#strong bad e mail

[homestarrunner]

[thewisemankey]

"It's such a lovely gathering of pies and pie people… Like to give a shout-out to Lemon Pretend over there…"

[jobean12-blog]

The Fine Print

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (CEO!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 4,126

Summary: You've been working under Bucky for almost a year and he's always been a grumpy ass and even though when the lines get blurred you can't seem to stay away.

Author's Note: These new pics and all the new gym shots and vids and yum! Just being fed so well! I like the idea of a grumpy CEO who just wants you and he's mad about it. No excuse for being a dick but he's not really all bad. And anyway, I'd never tell him no...haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy for the lovely divider @firefly-graphics😘

Warnings: Grumpy ass Bucky (he's a total ass sometimes but has moments of softness), sassy reader, lots of tension, flirting, curses, fingering, light dirty talk

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’re late. Only twenty minutes but it’s long enough that your grumpy ass of a boss will have your head for it.

Grumpy…and an ass but entirely too gorgeous.

You pick up the pace, precariously balancing your files and bags and hoping you don’t faceplant on the newly shined floors.

Getting a flat tire on the highway this morning wasn’t on your long to-do list for today, but it still happened and now you’ll have to deal with a very cranky Mr. Barnes.

You round the corner and enter your office, ready to give your usual sunshine filled greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”

He’s standing at your desk, arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes hard.

“Is it a good morning?” he asks, not bothering to move out of the way as you try to slip around him. “What time is it?”

You stop and meet his glare.

“I had some car trouble this morning. I got a flat on my way in.”

Your voice comes out steady and strong and relief floods through you. This was the first time you were late, and you were not going to be reprimanded.

“Trouble is quite the fitting word for what I’ve been dealing with in your absence.”

You glance up at him and his antagonizing stare, and blink away your surprise at his words.

“I would have thought you would at least ask me if I was ok Mr. Barnes,” you say sweetly and with a smile. “After all, how could I possibly manage to fix a flat tire all on my own.”  

His jaw clenches tightly.

“Obviously you managed,” he counters. “And you look just fine.”

Beautiful blue eyes wander languidly down your body before making their slow perusal back up to study your face.

You try to school your features and when he raises an expectant brow you bite back with, “Thankfully I am fine, and I got help but I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the burden of picking up a telephone and sending an e-mail all on your own this morning. It won’t happen again.”

He takes a step closer to you and you stop yourself from swaying forward to get a hint of his scent.

Traitorous body. If only the fucker wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he replies with a smug smile. “And just so you don’t forget, I’d like to see…”

He spends the next minute rattling off several project pieces he’d like to see completed and on his desk by the end of the day.

“And then you can make up the half an hour you missed by getting together a mock presentation for our meeting tomorrow.”

When your nostrils flare, he smiles triumphantly and dips his head, so his warm breath caresses the shell of your ear.

“I’ll see you in the conference room at six.”

He turns away and slams his office door behind him and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“It was only twenty minutes asshole.”

You mutter the words under your breath as you plop into your office chair and continue to curse his name in grumbles.

There’s a light knock on the door before it opens and you know you’re about to hear the voice of your friend and coworker, Jess.

“I know you’re working through lunch,” she says. “So at least let me get you something.”

You don’t look up but smile nonetheless, your fingers flying over the keyboard with ease.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I have time to eat,” you say before hitting the period button hard and meeting her eyes.

Jess gives you a sympathetic look. “I’ll grab you something nutritious.”

She waves before gently shutting the door. You lean over to check your desk drawer for snacks, the mention of lunch reminding you that you are in fact, hungry. At the same time that you see you have nothing to eat you notice a tear in your stockings.

“Son of a bitch,” you grumble. “I just bought these.”

Less than a minute later your door opens again and without looking up from your screen you whine, “do you know what, after the morning I’ve had I think I’ll take something sweet…maybe a cookie. Or twelve. Or chocolate of any kind.”

When you receive no acknowledgement, in return you glance up and see that Jess is not standing at your door.

You quickly tug the hem of your skirt down, noting how Bucky’s eyes track the movement and linger on your legs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t realize…”

“Since your morning has been so awful,” he starts, his sly smile growing, “why don’t you run down to the café and pick us both up some lunch.”

Your lips purse and once again his eyes seem glued to every action you take.

“Mr. Barnes, Jess has just come in and said she would grab me something to eat so I can continue working through lunch.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“I have A LOT to get done.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” he says before rattling off his lunch order.

He turns on his heel and takes two long strides back to his office, pulling the door closed hard behind him.

“What the f…?”

You don’t even finish the sentence when he opens the door again and pokes his head out.

“Make sure you get yourself something to eat. We’re going to be here late.”

The door slams shut again, and you abruptly stand, your rolling chair flying back into the wall as you storm off.

“Why does he care if I eat or not?” you ask yourself as you angrily stuff things into your bag and throw it over your shoulder.

The rest of the day goes by far too quickly and you find yourself cursing out the copy machine as you wait for the rest of your papers to go through. Checking your phone you see you’re already almost ten minutes late to your afterhours ‘meeting.’

You rush down the dim hall of the now empty building, your presentation materials clutched tightly to your chest and glance again at your phone.

Fifteen minutes. Shit.

As you near the conference room, you try to calm your breathing and slow to a walk. A soft light shines from under the door, and you know he’s in there waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath you knock.

“Come in.”

You walk into the large room, never failing to take in the view of the city that the floor to ceiling windows along one wall highlight.

At the head of the large dark wood conference table, sits Bucky. His suit jacket is hanging haphazardly over the back of his chair, his tie is loose around his neck, and the crisp white sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes. The copy machine…”

Realizing you’ve been apologizing all day, and it has made no difference, you stop yourself and lift your chin, walking over to where he sits and placing down your papers, sorting through them as quickly as possible so you can begin.

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asks.

His question takes you completely by surprise and you meet his piercing blue eyes with a confused expression.

“I uh…I had lunch.”

“That doesn’t answer my question sweetheart.”

At his sugared endearment, your eyes widen, and your breath catches in your throat, but you regain your composure.

“No. I haven’t.”

He just nods and gestures to the papers, clearly waiting for you to get started.

You lean over the table, searching for the paper you need and in your disheveled state don’t realize your entire lower body is practically draped over him.

“I just need to find…”

The words catch in your throat when you feel his fingers softly touch your thigh, slowly inching higher to reveal the tear in your stocking. His fingertips trace the sheared fabric and press against your skin, igniting it with heat.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart pounds in your chest and your brain screams at you to push him away but you don’t dare move.

“Look at me,” he demands, pressing his fingertips harder into your skin.

You straighten and turn to face him, his hand sliding up and over the curve of your hip to settle on your waist.

“Mr. Barnes?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on his.

“James. Call me James.”

The intensity of his stare makes your breath catch and when he doesn’t answer and instead continues letting his hand trace your curves you battle with your emotions.

“The next time you have car trouble,” and his hand slips under your skirt again, “you call me.”

“What? Why would I?”

His fingertips graze the lace top of your stocking before he lifts your skirt higher and drops his eyes between your legs.

“Because I said so,” he murmurs, teasing along your inner thigh.

Your hand falls to the table to steady yourself and you willingly spread your legs open when he gives them a slight push.

“That’s hardly a good reason,” you breathe out.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his eyes fall closed.

You glance down at his lap and see him straining against the expensive fabric of his pants.

He smooths two fingers along the line of your panties, lightly pressing against your swollen and sensitive clit. His eyes open and he looks furious, fisting the thin material in his hand and in one quick movement, tearing it off.

He pulls you down roughly onto his lap, your skirt riding up over your hips to accommodate the wide spread of your legs as you straddle him.

An involuntary moan slips past your parted lips when he grabs your ass and drags you down over his hard cock.

When he opens his mouth to speak you grab his tie between your fingers and use it to pull his mouth to yours. Every sweep of his lips is heaven, and you release his tie to rake your fingers through his hair.

He makes a low, angry noise deep in his throat and you trail your lips along his jaw, kissing your way down the strong column of his neck.

His hand slides from your ass and slips between your legs, his fingers brushing through the wetness just before there’s a knock on the door.

You both go completely still and wait. When a second knock sounds, he quietly curses and gently lifts you off his lap.

You quickly pull your skirt down and smooth your hands over your hips. He watches your every move as he runs a hand through his mussed hair and sits up in the chair, hiding his legs and erection under the table.

“What?” he growls, loud enough for whomever is on the other side to hear.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re scheduled to do maintenance in here tonight.”

He curses again and continues to stare at you.

“I’m just finishing a meeting. Give me five minutes.”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” the maintenance manager, says, “take your time.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he splays his hands out over the tabletop. Hastily he stands and tries to straighten his tie, his eyes landing on your ripped panties that lie on the floor.

He grabs them and rubs the silky fabric between his fingers.

“Make sure you eat something,” he says and then shrugs on his suit jacket, tucking your panties into the breast pocket.

You’re clutching the table and staring as he grabs his briefcase and starts toward the door.

“It’s late. I’m going to have security walk you to your car,” he states, finally meeting your eyes.

His groan is pained as his gaze travels down your body and then he disappears out the door.

You fall back into a chair and try to calm your breathing. You’d have to be out of here in a minute and you didn’t want to look suspicious. Seeing movement outside the door you begin gathering your things and stand on still shaky legs.

With a deep inhale you straighten your shoulders and walk out the door with a serene smile, greeting the head of security and thanking him for escorting you out.

What the fuck just happened?

The next morning you’re making your way into the office when he walks in. You do nothing more than greet him with a curt nod, giving him a wide berth of space as you make your way to your desk.

You can feel his eyes on you, the lick of heat traveling down your spine. You’re wearing your favorite dress and while it’s appropriate for the workspace it accentuates all the right spots, and you smile to yourself as you bend down to retrieve something from your desk drawer.

Regardless of what transpired last night you are not going to let it affect your work. You felt powerful and confident in this dress and Mr. Barnes can fuck off.

You peek over your shoulder to find him standing halfway in the doorway of his office and staring. You raise your brows and blink.

He clears his throat and mumbles a short “good morning,” then steps into his office and slams the door.

You roll your eyes and promise yourself he’ll be the last thing on your mind as you set out to get as much work done today as possible.

As lunch approaches you grab your bag and reach for your wallet. Your fingers close around a crumpled piece of paper, and you start to smile when you’re reminded of what it is.

You knock on his office door and saunter inside when he says, “come in.” The receipt hits his desk with a smack and without an explanation you turn and walk back out.

You almost make it to the first step in the stairwell when you hear footsteps approach behind you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re running off to?” he calls.

You continue walking and make it down one flight of steps before saying, “to get lunch.”

He meets you on the landing and clutches your elbow, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall.

Your eyes narrow contemptuously.

He whips the receipt out and in front of your face. “Want to explain this sweetheart?”

You let out a wry chuckle. “You know for such a smart guy you really are an ass sometimes. It’s a receipt.”

“I can see that,” he says through clenched teeth. “What I want to know is why you’re making purchases for…lingerie…on my company credit card.”

“Some jerk ripped up my favorite pair of panties last night.”

You shrug your shoulders and try to skirt past him.

His hand meets the wall next to your head, his fingers curling and crumpling the receipt and you can feel how tightly the muscles in his body are flexed when he presses closer.

He looks tormented for the split second before his lips crash down on yours and your treacherous body melts into the kiss.

His cock throbs against your stomach as he tries to hike your dress up over your thighs. Reluctantly he steps back, making enough space so he can slowly slide your dress higher, above your panties and look his fill.

“I like this pair even more than last nights,” he simpers.

His fingers hook into the lace at your hip, and you grab his shirt. “Don’t you dare Barnes.”   

“You can buy as many new pairs as you want.”

He once again easily tears them from your hips.

Your lips part in shock but he swallows your sassy remark with his mouth. The roughness of his kiss is a sharp contrast to the way his fingers softly tease between your legs.

You need more but you’ll be damned if you’re going to beg him for it. As if he can read your inner thoughts, his eyes light up in triumph when he pulls away to meet your gaze.

“As much as I want to hear you beg me for it sweetheart, I already know how badly you want it. You’re soaked for me.”

“You’re such an ass…”

He slides a finger inside you and your combined groans echo in the empty stairwell, the insult dying on your lips.

His stare is intense as he dips his head to your ear, warm lips brushing ever so gently when he whispers, “say please and I’ll give you what you want.”

Instead, you nip at his jaw, stifling the moan of need that threatens to rise in your throat. He continues pumping one finger in and out, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and his teeth gritted.

You hiss out a curse that’s followed by a breathy “please.”

You’re expecting him to be smug but instead he slows his movements and languidly pushes a second finger inside you, clearly relishing the way your eyelids flutter closed and you clench around him.

“That’s it sweetheart. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers.”

His words practically send you over the edge but it’s the press of his thumb to your clit that makes your legs start to shake and his name fall from your lips like a prayer.

When his head falls to your neck and he places soft kisses along your skin, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “come for me gorgeous,” you let go and dig your fingernails into his strong shoulders, finishing with a muffled cry.

He draws out your pleasure with the slow push and pull of his fingers before sliding them out and holding them between you, his skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

His fingers press to his lips, parting them as he licks them clean, clearly savoring every drop of your taste.

“I knew you’d be sweet,” he croons.

“James,” you whimper when your hands fall to his pants.

He grabs your wrist to stop you and pushes your hand away. With soft movements he fixes your dress, smoothing his hands along your curves.

“But…” you start, and he silences you with a kiss.

You’re breathless and your head is fuzzy by the time he pulls away and with a wink he steps back and says, “lunch is over. We have a meeting to attend.”

He turns on his heel and jogs back up the steps with ease. Your narrowed eyes follow him before you let out a frustrated huff and walk on wobbly legs in the same direction.

You had forgotten all about the meeting…the one you were supposed to go over the plans for the night before.

When you walk into the large conference room everyone is already seated and Bucky is of course at the head of the table. His eyes are trained on you as you walk to the front and place your things down near him.

The presentation you’re giving shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but there’s a lot riding on it and after what just happened, you’re obviously feeling flustered.

You open your document and greet and address the room, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on where it belongs and not on him.

But when you pause your eyes lock with his and your ability to speak is momentarily stolen. His gaze is intense, the heat simmering there almost palpable.

With a clear of your throat you continue, fumbling slightly but thankfully recovering quick enough that no one seems to notice. No one but him.

His perfect lips raise in a lopsided grin, and he runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. It’s clear where his thoughts are, and you must tear your eyes away to unscramble your head. He’s obviously trying to fluster you and quickly your nerves are replaced with anger, and you use it to fuel the rest of your presentation, finishing it with ease.

You sit with a smile and lift your chin, challenging him with your eyes. He stares right back.

“Thank you,” he says, addressing you by your first name as he stands and commands the room. “That was an excellent presentation. Clearly, you were well prepared.”

You can’t tell if his words are mocking or meaningful and it sets you on edge. He moves around the room and answers any lingering questions before ending the meeting with a dismissive hand.

As people stand and gather their things, Bucky comes up behind you, pressing his chest close to your back as he leans in to pretend to grab something from the table.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it thought that” he chuckles.

To everyone else it appears he’s making a funny remark, but you can feel your skin heat at his proximity and taunting words.

“Ugh,” you say through gritted teeth. “You would have loved that wouldn’t you?”

You can feel your eyes fill with unshed tears, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you and when his gaze finds yours his expression morphs from haughty to soft in an instant.

It only sends you reeling again, the confusion flooding through you and before he can say more you gather your things and rush out the door. Unexpectedly, he’s hot on your heels all the way to the elevator.

There are several other people on it so when you stop at the next floor and more employees file in, you’re squeezed toward the back, pushed farther into him, your ass against his crotch.

He’s hard and you feel the rest of him stiffen with the sharp intake of his breath. You take a step away from him, as much as you can in the confined space, but he reaches forward and grips your hip to pull you back.

“Don’t move,” he whispers into your neck.

“I’m two seconds away from shoving my heel up your ass,” you seethe.

He leans even closer, keeping a firm grasp on your hip.

“You were deliberately trying to make me fuck that up!”

You turn your head to peer at him and his mouth falls open, brows furrowed.

“What?” he says.

“You heard me.”

When you reach the floor just before the top, everyone else exits the elevator and the doors close, leaving you both pressed together in the corner.

It starts to move again, and you jerk backward, falling against him as he leans into the wall.

His sudden growl startles you and then he slams his hand into the stop button on the control panel.

His body cages you against the wall and his breathing is harsh.

“I would never want you to fuck anything up,” he exhales. “It’s impossible for me to think about anything but you…how good you taste, and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you.”

You hide your surprise at his confession.

“Yet.” He adds in a promised whisper.

“This is my career at stake Mr. Barnes. You’re the one with all the power here. What do you have to lose?”

“Me? All the power?” He laughs dryly. “You’re the one who does this to me…the only one.”

You feel him throb against your stomach and you can see the truth in his eyes.

“Then don’t be such a dick all the time.”

You mean the words to come out harsh but instead they’re a quiet whisper and your expression softens.

It’s all he needs before his lips crash to yours and he slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing his way to the hem of your dress.

“I had to sit there and watch you present, the whole fucking time knowing you had nothing on under here.”

His touch is delicate as he spreads your legs and slides a finger through your folds, already wet and aching.

“I was sitting there hard as a rock just thinking about bending you over that table, tasting you, fucking you.”

Your fingers close around his biceps, the soft fabric of his suit jacket bulging under the strained muscles.

“Is that what you want?” he asks as his fingers continue to tease you.

“Yes,” you answer as you grab hold of his tie and bring his lips closer.

He kisses you, never touching you where you need it most and when he pulls away, he presses the elevator button, causing it to start moving again.

He removes his fingers and reaches up to straighten his tie and when the doors open, he backs out, his voice low and deep when he says, “I need to see you in my office. Immediately.”

He turns and glides from the elevator, his long strides carrying him quickly toward his office and you can’t do anything but follow.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @goldylions @lizette50

[yuujispinkhair]

cant stop thinking about sukuna treating me so good while on my period…. 🤭🤭

Awww your boyfriend Kuna will make sure you feel better ♥️

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + some mentions of smut Word count: 500 Warnings: 18+, reader is menstruating, small mention of blood, period sex if you want (only as an option), making out. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Modern boyfie!Sukuna cannot stand the thought of having no control over this thing that causes you pain and puts you through an emotional rollercoaster every damn month. He is so worried when he sees you burst into tears over the smallest things. The only tears he wants to see on you are those of joy when he says something sweet to you or brings you roses or when he has you on his cock, and the tears spill over because it feels so good. It is unacceptable that your period makes you feel so bad!

And so your boyfie Sukuna does anything he can to make you as comfortable as possible. You are his princess, so you will also get treated like one!

"Why are you getting ready for work? Come on, princess, stop doing all that shit and lie down!"

"But I have so much to do, Kuna!"

"No, you aren't going anywhere today. Fuck work! I will write an e-mail to them saying you are sick!"

You have to admit that he is pretty cute when he is so indignant. And it makes you feel so loved to see this protective side of Sukuna. You aren't immune to the warmth spreading through you when you see the unveiled worry in his maroon eyes. And those strong tattooed arms wrapping around you and hugging you to Sukuna's tall and very warm and comfy body are very convincing, too.

Of course, you stay at home. You slip out of your work clothes and put your sweatpants on again, smiling when Sukuna hands you one of his comfy hoodies.

He makes sure you take painkillers and that you rest on the bed. And Sukuna is right next to you. One of his large hands is on your tummy the whole time, rubbing soothing circles on it.

He picks your fave show to re-watch with you and brings you sweets and cooks for you. He is so caring that you can't help but fall even more in love with him. Especially when you see his boyish grin when he is like,

"See? It was a good idea to stay home and let me look after you. Sukuna 1, stupid period 0."

And then Sukuna kisses your neck, being a tease once again, running his pierced tongue slowly over your sensitive skin, licking you, kissing you, sucking on your pulse point until he has you squirming needily and your hand lands in his soft pink hair to pull him into a deep kiss.

A long makeout session with Sukuna is the perfect way to forget about your cramps. His tall, muscular body lies half on top of you, warm and comforting. And his tongue in your mouth feels so good that it makes your head spin.

And if you need more, Sukuna is very willing to give it to you. He isn't squeamish about the blood or about periods in general. If his princess feels better with his cock in her aching pussy, he will make sure to have you on his cock for hours, trying to fuck your pain away.

But whether you want sex or not, what Sukuna will definitely provide to you are cuddles. He is softer than usual, sweeter. Holds you even tighter than on other occasions, snuggling against you like the world's biggest heating pad. Your back is pressed to his chest while Sukuna's muscular tattooed arms are wrapped around you, one hand rubbing your belly and the other holding yours, making you feel warm and taken care of.

You can't stop smiling when Sukuna murmurs sweet nothings in your ear. That sexy, low voice laced with so much affection. There is still some of his usual teasing, but always followed up by a sweet "I love you, princess." Not wanting to risk another emotional outburst and instead just make you feel loved and taken care of.

I hope this could make you feel better if you are on your period atm <3<3 Kuna being so adamant about making you feel better and "win" against this menstruation thing is so funny to me aahahhaa I love him so much!!

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments would be very sweet <3

[thewisemankey]

Most of these and then some will just about do it. XD

Here's a compilation of scenes from Homestar Runner that changed my dialect

[linos-luna]

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨!

𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑘, 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑐 𝑜𝑓 𝑺𝒐𝒐𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒆𝒔, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑜 𝑜𝑛. 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑐 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒? 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒.

𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡.

𝐾𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑃𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑙. 💚💛❤

(I can't believe that I'm writing this like an e-mail Haha)

Lol. It’s cute actually ☺️

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Your Bunny 🔪

Yandere!Soobin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: obsession, Yandere. Stalking

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You kept the window open at night. A small breeze would come in, a great feeling for summer nights. You lay peacefully on your back, the covers not even over you as you slept. Actually, there was still some eyeliner and mascara on you as well. You unexpectedly fell asleep while reading.

As you slept, you dreamed of meeting up with your boyfriend tomorrow. You loved him, really, but he could be a bit much at times. You’ve been debating whether or not to break up with him for a while now and that conflict made it to your dreams.

What you didn’t know was that he was here. Soobin took advantage of the open window and climbed in with ease. He sat next to you and stroked your hair. Soobin loved watching you sleep.

“We’re done……. No soobin…” you muttered in your sleep while shaking your head.

Your boyfriend raised a brow as he heard you.

“Stop… it’s… over…”

Soobin couldn’t help himself. Were you planning to break up with him?! Is that what the meeting was about for tomorrow??

“You’re breaking up with me?!!” He yelled suddenly, shaking you awake. You shrieked when seeing him. You quickly sat up while in a panic. Soobin was holding onto you by your shoulders.

“Soobin, what are you doing here?!” You yelled.

“You wanna break up with me?!” He completely ignored your question and kept shaking you. “How could you?! You can’t break up with me!! You can’t!”

“Baby—”

“I can’t live without you, noona!” He interrupted.

“Soobin… how long have you been watching me sleep?” You were asking about this night specifically but his answer scared you even more.

“Every night, noona.” He responded, “you’re just so pretty when you sleep.”

“Soobin!”

“I can’t help it!” He pouted. “I need to see you!”

“You see me almost every day!” You sighed while getting up. “Please leave… we’ll talk tomorrow…”

“No!” He got up and ran to you. “You’re gonna break up with me!”

“Baby—”

“You can’t do that!” He interrupted while grabbing your arm.

“Soobin… you—”

“Please noona! Don’t leave me!” He said with some tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m your bunny! I can’t live without you!”

You couldn’t help feeling bad for him. Yeah he was obsessive but he was also very loving. He treated you like a queen. You love him. But how much more could you handle?

“Ok… I’m not leaving you…” you sighed. “But can you please not watch me at night? It’s creepy.”

“Yeah ok! Anything you want!” He replied quickly while grabbing your hand.

“Alright. Go home baby… I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

“Can I sleep here?” He asks with a pout.

“No, baby… I need some space to think right now.”

“What kind of space?!” He blurted out. “Why would you need space from me??”

You didn’t know what to say at this point and you laid down, patting the spot next to you on the bed.

Soobin gleefully laid next to you and kissed your cheek. He put his arms around you and held you tight.

“Soobin… it’s hot…”

“I thought I was your bunny!” He yelled.

“Yes… bunny! But it’s hot!”

“Nice try, noona. You’re not getting away that fast.” He giggled while hugging you tighter.

He must’ve been really tired because he fell asleep fairly quick. Although he still held on tight. It was hot but he was too strong for you to struggle. There was nothing you could really do…

[spiralinghours]

“Personal Assistant” pt 2

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairings: Mark Hoffman x reader (afab)

Rating: PG-13 (? for this part anyway)

Tags: switchy dynamics, pet names, brat behavior, light daddy kink

Summary: More indulgent drabbling about Hoffman’s secretary being a pain in his ass.

Author’s notes: By “switchy” I mean Hoffman likes to play boss but he also acts simpy and “Anything for you, baby”… And the secretary/reader is very “Yes sir” with him, but takes pleasure in lightly manipulating Hoffman into letting her do what she wants, no matter how much it annoys him.

Pretty much just entertaining myself with these at this point.

Probably has spelling errors, whatever.

“I told you, Hoffy, my computer isn’t working. I gotta finish checking my e-mail. It’s part of my job, isn’t it?” You kicked your heels around giddily, stiletto stems nowhere close to reaching the ground. The wiggling little movements elicited a grunt from the hulking frame under you, hunkered down on his hands and knees. Somehow you had sweet-talked your way into using your boss as a chair. Just for a quick moment, of course.

“‘Hoffy’,” he scoffed in a near whisper. “You mean ‘sir’, don’t you, baby?”

You were feeling particularly bold today—particularly obstinate. But it wasn’t with any ill intent. You were just playing around. And he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t find your small bratty streaks somewhat endearing.

“Maaaaaaybe,” you mocked, biting out the tip of your tongue.

Hoffman turned his head up enough to see the face you were making, grunting with more frustration a second time. “That’s enough, honey. Daddy’s back hurts. You can finish checking your e-mails later.”

“But I’m sooooo comfortable,” you giggled, crossing your arms. You were laying the brattiness on thick. “You’re so sturdy, Hoffy. So cushy too.”

You had become so wrapped up in your own diabolical glee that the sudden drop jarred you severely.

Hoffman was now standing, hovering above you as he reached down to scoop you up by the waist. In a swift procession, he had pulled his office chair under him and draped you over one of his knees, making the whole act seem effortless. He was a strong bull indeed.

“You’ve been particularly irritating today, sweetheart,” he started through gritted teeth. While still dopey and soft, a warning intensity cut through his glare. “Are you trying to make things difficult? Are you trying to get in trouble?”

“N-no, Hoffy.”

SPANK!

He clicked his tongue. “Now, now. I know you only call me that when you’re trying to get on my bad side. You trying to be a little shit to Daddy?”

You shook your head, fully lying. A tiny smirk couldn’t help but crack through. You loved taking the piss out of him, draining the smugness out of his expression.

SPANK!

“Out loud, babydoll. Talk to me.”

“Yes, sir,” you giggled, though voice a little hesitant and reserved. The throbbing sting on your ass was an indication to cool it. But you wouldn’t.

At this point, your velvety black pencil skirt had been raked up to your lower back, revealing strappy, complicated garters running over seamless, pink panties. And, of course, a reddening behind.

“Oh, so you’re actually going to be honest with me now, huh sweetheart? Well, that’s very kind. But you were kinda pushing your luck, weren’t you? You can always use Daddy as your teddy bear—I’ll be whatever you want. But when I tell you to stop and you don’t? It’s not very nice, is it?”

There was that almost fatherly tone of disappointment. It tore you up a little. And also riled you up.

SPANK!

“Hoffman!” There was a hollow voice ringing at the closed door accompanied by rapid knocking. It sounded like Fisk.

Hoffman hurriedly slid you off his lap, at which point you slithered underneath his desk. You took in the view of his shiny black shoes and the way his rounded lower belly pressed into the edge of the desk.

Fisk had already entered, his conversation with Hoffman muffled and uninteresting above the wood surface you hid under. It seemed like mundane trial scheduling was the topic of discussion, so you decided to entertain yourself.

You lifted your chin past the edge of the rolling chair, reaching your teeth to graze Hoffman’s thick side. Even though your bite through his shirt fabric was tender enough, you felt how he jolted, immediately slinking a hand down to swat your face away. It was funny how you could hear the brief shift in his breath, but he managed to keep cool—voice low and dull as ever.

The footsteps at the front of the desk abruptly trailed out, door clicking behind. Uh oh, you were definitely in trouble now.

“Think you’re funny huh?” Hoffman’s eyes looked down with those unamused lowered lids. “I dunno what would be worse: more spanks or me canceling dinner tonight… But now that I think about it...”

“Don’t cancel dinner,” you fake-whined, jutting your lower lip out. You crawled out from below and stood up.

“Fine. But knock off this annoying shit. I’ll be good to you if you’re good to me, babydoll.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbled against your sternum as he pulled you close where you stood in front of him. “Anything you want. Just be a little nice.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“I know,” he exhaled.

[darlingmbappe]

The Loneliest [3] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]

Summary: While Kylian lets jealousy get the best of him on the pitch, you find that a tequila-filled night might be the answer to healing your broken heart... even if it's just for one night.

Warnings: Still just absolute angst. Missing your ex, Kylian being overprotective and jealous, Erling Haaland being a dick (i'm sorry it's purely for plot purposes), heavy drinking, self destructive behavior, cussing, bad cheese puns, let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

The breakup was bound to go public sooner or later. It was surprising you made it almost seven weeks before the media got the hold of the story. You both were spotted alone on separate sides of town too many times, you’d missed all of his matches, and E!News got a source that told them you live alone now. You have a strong hunch it’s your next door neighbor that’s always lingering by the stairs. She asks entirely too many questions.

While you were still with Kylian, your relationship was kept mostly private and you rarely found yourself in any headlines. But, lord knows, if there’s anything the press loves more than a celebrity engagement is a celebrity breakup. When you saw a graphic of your face and Kylians face photoshopped onto a broken heart on Snapchat, a clickbait title asking, “did our fav football couple call it quits?”, you knew you’d be getting some unwanted attention. Fuck you, Daily Mail. Mind your business.

You clearly remember agreeing with him to wait for you to text first, but he’s a damn liar. He didn’t let a day go by before sending you a sweet good morning text. For the past three weeks, he’s been sending little messages here and there. Nothing too risqué or anything that made you feel pressure… they were actually nice. You’d been pretty good at not responding, being occupied doing absolutely anything else to stop yourself from thinking about him.

Kylian knew this. Being with you for such a long time, he understood how you got when you didn’t want to think about something. When your family dog passed, you claimed you were fine over and over again, and he just had to let you hyper fixate on new random hobbies until your feelings eventually exploded out. You taught yourself claymation, knitting, refurbishing old creepy dolls… that was definitely his least favorite. He needed to make sure you didn’t force yourself to forget about him, he wanted to be there for you when you were ready. He’s patience is usually very thin, but he’s impressed with himself for staying (mostly) zen about you not responding. He had to. He couldn’t fuck this up again and come swinging with the ‘I love you’s that he types out and erases promptly.

It’s finally Friday and you just finished a late lunch at your favorite café near your office, just listening to music on your headphones and reading through a document you were about to send to your colleagues. Your phone buzzed with a message from Kylian and, of course, you clicked the notification. You always did.

He’d sent you a picture of a decorative board at some market with a cheese-remix of the song Sweet Dreams by the Eurythmics. You immediately laughed out loud, having seen this exact sign before with Kylian years ago. For weeks after, you two sang the lyrics randomly around the house, in the car, pretty much anywhere until all of your friends were begging for you two to just shut the fuck up.

Sweet dreams are made of cheese, who am I to dissa-brie, I’ve travelled the world and the feta cheese, everybody’s lookin’ for stilton.

Your fingers began to respond before you even had a chance to really think about it.

(Y/N): Not this shit again

Kylian smiled widely upon seeing that you sent something back, typing back in record speeds.

Kylian: I think it’s…….. grate

You actually smiled at his horrible pun, twirling your hair against your own will.

(Y/N): very cheesy

Kylian was so quick to look up more cheese puns, not wanting to let his roll come to an end. Any communication, even about cheese, worked for him.

Kylian: it’s very gouda to hear from you again :)

“Oh, man.” You mumbled to yourself, noticing how your heart rate increased with just a couple of his really really bad jokes.

God, you missed him so much.

You stood up, leaving the conversation there, gathering your things and turning up the music. Yet, the whole walk back it was impossible to focus on whatever was playing in your ears because of the louder song playing inside your head. Sweet dreams are made of cheese…

Kylians thumb was lodged between his teeth in anticipation, but soon realized you weren’t going to respond again. Lowly cursing to himself, he threw his phone back in his locker. Everyone was prepared for todays game against Manchester City, especially Kylian. He wanted to win so bad, it almost felt like the World Cup.

He knew who he was going to play against — Erling Haaland. If he wasn’t too fond of him before, finding out he hit on you on you brewed a different kind of determination to win inside of him. You said nothing happened that night and he believed you — but he knew that Haaland had more in mind than just a nice conversation. He noticed last week that he followed you on instagram and liked all of your recent pictures, not including the ones with him. As of last night, you still didn't follow him back. Those late night stalking sessions have to stop soon. His nutritionists is really getting on his ass for finishing entire jars of peanut butter every other day.

He wondered if you were going to watch the game or if you had been since you left. He really hoped you hadn’t been. He’s been playing horribly these past weeks. Once the news of your breakup went public, every commentator made a point of mentioning it and saying stupid shit like, “life goes on, and that’s something Kylian Mbappé is going to have to figure out sooner or later.”

He let his angry thoughts fuel him as he walked into the tunnel. He tried to get his head in the game, but couldn’t help looking back every so often to the opposing team next to them, eyes always landing on the tall blonde man.

He stood in his place, but his neck twisted back against his will, not really caring if he was being too obvious. Right before the teams were meant to walk out together, Haaland caught his death glares. Kylian doubled down, making sure he wouldn’t be the one to lose this immature staring contest. Holland cracked a shit-eating grin and winked at Mbappé.

Oh, the rage… keep it in, Kylian.

He looked away with an unbothered “pft.” It wasn’t very convincing, not even to himself.

After the usual opening ceremony, the whistle blew indicating that the match had begun, sending Kylian sprinting in every direction as the game progressed. ManCity was good, but he knew PSG was better. He kept telling himself this, but his teammates continued to mess up, even allowing the light-blue motherfuckers to score the opening goal not even twenty minutes into the first half. And, of course, it was Haaland that buried the ball deep in the back of the net. He watched him celebrate on his pitch, listening to the crowd cheer their chant, feeling tortured and helpless.

His eye was fixed on the Norwegian as he moved back into the starting position, hating that he was laughing, still on a high from scoring. Hakimi walked next to Kylian, feeling that his friend is on the brink of doing something very dumb. His hand patted his shoulder, but Kylian didn’t even notice it, his entire body twitching with jealously.

When Kylian was in earshot, Haaland nodded up at him. “Kylian.” The young player called, but Kylian just side eyed him. Hakimi grabbed his shoulders tighter just in case he tried anything. “(Y/N) is up for grabs now, no?”

Kylians ears rung as he felt himself launch at Erling who just laughed. Hakimi had gotten in front of him without missing a beat, roughly shoving him in the opposite direction to keep him from beating up the 22 year old. Other PSG players joined, guiding Kylian to his position.

He didn’t even know words were coming out of his mouth at this point, pointing his finger threateningly at Erling. “Don’t fucking talk about her. I’ll fucking kill you. You hear me?” He was well aware that this was all to get in his head but, shit. It’s working. Kylian didn’t even notice that the referee was being talked down by Neymar and Messi, eventually the confrontation getting waved off with a warning at the start of a new play.

Halftime rolled around and no one scored again. In the locker room, Glatier yelled and waved his arms, demanding that the defense get their shit together. He zoned out, too deep in thought about what an asshole that guy is and how he wants to score and rub it in his face. He was brought back when he heard his name grumbling out of his coaches mouth, having no idea what the topic even was.

“Sorry?” He embarrassingly piped up, seeing all of his teammates had their eyes on him.

Glatier grunted, stomping closer to him. “I said, get your shit together!”

“Yes, coach.”

“Don’t worry about what they say. Just go out there and play like I know you can. You want to win, don’t you?”

“I do, coach.”

“Then let’s fucking win.”

Glatier was right and he knew it. Whatever that stupid hulk-boy had to say about you was only getting under his skin. He couldn’t play at his best like that.

So, when the second half started and he heard him say some bullshit again, he did his best to let it roll off his back. “You think she’ll respond if I DM her?” Erling asked nonchalantly to Álvarez, but Kylian was determined to let it slide. Let it fucking slide.

But, he didn’t stop there. When walking by him, Haaland asked him, “What’s a good spot to take her? Nothing too far, my hotel room is around here.” Kylians fists were balled in rage, biting his cheek and blowing air out of his flared nostrils.

“You better shut your goddamn mouth.” He snapped back, but continued walking away, knowing he can’t let him win. Hearing Haalands taunting chuckles behind him almost made him whip back around, but Neymar wrapped his arm securely around his shoulder, forcing him to look forward.

“It’s just talk, Kylian. Come on.” He rubbed his head roughly as if to beg him to not let it get to him before running back into position.

The game progressed, only ten minutes left of the second half before overtime. Neymar was at the left side of the field, preparing himself for a corner kick. Kylian searched for an opening that could potentially bring a scoring opportunity, but a brooding shadow seemed to follow him everywhere. Haaland was aggressively playing defense against him, his height advantage making it impossible for Kylian to move somewhere better.

“I hope she wears something nice and tight.” Erling chortled through his tired breathing. “I’ve been waiting for you to mess things up with her. I’ve had my eye on her for months… She’s so hot.”

His mind went blank, completely blank. It must have, because he didn’t remember shoving Haaland down onto the pitch, fists pulling back. He was seeing red, but his teammates dragged him off before his punch could land right on his cheek. Before he knew it, the ManCity players were charging at PSG. The whistle blew about a dozen times as the crowd got louder.

Kylian couldn’t stop trying to shake off his friends, screaming past the wall of light blue toward the blonde man on the ground pretending to be seriously injured, clutching his arm.

“Say that again! I fucking dare you!” Kylian threatened, Ramos clinging onto his shoulders, walking backwards.

He was pushed away far from the scene as his whole team began to fight with the other players in solidarity, the referee preoccupied with calming down the situation.

He was for sure already getting a red card, so his mindset was fuck it. He sprinted around the fighting crowd who immediately recognized his intentions, getting back in front of him before he could reach Haaland to really do some damage.

“Stay the hell away from her. I’ll end you, you son of a bitch. Off this pitch, I swear to god you’re dead.” Kylian talked out of his ass, already walking himself off the pitch when the referee held up a red card. He waved him off, spiting on the grass as he made his way back through the tunnel, ignoring the coaching team screaming at him altogether.

ManCity ended up winning 2-0 and Kylians suspension was decided to extend for two matches. He didn’t watch the remainder of it, but when he found out Erling Fucking Haaland scored the other goal, it felt like the knife was twisted. Fuck that guy. The press conference after was hell, having to claim that he deeply regretted his actions and that this doesn’t reflect his character or whatever his PR team wrote up for him.

He truly did feel like a dumbass. He absolutely hated how much he let those comments affect him. He knew he should’ve just blocked it out but how was he going to let him say that stuff about you? The way he talked about you like you weren’t even a person, like you weren’t the love of his life. Sure, he felt like a dumbass, but he would defend you to the ends of the earth.

He got home to his empty house, throwing himself on his sofa, flipping on ESPN to watch basketball highlights. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep. Usually, he’s opposed to naps as they throw off his sleeping schedule, but recently he’d found them comforting; an easy escape from everything going on. Besides, his sleep schedule was already bonkers from the breakup.

He swears his eyes were only shut for five minutes, but he woke up to complete darkness. His TV even timed out, neck sore from the stiff throw pillows supporting his head, groaning so loudly that it echoed inside the vacant home. It was only when he picked up his phone to check the time that he realized you were even calling. The faint buzzing was probably what woke him up.

“Shit.” He shot up, wiping the sleep from his face as he answered quickly.

He cleared his groggy throat. “Hello?”

He faintly heard you saying his name, but the music in the back was pounding. “Kyyyyks!”

He laughed to himself, loving the sound of his nickname for the first time since your breakup. “Hello? (Y/N)? Are you drunk?”

“Hold on.” He heard you yell from the other line as the music got softer in the background. “Hellooo.” You giggled.

“Hi.” He giggled back.

“I woke you up.” He could hear the pout in your voice, having to bite his lip to keep his smile from getting ridiculous.

“No, no I don’t mind. Call me anytime.” Kylian began twirling his hoodie string on his forefinger. “Are you okay?”

You nod, but he can’t hear you. Your drunk brain didn’t catch up. “I think so.”

“You think so? Where are you?” Concerned, he looked at the time. A little past 3:30 am. Damn, long ass nap.

“Umm…” You paused to look around you, seeing no signs anywhere and finding it kind of funny. “I dunno. I lost them ages ago.”

“Them?”

“Yeah, my friends.”

He stood up. “Wait, wait. Are you by yourself?”

“Mhm!” You chirped, now walking away from the club, alone. Your skin-tight tights gave you no warmth at all, but the tequila that flushed your system had you covered. “Kyks…”

“Yeah?” He waited for you to say something, his concern for you growing, wishing he still had your location so he could go look for you.

You paused, looking around the dark streets. “I mi…” your sentence drifted off and you laughed off what you were about to say. “… I’m so drunk.” You stumbled further down the street, a loud club with red lights oozing from the entrance peaking your interest.

He knew what you were about to say, but wasn’t going to push it. “I can hear that. Do you need a ride? I can come get you right now, just send me your current location.”

“No, I’m fine! Look, I found somewhere safe!” You point, even though he couldn’t see. “Oh, my god. You’ll never believe who’s here. Oh, shit.”

“Who?” Kylian asked over the phone.

You giggled. “I don’t wanna tell you, Kyks. You’ll be mad. I saw what happened today during the match.”

He was tempted to quirk a smile hearing that you have been watching, but then it dawned on him. It couldn’t be… “Haaland?”

What are the odds? Erling Haaland stood outside the packed nightclub with a few of his teammates, surrounded by women and men, all trying to get his attention. He hadn’t seen you yet.

“Oh my god, you’re such a good guesser.” You clapped. “God, I forgot how tall he was.”

He grabbed his keys, putting his shoes on, holding the phone up to his ear by his shoulder as he rushed around his home. “Please just let me come pick you up. I’m worried about you, where are you? I’ll take you home.”

You got closer to the LED sign. “It’s called… uh… la petite robe noire… oh my god! That’s what I’m wearing!” You cheered.

He put you on speaker and looked it up. Jesus, you were so far, he wondered if you’d started out around there or if you’d ventured out alone. He revved up his engine, backing out of his driveway. “Stay there, I’m coming. Okay?”

You didn’t respond, your phone now by your side as Erling spotted you, jogging over to where you were standing.

“Hey!” You waved, letting him come to you because your heels hurt too badly. You couldn’t hear Kylian on the other line trying to get your attention.

“Hello, beautiful.” He leaned in and hugged you. You kind of hugged back, too drunk to balance yourself upwards that way without falling into him.

As soon as he heard that fucking accent over the phone, he pressed his foot down on the pedal, hoping he hits every green light in Paris. You, on the other hand, forgot you were still on the line with your ex fiancé, but hung up when you realized it with a giggly “oops!”.

“Didn’t think I’d run into you, how are you, (Y/N)?” Haaland asks, placing a steady hand on your waist to keep your wobbling frame from tipping over.

“So good!” That was a lie. You were out tonight drinking away the pit in your stomach since the match. You’d watched sneakily from your desk, fingers tugging at your roots when you saw the little incident during the first half. During those last ten minutes, you felt like you were going to throw up.

Why did you have to tell Kylian about Erling? What happened today definitely opened him up to a lot of criticism from his coaches, the team, the media… You couldn’t help but feel a little responsible because you knew he could behave himself if he never knew about that night on the balcony. On the other hand, it was kind of… very hot. Jealous Kylian was never your favorite, but you can’t stop yourself from feeling something spark in you. Or maybe you were just horny. Who’s to say? It's been so long...

“You’re good?” Erling accent repeats, grinning down at you. “Sorry to hear about your breakup."

"Pffft." You laugh. "Yeah right, you two were never exactly friends."

He shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets. "You're right. I'm not sorry." He smirks, looking you up and down. If your head wasn’t filled with liquor you’d feel kind of gross, but his flirty stares didn’t mean anything to the drunken body you found yourself in tonight. It all went right over your head. He nods his head toward the club. "Come on, let's get you a drink, yeah?"

You followed him in, the lights were blurry and the ground wasn't very stable. The vibrations came up from the ground, making you feel like someone was shaking your brain around. You were absolutely not thinking straight, and it only got worse when a bottle girl came over to the section with Don Julio. It was all so fast, like the lights flashed and you were suddenly with someone else, or in a different part of the club, or dancing, drinking, stumbling.

Fuck, you had to get out of there.

Kylian arrived at the club and he definitely did not fit the dress code. But, despite his grey joggers and Nike hoodie, he was still Kylian Mbappé, so he got in without any issue. Ideally, he wouldn’t have to risk being spotted at a nightclub that Erling Haaland was at, but he did it for you. He politely smiled at his fans but weaved past people begging for a selfie. He called you plenty of times from the car, but you never picked up.

Once inside the club, he lifted his hood and put on some sunglasses, hoping this wouldn't cause a riot without his security to lead him through the crowds. People were too focused on grinding and not spilling their drinks to notice the international superstar frantically searching for one single woman in a sea of them.

He looked up at the sections on the second floor, finally spotting that tall blonde bastard, wasting not a single second before making his way up, security letting him through once he flashed them his famous smile.

"Haaland!" He cups his hands around his mouth, hoping that he knows where you are. "Haaland!"

He finally turns around, knitting his eyebrows at the sight. "Kylian." He steps around the models to stand close to him, the loud music making it impossible to communicate from even a few feet away. "What? You didn't get enough of me on the pitch today?"

Kylian rolls his eyes. "No, man. I'm just looking for (Y/N). I know she was here."

"Yeah, she was." Erling laughed. "She's wild, for sure. Don't know where she went, though."

"What? She's not here?"

Haaland shrugged. "She went to the bathroom and never came back. Why do you even care? Like I said, she's up for grabs. She's not yours anymore."

If he wasn't so worried about your current wellbeing, he would have grabbed his stupid little ponytail and gone full Fight Club on him. But he didn't, instead he shook his head at him and made his way down from the section before he regretted not throwing a punch or two.

His concern grew. He never thought he would wish you were with Erling Haaland at a nightclub, but at least he could find you then.

Kylian stood on a ledge hoping to see your hair or face anywhere from a birds-eye view, but had to leave promptly when the partygoers caught onto his less than great disguise. A security guard from the club lead him to the back exit, warding off flashing cameras in every direction.

Thanking the man when he was safely outside with a fist bump, he walked himself down the dirty metal steps, sighing. "Putain." He walked to is parked car, leaning on it to try and think a little, wondering how he’s going to find you. He really isn’t familiar with this part of town, but he'll stay out all night if he has to.

He wished you’d just pick up the phone, ease his jittery nerves. Just as he was about to click on your contact, he heard some slurred singing further down the alleyway he was in. The faint tune sounded familiar, but the voice definitely was. It was you.

He followed like a siren sound, turning the corner to see you sitting on a small cement step, head resting on your curled up knees, giggling to yourself as you continued the song.

"Sweet cheese are made of cheese, who am I to *hiccup* disa-cheese..."

"I think you've messed up the lyrics there, love." He smiled, letting out a breath he’d been holding now knowing you're okay.

You gaze up, smiling widely, gasping and jolting up, wrapping your loose arms around his neck and letting your legs go limp.

"Woah, hey..." He exclaimed with a laugh, grabbing your torso tightly to keep you upright.

"You're here!" You gaze up, grin wide as he peered down at you, smiling as well. "Whadda coincidence!"

It was like he didn't just spend hours worried sick, now feeling somewhat at ease. Your presence is all he needed for every weight to be lifted off his shoulders. He only cares about making sure you get back home with a glass of water on your nightstand and a trashcan at your side.

"You okay? Why are you out here by yourself?" He guides you to stand properly on your own, but you didn't let your grip go, so he didn't either. He let his hand stay on the small of your back, his other gripping your hip.

You shrug, scratching your fingernails against the nape of his neck. He shivered, goosebumps running down his body, letting a flustered giggle escape his lips. You stared deep into his eyes. Your funny demeanor simmered down, finding the familiar warmth of the man in front of you to be more intoxicating than anything you've drank tonight. "You always loved when I did that..."

Kylian's heart got caught in his throat, gulping it down along with the urge to hold you so tightly. He'd been craving your touch, spending many sleepless nights wondering if he'd ever get to feel you again.

"Let's get you home, okay?" He mumbled, running his hands down your arms to unwrap them from his neck. He held one of your arms as he bent down to grab your phone and purse from the dirty floor.

He started guiding you to his passengers seat, but getting you there wasn’t an easy task. Your heels kept getting caught in the cobblestones so he had to keep a steady hand around you in case you fell. He buckled you up like a toddler, doing his best to ignore the googly eyes that you made at him.

When he got in drivers seat, he looked over at you, a rush of memories making his heart flutter.

All of the times he would turn his gaze away from the road for just a second to see you. The way you smiled when you rode with the windows down, sticking your arm out to feel the rushing wind outside the car. The way he used to be able to put a comforting hand on your thigh while he drove and you'd draw circles on his knuckles mindlessly, rambling about anything that came to your mind. The way you would always unwrap a piece of gum for him because you didn't want him distracted, even though he would never not get distracted by you.

He shook the thoughts out of his head, clearing his throat. "So, what's your address?"

You laughed, taking your heels off. "I dunno."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Geez, Ky. I've only lived there for like..." you counted in your head, but numbers barely made sense sober, "...not that long."

"Do you have it on your phone?" He pried, handing you your cell.

"Yes!" You cheered, snatching it only to see that it was out of battery when the screen reflected back at you. "Ah, man. It's dead!" You pouted, throwing it in the backseat, crossing your arms.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, turning on the heat higher when he noticed the chills running down your arms. "I can take you back to... uh..." he stuttered, having to stop himself from saying our place, still getting used to living there alone, "—back to my place."

You gave him a look, raising your eyebrow dramatically. "Nice try, Casanova." You chuckled.

He laughed too, rubbing his eyes. "No, come on, (Y/N). There's like five beds. I wouldn't take advantage of you like that."

You bite your lip and stare at him through your lashes. "I'd let you."

God, that stare. That tone. He's internally cussing himself out for all those times he told you he wasn't in the mood or too tired. He wished he could go back in time and slap himself.

He quickly shook it off, laughing dryly and having to look away from you. “You are so drunk.”

With that, he put the car in reverse, beginning the half hour journey back to the home that still has pictures of you on the walls. The home that still feels like it’s yours, the one that Kylian prays he’ll see you wake up in again… at a time when you’re not absolutely plastered, of course. For now, he’s content looking over to your sleeping figure in his car, slowly breathing and shifting every so often.

Once he pulled into the garage, he got out and made his way to open the passenger door. “Hey,” he gently put a hand on your cold shoulder, “we’re here, bébé.”

He didn’t mean for the nickname to slip out of his mouth, but it did. It actually woke you up, your heart thumping at the four letters that used to be so familiar to you, so intimate.

“I’m tired.” You grumble, putting your hands out toward him, slightly less drunk, yet nowhere near sober. “I forgot how comfy your car is.”

“Wait ‘till we get you into a real bed. You’re gonna sleep like a rock.” You grabbed his forearms and stumbled out of the car, Kylian quickly grabbing your heels, phone, and purse.

For a drunk, you moved surprisingly fast, beelining to the kitchen. He followed you in, attentive to your wonky steps. He set your belongings down on one of the barstools, turning to see you leaned inside of his fridge, grasping the handles for balance.

“You hungry?” He grins, walking around the kitchen island and leans against it.

“Mm… you got rid of all my snacks…”

“Uh, not true.” He quipped, opening the cupboard and pulling back a red box, the sight bringing a big smile to your face.

“Pancakes?!”

He opens the cabinet bellow him and pulls out a sleek black press, confident smirk spreading to his cheeks. “Waffles.”

You cover your mouth in excitement, stumbling backward a bit but catch yourself on the island. “No way.”

He nods, eyes twinkling at your enthusiasm. You look so pretty in this kitchen. It’s nostalgic. It feels warmer now that you’re back here, even if he’s just pretending to forget that you’ll have to leave in the morning.

“Go sit. They won’t take long.” You do as he says, hopping into a stool as you watch him begin to mix the ingredients in a bowl.

Your mind drifted to the last time you saw him. The way his chin quivered when he cried over you, how much it hurt to tell him you weren't ready and that you may never be. It was still true. In a more clearheaded scenario, you probably wouldn't be here with him right now. If alcohol didn't seem like such an inviting bandaid to your aching mind and heart, the feelings you'd been suppressing would likely have stayed suppressed... where you honestly wanted them to stay. Opening yourself back up to be loved by the same man that made you question yourself was still incredibly scary.

"Bon appétit." He placed the plate in front of you.

The waffle was dusted in powdered sugar, a small butter square in the middle was surrounded by sliced strawberries. "Oh... my... god..." You salivated, picking up the fork and knife he handed you and devoured the first bite, moaning in gratitude. "Oh my god." You had no other words.

Kylian laughed, picking up his own fork to dig into his less pretty waffle, standing across from you. "Yeah?"

He didn't get a verbal response back, but knew you meant it upon seeing the manner in which you inhaled every crumb on your plate. Your late night snack was gone too soon and you wanted more, but your drooping eyes and full bladder convinced you that sleep was better.

Kylian took his last bite, grabbing your plates and setting them in the sink. "I think it's bedtime."

You agreed without saying so, hopping off the stool and took the route to the master bedroom. You could walk there with your eyes closed and you might as well have. The sleep deprivation mixed with your drunkenness lead you straight to the dresser, opening up the top chest on your side to grab a t-shirt.

When your crossed eyes looked down at the empty drawer, it was sobering. You let out a shakey breath, clasping your hands in front of you. "Right..."

Kylain stood by the door, frowning at your stillness. The small window of bliss he had with you just seconds earlier shattered upon seeing your sorrowful face looking down at the drawer that used to contain your things, now containing nothing but memories of what used to be.

Silently, he walked over to you, gently shutting it for you. He opened up his side, handing you one of the shirts you left folded for him. One of your favorites. "Here."

You give him an attempt of a smile but don't actually look at him. "Thanks."

He goes to leave the room but you stop him. "Wait. Where are you going? I'll sleep in one of the guest rooms. I'm not taking your bed."

"No, please. You just get some rest, okay?" He almost whispers, taking in the sight of you standing in this room again before he went to close the door.

"Ky?" You breathe, locking your eyes on his. There was something you wanted to say, some words your throat closed up on, leaving you with nothing else but silence. He stayed still, his adoration for you threatening to spill out of him the longer he stared at you. You draw a subtle breath upon feeling your emotions pooling in your eyes. "Thank you."

Kylian felt the weight of your otherwise simple words, taking context from the way you were looking at him. "I'll always be here for you."

With that, he reluctantly closed the door behind him, trudging to the bedroom closest to you.

The room spun as you laid down on your favorite pillow, beyond comfortable under the duvet you picked out yourself. You wished you never went drinking tonight. If you'd just stayed home and pigged out on ice cream you wouldn't have to face the truth that's been slowly crawling to the surface.

Your eyes shut much too quickly to really explore the sentiments you've uncovered tonight, but that's probably for the best.

Kylian's mind was racing and he only hoped you couldn't hear how loud his brain was from the next room. Under the guilt and self-pity he's been swimming in for weeks, he finally felt a sliver of optimism beginning to grow inside of him. It was such a tender feeling, a feeling he let lull him to sleep, content knowing you were just on the other side of that wall.

A/N: The amount of times this deleted..... I was going crazy. Thank god that I started saving every draft on Google Drive or else I probably would have stopped writing out of frustration. Big things coming for (Y/N) and Kylain! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I'm sorry about having to make Haaland an asshole bc I really do love him. It was just to move the plot along <3. Also I didn't know all of the soccer terms in english so forgive me if I messed any of that up. Love all of you and thanks for reading!

[thewisemankey]

E-mailing at its' finest.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

I had a dream last night that I was pen pals with slasher Johnny while he was still locked up and now I'm depressed that he didn't really show up at my door unannounced despite never having given him my name or address and he ate Chipotle with me on my couch before fucking me within an inch of my sanity 😭

You know what's absolutely hilarious to me about the whole Slasher Handler universe? I'm not actually a Horror Girlie. Having dreams about slashers showing up at my house - with or without food - sounds like the most hilarious nightmare. Soap???? John "Soap" MacTavish???? That unhinged motherfucker???? In my house??????!? Have a drabble. CW: Kidnapping/reader is taken hostage, implied stalking/surveillance, disrespect to a puzzle, implied dub/non-con

The knock at the door should have been the mailman. He was nice, a bit more chatty than you really wanted, but you never complain. It’s nice to have a friendly face while you adjust to your new city. But the man standing on your porch hadn’t been James, the affable, middle aged mail carrier.

Your whole body had locked up as blue eyes you’ve only ever seen through a google search met yours. You'd stopped sending letters two years ago, but you were undeniably face to face with John “Soap” MacTavish. He had grinned like a devil as he held up a wicked looking knife and a brown paper bag. Chipotle.

“Brought yer favorite!”

That had been two hours ago. Now, arms and legs bound to a chair in your kitchen, you feel almost calm. Soap sits across from you, sorting the edge pieces of one of your new puzzles and chattering like you aren't gagged and unable to answer.

“And then,” he declares, pointing at you. “Nae more letters from my bonnie pen pal! Figured ah was bein’ punished, that maybe yer letters were bein’ returned to sender. Nae yer fault, nothin’ f’r it. But in the last letter you said you was movin’, an’ ah didnae get the new address. Too bad, that!”

He puts his chin in his hand and taps the table with an index finger as he contemplates the box of the puzzle. Something in him shifts. The silence, the way his eyes go intensely focused, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Ye ken why ah like puzzles? Because all the little fiddly pieces fit together,” he turns the box toward you. “So why in the fuck would anyone make one with pieces that stick out the sides like this?”

He gives you a significant look, so you make a muffled noise behind the gag and shrug.

“Bonnie as anything,” he says, apropos of nothing, reaching out to take your chin in one strong hand. “Used to think about fuckin’ you all over that house of yours. Especially that old leather couch.” His grin turns predatory at the way you jolt, heart in your throat. “Oh, hen, the dreams ah’ve had of your old place. Used to jerk off to a picture of that laundry basket. Cute pair of black knickers right on top. O’ course, we’d’ve had to lock the cat out. Much as ah love an audience, ‘e don’t need to see his mam that way.”

You never mentioned a cat, or your furniture, or anything like that in your letters. Certainly, you never sent photos. The terror that had clenched around your heart while he bullied his way into the house and forced you into your kitchen comes roaring back.

Please, you try to say around the gag. What do you want?

“Ah’m only in town for a couple more days,” he says, carelessly dumping all of the pieces he’d separated back into the box again. He stands, one hand going to his belt as he gives you an exaggerated wink. “Hate to rush, but we’ve got to christen your new place. An’ if ah’m not back tomorrow, the Ghost will come lookin’.”

[homestarrunner]

the Compé deserved better

[drinkingbeerfroma]

Okay. So. How about a 90s sorta online dating Harringrove AU that's also omegaverse where Steve is a very picky omega and he's had so many matches to his dating profile bidding for his attention and he knows he's like the creme de la creme, the bees knees, rare and beautiful and smells the best and most intoxicating scent that it makes everybody stupid to a point that it's gotten pretty dangerous. But he doesn't mean to be picky, he's always wanted it easy as much as the next guy, it's just that he has the most sensitive nose, ever since he was a kid, even gotten worse after he presented, and just a whiff of any scent he can't particularly stand he gets the most godawful allergies and sneezes and sometimes even coughs his lungs out if it's really strong and bad. And there aren't really meds for it. He can use scent blockers on himself, but that's it, that's the only extent of protection their health care system has right now for his case.

So he's lonely, he's become a really lonely guy, can't really leave the house without a mask on like he has seasonal allergies all year round, hard for him to make friends and keep them when he can't really see them for too long, even harder for him to find someone he likes. Since he works at home anyway, he resorts to online dating. Because why not? He's desperate. It's the 90s, there are tons of lonely people out there who are completely normal and aren't complete pervs. It's what he tells himself. Now that he's looking at an overwhelming amount of matches, with countless alphas and betas who keep sending his P.O. box all kinds of things that carry their scent for mate matching, Steve has his pick of the litter so to speak, only it's twice as awful, has become a great inconvenience because he has to smell each one, each damn sealed and ziplocked package. It's become literal hell. He can't believe romance in the 20th century has gotten to this. Just when he's gotten sick and tired and literally exhausted from sneezing and coughing, just when he thinks he can't smell a damn thing anymore and has to air out the whole damn apartment from all the nasty foreign smells from strangers, he finds it. Smells it. Right before he almost throws away all the bags in the garbage shoot, he gets a whiff that escapes a not-so-sealed bag.

It's from a shirt.

The most heavenly, mouth-watering scent of an alpha is coming from a pit-stained, worn-thin, hole ridden, a little dank, shirt. Steve doesn't know how to react because it's so careless and unthoughtful and lazy, and the most disgustingly amazing and stupidly addictive scent he's ever smelled in his entire pathetic omega life.

Which belongs to one Billy Hargrove.

The douchiest asshole in the great Chicago area with the prettiest bluest eyes, the embodiment of everything Steve hates in an alpha, all cocky and charming and oozing with unrighteous confidence, his dating profile consisting of a bunch of half naked pictures of him flexing the muscles of his muscles, hobbies are getting his dick wet, his knot popped and looking at himself in the goddamn mirror, sweet words filled with bad intentions.

But Steve can't help but stuff his face of Billy Hargrove's disgustingly damp shirt, can't help but drool and moan on it while he touches himself in his underwear, spreading the wetness between his thighs, he comes hard. For the first time in a long time, he comes easy.

He sends him an e-mail. Fed-exes his underwear to Billy Hargrove's P.O. box the next day. There are tons of lonely people out there who are completely normal, and who aren't complete pervs, of course. But Steve isn't one of them.

[mariadotcom]

pennhurst - the start of going down (P. I)

hey guys, it's been a while since we last had some (or nay) interactions but life have been getting crazier by the second. i apologize since i left the blog untethered and filling with spiders and moths, but i'm (partially) back and hope you like this little romance, thrilling horror or something i've been working on on my free time. if not, dm me and i'll hear ya! xo maria

prompt: y/n is an immigrant from south america, she owns a bodyshop and there's where she meets sam and colby. as the friendship between them blossoms, other things arise as well, perhaps some of them should've remain buried. ghosts from the past, a difficult romance and a carrousel of ups and downs between them form a storm - but the living aren't the problem alone amidst this tempestuous story. WARNINGS: none, i guess. but strong language, NOT for minors, and i am a mess so god knows - and popular demand tells - when will i post the following chapter.

we promised we'd be back in full blast but not to exaggerate much and get ourselves - especially colby - hurt. since chemo ended, he's been more active and i, as friend who's been there through good and bad, think he deserves a time doing what he loves, performing his job oh so gracefully.

usually, i'm off-screen and i'm glad about it - helping the boys carring their stuff around and exploring places with friends on my days-off. this time around the only differencial would be colby's health on watch; sam was being careful and watching over him more than any of us would, despite that being expected. although something was off, i could feel it. the way colby would glare at people sometimes, with tears in his eyes. he'd be saying the most deep and thoughtful shit, but usually was hitting harder. "say what you feel to the ones you love, y/n" he'd say and i'd anwer "i love you, colby. it's never enough how much...". we met when they moved to Vegas at a bodyshop i own. they trusted their cars with me and we ended up bonding and becoming friends, colby was more standoffish at first but he came around once he learned that i was to be trusted - at least a bit.

the cancer news hit us all like a brick to the head, a cold rush of familiarity through my veins. it was all so new yet so similar. gladly, the treatment and the operation were enough, and he was never alone. not a single second. sam was alway there for him and so was i, whenever they chimed me in. anyways, on the welcome-back trip, sam thought a trip would do him good whereas i thought an exploration would serve better. combining both, for colby, was the greatest so that's what we did. sam chose the location through some people he met along the way of the chanel, i was so excited to finally know the spot i barely focused on colby and what was he saying.

"....then we could try to explore the place ourselves. what you think, y/n?" he said while scrolling through his phone. it wasn't sam and colby's first visit there, but it was mine and they wanted me to have a good time and full immersive experience. "huh?" i questioned "this whole thing is about YOU, colbert. you should be the one 'thinking' of something."

"yeah, yeah. i just want to make sure we all have fun, you know?" his pale blue eyes stared at me for a second and, as usual, i stared back. i couldn't get enough. "y/n?" he called.

"sure, colby. i'll do whatever you want me to..." i stated focusing on the pile of e-mails stacking in my inbox.

"isn't it time for you to take a vacation? some time off?" colby asked seeing how busy and overwhelmed i was. i sighned, he moved from one couch to another to sit closer. "c'mon you could stay some time with us, ditch the company for a few days..."

i cut him off before he could finish his line of thought "colby, you know i can't. the company is expanding.... i need to focus" i rolled my eyes and rested my head upon his shoulder. we watched as sam entered the room, sweaty shirt signaling he just came back from the gym "hello, lovebirds," he said jokinlgy "what are we discussing?"

"how y/n should get a few weeks of vacation" colby gently backed up, laying my head on the couch as he stood up to greet sam and the grocery bags i just now realize he had been holding for a while. "you're obviously in need of some of it, y/n. why don't we make this trip a bit longer so you can take AT LEAST a few days more to reset?" sam suggested.

"but i...." "you can't run no company if you're worn out, dude" sam cut me. "besides, it is YOURS. you're the boss! c'mon, we'd love to have you for a couple days more, right colby?"

"yeah, besides you still owe me a movie night!" colby stated. it's been months since i've been promising the movie night with thrilling and horror movies, just colby and i, to talk about how he has been feeling lately and other stuff. it's always a pleasure be around such a good friend. [wish we were a bit more than that].

"you know what, you two!" i started with and angry tone, eyes still closed, still laying on their couch. "you're right...." i cooled down. "i need to get some rest. i'll take 3 weeks off and nothing more but please, you both are in charge of me"

"couting now?" colby joked.

"no, robert, couting monday..."

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°\/°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Friday afternoon after my last meeting, i was still rushing around, making sure every inch of the bodyshop was clean, organized, ready for monday morning's routine of receiving and fixing cars and guaranteeing excellence to costumers. my CEO (and godfather, altogether) made sure they'd be fine without me for a couple weeks and he'd only call in emergencies. i was hoping for little to none, but leaving for the first time in years was still frightening.

i saw the old toyota corolla make a corner, if there were a better picture than that, colby's glass were not really dark-stained so i could see through it. he was wearing, shockingly, a dark green shirt, black and green jacket and i could swear i saw someone on the backseat for a split second. knowing him, i'd be either surprised or scared the second i set foot in the car. gathering my stuff from my office quickly, i found my old devotion notebook. i remembered that work has been draining me so much i forgot i am too a sensitive religious person - but not the convetional one. the door was pushed and the fragrance that followed screamed his name, i didn't even had to turn around to recornize him but his words affirmed what i thought. "are we going?" colby questioned. "mhmm" i replied. "let me just check my e-mails one last time...."

"oh fuck no!" colby shouted, running around the table and taking the laptop from me. he then locked it inside a drawer and kept the keys. "i'll give it back to you in a week or two, when we're far away from this office." he said firmly.

after a moment of silence, he said "you deserve this...." "hey! we're traveling! it'll be fun! plus, your family can handle everything else."

"and we'll call if we can't." my godfather/uncle Victor entered the room, his arms crossing in front of him once he stopped beside colby. them both being tall made a shadow fawn over me, intimidating a little. "we will miss you, but you haven't stop since forever. get some rest, kiddo" my uncle Victor said. "and you make sure she stays alright! i'll need her back!" he warned colby.

"sure thing, sir! i'll bring her back in one piece in maybe 3 weeks." colby said gathering my stuff and pulling me to the car. "maybe? it's a definitely, gentleman." Victor said. we both giggled making our way to his car.

"every time i come around to pick you up, i feel like we're 16" colby joked as i looked around in the car. [who the fuck was inside]. he arched an eyebrown confused to as why was i snooping around. "yo, you good?" he asked. i shaked my head 'yes' but there was some sinking feeling something was off.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°\/°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° the flight was scheduled to sunday morning, this way we'd be in pennsylvania by noon or so. it was still saturday morning when the first nightmare hit, it was still dark outside and the guest room in sam and colby's place felt degrees colder than usual. i guess it was so intense i screamed and sam woke me up, worried. colby followed him suit behind with flustered cheeks and heavy eyes.

"what's wrong?" sam asked, sitting in the bed beside me. his weight made the covers safer, calmer. my thoughts coming down from a high as soon as he pressed his warm hand on my forehead to see if i had a fever. "you're not hot or anything...." sam said and colby giggled.

"yeah she's definitely hot, jus not your type, bro." colby corrected and sam's cheeks brigthen up red, you could barely see through the soft and dim yellow light from the tiny lamp that stood beside the bed. "you know i don't mean that...." sam started. "you're... you're pretty hot you know. i'd rather say beautiful but..."

"romeo, i guess she just had a bad dream, right?" colby leaned on the doorframe. his white ripped tee a little too ripped and sam's soft grip on my face slowly became a light caress. "i guess i'll leave juliet to go back to sleep then." sam said giving me a concerned look. "okay?" i nodded.

"i'm sorry" i muttered, my voice coming back to me. "didn't mean to wake you up, guys" sam rolled his eyes and lightly pinched my cheeks. "stop being a dumbass..." he said getting up and making his way out. "i'll be in my room. if you need anything, CALL! don't scream. you scared the shit out of me" sam said as he made his way to his bedroom.

it was colby's turn to say something. do something. but instead, he just stood there, leaning against the door while i sat on the bed, still processing what was the nightmare about. only flashes flooding my memories, little by little. drowning my thoughts. "can i come in?" he finally asked after what felt like forever in silence. "mhmmm" i hummed.

different from sam, colby was more straight forward with whatever he wanted. this being said, it wasn't hard to agree that he, in fact, went under covers and laid beside me. "robert, what are you doing? are you insane?" i coiled beside him. my dressing wasn't very modest to welcome him in bed with me as i was using a big tee and panties. "as if i never laid next to another woman. get off yourself" he complained.

i sneakily grabbed my pajama shorts from my side of the bed and put them in under the blankets, by this time, colby had rolled over. his face turn to me but his eyes closed - perhaps privacy or just him trying to fall back asleep. i facepalmed breathing loudly trying to erase the feeling of uneasyness from my body after the terrible dream, but colby's hand on my tight and his firm grip startled me a bit. "c'mon, lay down. it's 2:30 in the morning... i'll stay here with you" he muffled in the pillows. "c'mooooooon" colby whined.

"i just...it was so vivid, you know.... these buildings, the feeling i got...." i started but my as soon as i did, my heart went racing. colby sat, his eyes barely opening, one arm around me and the other caressing my leg. "are you okay?" he asked, his hand moving upwards trying to soothe me. "sometimes reals can feel so real, right? but don't stress over it too much, i'll stay here." he said calmly. "maybe we can call sam and...."

"ugh you're such a whore, brock" i laughed as i laid in bed, him doing the same. "thanks, by the way..." he raised an eyebrown, eyes fast closed. "for the what?"

"for staying."

°°°°°°°°\/°°°°°°°°

the day went smoothly and sunday noon was approaching. pennsylvania sounded near althought a 6 hour flight separated the two states and increased in a rapid speed our hunger. i slept through most of it since the nightmares became a thing over the weekend - minus the screaming, thankfully - and sam became my personal caressing pillow. his soft words, as soft as his hands, lulled me to sleep seconds into the flight. colby was an aisle down to us and never stopped chatting with the pretty petite blonde girl sat next to him, when i finally woke, they seemed more acquainted then when the flight was getting ready to take off.

"they kissed" sam filled me in, first thing when i woke. "wow, really?" "mhmm, colby's like that now" he said turning a page from a book he was reading. "yeah i guess he always had been, but it's more of a show off about it now" i replied adjusting my messy cruly hair. "i'm glad i'll always have you, never normal sam" joking, i said. he just elbowed me lightly, giving the most warm upside down smile.

"how are you?" i asked noticing he'd been refusing to look at the notifications on his phone. he just glared. "i mean, this number must belong to SOMEONE. won't you answer?" sam sighed. "it's kat. we.... i...." his words started to crample together but luckily the pilot interrupted him with the announcement of landing. both of us releasing the air inside our lungs we weren't aware we'd been holding. "hey... i know it must be hard. i'm always here to hear you.... and maybe crack joke about it though." i reaffirmed. sam held my hand and gave it a caring kiss, leaving it as a thank you note with everything he wanted to say but couldn't right now.

the plane landed, we got our bags. sam and colby rented a car and decided this could make a video: traveling with friends, living the now, doing what they like and going old fashion - no hardwire equipments, no electronics by the dozens, no mediatic pressure and no place for nothing but good times. it came late, but it didn't fail. colby surprised sam and i at the restaurant. we were peacefully eating like dinosaurs when a pair of hands gripped sam's shoulder tight - not enough to hurt him, but enough to have him startled. sam and colby's friend, nate, stood behind sam and i while we ate.

nate is a cool guy, very chill and funny. he's always down to whatever the boys propose him to, thus incouraging me to do the same. although we have a good time together, sometimes and only sometimes, i have a glipmse of myself and feel a little unconscious. the many women approaching them - being for fame, recognition, looks or whatever - are gorgeous, the kind of girl you'd see on tampon commercials or maybe a lame movie with only hot chicks using ridiculous clothes to perform complex tasks. i'm just normal and - for a while - it's good being average, but oh boy, how i wish i was....

"hey, gorgeous!" nate complimented me as he plopped on the empty chair beside me. "how have you been, girl?" he sassed. i rolled my eyes, smile growing wider. "i've been good, nataniel." i teased back.

"what's with you and names?" colby asked downing a bit of his drinks. he had a halfway fresh oranje juice glass that i insisted he'd take instead of whatever processed shit he'd prefer. "you see, COLBERT," i emphasized before continuing, earning everyone's smile "it's funnier that way. plus, i get to tease you all about fictional names that suit you fine" i gulped my juice myself.

"well, we should think about a nickname for you to call it your own, then" nate threw his arms around my chair and said, leaning over a bit. "maybe we should call you...." as soon as nate was forming a thought, sam's phone rang. it was the person responsible for our tour and stay, so we went quieter so sam could figure whatever out. we couldn't help ourselves to kick one another under the table and whisper sweet nothings to each other while making dramatically silly faces - or copy whatever sam was saying in a husk tone, just to ease up the mood. "yeah, sure. i guess it'll be a great idea!" sam said. "i guess we can share some rooms, there's no problem with it...." finally, we fell dead silent to hear what he was saying and when sam noticed, he put them on speaker.

"i'm sure you can all share, but wouldn't it be fun if you got separate rooms?!" the person on the other end asked with a malice in their voice. you could tell it was a sllightly older man and if it wasn't from previous experience, you barely couldn't differ the amount of cigarretes he'd smoken before. "i mean, it's a haunt tour but we have buildings able to accomodate you 3 perfectly nice, and the area is still new to renovations so you guys could do some recording if you'd like"

"actually, josh, we are in a group of 4 now. a friend decided to join us, is that an issue?" sam asked. "not at all, sam! we love to have you and any friend of yours as guests! is colby coming?" the man asked "surely he is!" colby answered affirming he was part of the group listening. "well, then it'll be awesome having you guys!" "it'll be awesome staying with you, josh! see you in a bit" sam hushed and ended the call.

"well, i hope you're in for a ride," sam said. "we have the place to ourselves and...." "yeah, but where is the place? WHAT is the place?" nate asked, finally tackling our doubts. "we're going to pennhurst asylum."

author's notes: thoughts? call the roaches and complain. (kidding, leave it here under NOTES or message me)

[thewisemankey]

Best cereal name ever. XD

[fuckabledragonoftheday]

Today's fuckable dragon of the day is...

"THE S IS FOR SUCKS" DRAGON from STRONG BAD E-MAIL