#sipping from the fountain of hate

[lifeandtimesofpineapplehead]

I spent so long pushing down every feeling I thought wasn't good enough to feel e.g anger, jealousy, haterade, envy, rage.

But now, now I'm happy to announce that I've tapped into these emotions especially hate.

Allow me to introduce myself, a proud hater.

I'm a hater first, everything else second.

[stevieschrodinger]

"Robs I've got to stop staring. Make me look away."

"Errr...no. I'm staring too."

"But why?"

"Trying to work out what the fascination is. He looks like the love child of Ozzy Osbourne and an Ann Rice vampire."

Steve sips his drink, "he's not even that good looking," he says, distressed, "I just can't look away...there's just...something."

"Is it how pathetic he is?"

"He does walk like a baby deer on ice." And it's true, the guy is so uncoordinated. He clearly doesn't know how long his arms are, and keeps nearly taking people out by accident. There's just something... fascinating about it. "Oh my god Rob, make me look away, I'm being a creeper. This is so inappropriate, he must be about twelve years old."

"Steve. He's holding a beer, so even if he is just 21, that actually means there's only ten years between you."

"Only," Steve snorts with derision, "only she says. Who is he anyway."

"Wayne Munson's plus one."

"Wayne Munson the engineer guy?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't know he swung that way-"

Robin hits him with her purse, "it's his nephew you fucking dingus. Didn't you pay any attention?"

"No. Not really, you know I hate this shit."

"You can get through one company BBQ Steve, you won't die. Maybe you'll get introduced to him."

Steve makes a noise. A noise he really shouldn't make and definitely not in public. Because he wants to do mean, awful, terrible things to that boy. He wants to make him come until it hurts. Until he's sore and red and begging and trying to cry but he can't because there's nothing left because Steve has removed every drop of moisture from the boys body via his dick and he has got to stop staring.

"Robin, walk me to the bar. Walk me to the bathroom. Walk me to my car. Walk me to the ornamental fucking fountain so I can ornamentally fucking drown myself but please I am begging you. I have got to stop staring."

"Okay," Robin grabs him by his arm and turns them fully in a circle, and then starts marching him across the lawn towards the Munson's.

"Robin. Please. No."

"Shut up you big baby. Besides, he needs help, there might be things living in his hair."

"I can definitely fix him."

"That's the spirit."

Part Two

Read what happened next on AO3

[happyk44]

The thing was Percy didn't like being a bad kid. Every time he got kicked out of a school or wound up in the counselor's office over some incident he wasn't completely blameless for, his mom's brows would pinch. The line on her lip dipped. He knew what she was thinking each time: lost wages, job risk, who was going to watch him if he got suspended, where would she send him if he got kicked out, and so on.

He hated that he did that to her. Being a bad kid meant being a bad son. He refused to be a bad son - not on purpose anyway.

Well, he used to. She wasn't here anymore. Her brows weren't going to furrow. Her lips wouldn't thin. Her shoulders wouldn't draw up and tense before the principal even opened their mouth. It was over.

He didn't have anyone anymore. Nobody at cabin eleven would look at him. Other cabins steered around him like he was carrying the plague. Grover was off doing whatever satyrs did - probably getting ready to infiltrate some new school, befriend some new kid, save their lives. He didn't need Percy. It’d only been a few days but they'd barely interacted. Older satyrs would yank him along into the wood before Percy could get close or even open his mouth. Even Annabeth just eyed Percy with scrutinizing eyes - like she was assessing him for something. But every time he tried to approach her outside of their lessons, she brushed him off.

No one wanted Percy around.

What was the point of being a good kid anymore? There wasn't anything or anyone forcing him to keep his head above water. He was tired of the murmurs. He was tired of the avoidance. Tired of the glares from the Ares cabin. Tired of trying to keep the quake in his stomach tamped down.

He was just tired.

He thumbed along the flat edge of his sword. His new best friend was the pervasive feeling of loneliness. With a miserable sigh, he tucked the sword into the holster on his hip. People barely wanted to spar with him now so he was stuck to sweating it out on the dummies by himself. At least only when Luke wasn't pushing him as hard as possible.

But even with Luke there seemed to be pause. The first time Percy felt his gut yank after being claimed had been in training with Luke, and as soon as the feeling caught him, Luke begged off. Like he'd seen something in Percy that unnerved him. Sometimes when Percy looked in the mirror, he saw something in his eyes that unnerved him. A foreign thing - like a contact lens put in the wrong way.

No amount of poking or prodding at his eyes was going to get it out though. It was inside him - in his blood. He was sure of it.

He was starting to worry that it was the very thing he'd been keeping back, the very thing his mom was trying to keep him safe from.

The clang of metal against metal was loud as he walked past other trainees. There were a couple people leaning against the wall near the water fountain. As expected, they shifted away as he neared. Mistrust was bright in their eyes.

He did his best to ignore it. Not the first time people had stared at him like they thought he was dangerous. Or beneath them.

The water sprayed for a moment before he lowered his head. It was clarifying. He'd noticed it before, a burst of energy with every sip whenever he was tired, but ever since being claimed, he'd noticed the alertness more and more.

As he let go of the button, he caught the tail end of the muttering nearby. His stomach dropped.

“... should've ditched him sooner,” one boy grumbled. His friend snorted. “Maybe then she wouldn't have died.”

“What did you say?” The two startled. Percy understood why. He barely recognized his own voice, the eerie coldness to it frosty on his own tongue. Still, he repeated as he twisted on his heels to face them. “What. Did you just say?”

Panic besot them. For a second, the barest of a second, he could feel it kick in - be a good boy for me, Percy, be a good kid for Mom.

But she wasn't here.

She wasn't here.

So what was the point?

He took a step forward. “What,” he snarled, saliva coating his tongue like froth, “did you say?”

The others shifted away but he just crept forward. “Nothing, man,” one of them finally bit out, but they were lying. He could see it in their eyes, hear in their voice, feel it in their veins.

“You're lying,” he said. A bitten off laugh echoed from his lips. “You were talking about my mom.” Another choked laugh. “You think it's my fault?”

One of them raised his hands - a mock surrender. “Hey, dude-”

“You think I wanted her to die?” A sharp sensation coiled through Percy's chest. It thrummed hot and heavy, piling, piling, piling on his lungs. “You think I asked for ANY OF THIS?”

Someone's hand came to rest on his shoulder and it was like the crashing of the waves against his bare feet. Cold, clarifying, clear.

Freeing.

His fist drove straight into the jaw of whoever was behind him. He could barely tell who he was seeing - it might've been Luke, or any other tall blonde guy. But as soon as whoever it was stumbled back, he whirled around and punched whichever kid was closest in the stomach. They went down and he clambered on top to wail. Fist and fist upon whatever body part he could reach. He wasn't the most elegant hand-to-hand fighter but there was something to be said for the voracious and vicious energy boiling through him.

Distantly he was aware of yelling around him, aware of people pulling at him, aware of the person beneath him crying, arms over their face, arms Percy was tired of hitting. He needed to get their face, get their tongue, rip his mom from their mouth. How dare they speak about her.

How dare anyone talk about her.

A dozen hands finally yanked him back. He screamed. Bodies toppled. He grabbed the closest one by their hair, driving his knee upwards over and over again until hands ripped him away again. Swung blindly and caught someone. The two of them fell. His stomach pulled back. They choked. They weakened. He swung himself over until he was on top.

I want you all to drown, he thought, grabbing at their jaw. Don't ever speak of her again.

Saliva smeared across his fingers. His stomach pulled back even more. What was that - blood, water? On his hands, on his knees, on their skin, on their faces, in their veins.

His free hand drew out. He wanted it. It was his. Didn't they get that? She was his, and she was gone, so he would take and take all else that belonged to him until the hole in his chest was gone. Until the water they had coursing inside them filled him up.

“Percy,” someone whispered.

Their voice was familiar, breath hot against Percy's ear. He twitched. The feeling of nearby water, nearby fluid, was clenched tight in his fist. He just had to pull back. Yank it. Make it his.

The voice turned pleading. “Percy.”

He froze as two hot hands came to clasp his cheeks, dark brown eyes and curly hair blurring into view. Grover's face.

“Grover,” he breathed. For the first time since he'd ended up at camp, he relaxed.

Grover's thumbs stroked his skin. “Yeah, it's me.” He leaned in closer. “Percy, you need to stop.”

“Stop?”

“You're hurting people," he said. “You have to stop.”

Why? Percy thought. He didn't care. He didn't care if they hurt, didn't care if they drowned where they laid choking, didn't care if they suffered. It didn't mean anything to him. They didn't mean anything to him.

But this was Grover.

And with his mom gone, Grover meant the world.

“You want me to stop?”

“Yes,” Grover said. His breath was warm, his skin hot, his body close. Distantly Percy remembered nights at school like this - Grover tucked up next to him, trying his best to help Percy study when most people would've bailed. “I want you to stop.”

His lips were wobbling. His eyes were thick with wetness. His voice was unsteady - trying to be calm and rapidly failing. Even his hands shook.

Percy grabbed at his wrists. “Okay,” he whispered as he clung. His stomach relaxed slowly, the crash turning into a tickle. “I'm good, I'm good.”

Shakily, Grover exhaled, pressed his forehead to Percy's, and murmured, “I know, I know.”

His hands pulled away from Percy's face, but not away from him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug. Percy's breathing wobbled as he tucked his face into the crook of Grover's neck. He clung tight and desperate. Pleading.

No, he couldn't be a good son anymore. He didn't have to bother keeping in check to avoid the thin line of his mom's lips. But he could be a good friend. To keep the tears out of Grover's eyes, the tremble from his skin.

“I can be good,” he promised quietly, for Grover's ears only. “I promise I can be good.”

“I know,” Grover said. His cheek pressed against Percy's. “I believe you.”

-

The fountain nearby trickled quietly. The steady flow soothed the unease between Percy's shoulders. Still, he squeezed the pillow in his grip tighter to his chest as he watched Grover flit around the bunk closest to him. He snapped the final end of the sheet around the mattress. Hooves clopped quietly against the tile as he stepped back. His gaze flickered between Percy's bed and his own.

Then he grunted and began pushing it closer.

Percy hopped up. The discarded pillow slipped from his fingers and onto the floor. He nearly tripped over it trying to get to Grover's side. They pushed the other bunk over until it was pressed into Percy's.

While Grover unfurled his blanket, Percy stepped back. Awkwardness choked him. He didn't know what to do, what to say. So he picked the pillow off from the floor and pressed it into his chest. Grover didn't spare him many glances as he worked to make up the bed. Leaning across his bunk, he yanked Percy's blanket from between the seam where the two bed frames connected and began tying the edges of both blankets together. It was shoddy work, no way it wasn't coming apart just from them lying on the sheets, much less sleeping.

But Grover did it anyway.

As he shifted back, hooves scraping the floor, Percy held out the pillow. Grover dusted off the top then laid it against the headboard. With both hands on his hips, he admired his work. Percy stared at it too. It was nice. Joined bed. Grover within direct reach.

His palms itched.

“Are you scared of me?”

Grover twisted around. His brows furrowed, but the edges of his lips were quirked upwards. It was reminiscent of school - Percy stumbling over something he read and Grover, lost but amused, over why Percy thought it was a man-of-war that Theseus fought.

He was partially grateful Grover cut him off before he could finish what he actually thought the sentence was trying to say. It certainly wasn't fight.

“I mean,” Grover started and Percy's stomach drew back. Behind him the trickle of the fountain silenced. Like the water was holding its breath too. “I'm scared for other people, but I'm not scared of you.” He punched Percy's arm with a quiet smile. “I know you're not going to hurt me, Percy. That's why I stopped you.”

The fountain began to trickle again. “And that-” He faltered. The ghost Grover's touched goosed up his bicep and across his shoulder. “-that doesn't worry you?”

That you might have to stop me again went unspoken but Grover was always good at understanding Percy's unspoken words, at knowing his unspoken feelings - even the ones Percy wasn't even aware he felt.

He sighed. “It worries me. But not because it's you.” He shook his head. “And definitely not because I'm scared of you hurting me.”

His eyes scanted away, brows furrowing deeper. Then he relaxed into the bed. After teetering on his heels for a couple seconds, Percy joined him. He gripped the edge of his shorts so tight his palms burned. Grover reached over to stroke along the back of his hand.

He exhaled slowly and let go.

“You remember Pan?” Grover asked.

Percy paused. “The satyr god, right?”

“Yeah.” Grover pulled away to tug at his fingers. “He's been missing for a while. Ever since the industrial age took off. And no one knows where he is. It's the dream of every satyr to find him, so that nature can return to the way it was.”

“That your dream?”

He nodded solemnly. “You have to be a Protector first, before you can get your Searcher’s license. But I'm not like the others.” His gaze fell down. His hands sat in his lap, cupped around nothing but air. “I don't want him just so we can bring nature back to its peak.” He sighed. “We were a lot different when Pan was still around. More free. More wild. I want satyrs and nymphs - all of us to be us again!”

Percy leaned into him. “What's stopping you?”

Grover snorted. “People forgot. We were more than just Pan's disciples. We fought to protect the wild from mankind. We didn't just sit around waiting for him to tell us what to do. But nobody wants to do anything.” He scowled. “They think when Pan returns he'll fix it all and I-” He bit his lip, then shook his head. “The world has changed. And gods don't get involved like that. Not to the extent they want him to. It's not in their nature. But if he comes back then maybe…”

He faced Percy. His eyes were watery, darkening the already dark brown of his eyes into shots of black. The welled tears glistened ever so slightly. Like the night sky, free of pollution.

His lips wobbled into a gentle smile. “But that's why I'm not afraid. You’re like nature at its purest form - chaotic, wild, unburdened.”

Normally those words wouldn't hit Percy as compliments. Insults, degradation - things that would deflate him and make his mom frown. But Grover sounded so earnest, his heart swelled.

“You can't tell, but I can feel it.” He swung his arm over Percy's shoulders and tugged him in close. “Your demigod essence, this sense of the wild that I've been searching for my whole life.” He gestured loosely. “Even the Demeter kids don't have that. Their mom is all agriculture and farming and that's great and all, but it's not pure nature, it's not the wild.” He squeezed Percy's shoulder as best he could with one hand. “You remind me of home, Percy.”

The frog Percy hadn't noticed in his throat jumped out with a burst sob-laugh. He tried to tile away, but Grover just tugged him close, bringing around his other arm to keep Percy pinned. Nonetheless his hold was fairly loose, like Percy was a stray cat he didn't want scratching him if he felt like running.

Or like he knew that Percy was the ocean through and through, unwilling to be contained, wanting to flow wherever he saw fit.

Percy practically crawled into his lap, sniffling into Grover's shoulder. Warm hands stroked up and down his back. He laughed quietly - a half-distressed noise marrying the sound, but managed a breathy wheeze of, “You remind me of home too.”

Grover kissed the top of his head. For the first time since arriving, he shattered. All his twisted up emotions committed out in a tidal wave of tears and broken gasps. All the while Grover held him. As tight as Percy clung to him, he didn't complain. Just held on even tighter. Wetness from Grover's own tears smeared across Percy's skin.

Ever the empathetic. Like his mom.

Percy squeezed his eyes shut. “Please don't leave without saying goodbye,” he begged in a hollow, hoarse whisper.

“I won't,” Grover promised.

They held onto each other even as tears and cries faded away. Grover kept stroking his back with both hands. Percy continued to cling.

Shoulders shaking, Percy wound the fabric of Grover's shirt over his fingers. After a few minutes of toiling silence, he whispered. “I think I'm changing.” He pressed his forehead to Grover's collarbone. “I'm scared.” He pulled back and stared into Grover's eyes. “What do I do?”

“Be my best friend,” Grover said, like it was the simplest answer in the world. And as soon as the words fell off his tongue, it did. How silly was Percy not to think of it before? “My best friend is a good person, the best kind of wild.”

“I can do that,” Percy promised. “I swear, I can do that.”

“I know,” Grover said, squeezing Percy's cheek. His thumb swiped away at a still wet tear under Percy's eye. The stroke was soft, gentle. Kind. “I believe you.”

[mj-iza-writer]

I don’t really know if you like this type of whump but i gathered up the courage

Human caretaker who has a rough backstory with vampires (maybe their whole family got killed or they almost died to vampires in the past?) saving vampire whumpee from vampire hunter whumpers

Sorry this took so long to post back. I absolutely love vampire stories, and I love this idea so much. I hope you never feel nervous about asking me for a request, I absolutely love doing them. Thankyou so much, I hope you enjoy.

Caretaker sat by the fire, the only noises were their occasional sip from their tea, and the gentle crackle of the fire.

Caretaker had been reading a book their father had written before he died. It was titled **How to Kill Vampires**.

Caretaker read the book, feeling as though their father was telling the stories in person. Unfortunately, their father had gotten to cocky in a fight with a stronger than average vampire. They died from their injuries soon after.

Caretaker hated vampires. They only wished they had enough courage to hunt them. They could never follow in their families foot steps. Every member had met tragic ends.

The next morning Caretaker stepped outside to enjoy a leisure walk around their gardens.

The home they lived in had been in their family for generations. It still had remnants of the families' past. Caretaker had tried to make it more inviting now. They seemed to be ending the families' traditions.

Caretaker turned a corner and almost had a heart attack.

A body lay against one of the fountains. It was mostly in the shade of the statue, but the fingers was sticking out in the sun. Black smoke rose from the fingers.

"Vamp...vampire", Caretaker stepped back in fear and aww.

Tiny weak whimpers came from the body.

Caretaker inched cautiously to get a closer look. From a few feet, they could see a wooden spike laying in the limp hand of the vampire.

The vampire made a grimaced face and weakly pulled their body in from the sun. They didn't have long until the sun would fully envelope them.

Caretaker slowly turned and walked away, "the sun will take care of them soon and finish the job of whoever stabbed them. No need for me to get my hands dirty."

"Ple....", the vampire pleaded, "ple....", they gasped in pain.

"You dare beg me for mercy... you slime. Allow the sun to do the honor of killing you", Caretaker growled, "your kind killed plenty of my family. Why should I show you mercy?"

"I pro... protected yo.. your father Gerald", the vampire panted, "I'm Whum... Whumpee... the... they promised me a safe place if I-I ever needed it. He said I was th.. the only one he... he'd show mercy to", the vampire frowned, "I just ne..need to reco.."

"Whumpee?", Caretaker stepped back to get a closer look.

The vampire squinted their eyes open and nodded weakly.

That was a story Caretaker's father purposely left out of their books. They didn't want anyone to know they had been saved by a vampire, then showed them mercy.

"Is Ger..Gerald around?", Whumpee sighed as they felt the sun come close to their foot.

"He died a while ago", Caretaker knelt down, "how did you know about me?"

Whumpee groaned as they tried to pull their body in tighter.

"Oh right... give me a second", Caretaker got up and ran for a nearby shed.

They pulled out a tarp and hurried to the vampire.

"I allow you into my home", Caretaker stated loudly before running inside of the house and down to the dungeon.

"I'm sorry, but I still don't know if I trust you", Caretaker laid the vampire on the floor and reached for some shackles hanging on the wall.

"I don't care", Whumpee winced as they felt the cuff tighten around their wrist and click, "just as long as you let me lay like this, I don't care what you do to me."

Caretaker knelt down a few feet away, "how did you know about me and where this house was?"

"While Gerald was healing from his wounds, he told me stories and showed me a few pictures of his family. I brought him here when he had enough strength", Whumpee whimpered as they moved their hand.

It was the first time Caretaker had seen the wound.

"They got you good, huh?", Caretaker frowned.

"Ymph", Whumpee grunted, "that's what I get for taking blood so close to the road. It wasn't even worth it either. The blood was dead already."

Caretaker made a terrified face.

"Relax. It was from a dead animal that had just gotten run over", Whumpee whispered, "I don't take from humans unless I'm desperate. They consent most of the time for me to do it."

"May.... may I rest for a while", Whumpee whispered, "I'll answer more questions later if you want."

Caretaker nodded and got up to leave.

"Thankyou for giving me sanctuary. I will be out of your hair soon", Whumpee mumbled into the floor.

Caretaker nodded, then left.

"I don't have the heart to tell them they are staying. I may not be able to kill them, but I can keep them here. I can protect people in that way at least", Caretaker crept up the stairs, "in a way I will be protecting them too... right? Maybe I can honor my father by protecting them and others."

Just before Caretaker decided to go down to the dungeon to break the news to Whumpee that they were being kept as a prisoner a knock came to the door.

Caretaker hurried to answer it.

"Hello" a person in heavy equipment greeted, "I was hunting vampires last night and I seemed to have lost one. A witness said they were seen on your property."

"Yes I found them this morning. They have been taken care of", Caretaker smiled, "I'm from a family of hunters myself. Thankyou for what you are doing though."

"I need to check to ensure they are gone?", the person grinned with fire in their eyes.

"I let them fade into the sun, all that's left is the stake that was stabbed into them", Caretaker watched the judgemental look, "how many vampires do you know that can survive the sun?"

"Not many, but I know you aren't one for killing them. That's why I started to do it", they smirked, "so where are they then?"

"Fine, you caught me. In my families dungeon, where they will remain for good", Caretaker frowned, "you may not go check on them. Matter of factly, you can get off of this property."

"No need to be so testy. I'm only doing what you wouldn't. You're a shame to your father and your family", they frowned.

"I mean you're fresh meat... a newbie, you probably have markings all over your back. A vampire is just waiting to take your life force", Caretaker sighed, "I don't need you coming in here with targets on your back. You'd be allowing vampires in without them being invited into my home. I don't need that."

The hunter made a confused face.

"You really didn't research, did you?", Caretaker frowned, "not all vampires survive soly on blood. There are other ways they take your life force as well. Have you been blessed by a priest to protect against that."

"You're speaking nonsense", the hunter forced themself in and overpowered Caretaker, "lead me to the dungeon."

A dagger was poked into Caretaker's back.

"You don't know what you're doing", Caretaker started to walk.

"Shut up, you don't know what you talking about", the hunter warned.

"Right, the rightful descendent of a family of vampire hunters doesn't know what they're talking about", Caretaker frowned.

"I said shut up", Caretaker received a slap on the back of their head.

They followed Caretaker into the dungeon and down the steps.

Whumpee had sat up now. When they saw who was coming, they lifted their knees to their chest and frowned.

"You again?", Whumpee frowned, "not much in way of sanctuary if you deliver the killer to their prey", Whumpee looked at Caretaker.

"I tried. There's a dagger pointed in my back. What do you want from me?", Caretaker argued.

"You've left me quite defenseless even. Chained to the wall. What is a vampire to do?", Whumpee grinned, revealing their fangs.

Caretaker was thrown to the side, and they fell to the floor.

Whumpee looked at the hunter angrily, "you're weak. You can't call yourself a hunter if you haven't had the right training."

"And yet, I'm about to kill you", the hunter laughed, "they are about to keep you a prisoner here. I'm only saving you from permanent imprisonment."

Whumpee frowned at Caretaker.

"I was coming to tel...

"Oh shut up", Whumpee snapped their fingers at the hunter.

The hunter automatically froze in place.

"You did mark them?", Caretaker frowned, "so you take life force as much as you take blood?"

Whumpee nodded, "I need to feed from them, I can't heal my wounds completely without it."

"I can't let you", Caretaker frowned.

Whumpee stood up weakly and limped to the hunter, "you don't get a say in this. My mark is on them. I'm not taking it away. I have to save myself too."

Caretaker got up and stood in front of Whumpee to block them, "I won't allow it."

"Look, I gave up a lot of things after I protected and healed your father. That included drinking human blood unless I absolutely have to. Animal blood will not heal me", Whumpee limped forward, ignoring Caretaker. The chains jingled at their movements.

"Why would you do that?", Caretaker frowned, "vampires are monsters?"

"I use to think the same about hunters until I met Gerald. Not all hunters are bad and not all vampires are bad. At first they were as uncertain as I was, but they allowed me to do what needed to be done to heal them", Whumpee gulped down a knot, "I'm staring at the one who killed them. Am I not?", Whumpee looked past Caretaker at the hunter.

Caretaker turned to see the hunter nodding with tears running down their face.

"Your father allowed me to mark him as mine. They were my special human. They couldn't be killed by vampires, I do hold some respect for actual hunters. Your family was always respectful. There was no way your father was killed by one of us. A human did it."

Whumpee frowned, "the stake they used on me had your father's markings on them. I looked after I pulled it out."

Caretaker looked at Whumpee sadly, tears threatened to fall.

"I need you to allow me to avenge their death. Your father was dear to me, let me have this", Whumpee pleaded, "you don't have to watch. Your father always said you were sensitive to these things. He always said you would amount to so much because you were not wanting to follow in the family business. Let me avenge Gerald for you."

Caretaker turned to the hunter.

"Did you really kill my father?"

"Answer them", Whumpee knelt down weakly, "tell us what you did", they ordered.

"I surprised Gerald from behind while they were hiking in the forest. I attacked them and killed them. Then staged it to look like a vampire attack. I stole what was left of their equipment", the hunter still looked like they were in a trance, "after taking their things to my home, I led the police to the scene. The story was retold and retold until it became the truth. No one would ever know it was staged. I would fall in line as the next great hunter."

"Though you're an idiot who did it all wrong?", Whumpee frowned, "nod your head to agree."

The hunter had more tears as their body obeyed the vampire.

"That's why hunters get blessed by priest so they don't become mindless puppets", Caretaker stated.

"Give me a while to feed", Whumpee frowned, "they killed my friend. Gerald's blood screams for vengeance, and they almost killed his legacy."

Caretaker's legs felt like lead as they started to walk away from them.

"Come, kneel before me" Caretaker heard Whumpee order. They didn't dare turn and look.

Whumpee sank their teeth into the hunter's neck and snapped their fingers.

Caretaker heard the person scream then gargle cry as they climbed the stairs out of the dungeon.

They waited until late evening before going back down into the dungeon. They didn't want to see anything, and they dreaded the knowledge that the body was still down their.

They came closer to where Whumpee was.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever come back down here again", Whumpee smirked.

"Where is the body?", Caretaker frowned. There wasn't any sign of them.

"You hit the nail on the head when you asked if I took life forces. I don't leave anything behind when I feed", Whumpee frowned.

Their was silence between the both of them.

"So you want a vampire prisoner huh?", Whumpee snickered.

"Th-that was before I knew all of this", Caretaker frowned, "I'm sorry I've spent so long hating all of you because I didn't know. I almost let you die because of it. I'm sorry."

"It's alright", Whumpee grinned, "I can be a prisoner if you want. As long as a few rules are followed. I think you could use a vampire roaming the house, keeping you safe. You don't exactly carry the same presence your father carried. Plus, that idiot burnt my hideout down last night."

"Oh so you need a place to stay is what you're saying", Caretaker grinned.

"It will be perfect for the both of us", Whumpee grinned, "you can keep me in shackles if you want, I don't care. I'm old enough, I've had my fun. I guess I could use a change. I enjoy letting humans think these things can keep me controlled."

Caretaker frowned.

"I mean, oh no chains", Whumpee stated sarcastically, "I won't injure a descendent of Gerald though. I will protect you."

"As comforting as that sounds. I-I don't know about this. It kind of defeats the purpose of this building", Caretaker sighed.

"You defeated the purpose of this place a long time ago. You refused to hunt vampires. Now you have gardens growing where blood was once shed", Whumpee frowned.

Caretaker looked down shamefully.

"I'm not saying that to make you feel bad. My point is things can change, this place your family. You don't have to hold onto those traditions so tightly. Your father was proud of the person you were becoming", Whumpee looked around, "you could use some protection though."

Caretaker agreed, "can you tell me about those days when you healed him? I feel like he didn't tell us everything."

"They probably didn't. It would go against the hunter's code" Whumpee laughed.

Caretaker sat down, "and how were you able to mark them."

"As long as your father allowed me to, I could break through the seal the priest set. I am very old, I've learned to do a lot of things", Whumpee sat for a minute to think, "okay I'll tell you the story."

"It was cold that night", Whumpee started, "I had been following Gerald for a few miles. I knew who they were, and I kept my distance, but I was still curious. They had gotten attacked by a bear. Their camp was destroyed, and they were badly injured. Their blood was actually what got my attention."

"They were trying to get home or to safety. They collapsed and kept mumbling that they needed to get home. I showed myself after they collapsed."

Whumpee laughed, "they were startled when they saw me. 'Typical bloodsucker like vultures. I won't let you eat me'. I only rolled my eyes. I wanted to see the great hunter up close, I told Gerald. Leave it to a bear to do you in."

Caretaker listened curiously. It sounded just like their father. This was a different story though, not how their father told it.

"After a few minutes of watching them fail to kill me and cursing at me, I offered them a hand after they fell face first into the snow."

"They asked why I would help them. I told them I needed to have some fun. Plus they helped keep the vampire population low. I knew they planned on killing me at some point, but that was the fun of it. I got them to my hideout and into my bed. Cleaned and dressed the wounds, fed and hydrated. It took forever to get Gerald to rest though. They were so tired by the time they fell alseep."

Whumpee smiled, "I had that pain in the butt for a good month or more. I carried many messages between Gerald and your mother. That is the true reason why I knew where this house was. Finally, they had enough strength for me to get them down the mountain and here. They allowed me to leave my mark on them to keep them safe after that. I could check in occasionally, but I've been gone for a long time apparently."

"Yes its been a while", Caretaker nodded.

They sat in silence for a while again.

"I'll let you have this dungeon for your own space... if that's alright. The other rooms have windows", Caretaker sighed, "be careful if you go up there during the day. It's very sunny. You'll be safe down here. It's not like this is being used anymore."

"Thankyou", Whumpee grinned, "so I take it the Madame has passed as well. She tried to kill me the first time I came here as well. She was very kind after that. She would occasionally offer the neck of a prisoner to feed me", Whumpee chuckled.

"That sounds like my mom", Caretaker laughed, "she passed a little after my father."

Whumpee nodded, "I see."

In the night Caretaker found themself awake staring at the ceiling. Many thoughts on their mind.

They heard the floors creak outside of their room.

"Oh right, on top of everything I've allowed a vampire into my home", Caretaker sat up as they heard the creaking go down the hall, "where are they going?"

Caretaker quietly wandered down the hall until they heard Whumpee whispering.

They peaked around the corner to see Whumpee sitting on the floor looking at a painting of Gerald and the Madame.

Whumpee turned to see Caretaker.

"I didn't mean to wake you. I was just, uh, talking to my old friend."

"I do that occasionally. You didn't wake me, I have a lot of things going through my mind. My world feels like it was turned upside-down today", Caretaker came closer.

"I know the feeling", Whumpee nodded.

"So what's next?", Caretaker frowned.

"I don't know. That's for you to decide. I'm not limited by time anymore", Whumpee stood up, "I'll be here to protect you now. I promise Gerald that much."

"Thankyou", Caretaker watched Whumpee take another glance at the picture before they walked away.

"Dawn is approaching. You should get some rest', Whumpee spoke over their shoulder.

Caretaker nodded in agreement.

They went to bed after that. Mind still racing.

"What a turn of events. The descendent of vampire hunters is now being protected by a vampire", Caretaker smiled as they rolled over to fall asleep.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinx

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

[be-ee]

haha I'm usually too shy for requests but maybe a cute neuvillette fluff??? If that's okay :D

A/N!; Of course! I added a bit more so I do hope you enjoy🫶

“AND I CAN’T HELP, FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU…”

What makes Genshin men fall for you?

𐙚 Ft: Neuvillette, Thoma, and Scaramouche

𐙚 content: Fluff!

𝜗𝜚 Neuvillette falls for your kindness .

Perhaps it’s the tenacity of it. Never flattering or wavering. He watched you often from his position at the fountain as he read. You would smile from your humble flower stall; even when the snobbiest of Fontains nobles would grimace at you. At the end of the day, as you packed up your stall, you would hand him a small bouquet of silk flowers.

“I couldn’t possibly accept this.” He’d protest each time. Each time you would push it into his chest, insisting. “It would only go to waste anyway. Keep it.” Neuvillette Had come across many people in the Courts of Fontain.

All had their own agendas and ulterior motives. But, goodwill was a rarity. The tenderness in your eyes and the way you treated everyone like they were your equals. That was rare. Like a sudden ocean in the desert, or the blooming of a cactus flower. You were a rarity in Fontain. One he didn’t realize he could not do without..

___________________

𝜗𝜚 Thoma falls for your bravery.

As one of the guards of the Kamisato Clan, bravery is to be expected. Especially from the personal guard of Lady Ayaka. So yes, you were brave in a sense that you were prepared to draw your sword at any given moment.

That's not what Thoma had meant, though. Your bravery extends beyond your strength.The way you were able to make yourself smile at the end of the day when all you wanted to do was scream.The way you could be so kind to others when they don't deserve it. How, no matter the situation, you managed to put others before yourself. Or boldly speak your mind.

“I’m not sure how you do it” Thoma admits, when it’s just the two of you sitting on the veranda. You had been sipping tea with Ayaka earlier, but she left not long after the sun began to set, leaving the two of you alone. You smiled lightly

"I think of all the people that need my help." You replied, eyes sparkling. "It's just something I've always done."

Thoma smiled, looking down at the cup in his hand; a small flutter danced in his chest. That’s just how you were…and he hopes that never changes

______________________

𝜗𝜚 Scaramouche falls for your honesty .

Scaramouche , naturally, craves truth. As a being forged in the light of the Electro Archon, he has seen the truth of this world, the ugliness, the beauty, the love, the hate, all that is beautiful, all that is ugly. But no matter what. He could not find pleasantries in one thing. A being he has come across time and time again, Humans. Lying, traitorous, filth.

However, there's something in your eyes that allows him to believe your words are true. He stupidly believes it when you tell him that you’ll stay. So, he lets you.

Perhaps it’s that particular gleam in your eyes. Or the clearness of your voice; how you seem so sure of yourself. But there is something that tells him that you are telling the truth. That you truly will stay with him forever. So, he foolishly believed your words. He doesn't even think twice about it when you tell him.

[austonwithan-o]

“Don’t look, it’s not worth it.”

Literally obsessed with this man so I had to write something… I’ll make a master list eventually

!!!No warnings really just kissing

(Not edited… I’ll edit later)

“Baby I’m gonna take a shower, care to join me?” Auston asked with a slightly playful tone at the end. He got up and stretched emphasizing the veins on his tatted arm. You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “I just showered and plus we both know if I get in the shower with you it’s gonna be hours before we get out.” You said curling under the warm comforter. He gave your butt a light smack, “I’ll be fast.” He said grabbing a fresh towel you just folded at the edge of the bed. You shut your eyes for a few minutes, replaying the conversation you had with Steph at brunch that morning.

“Y/n it’s not even worth it! Auston doesn’t look at his DMs and he doesn’t even care what those girls say!” The blonde said, sipping her margarita, “please it’s not worth reading what they say. It’ll just make you miserable, I’ve been through it, most of the WAGs have been through it and it’s my job to keep you, my bestest friend, away from potential heartbreak.” Tossing her words around in your head and decided she was ultimately right, you backed off for a bit. You knew Auston wasn’t seeing anyone else behind closed doors but the question of what those girls in his DMs were saying to him was burning your brain and you needed answers!

Auston took long showers so you knew you still had a bit of time before he got out. Crawling across the big bed, you unplugged his phone from the charger and clicked it on reluctantly tapped the instagram app. Nothing looked odd, just a few hundred new instagram followers, comments and likes. He had a few DMs but you knew it was him and Mitch’s meme war goin on. His DM requests were filled and you felt your stomach drop a bit. Hesitantly you open them and what you saw made your breath catch in your throat. His inbox was littered with fans genuinely saying nice things but most of them were girls gawking at him. You scrolled for what seemed like hours reading things like, “you could do so much better Auston” “I’m always down for a fuck if you’re in Phoenix” “I can’t believe your still with that puck bunny skank” That’s the one that really got you. “Why is he with me?” You thought, tears welling up in your eyes. You kept scrolling reading more and more you didn’t hear the water turn off. Minutes later Austin stepped out with a towel dangerously low on his waist but you were too caught up reading to notice.

Your eyes were glued to his phone still in shock at all the mindless hate you were getting. “Y/n what are you lookin at?” His face looked slightly confused. He soon saw the red in your eyes and the sniffles coming from your nose. He quickly threw on his boxers. “Whoa whoa baby what’s wrong?” He asked scooting over to you, effortlessly scooping you into his lap pulling the covers over the both of you. He grabbed his phone and saw the DM of the girl asking him for a quick fuck. His expression shifted into worry, “Y/n you know I’d never cheat on you right baby? I never read these.” Your head hung low and you could feel the tears welling up into your eyes trying your hardest not to let them spill. You didn’t know if you should feel worse for looking through his phone or the comments you just read. You felt yourself slipping deeper into his embrace, his scent overtaking your senses, his freshly showered hair dripping beads of water onto your face and shoulders, calming you down. The tears started streaming and your breathing got shaky. “Auston why are you with me?” He grabbed your chin lightly turning your face to meet his eyes. “Y/n why are you asking me that? You’re the reason I get up every morning, you’re the reason I thank God everyday for a new day, baby I can’t imagine a life without you. I love you with my whole being y/n and you need to understand that.” The tears kept pouring out of your eyes like a fountain making him hold you closer. You tried looking away but his grip on your chin wouldn’t let you. His lips connected to yours making you melt into his touch. You shifted your body, swinging your legs over his sides, straddling him, arms lazily around his neck. His arms wrapped around around your waist pulling you even closer into the kiss his mustache tickling you making you smile into it. “I love you y/n. I hope you know that.” This man was whipped on you and you knew it and he knew it too.

PLEASE REQUEST THINGS I NEED MORE IDEAS TO WRITE!!!

[ladycaramelli]

By the water fountain

Paring: Thomas Shelby x fem!reader

Summary: It was something in their past, but now Thomas Shelby threw a huge gala and you were close to someone else, him watching you made him remember it.

Prompt: The first part of Water Fountain by Alec Benjamin

A/N: English is my second language so please be nice :)

Enjoy!

They were pretty young, at a graduation party that happened in the grand hall of the city, every teen and young adult was at the party. It was THE event of the summer.

She wore a beautiful, flowy baby blue dress, Thomas knew her mum had spent all of her earnings on and he wore the matching fly to it. They weren’t a couple but they were always at each other's side.

y/n had danced so much that she had to take a break, so she grabbed Thomas by his arm and pulled him outside with her. Down the grand stairs that led to the dancehall, walking over to the big water fountain that was right in front.

y/n twirled around before sitting down at the rim, her finger brushing through the cold water of the fountain, Thomas stood there with his drink in his hands, smiling down at her. He had always been a quiet, observing young man.

“Isn’t it a beautiful night, Thomas?”, she said looking up at the cloudless sky, the stars gleaming in her eyes. y/n felt his gaze on her warmth skin and smiled at him, this beautiful smile she had, “What?”, she laughed and got up,”Nothing!”, he answered her, taking another sip. “I’m thirsty, can I have a sip?”, she grabbed the glass out of his hand before Thomas could say anything. “I don’t think you will like…”, he said amused, but it was too late, she had already taken a sip. And was now coughing at the strong taste that felt like all her muscle scrunched up in her face. After she caught back her breath they were both laughing.

y/n looked down at her feet, parts of her updo fell into her face, “What’s wrong, Darling?” Thomas stepped closer, lifting his hand to carefully tilt her chin up so she would look at him. “Nothing, I just wish it could always be like this! But I know things will change…”, y/n had a sad gleam in her eyes and Thomas hated that.

He wanted to keep her happy and safe, safe from all the bad things to protect this beautiful being, she was. “Nothing has to change if you don't want it to change!”, he said to her, wiping the strands of hair behind her ear, she was looking into his blue eyes, the moon reflecting in them and she felt her heart crack. “That’s not what I mean..”, she said to him, playing with the hem of his suit. Thomas frowned not knowing what she meant.

“If you are scared that you will not find a man pleasant enough, I am sure there will be someone out there perfect for you!”, “I love you, Thomas!”, she whispered and as soon their words collided, he knew he just tried to protect himself with those words, because deep down he was the significant other to her. But it would be way too late when he would realize this.

The last thing he could remember was how her dress flew around her body while running up the stairs. And he just stood there watching her leave before he downed the remaining drink in his hand.

Just like right now he just watched her, dancing with another man, sipping out of his glass, like she did all those years ago out of his own glass.

It wasn’t late but she had a couple drinks too much already, her vision getting blurry. y/n didn’t even know the name of her dance partner but he was handsome enough to get drunk and have fun with him, especially when she felt Thomas eyes burning into her back.

“It’s so loud in here I think i did not get your name.”, she drunkenly laughed at the man in front of her, whose hands wandered dangerously close to her butt. “Nicolas!”, the man said into her ear pulling her close, while dancing to the music swinging their hips slowly, seductive.

She felt dirty but the liquor in her veins made her stay in Nicolas' hands, letting them wander around her body in a quiet corner of the ball room.

Someone cleared their throat behind the couple, which made y/n turn, of course it had to be Thomas who stood there hands shoved into his pockets. “It’s time to go!”, he said in a disinterested voice, not to her but to the man next to her. She was too drunk to get it, grabbed Nicolas hand and brushed past Thomas, her shoulder meeting his.

“Will you get into the car now or not, eh?”, Nicolas asked, leaning back out of the vehicle. “No, darling.”, y/n said with sadness swinging in her voice shaking her head, but not about the man in front of her. He leant closer hoping he would get a kiss from her but she moved back waving shortly before walking the opposite way.

Thomas watched the scene, leaning against the thick wooden door feeling a kind of relief in his chest.

When Thomas later went outside into the garden of the grand hall, to take a break from all the talking to investors and fake laughing, he lit himself a cigarette and through his lashes he saw someone sitting at the water fountain.

He made his way over to the person, he already had a guess who it might be.

And his intuition wasn’t wrong, y/n sat there legs dangling from the rim of the fountain watching the stars.

“Isn’t it a beautiful night, Thomas?”, she said without looking at him.

“That’s what you said all these years ago..”, he noticed, “I know!” y/n reassured him, meeting his eyes.

“Maybe I should’ve built you a water fountain.”, Thomas said, “Maybe you should’ve..”. She got up and walked towards him just to walk past him, she stopped a few steps behind him, “Good night, Thomas!”, with those words she left him alone in this cloudless night the moon his only companion.

[writing-for-life]

@morpheusbaby3 thinks we need a bit more comedy fics around here, and I agree.

I’m trying that precarious balance with Dream’s Therapist, but I also often insert a bit of humour into my fics (tragedy often needs a bit of comedy around the edges, and comedy works best when it’s weirdly tragic. I’ll die on that hill 🤣).

So I’ll just post a little snippet from my WiP. I don’t even know if it’ll make the Final Cut (it’s quite bad actually 🙈), but it was fun to write and sorely needed at the time.

Merv and Matthew are bitching. What else…

Mervyn busied himself, broom in hand, with sweeping up the leaves of the oak that sat in the centre of the courtyard. The bristles frequently caught on the cobblestone underfoot, made of meticulously placed stones, and he began to mumble to himself. “No idea why I’m sweeping up again, the stones take care of themselves, why don’t the bloody leaves? Should take ‘em away himself, wave his hand or somethin’… but what do I know…”

Matthew sat perched on a bench and cawed, “The roses are particularly vibrant this afternoon, eh, Merv?”

Mervyn leaned on the end of the broomstick. “Not here to talk about vibrant roses, are ya?”

Matthew was just about to say something when a bee flew past his beak, and with one snap, he ate it.

“Scoffin’ down a dream like it’s nothin’. Don’t let the boss see that.”

“Sorry,” he burped and quickly flitted over to the fountain to take a sip of water.

“Ain’t got all day, whaddya want, bird?”

Matthew hopped closer again and puffed up his feathers, seemingly weighing up his words. “Did you notice anything? I mean, about him?”

“Like what?” Mervyn grunted.

“Well, he’s not completely oblivious to his surroundings, but he seems a bit… lost in his own world?”

Merv took a cigar out of the breast pocket of his dungarees and lit it.

“Well, you don’t let the boss see that,” Matthew commented.

“As if he cared. Not at the moment anyway.”

“So you did notice?”

“The lovey-dovey thing? Yeah, caught ‘em giggling away like kids a few days ago. Well, she was anyway…”

Matthew cawed in very apparent discomfort. “That’s not what I mean. Well, maybe, but they’re sorta… married, or whatever you guys call this shizzle, so I don’t care. But I can’t be the only one noticing the stolen glances, the knowing smiles, the constant touches even when they work, and those… sudden disappearances? And it’s not like they’re exactly trying to hide it. Well, don’t know, they seem to make an effort to be discreet but… I mean, we’re not stupid?”

Mervyn’s eye-holes narrowed. “Hate to break it to you, bird, but we all know what those fireworks mean, right?”

“What fireworks?” Matthew shrieked, then croaked. “The aurora?! Across the night sky?!”

“Yep. Should be grateful that’s as far as displays of his hard to control feelings go these days. Could be worse. Has been worse. Could tell ya stories you’d not wanna hear.”

“What the fuck, man…”

“Precisely.”

“Merv, come on, that’s rude.”

“Not me using swear words, bird.” He blew smoke circles into the air. “Whatever makes him easier to be around is fine by me.”

“Yeah yeah, he might even get you a leaf-blower one day…” Matthew muttered.

“A what?”

“Never mind…”

…

Sorry, it’s awful, but it had to be written at the time. I’ll go hide under a bush somewhere 🤣

[codfanficedits]

Before the mask - Part nine.

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Because Simon wasn’t born as Ghost.

Wordcount: 1750| Rating: E! (18+ only!)

Warnings: Angst.

A/N: Simon would be around 22/23 in this fic, so it would be set around 2015 ish?

I am going through it at the moment, so excuse my upload shedule.

Simon wasn’t proud of himself, not at all, his first instinct had to be like his father, and that was something he hated about himself, he didn’t want to be like his dad, he wanted to be Simon, he wanted to be loving, to be soft, to be gentle, to be kind, especially to you. But it seemed like he couldn’t shake the behaviour that haunted him like no other.

There was still some anger simmering in him, something he needed to get rid of before he could even speak to you again. He didn’t want to take out that anger on you, you out of all people did not deserve to see that side of him. You deserved more, more than him, more than he could ever give you, maybe that was why this angered him so much.

But he didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to feel, he didn’t want any of that. He wanted to get rid of that tight feeling inside of his chest, he wanted to get rid of the guilt that started to creep into the back of his mind. He doesn’t want that feeling, he didn’t want any of this. His clothes get swapped for a tank top and a pair of sweatpants.

In a swift motion he takes his bag off the floor of his room, and he heads to the on base gym, needing to blow off the steam, and he doesn’t want to take it out on you, nor does he want to take it out on himself, he so desperately wants to break that cycle; but how could he ever do that if he never was taught how to do such things?

It is too busy at the gym for his liking, his brain deceiving him that everyone is watching at him. The tight feeling in his chest starts to get worse. The tightness feeling like it prevents him from breathing properly, only short bursts of air allowed to escape his lungs.

He is familiar with the feeling, the sense of impending doom, the feeling as if the ground could fall from under his feet at any given moment. His hands are trembling when he fills up his water bottle.

His eyes dart around the gym, not able to focus on one thing. But he knows he needs to force himself. Five things he can see.

His commander officer on the treadmill.

A teammate doing squats.

The shiny fountain he had tapped his water from.

The bright lights on the ceiling.

The exit door.

Four things he can touch. Simon squats down.

His fingertips touching the floor.

His fingertips touching his bag.

He grabs the water bottle tight.

The keys in his pocket.

Three things he can hear.

The news on the radio.

A teammate groaning while doing squats.

….

….

….

He’s overthinking this again, one more thing, he needs one more thing he can hear.

A dumbbell being dropped on the floor.

Two things he can smell. This should be an easy one, right? Right?

Simon inhales deeply, the scent of sweat mixed with fourteen different deodorants fills his nose.

That’s one.

He pulls the collar of his shirt to his nose, inhaling the scent, and it smells like you.

That’s two.

One thing he can taste.

His hand rummage through his bag, and he finds an old protein bar. It isn’t much, but it is something. He opens the bar, and takes a big bite.

It’s disgusting. But it’s something.

He takes a deep breath while he chews the bite of the protein bar, tossing the rest of it in the bin, Simon takes a sip of his water, realising that the tight feeling in his chest has died down, there is still a bit of anger resting in his chest, something he needs to address, something that needs to be brought up to the light before it escalates, but it no longer feels as if he can’t breathe. Simons drops his bag next to the treadmill, wanting to get rid of the build-up energy before he explodes and takes it out on the wrong person.

He stares at the wall when his body starts to take over, setting a comfortable pace for himself, fast enough to make him unable to think too much, not fast enough to completely drain him from his energy. He trains himself with intervals, trying to tire himself out a little bit before he goes over the punching bags.

Sweat is dripping down his back when he decides that his cardio is done for the day, the gym is starting to die down, most of the soldiers calling it a day, going back to their quarters, to their barracks, leaving him in a quiet gym, just how he likes it. He takes a big gulp of water, before he walks over to the punching bags, dragging his bag with him, Simon takes off his shoes, his socks, before he throws the first punch. A front hook with his left hand. Then the second punch get thrown. A front hook with his right hand. The sounds of his hits satisfy him.

Why did he get so upset when you needed some space? Hit. What had made him so angry? Hit. Was it even anger?

No.

No he knew it wasn’t anger, it was something else dressed up as anger, something disguised as the vile emotion he knew so well. Hit.

Then what could it be? Hit. He was worried about something, but what? Hit. Maybe he was scared. Hit. Hit. Hit.

Simon takes a step back, allowing himself to breathe a second. He rolls his shoulders, before he cracks his knuckles, going back to the punching bag.

His fists hits the punching bag again when he throws a jab. And then a cross, then a jab again.

Okay, so he was scared, that was something he could work with. But what was it he was so scared of? Hit. Was he scared of loving? Hit. No, that couldn’t be it, he had loved before, he knew he could love. Hit. Maybe he was scared of being loved, was that it? Hit. Hit. Hit.

Simon takes another step back, taking a sip of his water. The dreading feeling in his stomach told him it was fear instead of anger that had caused such a reaction. He was worried, afraid even, that you would leave, that you would see him how he saw himself, broken, hurt, unable to be loved. He was scared you wouldn’t be able to cope with that, to accept it, and he was worried you’d leave him. 

Would it be the worst thing if you left him?

Yes.

Yes it would.

Because you, you made him feel as if he was worthy of love, you made him feel as if there was more to life than the pain and problems he had experienced before. You made him feel alive. And if you left him after seeing who he really was, how he saw himself, that would only confirm that he wasn’t worthy.

Simon gets close to the punching bag again, holding it in place while he hits repeatedly with a knee strike. He knows he should have been nicer, he knows he shouldn’t have snapped at you the way he did.

But the damage had already been done, and just thinking about that made the tight feeling in his chest appear again. Maybe, just maybe, he could fix what he had broken.

Simon finally stops his hold on the punching bag, taking a few seconds to catch his breath. That is what he should do, he should go up to you and apologize. He grabs his bag off the floor, and he makes his way to your room, his footsteps echo through the hallway and the tight feeling in his chest makes place for some excitement, yes he had fucked up, but he had the opportunity to make things right again.

He wants to let his fist rain down on your door when a soft sound startles him. Were you crying?

He leans closer to the door, and he can make out the soft sobs on the other side. Simon can feel his heart sink into his stomach again.

You were crying.

You were crying because of him.

The person he had wanted to protect most, was crying and it was his fault.

And now he didn’t feel as if he could mend what he had broken. Now it felt as if he had crushed what he had held so dear. Simon felt as if he was paralyzed, unable to move, unable to speak, the only thing he could do was listen to the faint sobs on the other side of the door.

He had been so sure about his course of action. He would knock, he would apologize and everything would be fine. But now? Now it felt as if that was crumbling to pieces.

He takes a step back, and instead of going into your room, he goes to his own room, he goes to the shower, the sound of the water muffled out the sound of crying, but it kept haunting it in his mind. Simon was taking deep breaths, deep, deep breaths, trying to stop the panic from seeping in again.

He didn’t dare to reach out to you at all. Because if he didn’t reach out, he could still have the illusion that he didn’t ruin anything at all, that everything could be worked out after all.

But if he did reach out, you could tell him that is was over, and that was something Simon couldn’t handle right now.

He didn’t bother putting on a shirt, or some sweatpants when he dried himself off, just his boxers. He was listening for your cries, but they seemed to have died down, and he didn’t know if he was happy about it or not. Simon is facing the wall as he lies in bed, trying to catch some sleep, but he keeps seeing your hurt face in front of him, and he can’t seem to shake it, not in the slightest. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see it, see how tired you looked, how hurt you looked, and instead of taking care of you, he made things harder, he had been selfish.

His hand reached out to the wall, feeling the cold structure beneath his fingertips.

Did he really ruin it all?

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Summary: A midnight picnic

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader

Warnings: smutty but no smut, reader is a tad bit horny and possessive idk how good this is please bear with me

Word Count: 744

When Santiago lifts the wine bottle to his mouth, wine dribbles down his chin and neck. 

Without thinking about it, you lean in and lick it away, the stubble littering his skin poking against your tongue. It’s a sweet white blend, something crappy you used to drink in college. 

Against him, it’s like drinking from the fountain of life. You can’t help yourself. With the taste of the wine in your mouth, you follow the sharp edge of his jaw with your tongue and bite down into the soft flesh of skin underneath his ear. 

Something ripe and possessive rises up inside you. You want to tear off a piece of his skin for yourself. 

“Christ,” he pushes you away. “What the hell’s come over you?” He rubs where you’d bitten, and you take the wine bottle from him, taking a sip yourself.

Inside you, something churns in arousal as you think about his mouth and how it was at the same place yours is just a few moments ago. 

Without the taste of his skin, you hate the taste. It reminds you of too many memories you would like to forget. Right then and there you decide that the only way to drink this wine is with Santiago mixed in. You want to drag him back inside from the fire escape and onto your bed, make love to him and bite him with the wine in your hand. 

Pour it down his chest and watch it dribble down to his soft tummy where you’ll lick it away before moving down and letting his hands hold your head for his pleasure. 

There was something about Santiago that hung around him like a cloud. Hazy and smoky, you'd call it mustard gas had it not been for how pretty it made him look. Like the gathered up petals of a rose. 

He looks even prettier in the gentle hand of the moonlight, the lights of the city only serving to highlight his best features. 

It's unfair.

Wearing a pair of tattered shorts that hit him on his upper thigh, a loose t-shirt that hangs off his shoulder and exposes his inner chest, he looks like something you only could have dreamed of before, something you didn’t know was allowed to exist. 

The thick wave of humidity that’s taken the city by the neck, that makes you feel sweaty and gross, makes Santiago's hair, the longest he's ever worn it since he left the army, loose and curled, like each one was painted on to his head with a careful hand. 

In moments like these you lose your words. They slip out of you, flowing past and away away. 

You pass the wine to him and instead take the box of chocolates in your hands. 

You’re not sure how Santiago came into your life. This fairy-like, god of a man that arouses in you a strange need to own. 

One day Santiago wasn’t there, and then the universe was there. The wood panels had been pulled away and you’d bounded onto the racetrack in galloping steps. 

He’s rubbing at the skin you’d latched on to like an animal, but still you’re not satisfied with the mark you tried to leave on him. It might be the heat that’s making you delirious, awakening in you wants and desires that had lain dormant for dozens of centuries now. 

“Sorry,” you murmur gently, though your tone gives it away that you want to do it again. 

He looks at you for a moment and then he shakes his head, laughing, “S’fine.” He reaches forward again and takes the wine, takes a long drink from it and makes you want to try it once more, to see if the taste would be any different from the last time, if the memories would change, turn pleasant and comfortable. 

“You wanna spend the night?” 

It’s a hot one, going to be even hotter when he joins you in bed as well, your double a bit of a tight fit for the size of him but at least your AC unit is half-working and his isn’t. 

“You don’t haveta get me drunk to get me to sleep with you, baby,” he grins and pulls you forward to kiss. 

His tongue rubs against yours and presses the taste of chocolate and wine into your soul. The humidity hangs heavy around you, a tight grip around your throat.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here. Summer Drabbles here.

[camspell]

Perfect

this is gonna be like the bathroom confession in season 3!!! but with Stancy because well it's a Stancy account😝

Anyway I'll mostly make oneshots of them on here and i do have a wattpad but i write for other things on there!!

anyways!!

tw: throwing up, crying (barely any but some ppl don't like to read crying so idk) , fluff (if you can't stand that), robin loving stancy, and stancy (for all you haters out there🙄) and like some angst but not much.

enjoy! (don't mind my awful writing😜)

"That's amazing." Steve said while drinking the water from the water fountain, "So I wasn't like totally confused in there or anything...but I'm pretty sure that mom was trying to bang her son." Robin said looking at Steve.

Steve looked up "Wait, wait the hot chick was Alex P. Keaton's mom?" he asked going back for more water "Yeah I'm pretty sure." Robin replied.

Steve took another sip before looking up again "But they're the same age." he said before sipping the water again.

"No, but he went back in time." Robin stated looking away from Steve.

Steve snickered "Then why is it called Back to the Future?" Robin rolled her eyes "He has to go back to the future, because he's in the past. So, the future is actually the present, which is his time."

Steve was hesitant "Wh... What?" Robin looked at him and rolled her eyes again she pushed Steve away from the fountain "No, no it's my turn. You've had enough."

Steve started playing with his shirt looking up at the ceiling as he stumbled he had his jaw dropped in awe "Wow." he said still staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling lights seemed to shine and twinkle for him, he continued to stare at it in awe.

He started signaling Robin to come over there with his hand "Hey, Robin. You gotta check this out." Robin took her head away from the fountain swallowing, walking over to Steve.

She stumbled over and grunted at the sight of it, "Check this... This... The ceiling, it's beautiful." he said pointing at it.

Robin smiled "Oh, wow." she chuckled moving around to attempt to see it differently.

Robin grunted again swallowing trying to keep her water and popcorn down, Steve did the same as the lights got more intense.

The lights twinkled one last time right as Steve gulped again and Robin put her hand on her stomach, they quickly ran off to the bathroom throwing up all the drugs in their systems.

••••••••

Nancy giggled playing with Erica's braids " we need to figure this out. Nancy. you go find them and we'll come back here and blend in with the other people. the movie is almost over."

Nancy nodded running off "I'll tell you if they died."

She ran out of the theater "I'm gonna find youuuu" Nancy laughed walking over to the stairs and going down the middle part she laughed landing on her knees and running around downstairs.

She felt her stomach get all in knots holding it as she crawled back up the middle part of the stairs groaning.

Nancy could hear voices coming from the bathroom and she walked over still holding her stomach opening the one door leaning against the wall listening to them.

"Have you ever been in love?"

"Yep Nancy Wheeler."

"Are you still in love with Nancy?"

That was the moment Nancy's heart dropped. did he still love her? how was she gonna tell him if he said he didn't love her back?

Nancy teared up before wiping her eyes.

Steve stayed quiet and slid under the stall door to face Robin.

"The floors disgusting."

"Yeah well I already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt so."

Robin looked at him "so?" Steve looked down "So?"

"Are you still in love with her?" Robin asked as Steve looked up "Y- Yeah... Robin I still love her.." Steve answered looking away from her Robin smiled "I knew it." Steve laughed a bit.

"Yeah.. Well it's a bit harder to love her than you think." Steve looked down.

Robin grinned "Yeah I mean Nancy Wheeler. Perfect Pretty Preppy Princess."

That word.

Perfect.

Nancy hated it. it made her feel sick. She hated how people used it to describe her. She was far from perfect.

She could barely think of anything perfect in her life.

She felt like a mess everyday. Just a 'Perfect' mess.

Steve sighed "Crazy."

Robin looked down "Speaking of crazy.." Robin looked down as Steve looked at her "Go on..?"

"Tammy Thompson." Robin looked up at Steve, "Well I mean.. yeah I guess? I don-"

"Steve No...Look... I wanted her to look at me.. but.. She couldn't pull her eyes away from you. And your stupid hair." Robin said looking up at Steve's hair.

"And I didn't understand, because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor. And you asked dumb questions. And you were a douchebag." Robin continued still looking at Steve.

"And, and you didn't even like her and I would go home and just scream into my pillow."

Steve shook his head "But Tammy Thompson's a girl."

"Steve."

"Yeah?"

Robin looked at him blinking away tears trying to get him to understand.

Steve made a face of realization and sighed.

"Oh."

"Oh."

Robin moved her eyes away from him as he leaned back "Holy Shit."

"Yeah."

"Holy Shit."

Holy shit. Nancy thought, That random girl she just thought was Steve's friend. Was a lesbian. Holy shit.

Nancy sighed as right as she did she gagged she quickly threw a hand over her mouth bursting in through the door running in the second stall ignoring Steve and Robin.

Nancy retched as the drugs fell from her mouth, Steve came over to her and held her hair back from her face, throwing up once more Steve rubbed her back in soothing circles.

She coughed a couple times before spitting and flushing the toilet falling back against Steve who was behind her "Hey Nance, Come on." Steve helped her up getting her against the stall wall.

Nancy groaned putting her hands in her head Steve rubbed her shoulder "You alright?" Nancy looked up at him "I still feel like I could throw up any second but yeah." Steve smiled at her.

Robin sat next to Steve nudging him on the arm, Steve looked at her and she winked.

Nancy looked at the two "I heard you through the door." she giggled

Steve sighed "Yeah.. uhm You hear the part about me and you..?? by any chance...?" Nancy looked at him "Yes Steve. I did... What's so great about me.. though? like honestly."

Steve took one of Nancy's hands "Nance.. When I left you at Tina's party.. I.. I felt bad... But Jonathan clearly had it under control.. I thought you moved on just like that." Steve snapped his fingers. "But this year.. When you got involved with all this Russia shit.. I thought I had a chance with you. I.. Nance.. I want you to love me the way I love you." Nancy looked down as tears fell down her face.

"I do love you. What I said was so unnecessary.. I'm really sorry." Nancy said as she bit her bottom lip as more tears fell from her eyes. Steve wiped them with his thumb.

"And what's so great about you?" Steve chuckled "Everything about you. Nance your so perfect. Your eyes, your lips, your stomach, anything. you name it. it's perfect."

Nancy sobbed " I love you.." Steve smiled and got closer to her. "I know you do. I love you too." Steve kissed the top of her head and Nancy smiled.

"But Uhm Robin is it?" Nancy said looking at Robin "Uhm Yeah, yeah hi!" Nancy smiled "Tammy Thompson? Really?" Robin and Steve looked at each other and started laughing while Nancy's face went pale again.

Dustin and Erica storm in the room, the door closing behind them. "Okay." Dustin looked at the three "What the Hell?" Dustin raised his voice.

Nancy looked at Robin and Steve laughing before she threw her head right back over the toilet vomiting up more of the drugs she had been given.

Steve stopped laughing a bit holding Nancy's hair back again, While Robin went over to the sinks fixing her hair and standing next to Erica and Dustin.

Steve helped Nancy clean up when she was finished, held her hand when they were 'blending in with the other people' and helped her through the rest of the night.

Steve and Nancy Together.. Now.. That's..

Perfect.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Three

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Language, More Mind Fuckery.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).

Word Count: ~2.6k

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Dinner that night had been wonderful. You got to catch up with Paul on everything he and Alex had been up to as of late that he couldn’t add to his letters. Your conversation had gone the entire length of the dinner and then even though dessert which the Burgess cook was excited to make since you used to devour his confections at a far from healthy rate. Everything was as delicious as your vague memories would allow you to remember and as you and Paul continued to talk over after-dinner tea, Alex retired upstairs complaining of aching bones. 

“Grandpapa, I’m really worried about him,” You spoke over the rim of your teacup. Your eyes trailed in the direction Alex had disappeared. “In fact, you both are worrying me. Grandpapa Alex... he seems so tormented. Whatever is going on?” 

Paul sighed as he set his teacup back on its saucer. Then he reached for your hand and took it in his grasp, giving you a soft yet strained smile. 

“Oh Darling, I wish I could tell you. I really do, but I’m afraid this is something Alex has been dealing with since he was a boy. Only he can end what bothers him, and only he can tell you.” Paul answered, his face full of strain and regret. Your eyebrows pinched together at Paul’s reaction. He seemed just as worried as you, if not more. But then again, he had been living with Alex nearly his entire life. He had been suffering from worry the most. 

“I only hope he’ll tell me, it worries me so.” You murmured, sipping from your tea cup once more. Paul squeezed your hand once more and you sat through the rest of your tea in silence, both of you worrying about the same man. When Paul ultimately departed from the table to turn in for bed, you remained, having asked Herman for another pot of tea. You weren’t ready to sleep, far from it actually. You felt like you were wired with energy. After a long day of travel, you would have figured that you would be exhausted. But no, you felt like you had drunk a Red Bull. The very blood in your veins hummed.

“Are you alright Miss?” Herman questioned after you had been sitting quietly for a good while. You looked up at him and smiled faintly. 

“Perfectly fine, Herman. I’ll be down here for a while, no need to stay up.” You told him.

“Are you sure, Miss? I’d hate to leave you by yourself at such a time.” You lightly waved off his concern. 

“Oh don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, I think I’ve just had one too many cups of coffee this morning trying to stay awake for my trains.” You told him with a slight chuckle. “I will see you in the morning.”

“Very well,” You watched as Herman lumbered off and then turned your attention back to the large window. Nightfall had long since turned the outside dark and it was hard to see out, but the low lighting in the room gave you just enough of a view to see the trees and fountain. The manor was quite beautiful at dusk when the sun just barely showed over the horizon. But when it descended and nightfall turned to reality, the manor was, well, scary. Paul and Alex had kept the antique decorations, Roderick, your great-grandfather was fond of, and in the dark, they weren’t the nicest of things to look at. Their shadows looked like monsters and shrouded in black, you flinched at every corner you turned. 

Entirely pathetic on your part, monsters didn’t exist and you should very well not jump at every shadow you came across. You weren’t a child anymore and there was no reason to fear the dark, let alone your nightmares. You looked at your nearly empty tea cup. It did you no good trying to fight your fears with words. You pushed back from the table and rose to your feet. Spite filled your heart and gathering your teacup and saucer, you placed it on the tea tray and marched it to the butlers' pantry before heading for the servants' entrance at the back of the kitchen. Exiting the manor, you strode forwards with purpose, briskly walking along the worn stone trail that carved a path around the pond. The solar lanterns softly glowed, giving just enough light for you to see where you were stepping as you walked. 

You had walked this path many a time as a child, so much that you could probably walk it with your eyes closed. But now it seemed foreign, dark, and unnerving. It was hard to believe that your mind had been so desperate to get away from that psychiatric hospital as a child that it had shut out so many memories of this place. Memories you had loved. Or at least you were fairly sure your child self loved. There were still a lot of blanks you needed to fill in your memories. 

“Oh bollocks, what am I doing with my life?” You sighed, coming to a stop on the path. You pushed a hand through your hair and settled your eyes on the lit fountain. The sound of the water bubbling and splashing was pleasant and relaxing. Of course, your nerves still felt quite frayed, but maybe if you took a brief moment to just sit and have your brain realize that it was freaking out for absolutely no reason, perhaps you would feel better. Your eyes glanced around until you spotted the gazebo at the far end of the pond. That will do. 

Your feet carried you over to the flower-framed gazebo and you took a seat on the bench, folding your hands in your lap neatly. A few pheasants were poking around the grounds, their dark forms slowly moving through the even-cut grass methodically. The night was cool and a fine layer of mist was slowly developing across the lawn, it made the solemn grounds a little more eery than they already were. How had child you been enamored with this place when it was so spooky? You were an odd child, clearly, whatever you had been up to here had captured your attention to the point where you must have ignored the frightful aspects. Eyes flittering over the dark water, your vision blurred for a moment. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the blur. When you did, you stiffened in your seat and abruptly jerked yourself to your feet. 

The grounds of Fawny Rig were gone, replaced by an endless world of swirling grey and black, completely devoid of life and color. The cloudy, smokey sky was dotted with an abundance of stars, but they seemed to be robbed of their brightness. Dull and lackluster. The pond, with its gurgling fountain, was replaced with an endless, vast ocean of black water that ever so gently moved. A nearly silent sea. Your eyes dropped to your feet. You were standing on an old wooden dock, and glancing behind you, it disappeared into the smog of black in a curve. Where the bloody hell were you?

Your head snapped back around and you stepped forwards, walking further down the dock. The water was dark and unyielding to what lay beneath and crouching down, you peered closer to try and see through the opaque water. Nothing. It was as black as eternal night and would give nothing to your wants and wishes. Venturing forwards to the end of the dock, you stared at your reflection and wondered if you were hallucinating again. No, not a hallucination. This was a place, a place you knew from your childhood… and yet it felt so foreign, so cold. How could something be so familiar yet entirely foreign and new? It didn’t use to look like this. Why had you thought that? You didn’t know. 

Curiosity nipped at your heels and bending down, you looked at your reflection. Or what least what should have been your reflection. Your heart leaped in your chest and your blood hummed. Glowing silver eyes stared back at you of your dark-haired, silver-blue-eyed devil. His reflection boring into yours far more intense than ever. Reflections never lied, so why were you seeing him and not yourself? Or did these waters reflect the demons your mind had locked away? You reached out with a hand and watched in fascination as the reflection did the same. Your fingers drew near to each other, and while yours trembled, his stayed constant and strong. But before your fingertips made contact, you paused. Hesitated. Warnings were echoing in the back of your head that you should dare not test these waters, that they were dangerous and uncontrollable. You resisted the temptation and pulled back. 

Even as you rose back to your feet, you held that glowing silver gaze, trying not to shiver and show the trembles running up your spine to your limbs. Once more your gaze blurred, but this time you were stumbling backward and nearly falling on your arse. You were standing in the pond!  Somehow in that hallucination, you had walked yourself straight into the water, not feeling the chill of your jeans soaking through. You quickly backtracked, sloshing your way out of the pond and scrambling up the bank until you stood on the worn stone path once more. You felt slightly breathless, looking down at your body. From mid-thigh down you were soaked, your shoes covered in mud and pond scum. How long had you been standing in that pond, staring off into space while caught up in a hallucination?

Rubbing your palms against your unsoaked thighs, you turned towards the path that led back to the manor and started walking at a brisk pace. The chill from the water was quickly setting into your legs and traveling up the rest of your body. You’d better not catch a cold or you would have to explain how you had caught it. Rushing across the grass, you stumbled into the kitchen and locked the heavy door behind you before leaning against the cabinets and removing your soaked shoes and socks. Where were you going to put them so no one asked questions? You made a noise under your breath, realizing that you would probably have to explain it at some point, and decided to put them next to the stove where they would dry out from the morning cooking. 

Skittering across the cold floor, you hurriedly strode through the manor, heading in the direction of the servants' staircase which was closest to your old room. Despite not having visited in so long, your feet carried you through the old building on muscle memory. Just as you passed a heavy, sturdy-looking door your steps faltered and paused. It was drop-dead quiet in the manor, your breathing the only thing your ears picked up. But something had caught your attention. Drawing back a step, you looked at the door and placed your hand on it. The door to the basement. You had passed it hundreds if not thousands of times in your life so far, never once stopping to investigate it. So why had it caught your attention this time? Your fingers curled against the old grainy wood, feeling its curves and ridges. Not original but it certainly looked the part. There was a keypad next to it, showing a red light indicating it was locked. 

Even now, after all these years, the basement was still a guarded secret under lock, key, and guard. What was down there? Your body shivered once more, this time from the cold leeching into your bones. You turned away from the door and hurried on, wanting to change out of your pond-water-laden clothing and into nice warm, dry clothing as soon as possible. You slipped up the stairs and shuffled your way through the servants' door to the lavish upper level. From there you only had to go a few doors down to your old room where Herman had placed your luggage and your moving boxes waiting for you. Closing the door behind you, you wiggled yourself out of your jeans and tossed them aside before reaching for your shirt. As you changed into your pajamas, you took your hair down and ran your fingers through the strands. At least you hadn’t dived into the pond and tracked water all over the manor trying to get back to your room. Since you were still feeling a bit wired, you grabbed a book from your luggage and started reading on the bed, trying to take your mind off that black ocean. 

Deep within the bowels of Fawny Rig, through the basement door and down the steps. Past the iron bars that separated a room from the rest of the house, sat two guards at a heavy metal desk, a clock ticking slowly and methodically. The female guard held a book in hand, reading the lines in boredom while the male absentmindedly read the morning's paper. The clock’s ticking was a white noise both had grown accustomed to hearing. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. It was a never-ending sound that faded into the cold, damp basement never to be given a second thought. Its only purpose was to signal when the guard change would occur, an event that both guards looked forwards to. Their mindless and boring task of guarding a being that never really moved or spoke was menial and inattentive. The being hardly ever moved and never spoke. 

The man changed the page to his newspaper, letting out a heavy sigh as he flared the new page and shifted in his seat. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. One month, that’s all he had to wait before flying off for his vacation in Majorca, Spain. Sun, a nice beach, beautiful woman. A far cry from this dismal dungeon where nothing ever happened. Sighing again, his eyes searched for some article to read to take his mind off his job. Tick. Tick. Tick Tick. Tick Tick— It went dead quiet, the repetitive ticking disappearing into the silence like a crash of thunder. Violently. Both guards straightened up in their seats, peering at the clock. It was stuck at midnight exactly, all three hands perfectly aligned and rigid in movement. 

“Oh don’t tell me the bloody things gone out,” The woman complained, thumping her book down on the metal tabletop and peering closer at the frozen clock. She flickered her nail against the glass, trying to see if it would start ticking again. Nothing. 

“Probably out of battery, just like everything else here,” The man grunted, hardly sparing a glance at the clock. 

“Should we tell Mr. Burgess?”

“Why bother, he said he ain’t comin’ down ‘ere anymore. No point in seein’ to it…” 

While the two argued about what to do about the broken clock and questioned each other on whether or not to tell their employers, the being in the glass sphere, limbs elegantly draped across its prison, listened intently, hearing every word and syllable they spoke. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t shifted, hadn’t even twitched an eyebrow in years, always remaining silent to Alex Burgess’s questions and pleas, bargains, and offers. He hadn’t spoken a word in over a century, not to anyone that came to see him in his glass prison. He was an inhumanely beautiful statue confined by glass and steel, guarded by a magic circle. 

His eyes flickered open.

Date Published: 8/22/22

Last Edit: 4/25/23

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[secretly-a-catamount]

(@ashpkat I finally started working on this again.)

  “I don’t suppose you have a plan to sit through an interview for the Daily Planet, do you, Mr. Hunt?”

  Callum Hunt’s grey eyes flicked to the reporter —  he was right, it was America’s Prodigal Son, their (literal) golden boy Superman, although, of course, in disguise as a regular everyday citizen — and then back to his champagne-filled glass, deciding that after an entire evening of forced social niceties at a gala he hadn’t wanted to host, he, quite frankly, deserved to spit the first rude thing that came to his mind at his . . . he took a long sip of his drink . . . one-sided workplace adversary. “Not from you, Stewart.”

  Aaron, to his credit, simply took the barbed words in stride, pulled out the chair across from Call, and seated himself. His every movement was infuriatingly beautiful and gracefully-inhuman, hell, the man himself was infuriatingly beautiful, he looked perfect, he acted perfect, he was perfect. God, how Call hated him.

  Aaron steepled his fingers together, “Well, I’m the only reporter from the Daily Planet here right now.” He had the audacity to smile. His teeth were as white and straight as he was.

  “So I suppose I just imagined Tamara Rajavi clinging to your arm earlier as you entered the building?” It took Call a moment to find the bronze-skinned woman wearing a camera around her neck and the brightest red dress he’d ever seen. She stood by the punch fountain studying her half-emptied glass as if it where the most interesting thing in the world, although Call thought the behavior had something more to do with fending off the handsy old man she’d just manage to pry away from her body than a genuine interest in crystal glassware.

  “Tamara’s here as a photographer, Jasper called in sick.” Aaron said, following Call’s gaze with his own. His golden brows furrowed.

  “Excuse me,” he got up from the table hastily, leaving his notebook and pen behind. “I have to go . . . help her before she punches someone.”

  He wove through the crowd of people easily, as if it were second nature, as if he had grown up inside the rings of Gotham’s high society instead of on a farm in rural Kansas. Call’s eyes lingered on the other man’s retreating back longer than he wanted to admit, thoughts tumbling through his head, before he forcefully turned his attention back to the table and the champagne in his hand. Call sucked in a hissing breath at the sight of black ink spilling from the pen Aaron had left uncapped, staining the pristine white tablecloth. He grabbed the pen, and then, after a moment of reflection, dragged the notepad over to him as well.

———————————————————————

  When Aaron had finally returned, Tamara Rajavi trailing in his wake, he’d found his pen capped and set in an emptied champagne glass, the cotton tablecloth splattered with dry ink, and a series of paragraphs scribbled across yellowing paper in a tight, looping scrawl. The reporters had mingled some more, gathered their things, and then left, Tamara driving, Aaron studying the handwritten papers.

  “Well,” Tamara said, “at least we know he’s still a dick.” She took a quick swig of her lemonade. “On the clock as a superhero or not.” Lounging on Aaron’s rickety couch, heels discarded, blood-red dress with its plunging necklace exchanged for an old t-shirt and soft shorts, hair unbraided, and eyes halfway closed, she looked very comfortable. Aaron was glad for his friend, even if he wished he could feel some of the same solace.

  “I thought he was remarkably civil.” Aaron responded, posture knife-straight as he typed into his word processor. The dim light blurred across his face in the otherwise dark room.

  “You would.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know, have you looked in a mirror lately? Your Mr.-Goody-Two-Shoes. You like everyone, even when you shouldn’t.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, Superman.” Her words were slurred, sleep dragging her down into its embrace.

[bullet-prooflove]

i was so happy to see that you know write for Bobby Goren! can i ask for something with him and this prompt from your lists: "I wanna get better".

Bobby knows there's something wrong with him, he's known for a while. It started when Nicole Wallace appeared on his radar and has carried on over the last couple of months. He doesn't sleep that much anymore, he's become more focused on his work, he doesn't take the same joy he used to in the little things. You've sensed his change on mood, he's more serious, more surly. It bleeds into eveything he does.

"You're depressed." You tell him when the two of you sit on a car that's colder than the arctic, hands wrapped around a steaming take away cup of coffee.

Its day three of the stakeout and you have had enough of the oppressive silence that spans between the two of you.

He leans back in the driver's seat, his eyes closing for a moment as be takes in this new information.

"Probably." He tells you.

"Definately." You inform him as you open a packet of sugar and deposit it into the coffee, before stirring it. "You let her get under your skin and now you can't shake it."

He tilts his head, his grizzled cheek brushing against the headrest as he looks at you pointedly.

You shrug your shoulders.

"You're a great behaviourist but you're shit at self reflection."

"You think you know me." He remarks, his brow burrowing. "But you don't know a damn thing about what goes on in my head."

"Alright..." you tell him. "When was the last time you went to that park you like? The one with the fountain? Or picked up a book? Before her you were always reading and now it's like she consumes you and that's on you, you're giving her the space to live in your head."

He knows you're right, he knows that he has the predisposition to get obsessive. He never realises it's happening until he's neck deep and starting to suffocate. You talking to him like this. It's giving him a lifeline, identifying the issue before he let's himself drown.

"I want to get better." He confides in you, rubbing his hands together against the frosty chill. "I just can't seem to help myself. Logically I know how to move forward but when it comes down to it..."

He trails off because he knows you get it. Developing healthy behaviours is tough especially when you've fallen out of sync with it. He used to enjoy his own company and now he hates the idea of being alone because it gives him too much time to think.

"Come out with me tomorrow." You offer, taking a sip from your coffee cup. "There's an exhibition on at the Met, the one you were excited about a couple of months ago. I'll even let you explain the intricacies of art in a post modern society."

He laughs and it feels good. It occurs to him it's the first time he's done it in a while and he knows that somehow you've broken the ice that he's been slapping at for weeks.

"Ok." He agrees. "But you have to at least pretend to be interested, you really have to sell it to me."

"I'll work on it." You promise.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you and he realises that he's still smiling, that you always have this way of getting through to him even when his head is a messy place to be.

"Thank you." He says quietly into the darkness of the car.

"I've got you." You tell him softly. "When things get a bit too much, I'm here, I've got you."

[dilf-din]

Safe Place to Land: Part 8

—A Frankie Morales Series—

WC: 2600

Warnings: language, brief mention of alcohol, PTSD mention, themes of grief. I recommend listening to or reading The Great American Game by Levi the Poet if you’d like to explore the conversation of loss and nostalgia a little further.

Chapter 7 // Chapter 9 (coming soon!!)

I’ve got an ache in my chest for every season I miss and it gets worse when the snow starts to fall. There are butterflies alive in that couple’s eyes a few years since forgotten by all, and sometimes, if the phone starts to ring, I can still hear their wings when you call. — Levi McAllister

September 2010

“Where are we going?”

“I told you I’m not telling you.”

“You know I hate surprises,” you pouted from the passenger seat.

“You’ll live,” he smiled, patting your thigh.

When you woke up that morning, Frankie had told you he wanted to take you somewhere, and all he had said was to dress warm. Colorado falls were cold to begin with, so that was a no brainer. Your hair tucked in a thick beanie, your jeans tucked into tall, worn leather boots. You sipped the last of your coffee and set the empty paper cup in the holder. Your head pressed against the window, breath fogging the glass that was like ice against your cheek.

The car drove quietly down a winding road lined with the trees dressed to the nines. Showers of amber, crimson, and pale yellow falling when the wind gusted. Leaves dancing on the black pavement as you blew past them. Frankie pulled off onto a gravel path that inclined up.

“Are we going on a hike?”

“A short one.”

Your brow furrowed, still unsure as to what his surprise could be. The path went on for about a mile you guessed as you bumped along, a small building coming in to view. It was a rest stop for a park. A water fountain sat next to a map of the trails in front of the grey stone building you assumed housed the restrooms. Frankie parked next to the only other vehicle in the gravel lot.

“I’m not gonna tell you,” he said with a smile, hopping out of the driver’s seat.

You rolled your eyes and followed him. He held his hand out to take yours in it and you fell into step with him heading up a dirt path.

“Don’t we need a map?”

“I know where we’re going,” he said casually.

You decided to stop pestering him with questions and enjoy the beautiful woods around you. There was something about autumn that always had a foothold in your heart. You had fond memories of camping with your dad. Early mornings on a freezing lake, not catching any fish, barely sharing any words. Your mind wandered to your first time trick or treating with him. You insisted on being a super hero princess. Your hair bouncing over a poofy dress with a cape on top. His big hand reaching down to hold yours, carrying your plastic pumpkin bucket when it became to heavy for your own little arms. Your gaze fell on the man beside you, his strong jaw and broad shoulders. Visions of him carving pumpkins with your own kids filled your head. A mess of dark curls and pumpkin seeds. You leaned your head against his arm and gave his hand a light squeeze.

“Almost there, princesa,” he announced.

You were a little sad to have your walk cut short, but you gasped as you crested a hill and saw what he had led you up here for. Sitting next to the ranger’s station was a helicopter. A man in a khaki uniform stood out in front of it, face lighting with a smile as he saw your figures come into view.

“Morales! Good to see you,” he said cheerfully clapping Frankie on the back.

“Jim, I can’t thank you enough for this. This is my wife,” he stepped aside so you could shake hands with the ranger.

“I trained his team, and in turn, he’s letting me take you on a little spin,” he said with a wide grin.

You had never flown with Frankie before although you had begged him for years. It wasn’t exactly easy to get your hands on a giant metal bird for civilian purposes. The rangers here used them to look for missing persons, scout for fires, things like that.

“Well you couldn’t have picked a prettier day,” Jim commented. He gestured towards the chopper, “She’s all yours, you don’t need me to show you around.”

Your heart was beating wildly as you followed Frankie, leaves and acorns crunching under your boots. He swung open the door, the sound of metal groaning low dancing away on the wind, and climbed in with ease offering a hand down to you. You took it and stepped up, clinging to his other arm as you got your footing.

He let you take a look around while he got situated in the cockpit. Flipping switches, checking gauges.

“Can you pull the door shut?” he called back to you.

You grabbed the wide handle with both hands and pulled it firmly shut, clicking in place.

“Is that it?” you asked nestling yourself into the copilot’s seat.

“Yep, no fancy locks or anything,” he offered over a headset to you. You pulled it on around your beanie and adjusted the mouthpiece to sit close to your lips. You mirrored his movements strapping yourself in, drawing a deep breath.

“Ready?”

You nodded.

“It’s loud,” he warned flipping the final few switches to bring it humming to life. The whir of the blades shook the craft just a bit as they spun. Fallen leaves in a whirlwind around you outside of the thick glass.

With one move Frankie had lifted you from the ground. You climbed quickly above the maze of trees, warm sun beaming in. You know you should be glued to the window, eyeing the trees and the mountains, the roads winding like threads stitching the landscape together, but your eyes are locked on Frankie. The comfortability and ease he holds doing what he loves to do. His jaw relaxed, his eyes flitting from gauges to the horizon. He catches you with the corner of his gaze, mouth turning up in a grin.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases.

“I’ve seen it before, but somehow it’s prettier from up here,” you cooed.

Flush crept up his neck as he suddenly felt bare in front of you. The only part of himself he’s never been able to share with you before this moment suddenly on full display before your soft eyes.

As hard as you tried to look out the window, you couldn’t tear yourself away from him. It was hard to describe what you were feeling. A mixture of pride swelling in your chest, a sense of awe, reverence. This felt like holy ground to you, him inviting you into a place that had previously belonged to him alone. Frankie felt it too, that unexpected intimacy. He hadn’t intended for this make you both feel like your hearts were in your throats. You spent most of the rest of the ride in silence, dancing above the Rocky Mountains.

He circled back around to bring you to a smooth landing, flipping switches and powering down the copter. Your eyes met each other and you drank in that heavy feeling.

You were the first to break the silence.

“Take me home, Morales,” you whispered.

“Yes ma’am,” he breathed back, his eyes locked on your lips.

“Let’s just order in tonight, whatever you want,” he said pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You were tucked into his side, arms wrapped around his torso, legs tangled under the heavy, grey sheets you had broken out for the colder weather.

“Let’s get wings and try to catch the broncos game,” you smiled up at him.

“Oh so you just want this to be my perfect day?” he said with a dramatic gasp.

“The wings are for me, don’t get it twisted,” you chuckled placing one last kiss to his lips. You kicked off the blankets and grabbed the green and black flannel he had worn today and a pair of black faded sleep shorts. Frankie pulled on sweatpants and a clean tee shirt before making work off collecting the stream of clothes you two had left upon leaving home. The trail led from doorway to doorway, a love letter spelled out in jackets shucked off and pants half unzipped. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Having him safe here with you was never something you were able to take for granted.

He swung his arm over your shoulder and pivoted so you were tucked to his chest.

“What’s up?” he asked softly.

You were flipping his dog tags through your fingers, running them over the bumpy letters.

“I’m just thankful. For you, for today, for our whole life. Thanks for always coming home to me,” you barely whispered.

His arms cinched tighter around you and he buried his face in your neck, “There’s not a thing in this world that could stop me, mi amor.”

December 2010

Frankie bolted up in a cold sweat. He panicked taking in his surroundings, looking for anything to ground him. He twisted his eyes shut and shoved his hands into his face trying to steady his breathing. He felt something wet nudge his hand and he flinched to see Rocky coming into focus. His big brown eyes full of concern.

“Hey, bud,” Frankie whispered wrapping his arms around the dog’s thick neck. “You knew something was up, huh?”

Rocky just stood there leaning into his shoulder for as long as he needed. Frankie willed his breathing to slow down and eventually let go of the hold he had. Rocky gave him a quick lick to the nose and wagged his tail just a little.

“Good boy,” Frankie murmured running his hands over his floppy ears.

The nightmares were sporadic at best. They never seemed to plague him when you were around, but you had school today and he had dozed off on the couch after breakfast. He didn’t want to think about a world where he couldn’t take a nap without his demons getting the best of him. He felt weak and pathetic. So he pulled himself into a quick shower and changed into something warm, pulling out his phone to text you.

Got any lunch plans?

No sir.

You do now :)

Grabbing his keys, Frankie quickly made his way down the steps from your apartment. He figured he’d stop at your favorite deli and pick up a few sandwiches and something sweet to share, pulling into the school parking lot with a time to spare. He stood stationed outside your doorway waiting for the last few minutes of class to tick by. He figured seeing you would settle the last bit of unease he had in his heart. The bell went off overhead causing him to startle, he willed his heartbeat to slow down as a stream of kids filtered out of your classroom. He smiled politely waiting for the last one to exit before sliding in.

“Hi Mrs. Morales,” he sang causing you to turn from your desk. You had on tights, boots, a pencil skirt, and a patterned sweater with little snowmen on it. “Don’t you look pretty.”

“Hi Mr. Morales,” you smiled closing the distance to embrace him. “Your heart is pounding, are you okay? Did Sandra give you a hard time about a visitor’s pass because I emailed her that you were coming today.”

“I’m fine,” he choked out.

You raised an eyebrow at him taking the bags from his hands and laying them on your desk. He pulled a chair up and sat in it backwards, hands gripping tightly to the blue plastic back.

“I just, I’ve been having bad dreams. They usually only happen when I’m deployed, but they’re getting more frequent and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to go to a place I can’t come back from,” he admitted softly, eyes avoiding your gaze.

You reached to take one of his hands to find it trembling.

“Frankie, love,” you started, “Hey, look at me. First off, there’s nothing wrong with you. People who have seen what you’ve seen deal with all kinds of PTSD, anxiety, or worse. Second, thank you for telling me. I’m here to support you however you need. You’ve still got some time before you go back so let’s maybe talk about getting you a therapist or getting you on medication, we’ve got time to try stuff out. It’ll be okay,” you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

His eyes rose to meet yours flooded with relief.

“Thank you for saying we,” he almost whispered.

“I’ve got your back,” you said linking your pinky with his.

“Always.”

Christmas 2010

Christmas Eve rolled around like it did every year. Your mother made an extravagant meal for you and Frankie, and you spent the night sipping bourbon and playing board games. It was one of your favorite nights made even sweeter by Frankie’s presence. He had missed Christmas last year, so you were extra thankful for his presence this time. The time passed too quickly for your liking, hours slipping through your fingers as midnight approached.

“Drive safe,” your mom smiled, placing a kiss on Frankie’s cheek. “Text me when you get home,” she gave your cheek a kiss of its own.

“We will, and thank you for dinner,” Frankie smiled, his arms piled high with Tupperware containers full of leftovers. His cheeks were rosy from the bite of the wind, glowing in the soft porch light of your old home. He was wearing a long, black woolen pea coat, a beanie pulled over his curls, thick gloves, and a peek of a red scarf spilling out of his collar. Snowflakes clung to his lashes. He looked radiant, you couldn’t help but stare at him on the walk to your car.

“What is it, princesa?” he teased.

“I’m just having a good time with you,” you smiled, opening the passenger side door for him to set the containers down carefully. “Can we go for a walk?”

“Sure,” he smiled, holding out his arm for you to wrap yours around.

You walked through the gentle snowfall, eyeing the houses glowing with colorful lights. You leaned your head into his shoulder, thankful for the simplicity of this moment. The streets were quiet, most people fast asleep in anticipation for the coming morning. Just the sound of slush and salt crunching beneath your boots. Huge snowflakes padding the ground around you and sticking to the wool of your coats. Clouds of breath slipping out every time you opened your mouth to speak, ghosts of Christmas present, past, and future slipping out to climb into the atmosphere.

Your chest felt like a chasm the more time that passed, the longer you went on without your dad’s steady presence in your life. You felt him in the snowfall, in the steam rising from your coffee cup in the morning. You heard him in your mother’s laugh and your own irritation when sitting in traffic. You missed him wholly and in fractals all at once. Caught between two worlds, the one with him still in it, and the one you were in now that you longed for him to see.

Frankie could always sense the shift in your mood, spoken or unspoken. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lips cold from the wind.

“He would be proud of you,” he whispered, his mustache ticking the space between your eyebrow and where your thick beanie sat nestled on your head.

You smiled sadly. “He would be proud of you too. You’re a good man, Frankie.”

His heart swelled.

“Let’s get home, princesa,” he whispered turning you back towards the car.

Taglist: @littlenosoul @shinypants13 @mirasantidotes @certifiedhunter @daff0dilfs @bannahrae74 @rav3n-pascal22 @evitamarija @reiya-djarin @wonwoosthetic @djarinsstuff @sotvtaughtmehowtofeel @k-k0129 @casa-boiardi

[luv4fandoms]

One chip challenge with Paul

This just popped into my head as I was eating flaming hot Cheetos lol. In this the vamps can still get affected by spicy stuff (idk if they can in the movies but I'd assume they would be immune to stuff like that)

You watched as Paul emptied the bag into the couch, a carton of milk, a small tub of ice cream, a loaf of bread, two water bottles, and lastly...Two one chip challenge packages.

"Ok who's up for the challenge?!" Paul asked, hands on hips as he looked at the group. David simply rolled his eyes, Dwayne went back to what he had been doing prior, hell even Marko noped out, which shocked both you and Paul cause you both figured Marko would be up for the challenge.

"Awe come on! It'll be fun!" Paul tried to convince someone. You both looked around the group once more but still no one stepped up.

"y'all are no fun" Paul pouted, turning to put the stuff away. You knew you would regret this later, after all, you were only human and surely that meant your stomach wasn't as tough as his but...You hated seeing him sad.

"I'll do it" you spoke while standing from your spot on the fountain edge, Paul spun around quickly, a huge smile on his face.

"Y/N" David warned, he knew you were putting your body at risk just for Paul's entertainment...but he also knew that Paul had you wrapped around his finger, everyone knew...Except Paul.

"I'll be fine" you replied, grabbing one of the boxes and sitting down on the couch.

"come on, let's get this hell over with" you sighed, watching as Paul put everything on the floor and joined you on the couch, ripping into his own box and pulling out the blue chip, the smell was already burning your nose and you knew this was gonna suck so much.

"you so owe me" you laughed before tapping your chips together.

"bottoms up" he grinned before both of you shoved the chips in your mouths. Instantly your brain wanted you to spit it out, the intense heat sparking every pain receptor you had as it seared into your tongue, you chewed quickly, even if that seemed to make it worse. By now Marko was laughing while David and Dwayne just shook their heads. You could already feel your nose begin to run and your eye water as the spice hit your stomach, the lurching feeling already starting as well, your stomach acid not agreeing with the chip. Paul though, didn't look any better as he hissed through his teeth, leg bouncing as he tried to fight off the pain. You tried to focus on anything but the pain that was eating you alive, the cave walls, every piece of art that Marko had made that hung against the old wallpaper, the odd trinkets the boys brought home. By now Paul was leaning heavily against the back of the couch eyes closed and both legs bouncing as he tried to fight off the pain, a groan coming from him as he rubbed his face with his clean hand. You wiped your eyes on your jacket, sweat dripping down your neck and forehead, time seeming to drag on as you sat in agony. God you wanted this to be over, why did you have to do this? Why did you seem to always find yourself in these stupid situations just to appease him?...oh...right...love makes you do stupid shit.

"FUCK I CAN'T!" You heard him yell before watching as he dove for the milk, knowing it was over now you ran and quickly opened the bread, shoving a couple pieces towards him before biting into one yourself.

"Milk only coats the tongue, this will help absorb it off" you told him, watching as he nodded before stuffing the bread in his mouth, sighing a bit as the heat began to ebb. You ate your pieces before taking a quick sip of milk, then moving onto a water bottle. Sitting down on the couch again you sighed out as the pain began to subside.

"I honestly didn't think you'd hold on that long" Marko laughed while handing you a paper towel to wipe your eyes and nose.

"I didn't think I would either, I mean I like spicy stuff but holy fuck I'm never doing that again" you told him, sniffling as you finished off your water. You felt the couch dip beside you, this time much closer. Looking over you noticed Paul with the tub of ice cream, and watched as he ate a giant spoonful before holding the now empty spoon out to you. Shaking your head with a laugh you took it and grabbed a spoonful yourself, the coolness providing relief to your burning lips.

"Well that was fun" he laughed.

"Oh my God" you groaned, handing him the spoon again.

"Fun isn't what I'd call that" you laughed.

"Awe I'd like to think that was a fun bonding experience" he spoke around a mouthful of ice cream.

"One" you started, reaching under his chin to close his mouth.

"And two, I'm never doing anything stupid like that again" you state, even though both of you knew it was a lie, you knew you'd do stupid shit with him if it made him smile, and he...well he thought you just had a daredevil streak.

"I'm sure I can persuade you" he smiled, causing you to just roll your eyes, though a grin tugged on your lips.

"So...you won" he stated after a moment.

"Not by much, I was about to give up" you laughed.

"Awe don't tell me that! I don't wanna think that if I would have just held on" he pouted.

"Sorry Paulie"

"Eh it's ok...But I am wondering...Do I get a runner up prize?"

"There were only two of us" you laughed.

"So! I tried my best, that's gotta count for something right?" He asked, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Come on Y/N" he spoke, and you knew looking down into those eyes was a bad idea but you did it anyways and...yup...bad idea.

"Fine" you sighed

"what do you want?"

"A kiss" his quick reply caused your brain to short circuit for a moment...surely he hadn't said what you thought he just said. But looking around the room you noticed the shit eating grins on the other's faces and yup...yup he said that.

"A-A kiss?" You confirmed, watching as he lifted his head, getting on eye level with you.

"Just one" he smiled.

"Um...O-Ok sure" you spoke, hating yourself for stuttering, though you were sure he could hear your heart racing, hell you knew they all could. You watched as he started to lean in, your eyes closing on their own before you felt the cold chill of his lips on yours, the feeling better than the coolness of the ice cream, though now they burned for a different reason. But just as you began to lose yourself in the sensation, you felt him begin to pull back, your lips chasing his for a moment before your eyes slowly opened, being met with a shit eating grin...Oh you were so fucked.

Hope everyone enjoyed! For time ever writing for any of the lost boys lol