there any way you can allow her to stay with me? I mean, her mom lives pretty far from-"

"Oh, Mr. Durham, she isn't going to her mom. Social Services came by the hospital and explained to her that she was to live with you if something were to happen," the officer says as I see his partner go down the steps of my porch and get her out of the car.

"Why don't you go on in? I'll finish this up as quickly as I can," I told my granddaughter as she passed by me to enter the house.

After a few more minutes, the police left and I shut the door behind me to see Charlotte sitting on the couch, as quiet as she could be. She turned to look at me after hearing the door shut and whispered, "What am I going to do without my dad? I'm only 13."

"Oh, sweetheart," I said as I took a seat right next to her and pulled her into a hug, "I know this is going to be hard, but we'll get through this. That's what us Durhams do."

"I'm glad he and Grandma Camila are reunited at least," I hear Charlotte whisper as I tell her that was a good way of thinking.

I will do everything in my heart to keep her safe and protect her as best I can from harm's way.

-PRESENT, Charlotte's POV-

"Come on! Let's Go!" I hear Grandpa shout at the boys as I try to study on the bleachers, "Focus on practicing the plays, not showing off!"

I chuckle to myself and roll my eyes as I witness Tree Hill's star player, Nathan Scott, doing the exact opposite of what he was "asked" of. My phone buzzed beside me and I picked it up to see a text from Haley.

Haley: "Hey, wanna study at Karen's cafe?"

I text back, "Have to ask Grandpa first, but that would be greatly appreciated!"

After I put my phone back down, I glanced back at the court to see Nathan looking in my direction and proceeded to wink at me. I looked around to see if Peyton was sitting nearby, but couldn't see her anywhere.

"Nathan, you got something in your eye son? If not, stop blinking!" Grandpa yelled as the other boys laughed and I shook my head.

I packed up my stuff and headed down the bleachers toward Grandpa to ask him, "Hey, Haley texted me asking if I wanted to study over at the cafe. Can I go?"

"Sure, go ahead," Grandpa said as he glanced his attention to me for a split second, "Stay safe and remember to keep your phone."

"Yes sir," I respond as I walk toward the exit, but not before turning my head to yell over my shoulder, "See you guys at the game!" prompting the guys to hoot and cheer, much to Grandpa's annoyance.

After I arrived at the cafe, I sent a quick text before opening the door to see Haley helping Karen out behind the counter.

"Oh hey sweetie," Karen says as she spots me walking in and putting my schoolbag on the counter, "Your grandpa's yelling was too much for you?"

I laugh at her little joke and respond, "I wish I could say I'm not used to it, but I'm used to it. He's stressed about the big game and Nathan was busy showboating. Speaking of Nathan, he did something strange."

"What did he do?" Haley asked as I pulled out my notes and textbooks, "Did he flirt with you?"

"Okay, one, you know my grandpa's rule about me fraternizing with his "boys" so flirting is out of the question as well as dating. Two, no, he winked in my direction, but Peyton wasn't on the bleachers or there."

"Hold on, you say he winked in your direction, but Peyton wasn't around?" Haley asked as I nodded my head, "Charlotte, he was winking at you."

"No, he wasn't," I respond skeptically as I look over at Karen, who has the "Yeah, he definitely winked at you" expression on her face, "There's absolutely no reason that Nathan Royal Scott, who is taken mind you, would want to wink at me."

"Why not? You're intelligent, funny, and such a beautiful girl," Karen says as Haley voices that she agrees with that.

"Nathan lives up to his father, which means, he is not going to go for the smart and nerdy girl, he's going for the pretty cheerleader," I respond before mentioning, "No offense to Peyton, she definitely rocks it."

"Well, believe me when I say this, something is going off in that boy's brain when you're around," Haley says as she grabs a biscotti from the jar.

"Who are you guys talking about?" Lucas asks from behind, making me jump a little, "Oh, sorry, thought you heard the door open."

"It's fine, we're good," I said as I turned my body in his direction, "Also, none of your business who we were talking about because it's nothing of importance."

"Nathan winked at her and she thought Peyton was nearby," Haley responded as I shushed her from going further than that information.

"Well, they're always breaking up and getting back together, so I didn't know," I said as Lucas nodded his head in understanding of my theory before mentioning, "He and Peyton have broken up for good."

"There, now you have a shot at becoming the star player's girlfriend," Haley says as I roll my eyes and remind her that I'm also the Coach's granddaughter, so there's a little to no possibility of that happening, "You never know, maybe Whitey will go soft at the fact you're finding love."

Despite doubt running through a loop in my mind, maybe Haley's right about this. Grandpa is always telling stories about how he and Grandma were soulmates in love, he would want me to have a similar experience.

-BASKETBALL GAME-

"Hey Charlotte, if we win this game, how about we grab some dinner together?" I hear Tim shout at me, making me roll my eyes and yell back, "In your dreams! Now focus before he chews off your head or worse, benches you for the rest of the game."

I could've sworn I saw a little smile on Grandpa's face when he heard me rejecting Tim's offer. After my dad's passing 4 years ago, it was in writing that Grandpa was to get full custody of me since my mother wasn't acting like an actual mother and being reckless with everything regarding money, drugs, and especially men. It was honestly the best decision my father made because he didn't want me to be exposed to the fact my mom put those first instead of my health and well-being. I understand why the "Stay Away From The Coach's Granddaughter" rule is in place, but doesn't help when most of the boys are actually really nice.

"Hey Charlotte!" I heard someone shout and I looked to see who it was, "Down here!

I turned my head in the direction of the voice to see it was Martin McFadden, or what he likes to be called, Mouth.

"What Mouth?" I asked as I walked down the bleachers to his spot, "Did you need extra help with something?"

"No, it's not that, here," Mouth says handing me a folded-up piece of paper, and before I can ask, he mentions, "If your grandpa asks, just say it's my number so we can keep in touch in case we're working on something."

"Got it," I respond as I put the paper in my pocket and head back to my spot on the bleachers, with part of me itching to want to read the note now.

-AFTER BASKETBALL GAME-

As always, the Ravens kicked ass and my grandpa gained another win to his record. Grandpa and I were on our way home when he asked, "What was that kid giving you? The one with the big lips."

I laughed a little before saying, "His name is Martin, but he goes by Mouth as a nickname. He just wanted to give me his number for his phone in case we're to be working together on a project."

"You sure it isn't a love note? It was folded up pretty good," Grandpa responded as a little joke, prompting me to shake my head.

"No, just a friendly communication between the sportscaster and the granddaughter of the coach," I say as Grandpa parked the car in front of the house.

After dinner had been eaten and dishes cleaned, Grandpa went into the den to watch TV in his favorite recliner as I went into my room. I pulled the paper from my pocket and unfolded it to see a very recognizable handwriting, Nathan.

"Hey, I know this is not ideal, but you know, your grandpa has that rule of his set in stone and I don't want to be benched for the rest of the season. Here's my number xxx-xxx-xxxx, in case you want to talk or text."

I chuckle at how bold this boy is, using his friend to give me this note and bypassing my grandpa's rule. I pull out my phone and text the number, "If this is a prank, I very much don't appreciate that."

Nathan: As fun as that sounds, it's not. Guess you got my note ;)

Me: You know very well I did, it happened right in front of you, and you also had Mouth help you. Good game today.

Nathan: Thanks, that wink was towards you by the way.

I looked at my phone screen in confusion before texting back, "I know, you texted it to me just now."

Nathan: No, I mean earlier. You were looking around like it was meant for someone else.

Me: Can we switch over to a phone call?

Nathan: Wouldn't Whitey overhear you?

I closed my phone and put it in my pocket as I left my room to head towards the den.

"Hey, is it alright if I go for a night bike ride? I won't be gone long," I said as Grandpa nodded his head, "I have my phone on me."

"Stay safe, love you," Grandpa shouts as I yell, "Love you too."

After I shut the door behind me, I started biking down the road that goes toward the River Court. I pulled my phone out and called Nathan as I leaned my bike against the bleachers. He answered on the first ring and said, "So what excuse did you give?"

"Har har, very funny, I gave him an honest one. He's used to me doing rides at night, as long as I'm not out too late," I respond as I hear Nathan laugh, "What? I'm serious, I've never broken any of his ground rules, as of now."

"What a way to break the old man's heart, betrayal," Nathan said as I rolled my eyes and rebutted, "At least I'm always on his good side."

"Touche, question, why were you looking around when I winked at you?" Nathan asked as I ran my hand over my face and groaned.

"It's embarrassing," I respond as Nathan hits me with a "Try me."

After I took a breath, I said, "I thought Peyton was around, so when you winked at me, I looked to see if it was for her since she's usually your girlfriend."

Nathan laughs a little before saying, "We do break up a lot, don't we? Yeah, we're done for this time. Don't worry, that's not something to be embarrassed about."

"Jeez thanks, Scott," I respond jokingly before pulling my phone away from my ear to see the time, only have 15 more minutes before I have to start biking home.

"How much longer do we have on this call?" Nathan asked and before I could ask how he knew, he said, "I heard you pull the phone away."

"We have 15 more minutes before I have to bike home," I respond before I hear his voice change when he asks, "I'm sorry? Did you say bike?"

"Yeah, I thought I mentioned that," I said before clarifying, "I don't have a car yet and I think we both know how my grandpa feels about your dad, so there's no way my car is coming from him."

"Yeah, probably best if you don't," Nathan agrees as I add in, "Sorry, know he's your dad and all, but he can sometimes be an ass."

"Oh no, feel free, I feel the same way," Nathan responds as I start to feel bad about the way how unhappy he is talking about Dan.

To change the topic, I asked, "So, what's the real reason you wanted to talk to me?"

"Just to get to know you, the real you. You know, finally know your personality, not just the fact you happen to be related to my basketball coach," Nathan responds as I feel the inside of my body warm up and blush.

"Didn't know Showboater Scott actually had a heart," I say sarcastically as Nathan laughs and mentions, "Just takes the right person to make it skip a beat."

"I really should get back before Grandpa sends a search party, I'll see you tomorrow," I respond as Nathan agrees and tells me goodnight.

After I told him goodnight back, I closed my phone and started biking back up the road. I entered the house to look into the den to see Grandpa snoring and see the TV was playing a video of an old Ravens game. I grabbed a blanket to cover him up and I kissed him on the forehead to whisper, "Goodnight, Grandpa."

My phone buzzed to signal a text came through as I entered my bedroom, I pulled it out to see Nathan texted me.

"Had to tell you goodnight again, hope your dreams are sweet and have me in them ;)"

I laughed before putting my phone on charge and getting dressed for bed. Maybe tomorrow will bring something more into my life.

-TOMORROW-

"Have a good day today, I'll see you later," Grandpa says as we both exit the car and head toward the school.

After I told Grandpa to have the same, I headed toward my locker to see Tim leaning against it. I thought to myself, "Great, another day to reject his advances, again."

"What do you want Tim?" I asked as I stopped in front of him and shoved his shoulder to get him to move, "And get off my locker."

"Just thought I'd try to serenade you to go out with me, no one can resist my charm," Tim says smugly like he thinks he'll be successful in his attempt today.

Before I can say something, I hear someone say, "Tim, she's never going out with you, so stop. Besides, Turner's looking for you, it looks like you're in trouble as always."

"Aww man, I gotta hide," Tim nervously says as he bolts down the hall and keeps looking in all directions to try to avoid our principal.

I turned around to see Nathan standing there with a smile on his face.

"Clever, is Turner really looking for him?" I asked as Nathan shook his head and said, "Nope, thought I'd save a damsel in distress."

I open my locker to get my textbooks before saying, "I could have handled it myself, but thank you. I swear he just never gives up."

"Yeah, that's Tim for you," Nathan responds as I laugh, "Did you make it home in time? You didn't respond to my text."

"I did, thanks for being concerned. I did get your text, was nice," I said as he plastered an "I take offense to that" expression as a joke and whispered, "How dare you? I worked on that text for hours."

"Fine, it was funny, better?" I respond as Nathan nods and looks around for who I assume is my grandfather to make sure he isn't nearby before he leans in, "I really enjoyed our phone call, we should do it again."

The school bell rings and everyone starts rushing the hallways, causing my attention to be distracted and when I looked back, he was gone. So I pulled my phone out to text him, "We should."

I entered class to take my seat and the teacher started teaching his material when I saw a folded piece of paper get thrown on my desk. I looked towards the person who put it there and they shrugged their shoulder, meaning they were only told to give it to me. I started to unfold the paper when the teacher called my name.

"Yes sir?" I asked as he glanced toward the paper in my hand and asked what I had in my hand, "I'm not sure, I was given this just now."

I handed it to him after he asked for it, knowing he believed me since he knew I was not the type of student to break school rules, opening it to see what it said, before folding it back up.

"Sir, isn't it your rule to read notes aloud?" I hear a student asks before the teacher responds, "Yes, but in this case, I'm not going to."

"Not fair to the other times you did it," Another student says before the teacher looks at me with a somber expression and apologizes before he unfolds the paper to read what it said.

"Charlotte, you should wipe your existence off Planet Earth because of how ugly you are, no wonder your daddy is dead and your mommy didn't care to want you."

My stomach dropped and my veins turned cold hearing those words,

"I-I-" I tried to say but sentences weren't forming in my brain nor connecting with my mouth, "I can't."

I suddenly grabbed my bag and ran out of the classroom with tears streaming down my face. I didn't even know I was going outside the school until I was actually outside, standing on the sidewalk.

"I can't stay here, I don't want anyone to see me like this, especially Grandpa," I kept thinking over and over in my head.

I walked back into the school and towards Turner's office, who was surprised to see me.

"Charlotte, how can I-. Is everything alright?" He asked as I shook my head and told him, "I'm feeling sick and can't stay for the rest of the day. Do you mind telling my grandpa I went home?"

"Of course, hope you feel better soon," Turner says after I thanked him and left the office towards the parking lot to grab my bike.

After I biked home, I got in the house and that's when I finally decided to let out a scream and started sobbing, where no one could hear or see me this way. I've been bullied like this a lot by Rachel, and no one knows about it, not even Grandpa. I don't know why she's doing it, she's only been in Tree Hill for a few months. "I wish she would just stop."

I went into my bedroom and practically slammed my whole body onto the bed to grab a pillow to hold. I must've fallen asleep for a few hours because my phone buzzed with a text and I looked at the screen name to see it was Nathan.

"Hey, where were you? All the guys asked Whitey and he said you'd gone home sick."

Me: I did. A bug must be going around and I caught it.

Nathan: You looked fine this morning so I know that's a lie. What's going on?

Me: Nothing, I'm fine. Aren't you supposed to be practicing?

Nathan: Practice is over, didn't you see the time?

I looked at the time to see it was 5:30, which meant Grandpa would be home in an hour or so from mingling with his friends.

Me: Didn't realize, oops. Sorry, I had to miss seeing Grandpa yell at you guys.

Nathan: I need to hear your voice, phone call?

I sighed and tried to make my voice sound like I hadn't been crying before pressing the call button.

"Hey, how did practice go?" I say with a hint of crackling in my voice, which I silently curse that I let it slip

"About how it is sometimes, are you really okay?" Nathan asked with concern in his voice.

"Yeah, I might've just caught what's been going around. I'll be fine," I said as I heard a car door shut nearby, "Shoot, Grandpa's home early, I'll talk to you later."

After Nathan and I said our goodbyes, I made it look like I'd been sleeping since I got home. The door creaks open as Grandpa's footsteps enter my room and they stop as he sees my appearance. I hear him set down something on my desk and walk over to kiss my forehead to whisper, "Hope you feel better sweetheart, whether the bully is getting to you or you're actually sick."

I open my eyes to see a soup container and by the smell, it's from Karen's cafe, which means it's bound to be delicious. First, I need to talk to Grandpa, so I exit my bedroom to enter the den.

"Listen, I'm really sorry-" I started to say before Grandpa stopped me and said, "I know, your teacher got worried so he came to see me and showed me the nasty note. Then Turner came and told me you left because you weren't feeling good."

"Does that mean I'm barred from going to the next game?" I asked as Grandpa shook his head and told me the skipping class rule doesn't apply to me, "I promise, it's a one-time thing."

"Oh really? So, you're not going to skip class even if Nathan asks you to?" Grandpa asked, making my eyes widen in shock, and before I could ask, he said, "I see the way he looks at you, and I admit, maybe my rule is a little harsh."

"It's not, I understand why," I responded as I mentioned, "He doesn't know about the note or the bullying. This is all recent."

"Well, you outta tell him, he was worried about you when he didn't see you in the bleachers," Grandpa said as I sighed and responded, "I know, I just- I don't know why I'm allowing their words to hurt me."

"Those words hurt me too, seeing those awful things said to part of my whole world, hit me in the core," Grandpa said as I went to sit on the sofa, "You know your daddy loved you so much, loved you to the point he thought of the world of you and ensured you'd be with me as well as protected."

"I know, and I appreciate him for that. The mom part though, struck a chord since it's true, she loves those things more than me," I mention as Grandpa shakes his head yes, "At least I have the best parental figure take her place, because it makes me miss her less."

"Now you're just pulling my leg," Grandpa says to try to make me laugh. I shout, "I'm not! I'm serious."

"I know, just wanted to see that smile of yours, which I hope you've been showing Nathan," Grandpa responds as I blush and say, "We just started recently talking on the phone, but you can say he has since I have a tiny crush on him."

"As much as I don't like the fact he broke my rule, I'm glad," Grandpa said as he smiled and mentioned, "He'll be excited to see you back in the bleachers."

-BASKETBALL GAME-

I sighed, trying to keep the butterflies at bay, before pushing open the door to the gym to enter the basketball game. I looked up at the scoreboard to see the Ravens are winning by 5, hopefully making Grandpa pleased.

"Hey Charlotte, glad to see you're feeling better," I hear Peyton say to me as I walk near the cheerleaders, causing me to turn my head and respond, "Thanks, Peyton."

Before I even passed by the cheerleaders fully, I heard from behind me, "You look like you need a good purging, why don't you go into the bathroom real quick?". Rachel, she's on the squad?? I decided to ignore her and keep walking, but she apparently didn't like that because the next thing that came out of her mouth was, "Hey fatty, did you hear what I said to you?"

"Rachel, stop," Brooke said, genuinely worried, "Don't you realize who you're speaking like that to?"

"Oh I don't care that her grandpa is some big-shot coach, doesn't excuse the fact she looks like that. Probably why her parents didn't want to be near her," Rachel responds with a smug look on her face.

Before I could turn around and call her out on her disgusting behavior, I heard Nathan shout, "That is enough!" causing the whole gymnasium to be quiet.

"Oh come on, you know it's true," Rachel says as if she believes Nathan is on her side and will get the others to join in.

"No, it is not. And you have no right to speak to her like that," Nathan responds as he inches forward, "Ever since you came to Tree Hill, you've been acting like a real bitch to Charlotte, who has never done anything to you. Despite what you've done to her, she remained silent because she knew what it would mean if she spoke up."

"It's not like I'm going to get in trouble for this," Rachel says as Turner speaks up, "Rachel, we know it was you who wrote that note to Charlotte, we'll be discussing your punishment."

When Rachel turns to look at me, she had pissed written all over her face. "You are so fake! People need to know the truth about the real you." Rachel shouts, looking desperate for attention to be on her.

"She's not fake," Nathan says as he moves to be closer to me, "She has a heart of gold, she's kind to everyone around her, she's so smart, she's funny when she thinks she isn't, and doesn't pay any notice if someone is admiring her from afar."

"Nathan, I-" I started to say, fear of my grandpa's rule creeping in when he said, "He gave me permission, it's okay." He took my hand in his and squeezed it in comfort before whispering, "Now, you have another person in your life to love."

I looked up into his eyes to see sincerity swimming in them before I pressed my lips against his and kissed him. I felt him wrapping his arms around my midsection and picking me up, causing everyone to cheer and hoot. Meanwhile, Rachel stormed off with a fuss, but no one was paying attention to her. I pull away before whispering against his lips, "Now go kick some ass, boyfriend."

"Not a problem, girlfriend," Nathan said as he put me down and I smiled as I watched him run back onto the court.

I looked over to see my grandpa smiling back at me and I gave him the thumbs up before going to my seat next to Haley.

-WHITEY'S THOUGHT-

"Camila and Dale, you would be really happy and proud of our girl. She's doing amazing and found herself the best boy I'd imagine she falls in love with and he treats her like she deserves to be treated. Keep watching over us and blessing us with what we need most.

[pey-up]

THIS is the bitch william thinks is giving him a hetero reputation??? Dude youre sure???

Edit: @peariandpine

Forgot you mentioned you liked to be tagged in fanart-

[mudblccd]

@bellblack sent a letter : 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 .

𝐓𝐈𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 ⎯⎯⎯⎯ leaving messy ink stains on books held loosely in one fold of arm as eyes struggled to remain locked on the professor in front of them , it's a losing battle , especially as hairs stand up on the back of neck , a chill shooting down spine being in such close proximity of the woman . SHE WAS TERRIFYING , EVEN THAT DIDN'T COVER IT . petyon put effort into keeping as much space between her and the other as much as possible , yet despite how large hogwarts was ; it has never felt more claustrophobic . not everyone was like bellatrix , mean , hostile ; CRAZY . but there were enough MUDBLOOD HATING individuals that forced her to grow up a little too fast , develop a sixth sense that she otherwise didn't have ; developing a sturdy spine didn't happen over night , it required a lot of breaks , fractures ; a delicate , yet brutal procedure to shove metal between to gaps that left it aching , a weight left in wake that made it unbearable to walk . back of teeth grinding down as eyes flickered up to the circling woman , LAMB BEING FACED WITH THE GNASHING JAWS OF A DROOLING WOLF . peyton had long since learned not to trust a word of what most people say ; but with a self aware naivety , there's a slither of hope that their word would be kept .

back of hand that held quill swipes against eyes in a lazy rub , a sudden wave of exhaustion passing through ❛ couldn't you just , you know . . . ❜ fumbling with the words for a moment , trying to knit them together into something cohesive with the intense heat that radiated from bellatrix , the mudblood could feel the hole she was trying to burn into soul ❛ LEAVE IT ? doesn't it get boring , wanting to hex and kill and curse everyone you look at ? s'not like he said something offensive . . . or wrong . ❜

[contradictivs]

have you seen him?

now you have !! <3

[mattybbernard]

Casual (Matt Sturniolo)

Pairing: Fwb!Matt x Fem!Reader

Summery: Based on “Casual” by Chappell Roan

Warnings: smut (MDNI), p in v, fingering, oral (f!receiving), squirting, public sex, car sex, swearing and strong language, filthy dirty talk, breeding kink, afab reader, no use of Y/N, use of random names (feel free to change it idrc), maybe more?

A/N: Erm, hey y’all, this is my first fic ever as well as my first time writing smut so please be kind. I’m also terrible at grammar and spelling and I wrote this in one sitting. I also did not proofread this so….have fun?

My friends call me a loser, 'cause I'm still hanging around. I've heard so many rumours, that I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch. I thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn't lose. You said, "We're not together", so now when we kiss, I have anger issues.

Three hours. Matt had texted you three hours ago and of course you replied right away, but he’s yet to read it.

Girls night at Payton’s house was supposed to be fun, a way to kick off summer by relaxing and drinking and gossiping. All of your friends who had gone off the college or university had come back to Boston for the summer, and you had taken the weekend off from your shitty waitressing job to spend time with them; but of course your focus was pulled away from your friends, and by Matt of all people. When your and Matt’s relationship went from a simple platonic friendship to something messier you had immediately told Peyton, to which she said that you’re way to beautiful and intelligent to be in a situationship of all things, especially at your age.

You looked down at your phone,

Read,

Peyton sat down beside you with a drink in her hands. “What’s going on with you?” She asked.

“Nothing.” You huffed and flopped back against the couch like a child.

“Don’t tell me you’re still talking to Matt.” Payton scolded.

“It’s not like I want to! He won’t go away!” Peyton gave you an unimpressed and unconvinced look. “Okay, so maybe I am. So what?”

“Babe, how many times have I told you, he’s a loser who refuses to see the gorgeous girl right in front of him. Drop him.” Peyton sighed.

“It’s not that easy-”

“Not to be bitchy or anything, but the more you cling onto this mess, the more of a loser you become.” Peyton cut you off before standing up to let her words sink in.

You said, "Baby, no attachment", but we're knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out, is it casual now?

“Jesus! Fuck!” You cried out as the hand that isn’t in Matt’s hair flies back to grasp at the headrest in his car.

“That feel good baby?” Matt mumbles again your exposed heat, before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit again.

A mess of jumbled syllables tumbles from your mouth along with a string of whimpers and moans. Matt’s hands keep a firm grip on the inside of your thighs, pushing them open for him as he sits on his heels on the dirty floor of the passenger’s side, as you stay sitting and spread out for him on the leather seat.

“Ugh, fuck you taste so good.” He groans as he likes a hard flat stripe from your hole to your puffy nub. His tongue instantly enters you at a rapid and aggressive pace. “C’mon baby, I know you’re close.”

“Mhm. Fuck.” You mumble from above him.

“I know baby, I know.” He coos as he switches from tongue fucking you to his fingers, the cold rings on his hands sending goosebumps up your ass and back. “Gonna cum for me?”

All you could do was nod your head, eyes closed and mouth clamped shut in ecstasy.

“Do it, c’mon, fucking cum all over me.” He egg’s you on.

The second he feels you stiffen and your legs begin to shake and tremble, he rips his fingers from your entrance. A stream of clear liquid gushes out of you and onto Matt’s face. The moans you let out at the sight of him opening his mouth to catch your release are borderline pornographic. His right hand comes up to your mound and he quickly brushes his fingers over you, causing the liquid to splatter across his face and the interior of his car.

“Fuck.” He grumbles and slurps up the puddle of liquid that remains on your pussy. “Atta girl.” He chuckles before placing a firm slap to your red and sensitive centre.

“Ah, fuck. Jesus Christ, Matt.” You scolded him as you sit up.

“You wanna come in?” He ignores your glare.

“Aren’t your parents and brothers home?”

“Yeah, so? They know we’re friends.” Matt shrugs as if he didn’t just finger fuck your brains out and then call you his friend.

It's hard being casual when my favorite bralette is in your dresser.

You sat against Matts headboard, his childhood sheets clutched in your hands to cover your naked body. It was early, about seven am, but you couldn’t be here when his family got up, you knew the rules.

You reached down to grab your underwear and sweat pants off Matts floor and began to slip them on as quietly as possible so you didn’t wake him up. You stood up and grabbed your shirt off the floor and bringing it up to cover your bare chest as you searched for your favourite bralette. You couldn’t find it at your apartment and the only other logical place it could be is in Matts room. As you tiptoed around his room to try and find it you landed on his dresser, quickly running over to it you pulled the top drawer out and began digging, and low and behold your baby blue bralette sat crumpled at the bottom of his sock drawer. Throwing the bra on, followed by your t-shirt and shoes, you stumbled out his room and left his house.

He said we were friends. You thought. But he kept my favourite bralette?

I know what you tell your friends. Baby, get me off again.

You’re pathetic. Why on earth would anyone with the littlest shred of self respect spend their day off texting a guy who clearly has no interest in her besides getting in her pants? Apparently you would.

All day you had been sending texts to Matt, and every time he left you on read.

“Haven’t spoken to u in a while.”

“U good?”

“Did you want to go see a movie later? I heard that new Deadpool Vs. Wolverine movie is supposed to be good.”

“Matt?”

“Matthew?”

Not a single reply until now. Desperate to see him you texted him the one thing you knew he couldn’t pass up.

“Miss u. U free tn?”

Not even a second later his reply came in.

“Be here in 10.”

I fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner. Your parents at the table, you wonder why I'm bitter.

You looked at yourself in the dirty restaurant bathroom mirror, leaning on your hands that rested on the sink. With a deep sigh you reached into your purse to pull out your lipgloss, but right as you finished reapplying the product the bathroom door swung open. Assuming it was just another girl who needed to pee, you didn’t look at who entered. That is until you saw Matt appear in the mirror behind you.

“What the-” you began but was interrupted by Matt kissing you deeply, his arms wrapping around your waist so he could grip your ass.

“Matt.” You gasped between kisses. “This-” his mouth trailed from your lips to your jaw. “This is the ladies room.” You whimpered as he began to suck at your neck. “You can’t…you can’t be in here. Someone will-”

“It’s a good thing I locked the door then.” He smirked before lifting you of the ground and placing you on the sink.

He kissed you again and slipped a cold hand under your black t-shirt as the other ones tried to go up your red maxi skirt .

“Why’s your skirt so god damn long?” Matt huffed in frustration.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t wanna have my ass hanging out in front of your parents.” You sassed.

Matt rolled his eyes as he continued to try and yank your skirt up.

“You’re not seriously gonna fuck me in gin a public bathroom.”

“God, do you ever stop complaining?” He groaned

“Whatever.” You mumbled and lifted you hips to help him pull your skirt up all the way. Matt unbuckled his belt and slid his pants and boxers down his legs enough for his dick to spring free. He shifted your underwear to the side and slid in.

“Fucked you a hundred times and you’re still so tight.” He hissed out.

“Feels so good Matt.” You moan as your body curled forward until your forehead met his shoulder.

“I know baby.” He cooed as he began to snap his hips into yours faster. “Gotta be quick, don’t want people to get suspicious do we?” He panted into your ear.

You shook your head and whimpered, your release quickly approaching.

“Ugh, fuck. That’s it, holy shit.” Matt babbled to himself, one hand on your shoulder and the other on the sink, his head flung back in pleasure. “Gonna fucking cum in your perfect pussy.”

Your legs wrapped around his hips, locking him in place as you began to tremble.

“That’s it baby, let it all out.” He grumbled as he pushed you over the edge. Matt’s hips began to stutter as his thrusts became uneven and erratic until he stilled, dick buried to the hilt as he filled you up with his release.

You both sat there catching your breath for a minute, Matt’s dick still wedged in your warm walls. Matt suddenly pulled his now soft dick out of you and grabbed some paper towels to wipe both yours and his cum off of himself. He threw the paper towel out and picked up his boxers and pants, he fastened his belt before turning back to you, still perched on the sink with his thick white release beginning to ooze out of you. Matt walked over, fixed your panties, pulled your skirt back down, and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Thats my girl.” He smiled before leaving the restroom to return to the table where his family awaited both of your returns.

“Casual my ass.” You scoffed.

[sunlightmurdock]

The Parent Trap | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it, drinking / being drunk, flashbacks and references to sex, minors dni, wc: 4.8k

…

“I’m not being mean, I just think he smells weird,” Parker decides with a shrug, moving the little silver dog six spaces and narrowly missing her sister’s monopoly of hotels on the right side of the board. She lifts her gaze and looks at you, just daring you to challenge her logic. “It’s not mean if I’m just saying what I think.”

Peyton’s lips twitch as she shakes the dice in her hand, but she doesn’t add any commentary this time. You narrow your eyes across at your outspoken daughter, finding so much of your ex-husband in the amusedly defiant way she stares back at you.

“What does he smell like, then, Parks?” You challenge.

“Wood.” She answers with a shrug as her sister rolls a solid twelve and picks up the thimble to skip along the board in front of her. Peyton pokes her tongue out in concentration, like it’ll do anything to prevent her solid twelve from landing her right on the Go To Jail space. She growls in frustration and falls back dramatically onto the carpeted floor. She has spent most of this round in jail. You’re beginning to feel sorry for her, but it’s hard when she has some of the best properties and a business strategy that should probably concern you as a parent.

“Well, he is a carpenter.” You remind her, picking the dice up and shaking them in your hand. With that, the man in question rounds the corner with two glasses and two juice boxes balancing in his hands and a smile plastered across his face. This is now the fourth time that Chris has met your children, the first being a month ago.

He seems to be growing on them if Parker is actively trying not to be mean this time. You still haven’t gotten your girls to ‘fess up as to which one of them buried his phone in the backyard like a wild dog. Like you wouldn’t notice when your hydrangeas started ringing.

“Here we go, an apple, an orange, and two coffees.” Chris hands out the drinks and struggles bending his remarkably inflexible legs into a crisis-crossed shape. They made him be the phone piece — you’re certain that it’s to taunt him about the burying incident — but he’s being a champ about it.

Peyton looks down at her drink and hums, “I don’t want apple anymore. I’ll take an orange juice, big guy.”

In the years since you last hung out with Maverick, it’s so easy to miss the little Mitchell-isms working their way into your kids’ vocabulary. Your head whips around, far more concerned with what she said rather than where she got it from. Chris turns his head towards her, opens his mouth and quickly shuts it again, readying himself to get back up. Your eyes widen as you turn to find your eight year old smiling back at you.

“Then go and get an orange juice, P. Don’t be rude.” You correct her with a stern frown. Suddenly, the apple juice isn’t as much of an issue. She stabs the straw through the hole with her eyes narrowed in Chris’ direction, but this is still a big improvement from last time.

This was never going to be easy, but in the weeks since you introduced your girls to your boyfriend, you have to admit that you thought it would be easier than this. You’ve never heard either one of the girls talk about their dad as much as they do when Chris is in the room.

“Dad knows that she prefers orange.”

“Well, she asked Chris for an apple juice and that’s what she got.” It’s hard not to grow tired when you know it must be wearing him down too. You take the dice and drop them suddenly into Chris’ toughened palm. He softens in comparison, simply smiling back at you.

“So, did you guys get up to anything fun when you were at your dad’s last weekend?” He tries. If they want to talk about their dad, he doesn’t mind — he gets it. It makes you feel even worse.

“Yeah.” Payton deadpans, staring across at him like dirt on her shoe. “What did you two do while we were gone?”

Your head turns towards her again. Chris answers coolly.

“Your Mom sold that new dress she was working on. Cool, right? — We went out to dinner to celebrate that. Other than that, it’s pretty quiet around here without you guys.”

He’s looking at the board, busy moving his piece. He doesn’t know your children the way that you do. He misses entirely the split-second in which they glance across at each other. They find you narrowing your eyes at them.

At once, they’re saved by your ringtone. Another glance is shared between the two of them as you push up from the floor and head for the hallway to answer your call. In your absence, Chris’ piece lands on Peyton’s Park Row property, with the hotel sitting on top.

His brown eyes flicker up to find the eight-year old staring at him expectantly.

“You know the rules. Cough up.” She demands, in a tone she knows she isn’t allowed to be talking in. By the look on their little faces, Chris almost instinctively reaches for his real wallet rather than the colourful little notes sitting beside him.

When you walk back into the room, the first thing that you notice is the silence. Looking between the twins and your boyfriend, your frown deepens. “What’s going on?”

“Chris lost. He’s out of money.” Peyton explains calmly, flicking through her stack of ones like she’s Vito Corleone all of a sudden. Chris turns to look at you and simply wiggles his eyebrows, giving a shrug of defeat as he moves to stand.

As much as you find reflections of your ex-husband in them every day, it tugs at your heartstrings to see pieces of yourself in them too.

“You okay?” He asks, cupping the back of your neck, craning his neck to look at your face. Your palm catches his arm, sitting against his bicep as he pulls you closer.

Parker kicks her sister and they both turn their heads to watch.

You lower your voice to a whisper, fighting to keep the disappointment off of your face. “Yeah… The sitter just canceled.”

“Oh.” He sighs. You’ve been talking about this night for weeks, it’s not often that you get to go out with your friends now that you’ve all got grown-up commitments. “D’you think Bradley could watch them?”

“He’s out of town for a work thing.” You explain dejectedly, leaning in to Chris’ touch as he swipes your hair delicately back from your face.

Watching him hold you close, Parker starts to consider burying his phone once again. Or dropping it in the toilet. Or maybe pouring honey into his work boots that she saw by the front door.

Or maybe, if she was staying true to the source material, she could get him on a camping trip and push his mattress out into the middle of the lake. But he’s bigger than Meredith Blake was, and she’s smaller than Hallie Parker was.

The honey will do.

“I’ll watch ‘em.”

Bradley was out of town on a work thing. He was gone from Tuesday ‘til Friday, he told you that. He got in a little after nine and thought about having a beer, but didn’t. Instead, he just sat on his couch and tried to find a show that would keep him up long enough that he wouldn’t wake up at five in the morning.

He woke up at 1am, his neck stiff and the show two episodes ahead of where he thought it should be. Groaning, he had pushed himself off of the couch and decided to head to bed when he had gotten the text.

The conversation he had with Parker last weekend crossed his mind instantly. They had spent hours talking about fate; what is was, if they believed in it. If Bradley hadn’t startled himself awake by snoring, he would have missed the text completely.

He slipped his phone out of the pocket of his jeans with one hand, rubbing at his tired shoulder muscle with the other, squinting down at the bright screen.

Please pick me up from the Hard Deck when you see this.

He hasn’t ever made you ask twice.

Chris offering to watch the girls had come completely out of left field. It had almost caused a full-blown argument, but that man just seems impossible to get angry with. Stroking your hair and calming each one of your nerves step by step, he swore to you that he just wanted you to have a good time, that he could handle two little girls.

Bribing them was clearly the only way this was going to work, and it seemed like Chris had that in the bag. Emergency numbers set up and ready, allergy information written on the fridge and a borderline military debrief with your twins had left you practically trembling with anxiety, but had gotten you out of the house nonetheless.

You hadn’t planned on getting this drunk. The plan was to go, have a couple of drinks with your friends, and Uber home after a couple of hours. It never works out that way.

In fact, you can barely keep your head up straight when you hear one of your friends call out over the music. “Is that Rooster?”

Blinking doesn’t help you see straight. The loud music, and the bodies in the way, and the irregular lighting doesn’t help either. You squint and finally find him. Wearing jeans and a tight fitting black t-shirt, heading straight for you.

When you squint harder, you expect to realize that it’s not him.

“Rooster!” The second that he reaches you, your arms are around his neck and your chest is pressing into his. You haven’t hugged your ex-husband like this in a long time. “What are you doing here?”

He wrinkles his nose, untangling your arms from around him so that he can get a good look at your face. It’s been a long time since he saw you this dressed up. Hair, make-up, heels. The dress looks familiar but he can’t quite place it.

“You texted me.” He watches your eyelids falling shut, blinking heavily and irregularly as he explains to you. He steadies you by your arms. “You wanna go home?”

There’s a disgruntled groaning sound before you try to look around at your friends. At this point, Rooster makes an effort to be polite and greet them all. After all, they were his friends too, once. They’re all as shitfaced as you.

“Come on, mama. I’ll take you home,” He decides for you, hugging you against him like your own feet aren’t secure enough for his tastes anymore. You fall all too willingly against his chest, your cheek pressing into the fabric of his shirt while he tries to keep the attention of your friends. “Does anyone else need a ride?”

Maybe they do, maybe they don’t — maybe their own husbands will get up and come get them. Rooster won’t leave them without knowing they’ve got a way home, so you know that once you feel the outside chill on your skin he must have made arrangements for them.

He sighs quietly and jerks you as he tries to get a better grasp. Outside, you can finally hear him properly.

“Honey, you need to walk. Use your feet.” He tells you, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. Your head is lulled against the swell of his shoulder, you haven’t moved your feet since he grabbed you, and yet you’re moving towards the car perfectly fine.

Everything is happening in chapters. You’re skipping ahead and losing parts, not paying attention to much. Things aren’t spinning yet, but they sure are blurry. You manage to talk back anyway.

“I don’t.” You answer, head turned towards the sky. It occurs to you, briefly, that you’re going to be horrifically embarrassed about this tomorrow. Your feet try, then trip, and his hold on you tightens.

“What did you drink? — You alright?” His arm around your waist pulls you closer, your head lulling off of his shoulder and awkwardly onto his moving chest. You hum contentedly.

“I had a good time.” You whisper.

He sighs something about you throwing up in his car and you’re faintly aware of the sound of a car door unlocking.

“C’mere, honey. Just sit right there. I’ve got some water. You wanna sit and get some fresh air with me?” Maybe there are pauses in between — maybe he says it all slower than that, but you can’t really focus. Or open your eyes.

You know that he has guided you to sit against the tailgate of the Bronco because of the way your feet dangle. As a mother, you hate this car. As a girl who fell in love with Bradley Bradshaw — fuck, you love this car.

“Wanna drink somethin’ for me?” Rooster offers the bottle to your mouth and winces as you draw your head sharply away from it. He grabs your shoulders and stops you from teetering over.

You’re not sure how, but you settle into his side and find that his arm remains there. Draped around your shoulders as you rest your head against him.

It takes a while, but Rooster gets you to drink. It’s anyone’s guess as to how long you sit on that tailgate sipping from that water bottle, but his arm around your shoulder feels nice anyway — even if he’s just rubbing your back because he thinks you’re going to puke.

When things start to come around a little more, you’re laying across the two backseats and hugging the water bottle like a teddy bear. Your head is spinning.

“You alright back there?” Rooster calls to you, making you frown slightly and lift your head. Passing by traffic lights and street signs, the world turned on its axis as you try to push yourself up and ultimately give in to staying laid down.

He’s really here. Some way or another, you really forced this man to carry you out of the bar and spend his Friday night babying you. You want to know if you called, or texted, or if he was just in the bar and saw you — you thought he was away for work — but that’s all too embarrassing still.

Your mind is too cloudy for that level of conversation, your words still don’t sound quite right.

“You even didn’t question it.” Your body sways as he pulls to a stop at a red light, your focal point on the soft top of the Bronco swaying with you and kickstarting that dizziness all over again. With a swallow, you close your eyes. The swaying continues like the leather seats below you are actually built into a speedboat as opposed to a seventies classic car.

“Did you put that seatbelt on yet?” His dad-voice comes from the front. Eyes still shut, this makes you smile. You don’t even remember him telling you to. He peers at you through the rear view mirror. “Question what?”

All you offer him is a small shrug, not interested in a seatbelt in the slightest in your current state. This next sentence requires a deep inhale first, but is interrupted by a hiccup. “I text you out of the blue and you just… show up. Didn’t even check to see if it was for you.”

Bradley bites at the inside of his cheek, brows drawing together as the light turns green and another check towards the mirror confirms that you still aren’t wearing a seatbelt. He huffs and the car pulls sharply to the side, making you groan in complaint.

The radio plays on as Bradley stops at the side of the road and unclips his own seatbelt, then gets out of the car. Your poor brain hasn’t even had time to catch up before he’s pulling the door open and half-climbing in. You blink as he appears over you.

With the door still open, he’s just illuminated by the street light. His eyes have always looked so soft in the dark. The slight pout of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw, the bump in his nose. He’d started out with the most innocent of intentions, but as he leans over you across the backseat, it becomes clear that you’re both struck by the same abrupt chord of familiarity.

This is far from the first time that the two of you have been in this position. In fact, this is exactly how things started out the first night you hooked up.

He swallows above you. There’s a wonderstruck look on your face that makes his ears burn red. Your eyes search over his face and with each inch they cover, he watches them flood with remembrance. Warm pink spreads across his cheek, extending down his chest. It makes your lips twitch to think you can still get him to blush.

“Come on, sit up.” Bradley whispers, gently taking each of your hands in his and pulling you upright. “Let’s put your seatbelt on.”

Silently, you don’t fight him on the matter and Bradley knows that’s a win in itself. It’s not the first time he’s had to wrangle you into this car after a few drinks either. Your eyes are just on him, and he swears that’s where the heat on his face is coming from. His fingers fumble to get the buckle into the clasp.

The second that he hears that click, he’s withdrawing from the backseat and climbing back into the driver’s side. You stare at the rear view mirror as he pulls away from the curb. In truth, you had forgotten how gentle he could be with you.

“Thank you.”

He glances up at the mirror, then back at the road.

“Thanks for picking me up. Sorry that I’m…” The pause facilitates a deep inhale that stops you from hiccuping mid-sentence. He watches you sheepishly ready yourself to continue. “Such a mess.”

This, makes him smile. It spreads across his face just as easily as the pink hue had, taking over his features.

“Honey, we both know I’ve seen worse.” Oh god, he remembers. He said it so casually too, like he’s reminiscing on a fond memory. The memory isn’t quite as fond for you, but then again, you don’t remember too much of it. He used to always tease you about it.

The night you met him was your twenty-first birthday, and you were flirting all night, but then you had gotten way too drunk and he had to carry you home — with you fighting him the whole way. He called you alley-cat for two months afterwards. Your feral behaviour had clearly caught his eye, though, because he started hanging around the Hard Deck a lot more afterwards.

Things hadn’t ever seemed that serious in the Hard Deck. Everything was easier back then. The career you have now is exactly what you wanted, but you can’t pretend that some days you wouldn’t rather have a handsome aviator leaning over a bar and telling you jokes to make your shift pass faster.

He takes one more look up at the mirror and smiles again, this time because he finds you already not trying to smile back at him.

“God, I had such a crush on you that summer.” The second that you’ve said it, you have to stop yourself from slapping a hand over your mouth. Closing your eyes will do. You can feel him staring either way.

It shouldn’t be weird to acknowledge. You were married for over five years. In love for a good while before that. Of course you had a crush on him originally. But it’s at the forefront of both of your minds that it still feels like yesterday that you were sprawled along this backseat, stomach bursting with butterflies as he unbuttoned your shorts for the first time.

The salt on his skin, the smell of his cologne mixed with sunscreen and sweat. The way his curls dry after he’s been in the ocean. The way the sunset hits the browns of his eyes. The freckles on his shoulders, dipping into the valleys between his muscles.

The brush of the same moustache you had been making fun of for months against the most sensitive parts of your skin and with it — the realisation that you actually loved that moustache.

Shivering through the late summer evening heat, whispering his name to the stars as his smart mouth worked between your legs. He drove around with the top down a lot back then.

He remembers everything about getting to know you. Getting taunted relentlessly by Hangman because of the way he blushed when you used to tell him his drink was on the house. Almost falling off of his stool craning his neck to get a better look at you behind the bar. Making sure you were invited to every beach outing. The first time he kissed you, and the way you were looking up at him before.

“Sorry, that was—“

“It’s alright.” He interrupts. When he closes his eyes at the next stop sign, all he can think of is the sight of your wet footsteps leading up the steps on his back porch. You had come from the beach. He had known he was going to find you in his shower inside. It was the first time he had ever come home to you. You were barely dating back then.

He looks at the mirror, wondering if you remember that time in the shower.

You’re not thinking about the shower. Fingers spread out, trailing the seams in the leather, you’re thinking about the last time you had sex in this car. So different from the first time. Bradley had known your body so much better, the two of you were so much more comfortable together.

The girls were with your parents for an entire weekend while the two of you were out of town for the wedding. Before the reception, Bradley had tugged you outside and bunched your pretty dress up around your middle. Closing your eyes and letting your fingers inch across the seats, you can still remember his breath fanning across his chest, the low grunts as he drove himself into you. His arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his bicep and your legs around his waist.

“Rooster.” You rarely call him that anymore. It’s the first name you knew him by, since all of his work buddies called him that. Bradley was something that came letter, something that felt more for just the two of you. The last thing you would say most nights. Goodnight, Bradley. It’s been a long time since you said that, but you know it would feel just the same coming off of your tongue.

He hums from the front seat, but doesn’t look.

“Could I sit up front with you?”

“Yeah, sure— let me—“ Too late. He hears your seatbelt unbuckle and knows what’s coming next. Sure enough, as he’s going at a steady forty along Palm Avenue, you swing one foot unsteadily over the console and wobble in the direction of the passenger side. “Baby—“

It’s out of instinct, purely because you’re stressing him out. You plop down into the passenger seat and turn your head to look at him. Wordlessly, both of you decide to pretend you didn’t hear that.

For his peace of mind, you tug the seatbelt across your body and clip it in.

“We’re in so much trouble if the girls take after you.” He teases, the smile in his voice cutting through the tension. You giggle beside him.

“Me? — Do you not remember what happens when you get too familiar with a bottle of tequila?” You answer back, eyes closed and a silly smile on your face. You remember. You remember having to carry him, practically dead weight, into your bed from the living room and spend the night rubbing his back while he threw up the next morning.

“Yeah, we’re in big trouble.” Rooster scoffs, pushing his fingers through his hair. You stare across at the tattoo on the inside of his bicep as he rests his elbow against the door.

You’re still drunk enough to blame the alcohol when you reach across and take his free hand as he steadies the wheel with the other. His gaze flickers down as you loop your fingers through his. “We weren’t that bad.”

This time he laughs.

“We weren’t? — So you don’t remember—“ He’s still grinning when he stops himself, already turning into your street. You two don’t talk about that stuff anymore. You’ve moved on. Those funny little stories are private now, entirely his. Your boyfriend sure as hell wouldn’t want to hear them.

He looks over at you as he slows down to pull up to the curb.

You’re already looking across, staring at him with a look he hasn’t seen in a long time. The smile that you flash him makes him think of that first year. Then, you close your eyes and exhale, “I remember everything.”

Even with the radio playing, there’s a silence that sits between the two of you as the car pulls to a stop. It’s at that point that everything in your orbit starts to spin, forcing you forwards and making you whimper. Bradley’s already out of the car and jogging around to your side as you catch your head in your hands and try to breathe.

“C’mere, honey. I’ve got you.” He reaches around you to unbuckle you from the car, pulling you out by your underarms and holding you against him as he shuts the door. It’s still not the most graceful procedure, but he’s gotten better at it. You’re not exactly making it easy for him as you wobble back and hit your head on the window.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” He breathes out.

“I wanna go to bed.” You complain, wobbling forwards and this time crashing into his chest. He secures one hand on the back of your head to keep you there, pretending like he isn’t checking whether or not you have a bump. Even now, he can’t seem to turn the dad-reflexes off. You sigh into his shoulder. “Take me to bed.”

His free hand finds your waist and he glances down, finally clocking where he remembers this dress from. You wore it the second night of your honeymoon. He remembers this dress very well — he used to carry a picture of you wearing it in his wallet. He’s ninety-percent sure that the twins were conceived because of this dress.

“Yeah, you’re going to bed, baby. Nearly there.” In truth, by the time he has carried you to the door, Rooster has almost forgotten that you have a boyfriend. He’s expecting the same sweet old lady that you’ve been hiring for years to answer the door. That’s why he makes no effort to peel you off of him.

Rooster stares at Chris, while Chris looks between the two of you. You’re barely awake and clinging to your ex-husband’s shirt, he’s holding you at the waist, keeping you standing. Chris looks barely awake, still fully dressed. Clearly a man who has been waiting to hear from you for hours.

“Is she alright? — What happened?” His reaction is positive. Rooster appreciates that much about him. Still, he can’t stop thinking about what Maverick said. If Chris becomes permanent, Bradley’s entire family becomes his.

“She just had too much to drink, she called me for a ride home. I gave her some water and stuff, but—“ Rooster starts to explain, propping you up and holding you halfway. It’s unclear if he’s supposed to just pass you over. He doesn’t know if this guy even knows where you keep the products you remove your make-up with.

“She called you?” Chris challenges. There it is. There’s the anger that Rooster was waiting for.

“I wouldn’t take it personally. She’s shitfaced. She just needs to get some sleep and—“

“Yeah,” Chris steps one foot outside and reaches for your waist. You fall compliantly towards him, the toe of your shoe dragging along the ground as he tucks your arm over his shoulder and props you up. “I’ve got her. Get home safe.”

Rooster’s face doesn’t give away anything. He’s not immature anymore. He wants you to find someone who can give you, and by default his kids, everything that you could ever need. That’s why he keeps his mouth shut. He can think whatever he wants.

“Sure, yeah. Can I just ask… uh… where’s the sitter?” He was so close to walking away and just getting back in his car, but it’s after two now. If that old lady is still here, she would have made it known. As sweet as she was, she loves to complain.

“I watched the kids.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows at your stone-faced boyfriend. Once again, his face gives away nothing. “You did?”

…

Tags:

@khaylin27 @fudge13 @slutford @averyhotchner @hangmanscoming @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @phoenix1388 @perpetuelledaydreaming @princess76179 @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff @xoxabs88xox @galaxy-moon @sugarcoated-lame

[ellethespaceunicorn]

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Two

Chapter Two: The Cabin in the Woods

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 3K

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: You search the woods for the house you were taken to that night. It’s been hours and you’re lost. Your phone has no service, it is getting dark, and your dumbass didn’t tell anyone you were going on an adventure.

Warnings: mutual pining

A/N: A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. I really hope y’all enjoy this one. It was a tough one to write, Walter was so feisty!

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

When you arrived at the hospital, you had another nurse and colleague check out your head injury on your next shift. Armed with a clean bill of health and a brain bursting with unanswered questions, you try to go about your day. 

The entirety of your workday was spent having coworkers break you out of a trance. Every few minutes, you’d gaze off into nothingness until those around you noticed and snapped their fingers in front of your face. You kept thinking about the wolf and Walter, trying to piece the two together. 

After work, you change your clothes and put on your hiking boots. Even though the drive from the cabin to Liv’s house was short, that was in a vehicle. On foot, you will need to cover a lot of ground. You decided against driving your car down the road that splits the forest. 

If you parked at the entrance to the forest near the park grounds, you could easily sneak back to your car and bypass the curfew checkpoint at the tree line. Not that you planned on being out until nightfall. 

Parking your car in the gravel-filled lot, you tighten your scarf around your neck and start your journey into the woods. Walking takes you about ten minutes to get to the clearing where you and Olivia enjoyed wine coolers. It didn’t seem like it took you this long to get to the clearing a couple of days ago, but you don’t stay long enough to dwell on it.

Retracing your steps, you walk for another few minutes in search of the tree with the giant roots jutting out from the forest floor. After ten minutes of wandering, you think about giving up because daylight is in short supply. Looking down at your phone, you curse when you see the battery percentage looking back at you. Eleven percent wouldn’t get you far should you need to make an urgent call or use the flashlight since you forgot to bring one.

After another few minutes of traipsing through the forest, you trip over a large root and accidentally find your tree. Following the roots, you find the little alcove that you had planned to hide in during your game with Liv. You notice the setting sun as you turn to sit on the higher roots. 

Taking out your phone, you realize that it had shut off due to low power. Shoving it back in your pocket, you stand up and wipe a hand down your face. You’re pissed off, cold, and now have no way to contact anyone should you need to. Anger boils your blood as you stand in the now-dark forest.

Pacing for a few seconds doesn’t calm you down. You start to hear all the little nocturnal animals coming alive and usually, you would find this peaceful. However, you would give anything to hear a certain howl. But it’s just crickets, frogs, and owls out tonight.

You don’t know what else to do but…

“Fuck. Fuck! Fuuuuuuuuuck!” You scream out into the void, it would seem.

Until you hear a response in the form of a huff behind you. 

When you turn around, you're only a little surprised to see the same wolf from before walking toward you. You stand still until it stops about a foot from you. You look down and study its paws, large enough to rip your throat out. But the wolf just sits down as a dog would and looks up at you before yawning, showing off its sharp teeth and long dusty-mauve tongue. 

If this were a dog, you would have reached out a hand to pet it. But the sheer size of it was enough to keep your hands to yourself. You didn't have to think about that for long before the wolf was back on all fours walking around you and nudging at your leg as it started to walk away. It doesn't make it far before it turns around to look at you.

"Oh, am I supposed to follow you or something?" You feel silly asking the wolf a question, but only less so when it huffs in response, "Okay. Following a wolf wasn't on the itinerary. But it isn't attacking me so whatever," You finish, mostly to yourself.

Following the wolf, you notice you are going in a completely different direction through the forest. Of course, the last time you were here was an inebriated adventure but you could've sworn you would go right instead of left. Either way, you're putting your faith in a four-legged carnivore so you stop thinking about what should or shouldn't be happening.

A light in the distance can be seen through the trees and once you reach it, you find yourself in front of a medium-sized cabin. There is a light at the little fence encircling the property. The black Ford F-150 that Walter drove is parked to the side in the driveway. You have to admit you didn't expect to see this place look so...normal. It almost looks quaint.

You shuffle on your feet and are suddenly too nervous to propel you forward. Whining at your side reminds you that you aren't alone. You absentmindedly reach your hand out to stroke the wolf's fur. Thick, coarse fur slides through your fingers. Glowing, yellow eyes look into yours and your fear starts to dissipate. The wolf licks at your hand and then takes off around the back of the cabin.

You think about shouting after it or running after it, but instead, you walk up to the fencing. You could swear you hear a door being closed in the back of the cabin, but you can't be sure and you don't want to snoop. Opening the latch to the gate, you walk through the front yard dragging your feet. Your fight or flight response makes an appearance when you hear movement in the house. 

'It's now or never,' you think, raising your hand to knock on the door. 

Three sharp knocks and you shove your hands in your pockets, waiting for the door to be opened. You jump at the sound of something crashing to the ground and soon the light above the door is turned on. You hold up a hand over your eyes as the harsh fluorescent beams down on you in the dark of night. The door is opened and you take your hand down to see Walter standing there. You’re once again under the spell of him.

He stands tall at about 6’1", and his hair is a disheveled mess but it only adds to the sex appeal. His brows are scrunched together and it doesn’t look like he needs you at his doorstep right now by the scowl across his pretty pink lips. He’s shirtless, sweaty, breathing hard, and smells like a wet dog. The denim shorts he wears are tattered at the ends and his defined calves are on display. His bare feet are a bit dirty as if he’s been running barefoot.

Your eyes shoot back up to his, a faint glow makes his blue eyes look almost golden. He blinks a few times and the glow is gone, aquamarine replaces gold. 

You run through a mental checklist. Wet dog smell, check. Frayed shorts that were probably thrown on in a hurry, check. Golden eyes, check. You feel so stupid thinking about the last item. Walter’s hair color is the same as the wolf that brought you here. 

“Are you going to come in or are you going to just stare at me like I’m a–”

“Werewolf?” You blurt out, cutting off Walter’s sentence.

“Just come in, and I can explain everything,” He opens the door and steps aside to let you in, but you don’t move, “I won’t hurt you, I promise. Please come in?” 

His sincere tone and pleading eyes get the better of you. You sigh, chewing the inside of your cheek. Walking in, you step just inside the living room, giving Walter enough space to close the door behind you. You notice a side table knocked over, a lamp, and small knickknacks on the floor next to it. You turn back to look at him and his face is that of a kicked puppy.

Of course, it is.

“Look, I didn’t–”

“As much as I want to have this conversation right now, I can’t get over how much you smell. I’m gonna need you to take care of that ASAP. Go get clean and I’ll tidy up. And where is the kitchen? I need coffee if I’m gonna have this conversation sober.” You say, taking off your coat and laying on the back of the couch.

Walter walks you to the kitchen and watches as you busy yourself with the coffee maker. You tell him politely to get out of his kitchen and go shower. He opens his mouth to talk but closes it when he sees your eyebrows raise and your hand go to your hip. He simply nods and walks away. You hear him walk up the stairs and soon the faint sound of a shower being turned on before a door is closed.

You fill the coffee maker with grounds and water, setting it then make your way to the living room. Picking up the end table, you turn it right side up and set it on its legs. You bend down to pick up the figurines from the floor. You’re not surprised when they turn out to be two wolves, the larger one made of light wood and the smaller wolf a dark mahogany.

You hear the coffee maker sputtering and go in to check on it. Pulling out two mugs from their spot in the corner cabinet, you fill one and leave one for Walter, not sure if he even wants coffee so late at night. Did werewolves even drink coffee?

So, that’s it. You’re just entertaining the idea that werewolves not only exist but that you’re in a cabin with one. In the back of your mind, your grandfather’s tale of the Claw Creek creature demands attention. You were going over it when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

You bring your mug to your mouth to take a sip when Walter appears in the doorway, just as beautiful as when you saw him for the first time. His wet hair curls around his ears. He’s wearing a tighter-than-necessary heather gray henley, the front of it holding onto his pecs for dear life while the sleeves are pulled up to show off muscular forearms. A pair of jeans hug his meaty legs and boots cover his feet.

“You stare a lot.” His words break you out of your ogling and you finally pull down the mug from your lips.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Wolfie,” you comment, suddenly hyperaware that you may have just said something rude.

Walter’s chuckle surprises you, and you’re put at ease, “Wolfie?” He challenges, walking toward you.

You shrug your shoulders and stand your ground, looking up at him as he stops in front of you. He nods to the coffee maker and you step back to let him make a cup for himself. He takes a sip and hums at the flavor. He turns to ask you about it and you answer before he can open his mouth.

“Cinnamon. Just a few shakes and it takes away the sharp bitterness. Now, if you’re done talking about coffee, can we talk about how you can turn into a wolf?” Your frustration peeks through and Walter nods, leading you back into the living room.

Once you get to the couch, you set down your coffee on the table in front of you and turn to face Walter. He takes the cue and starts to speak.

“So, what do you want to know? Do you want me to go through my entire lifetime? It’s quite long, so far. Or start where I was attacked and bitten by someone I thought was a friend? Should I dispel werewolf myths about uncontrollable shifting during the full moon?” He rambles on, probably trying to confuse you or overwhelm you. 

Luckily, you’re already overwhelmed so his attempt is in vain.

“I have a couple of questions. The first one is: Do you eat people? The second one is: Could you follow my scent to find me?” you offer, pulling your leg up to sit on it while leaning against the back of the couch.

“I don’t eat people. I don’t think Werewolves as a whole, ever eat people. Attack? Sure. But no, I don’t crave human flesh,” he pauses, looking down at his hands, “How’d you know about the scent thing?” He’s suddenly super interested in his fingernails.

“I didn’t know about the scent thing. You just confirmed a hunch, is all,” You reach for your mug, bringing it closer to your lips before taking a sip, “One more question and I’ll release you from the hot seat. Are you safe out here? Like, I mean, with the animal mutilations in the town, they were talking about sending hunters out to look for whatever was doing it.”

“That wasn’t me, just so you know. I’m safe out here. I actually live in town, I just come here to shift and get some time away. No one comes out this way. This used to be an abandoned shack, but I fixed it up over the past years. Got electricity going and made it...wait. You care if I’m safe out here?” he presses, a toothy grin showing off his sharp canines.

“You saved my life, I can’t care about your wellbeing? I’m being nice, don’t push it, Wolfie,” you snap, a little harsher than you meant to. You did feel lied to, but he was being honest with you. You shake your head before insisting, “I’m sorry, I just...this is a lot. And I need you to know that I was really pissed off with you in the beginning, but I know why you didn’t tell me. Safety and all that. Maybe you can drive me back to my car so I can start the drive back home?” You were cut off by an intense yawn that came out of nowhere.

“Speaking of safety, you look like you’re ready to fall over. You’ve had all of about two sips of coffee and that yawn almost unhinged your jaw a bit there. Just, I won’t be able to sleep if I know you’re tired behind the wheel,” he admits, turning concerned eyes on you.

“You know, as a wolf, using puppy dog eyes on me should be considered unfair. And how do I know this is not some elaborate excuse to get me into your bed so you can have your way with me, huh?” you huff, squinting at him as his eyes glimmer in the low light of the room.

“Do you want me to have my way with you?” he leans back, head over his shoulder, and crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Your hand flies out to slap his bicep. You figure that was easier than giving him the answer that was on the tip of your tongue.

He rolls his eyes and gets up from the couch, pointing to your coffee cup in your hand and motioning for you to give it to him. He takes both of your unfinished cups to the kitchen and when he comes back, he heads for the stairs. “You coming, pup?”

“Pup? Is that because I called you Wolfie?” You stand up from the couch, tilting your head at him before walking to follow him up the steps.

“I don’t know, give me time and I’ll think of something better.” He winks at you and smiles when you duck your head.

Once Walter shows you to his bedroom, you don’t hide your urge to look over everything in the room while he leans against the open door. You almost get upset when you see that his bedspread isn’t a large picture of a wolf’s face. Somehow you thought it would just fit in with his vibe. But the midnight blue damask comforter that covers the bed is actually way more fitting.

“Wait, where are you gonna sleep if I sleep in here?” You question as you sit on the bed and take off your boots.

“I figured I would sleep on the couch. I don’t need much sleep anyway. Unless that was an invitation…?” he smirks and is surprised when you look to be thinking it over.

“Can you stay in here ‘til I fall asleep? I don’t want to be alone.” you confess, looking everywhere but who you were talking to. You can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth, but you also know you won’t sleep in a bed that’s not yours all by your lonesome.

“Are you alright? I mean, of course, you’re not. What am I saying?” he rambles, coming into the room fully and hunching his shoulders so he can seem less intimidating.

Walter walks over to the bed, pulls back the bedspread, and motions for you to crawl under the covers. Once you are comfortable, he turns on a low light on his dresser and turns off the overhead light of the room. Coming back to the bed, he sits at the edge and toes off his boots before you pull him to lie down next to you.

Turning to face him as he lays on his back, you stare at his face as he looks up at the ceiling. You’re interlacing your fingers so that you don’t reach out and trace his jawline when a thought pops into your head.

“When’s the last time you had a woman in your bed?” You breathe, mentally kicking yourself for not thinking longer before you voice your thoughts.

“It’s been a while. Years. I don’t really...mingle much.” He murmurs, eyes never moving from one particular spot.

You refuse to acknowledge the “lone wolf” analogy, instead, you steady yourself before putting a hand on his. “Thank you for saving me, Walter. Goodnight.” Taking your hand back, you close your eyes and let tiredness take its course.

“You’re welcome.” His soft voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s the last thing you hear before you’re fully asleep.

To be continued…

A/N:  Wow, you mean to tell me I got these two folks in bed together and they’re both dressed still? What?! Don’t hate me!

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[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Double G's

Summary: The holidays can be trying times for everyone.

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze . The Prompt: i just can't wait until the holidays are over.

Previous

Geralt took the groceries from God as soon as he entered the apartment. He felt bad for not partaking in the grocery shopping so insisted on being the one to put them all away while God sat and recovered. It had been suggested that they order their groceries delivered but the G's were very particular about their groceries.

God walked into the kitchen only to have Geralt press his water bottle, fresh from the fridge, into his hands. A silent gesture of "you rest. I've got this." God nods and goes back to the living room to sit and recover.

Being out and about was always taxing for them. Their anxiety always spiked amongst crowds, their bodies alert for any sign of trouble. When they did the shopping together they could relax a little, knowing someone had their back. But between the Christmas lights, increased crowd sizes with many people overdosing on perfume and cologne, and the inane Christmas music playing nonstop, Geralt got overwhelmed more easily than usual.

So it was that, every December, God was the one to do all of the grocery shopping for them. He had an easier time shutting out the excess noise and was unbothered by the extra lighting, even the blinking ones.

Geralt spent some extra time in the kitchen making up one of God's favorite sandwiches. A simple bologna and munster cheese with just the faintest hint of mayonnaise. Rather bland for Geralt's tastes, but it's what God's taste and texture sensitivities could handle. Geralt also made sure they were stocked up on all the ingredients for buttered noodles for dinner.

Geralt quietly sets the plate next to God, trying to let him properly destim in the dark, quiet of the living room.

"Has Jaskier sent the invite yet?" God asks, slightly startling Geralt.

"Yennefer this year," Geralt answers.

"Did you want me to go with you this year?"

"Yennefer promises she'll have food for you."

"You didn't answer my question."

Geralt sighs, "I would appreciate it."

God nods. He normally posts one of those "want to piss off your parents?" offers on Craigslist for Christmas but he'll forego that this year. His partner needs him and that takes priority.

"I just can't wait until the holidays are over."

A grunt is given in solidarity.

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