#there's been cases where he's like 'yeah this guy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aquaquadrant · 7 months

Text

Philophobia

Word Count: 5,271 Warnings: Shipping, inappropriate/crude humor, paranormal activity, suspense/mild horror, descriptive kissing, mild language Summary: For architecture major and paranormal skeptic Grian, his friends’ after-hours ghost hunting group was just an excuse to spend time with his crush, Scar, without having to actually ask him out. But one fateful night, he finds there just might be things in this world that are scarier than emotional vulnerability… even if only by a very slim margin.

A/N: Did someone ask for a Phasmophobia-inspired Scarian au? Oh yeah, my friend @lunarcrown did! Inspired by the art she made here.

So this is kind of a modern-day college au (not set within the fictional universe of Minecraft), howEVER there are some fantasy aspects in that non-human species (like mob hybrids/monsters) still exist cuz they’re fun and I’m not giving anyone a normal modern name cuz that’s too weird. This is only Phasmophobia-inspired in that GIGS have a ghost-hunting group that functions the same way, but rarely find any conclusive evidence, and don’t have unlimited lives cuz they aren’t playing a game. With that out of the way, hope y’all enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua

~*~

Philophobia

~*~

“I think this is gonna be the one, guys,” Impulse says, turning their van into the driveway.

The suspension creaks as they roll over gravel, rattling the frame in a way that hums through Grian’s hollow bones. His arm is cold where it presses against the window; it’s almost sunset and Impulse has yet to get the van’s heater fixed despite his promises. Stupid demon blood keeping him warm while Grian shivers in the stupid custom pleather jumpsuit that Scar insisted they had made, for their stupid ‘brand’ as a stupid ghost-hunting group. Great, his stupid zipper’s come down again- he stubbornly zips it back up because unlike Scar, he doesn’t like constantly having his bare chest out on display.

Of course, he hasn’t got as much to show off as Scar, who must be getting up at 3 am every morning to work out in order to maintain all that muscle. No wonder Scar prefers to keep his zipper down to his belly button, and doesn’t seem to have ever met a shirt that fits him properly.

… Not that Grian’s ever paid much attention to that sort of thing.

Grian gives an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been saying that about every case we’ve had for three years!”

“No, no, I really mean it!” Impulse insists. “I feel it in my bones.”

“Yeah,” Scar agrees, leaning forward so his shoulder brushes against Grian’s, “you know Impulse bones good!”

The earnest nature of his statement- and the unexpected physical contact- makes Grian flush. “Scar!” he shrieks, swatting Scar’s shoulder.

“What?” Scar defends. “What, he- he’s got big and strong bones, wonderful bones…”

He acts as if he’s got no idea he said something that could be taken the wrong way. And if it weren’t for the upturned corners of his mouth and the barely-restrained laugh in his voice, Grian might actually believe him.

“Dude,” Skizz chuckles from the front seat, “shut up, that’s awesome.”

Impulse sighs. “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “the place recently had a change in ownership. Previous owner passed away-”

“From murder?” Scar gasps.

Another sigh. “No, from liver failure.”

Grian snorts. “From all the drinking he did to forget about the ghostly hauntings?” he presses, exchanging a cheeky grin with Scar.

“No,” Impulse says, with the patience of a saint, “just normal old-age organ failure. The guy was ancient, and some kinda recluse. House had been in his family since it was built, but uh, he had no living relatives, no will when he died. So the bank took ownership and it’s been sitting off-market for like, fifteen years, til some hot-shot investor thought he could flip it-”

“Ughh,” Grian groans, tipping his head back against the seat. “Investors are the worst-”

“I know, I know,” Impulse soothes, “but um, he’d barely begun when things started happening. Contractors reported it day one, then the owner experienced an event himself and called us. So it’s basically still untouched.”

They haven’t even reached the end of the driveway yet, passing by seemingly endless rows of tall, gnarled pines. Admittedly, Grian’s curiosity is piqued. When he agreed to join this stupid ghost hunting group three years ago, he didn’t do so in the hopes of actually discovering any real paranormal activity. The whole idea is laughable. Ghost hunting is a pseudoscience, at best. Just a bunch of idiots scaring themselves silly in an empty house- and now they’re the idiots! Even their name is stupid: Ghost Investigation Group Services, or GIGS, embroidered on their ill-fitting pleather jumpsuits.

But despite his outright skepticism and dislike for pulling late nights in his already extremely limited free time, Grian’s got one very good reason for agreeing to join.

And his name is Scar.

Grian spent half a semester pining away at the fellow architecture major from across the lecture halls of their many shared classes. Charismatic and easy on the eyes, it was inevitable that Grian would develop a bit of a crush. But as they spent more time together during class projects and conversations in the hallway, he found out just how kind-hearted and passionate Scar was, and how easy he was to talk to, and how strong his arms looked in long-sleeved shirts…

… Yeah, ‘crush’ perhaps isn’t the right word.

So when Impulse- the engineering major who Grian was partnered with for physics lab- got the brilliant idea to start a ghost-hunting group with his best friend and roommate Skizz, and Scar expressed interest in joining, Grian made a split-second decision in a moment of weakness. He maintained his skepticism, claiming that he wanted to tag along just to prove how silly the whole idea was. Impulse was fine with it, while Scar said Grian had to wear the same uniform as them, and the rest was history.

(To be fair, that was before Grian knew it’d be a pleather jumpsuit.)

So here they are now nearly three years later, rumbling down a long gravel road in the dark and cold, up late on a Saturday night even though he still isn’t finished with his condominium model that’s due at 8 am on Monday and he’s fresh out of popsicle sticks. Moments like these almost make Grian wish he could just ask a guy out like a normal person, so they could spend time together without chasing pretend ghosts around dusty houses all night.

But that’d require him to talk about his feelings. Ugh, he’d rather let the ghosts get him.

“Alright.” Impulse slows the van to a halt. The doors unlock with a heavy clunk. “What do you guys think?”

Grian isn’t expecting much when he glances out the window. But the sight that greets him immediately prompts a hasty exit from the vehicle, scarcely noticing the sudden chill, his jaw dropping open in awe.

It’s a Victorian. Not a house that someone has mistakenly called ‘Victorian’ just because it looks old. A genuine, honest-to-goodness, Queen Anne’s style two-story Victorian manor with an asymmetrical facade and a rounded corner tower and a generous wrap-around porch, silhouetted against the fading light of the evening sky.

Grian reaches for his flashlight. Sweeping over the exterior, his breath catches. Knots of ivy creep up the walls, and there are a few places where the intricate wood trim has been lost to previous repairs and weather damage. A couple of the windows are bricked up. Most of the paint is faded and peeling. But overall? It’s beautiful.

“Oh man,” Grian murmurs, pushing his glasses back up, “look at the shape of it... look at the dormers!”

A second beam of light joins in; Scar’s emerged from the van. “Lots of character,” he says, sounding similarly entranced. “And still in great condition! Oh, it’s beautiful. It’s enough to make a man cry.”

Impulse hops out of the driver’s seat, chuckling. “I knew you two would like it. It’s an ‘85.”

Grian gives an appreciative whistle. “Look, I still don’t think we’re gonna find anythin’,” he says with a sideways look at Scar, “but I gotta tell ya… if- if I were a ghost… I think I’d haunt a proper house like this. Not those builder-grade boxes in the suburbs.”

“Right?” Impulse says, his forked tail flicking through the air. “That’s what I’m sayin’... I uh, I think this place has real potential.”

Skizz, who’s come around the van to stand with them, nods thoughtfully. “Definitely somethin’ special ‘bout it, that’s for true,” he says, exchanging a look with Impulse. Then he claps his hands together. “Alright gentlemen, let’s get movin’!”

Impulse and Skizz turn towards the van, heading to open the back.

Grian stares after them, squinting suspiciously. That wasn’t just any look. That was a Look. A Look that he knows all too well. They had that same Look on their faces at last year’s frat mixer, when they rigged the speakers at the Heta Kappa house to play ‘Margaritaville’ every time someone flushed a toilet.

It means that they’re Up To Something.

… Grian’s sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“Well, Grian,” Scar says, hands on his hips as he surveys the property, “if it’s any connotation, at least we’ll get to study some real architecture tonight.”

Grian gives him a bemused look. “Consolation?”

Scar blinks. “Cono- what, what’d I say? Con- coronation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, ey,” Grian chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

~*~

“Check it out, dude,” Skizz calls excitedly, “temp’s dropping in here! Five degrees colder than the rest of the house!”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s an east-facing room and the sun’s only just set, of course it’s colder than the rest of the house,” he says, idly passing his UV glow stick over an armchair. No prints, of course. “I doubt they’ve updated the insulation anytime within the last two decades.”

“And hey, look,” Impulse chimes in from the corner, “I’ve got EMF 1.3!”

Grian doesn’t even look up. “There’s an exposed outlet in here and I’ll bet the wiring’s older than I am. And in any case, it’s still below the recommended threshold.” Ew, okay, now that’s a suspicious UV stain on the floor, but not of the supernatural kind…

“Oh, it’s definitely not up to code,” Impulse agrees. He waves his EMF reader around a bit, making the pitch warble. “But I dunno, I think this must be the ghost’s favorite room. Might not be here right now, but I’m getting some real vibes…”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Sure…”

Twenty minutes in, and despite the house’s hauntingly elegant construction, it’s been the same old story. The house is empty and quiet, as abandoned houses tend to be. Quite sparse, as most of the furnishings probably went to auction. The furniture that’s left is covered with tarps and every surface is coated with a fine layer of dust. He can smell mold somewhere in the floorboards and there’s apparent water damage in the ceiling.

The only renovation attempted thus far was the removal of some cheap linoleum tiles that were laid in the kitchen at some point- a renovation Grian can heartily agree with, there’s some absolutely gorgeous hardwood underneath- but they didn’t get far. The removed tiles are still sitting about in a haphazard pile, hammer and chisel abandoned on the floor beside them. Frantic footsteps smeared in the dust and powder paint the scene of a terrified contractor fleeing for their life from the reported ‘ghostly hauntings’.

In any case, they haven’t heard any activity from the spirit box, nothing unusual has stood out on UV, and the salt Impulse laid out is still undisturbed. Surprise, surprise. Grian’s spent most of his time admiring the elaborate wooden trims lining every wall, scuffed as they are. What he wouldn’t give to properly restore this place…

“Hey, Dipple Dop?” Skizz calls suddenly. “Your radio working okay?”

Impulse gives him a curious look. “Huh? What, is there-” He pauses, glancing down at his radio. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, actually, mine’s on the fritz, must be overdue a battery change.”

“Oh?” Grian tilts his head innocently. “You don’t think it’s a ghoooost?”

Impulse purses his lips. “I don’t think everything is a ghost,” he says mildly. He clips the radio onto his belt, turning to the door. “I’ve got extras in the van, hang on…”

“I’ll go, too,” Skizz says quickly, slinging an arm and his wing around Impulse’s shoulders. “Buddy system! You know what, I- I’m tellin’ you, you never split up when hunting ghosts. That’s how they get you, dude.”

Oh. Oh, no.

Grian gives them a warning Look.

They give him a cheeky Look back.

“Yup, yeah, that’s true,” Impulse says with obvious feigned sincerity, steering Skizz out of the room. “So uh, you two keep at it, okay, and we’ll be right back…”

“Oh, okay!” Scar says cheerfully, busy setting up the tripod over in the corner and completely oblivious to their scheme. “Have a great time not getting murdered!”

Grian opens his mouth to protest, but Impulse and Skizz are already gone out the front door. Leaving him and Scar completely alone. Totally by coincidence, surely. Oh, he knew his drunken confession to Impulse at the school’s annual bar crawl fundraiser night would come back to bite him eventually.

It’s almost insulting, in a way. Like they think the only reason Grian hasn’t made a move is because he hasn’t had ample alone time with Scar. Like he needed them to give him an opportunity. But if he’d wanted to confess to Scar, he already would have. He’d have had it well done by now. They could give him a little credit.

See, the thing is, he’s thought about it. Plenty of times, in fact. But the issue he keeps coming back to is that if he tells Scar about his crush on him, then Scar will know about it. There’ll be no going back at that point. And if Scar doesn’t feel the same way- well, Grian can kiss their friendship goodbye. So yeah, no, he doesn’t think he’ll be making any dramatic love confessions tonight, strangely enough.

The risk of an awkward silence developing is astronomical, so Grian clears his throat. “Man… isn’t this place somethin’,” he says, then immediately fights the urge to cringe.

Scar, luckily, gives an emphatic nod. “It is, it truly is amazing.” He straightens up, dusting his hands off as he turns to Grian. “You know who’d really love this place, is Gem?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Grian agrees. He busies himself with the UV, so he’s not just standing around. “We should take some pictures for her.”

“Oh, good idea!” Giving the tripod a final once-over, Scar wanders over to Grian. “So, any fingering goin’ on, yet?”

Grian nearly drops his glow stick. “Sorry- any what?!” he screeches, whirling around on Scar.

“You know, ghost fingers!” Scar says, perfectly innocent. He holds his hands up, wiggling his fingers in demonstration. “On the- on the glowy light?”

Grian takes a deep breath, face burning. “Oh Scar, buddy, you gotta think through your words better before you say them, alright?”

“Whaaat?” Scar pretends like he doesn’t know. “What, I’m just- you’ve got the stick, you know, little glow stick for when the ghost touches, uh-”

“Nevermind,” Grian groans. “Anyways, no, I haven’t found any ghostly handprints and I never will, because ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar folds his arms. “Well, hey, maybe the ghost is just polite! You know, he- maybe he’s just minding his business, not touching anything or- or anyone. Just because we don’t get anything on UV doesn’t mean ghosts aren’t real, I’ll have you know.”

Grian sees the challenge for what it is. “Alright…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his spirit box. Holding the transponder to his lips, he belts out, “Where ahhre yewww?” in his best imitation of an over-exaggerated pop-punk accent. If Impulse and Skizz are eavesdropping through their radios, he hopes he gave them a start.

Scar laughs. “Oh man, been a while since I heard that one! You-”

I’m close.

Grian jumps so badly he nearly drops the box, his wings puffing out involuntarily. “What?! Wha- who said that?” he demands, spinning around.

Scar blinks at him. “What? Did you hear something through the box?”

“I- I dunno?” Grian says uncertainly. The box seems to be working as normal; when he holds the receiver down, there’s a faint hiss of static, and the bulb remains white. No further noises come from the speaker.

After a couple seconds of tense listening, Grian feels silly. Way to play it cool. He switches the box off with an exasperated sigh. “No, of course I didn’t hear anything through the box. Like I said, ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar hums noncommittally. “Oh, Grian... you know, there are some things in the world that can’t be explained.”

Grian snorts. “Oh, yeah? Well, I- I got a few explanations for ya.” He counts on his fingers. “It could’ve been this old house creaking in the wind, or an electrical surge causing feedback through the transponder, or- or, not to mention, Impulse and Skizz pranking us through the radio?”

Scar snickers. “That does sound like something they’d do, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah.” Grian slips the box back into his pocket. “And y’know, being in a creepy abandoned house, after dark, out in the middle’a nowhere... it’s easy to think you’re hearin’ things.”

Scar rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. “I know, I know, so you’ve told me. But one of these days, mister, you’re gonna eat your words.”

“Right,” Grian drawls. “I’m so scared…”

The front door slams shut.

That makes Grian pause. They always leave the front door open while out on a job. It saves time when they have to go back and forth from the van, and saves battery life on their radios when they can just shout to each other through the open doorway. Obviously this job is a little different, because Impulse and Skizz have clearly got it in their heads to try and get him and Scar together, but he wouldn’t think they’d go so far as to-

The lights suddenly flicker and go out. But in the split-second before they do, Grian sees a shadowy figure silhouetted against the door.

Pure instinct takes over. Grian spins on his heel, grabs Scar by the arm, and absolutely flies down the stairs to the basement. He knows they’ve disturbed one or two piles of salt but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. His wings are bumping against the walls and he’s certainly never tried carrying someone as big as Scar before but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even process the ache of it rattling through his body. He bursts into the basement, feathers flying, and careens towards the back of the room, around a tall shelving unit, and into the corner.

There’s a heap of boxes stacked up in this corner; Grian unceremoniously shoves Scar over top of them, dropping him in the narrow space between the boxes and the wall. He’s wedged in as far as he can himself, laying across the boxes, his double pair of wings preventing him from squeezing in beside Scar. He’s still got the UV light clenched in his fist, he realizes belatedly- he braces his forearms against the wall to try and cover it, fanning his wings out behind him to block it out from the rest of the room. Glancing back over his shoulder, he tries to gauge how much light is getting through when a noise makes him freeze.

Footsteps.

They’re soft and light- certainly not the heavy boots of Impulse or Skizz. No, they sound almost barefoot. And as they gently tap down the stairs, the sound of giggling fills the air. It’s a feminine voice. Young, like a child. Like a little ghostie girl is prancing down the stairs to murder them.

Grian thinks he might pass out. Can ghosts actually kill people? How would they do it if they’re incorporeal? He’s never considered the question before, he never thought he’d have to because it’s ridiculous, ghosts aren’t real, of course they can’t kill people-

The footsteps stop.

Grian isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. He doesn’t dare move. A chill runs up his spine, making every single feather stand on end. He can almost hear the high-pitched violins that would be playing right now if this were a horror movie; the cheesy, overdrawn kind of horror movies that are always playing at the drive-in that the four of them watch while piled into the back of the van in a tangle of limbs and spilled popcorn and oh god he’s spiraling now because he’s about to be killed by a ghost-

Bye-bye!

The chill recedes. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he sees the faint glow of light from upstairs return.

It’s over.

Grian’s mind is spinning. What was that? What was that? It seems impossible, it doesn’t even feel real to be in this situation right now but he is, there was a ghost, there was a ghost. It feels insane to even think it. But the residual adrenaline coursing through his body reminds him it was very real, he just encountered a ghost.

A ghost! Oh, after three years of very loudly decrying the entire concept as rubbish. He can’t believe it. He really can’t believe it, this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen tonight. Ghosts are real. Ghosts are really, really, real. He doesn’t know what to do, who would ever believe him? Is this how the others have been feeling this whole time? God, he can’t believe this-

“G...?” Scar’s voice pipes up hesitantly. “What... what are we doing?”

Oh, right. Grian glances down at Scar- and his heart jolts. He’d been so focused on getting away from the ghost, he’d acted without thinking, so only now does he realize the... predicament he’s put them in.

Scar’s slumped against the floor beneath him, head tucked just below Grian’s arms. His long legs are still draped over the box that Grian’s laying across, resting on either side of his waist. And due to the odd posture Grian’s in, his chest has been thrust rather close to Scar’s face, lit by the soft purple glow of the UV.

This is probably the closest Grian has ever been to sitting in Scar’s lap.

Grian’s not proud of the yelp that escapes him. “Sorry, sorry!” His wings flail as he struggles to push himself off of the wall, stumbling back onto his feet. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated and he nearly falls backwards, his heart pounding.

Scar manages a laugh, easing himself up off the floor. “No, no, it’s okay, I- I just... what- why’d you bring us down here?” he asks, dusting off his jumpsuit.

Grian catches his breath. “Wait, you... didn’t hear the creepy ghost on its way to kill us?” he asks, frowning.

Scar‘s eyes widen. “What? There was a ghost?”

No way.

“Are you-!” Grian throws his arms up. “Honestly, I- I know avians have better hearing than most but that’s insane. She was laughing! Laughing and skipping down the blumin’ steps! And you didn’t hear any of it?”

“No…?” Scar shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry, okay! I- I don’t know, I was- a lot was happening, you- you’re grabbin’ me, pulling me down the stairs and into this little corner, I didn’t know what was going on! I didn’t know, I- I was all disconbodulated- disco- bobo, bobumated? I was a little distracted, okay. Jeeze, give a man a break…”

“Distracted?” Grian repeats incredulously. “You’re the one who actually believes in ghosts, here, how could you get distracted? What do you…”

He trails off. Scar is very clearly fighting to avoid looking at Grian, but for the briefest moment, his eyes dart down to Grian’s chest. Suddenly confused, Grian follows his gaze, and-

Oh, for goodness sakes. At some point during his frantic flight, the stupid zipper on his stupid jumpsuit came down again, exposing a frankly scandalous amount of skin. Not Scar-level of scandalous, but pretty close.

Grian immediately feels himself turn red. “Oh. Uh- right,” he hastily pulls the zipper back up, “sorry ‘bout that…”

Wait. Wait just a second.

Scar was distracted from a literal ghost hunt going on... because Grian’s bare chest was showing? Does that... does that mean he liked it?

Scar’s avoiding his gaze again. His cheeks are tinted pink.

“Scar...?” Grian ventures carefully. “Were you... lookin’ at my chest?”

Scar’s cheeks darken. “Ah, I- I- don’t- I mean, why would you- I didn’t mean to, it’s just...” He fumbles for the words. “What- what am I- hey, your pecs were basically in my face! I wasn’t trying to look, I- I just-”

“Scar,” Grian says, keeping his voice light and teasing, “did ya… did you like what you saw?”

Scar splutters for a moment. “Well, sure, Grian,” he tries to laugh it off, “I mean, anyone- anyone with eyes can see you’re uh, you know, you’re- you’re pretty attractive. I- I’m secure enough to say it, I don’t care, it’s- sure, of course, you’re very muscular! You’re a- you’re a muscular man, it’s just not always obvious with the sweaters you wear. Or- sorry, you call them jumpers in Britain land, right, they’re jumpers-”

“You been checkin’ me out, Scar?” Grian asks, caught somewhere between playfulness and utter disbelief.

“Uh...” Scar rubs the back of his neck. He exhales slowly, clearly debating with himself. “I... maybe? What... what would you say... if that were the case?”

Grian swallows. His heart is absolutely racing now, and he’s broken into a cold sweat that’s definitely not supernatural in origin. The air between them feels fragile; he’s acutely aware that a single word from him could swiftly plunge them back into the realm of safe familiarity, of casual light-hearted teasing between friends. Scar’s always said things that bordered on the flirtatious, and Grian can hide behind the plausible deniability of teasing. This entire interaction doesn’t have to mean anything. It can be easily moved past and forgotten.

And yet, strangely enough… Grian doesn’t want it to. Maybe it’s the post-haunting adrenaline or the fact that he could’ve died tonight, but all of a sudden, he feels like taking a chance. Like he could finally say what he’s wanted to say for the last three years. He managed to hold his own against a blumin’ ghost, for goodness sakes- he should be able to face his own feelings head on.

He takes a breath. “I’d say that’s a relief… ‘cause I’ve been checkin’ you out since day one of first year.”

Scar stares at him for a long moment. His expression is utterly unreadable. The silence draws on long enough that Grian feels a spike of panic, worried that maybe he’s mishandled the situation-

“... oh my god,” Scar says finally. “Really?”

It sounds like the good kind of surprise. Grian offers a shy smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he admits. “I- Scar, I know I’m real good at playin’ these things close to the vest, but uh, I- I’ve had a massive crush on you since... basically since the day we met.”

“Huh.” Scar blinks. “You’re serious. You- you’re not pranking me right now?”

That startles a laugh out of Grian. “No! Scar, I don’t- we just survived being hunted by a ghost, I’m not pranking you!”

“Well, that’s- that’s amazing!” A grin spreads across Scar’s face- and man, oh man, does he have just the most wonderful smile. “Oh my gosh, G, I don’t- you don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

The relief is almost overwhelming. “Yeah, me too!” Grian laughs, half-dazed and half-giddy, running a hand through his hair. “I- I even- look, the whole reason I even joined this group was as an excuse to hang out with you!”

Scar’s mouth falls open. “No way! That’s- that’s the whole reason I joined in the first place, too!”

Now it’s Grian’s turn to gawk. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not!” Scar insists, “I swear, I’m not- Impulse said he wanted to start the group and maybe we’d all join and get to hang out and I thought ‘hey, ghosts are cool and Grian is cool’ so I just-”

“Oh, I can’t believe this…” Grian groans, hiding his burning face in his hands. “We really are idiots, we’ve wasted nearly three years…”

Scar’s hands close around Grian’s wrists, lightly pulling them down from his face. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he says smoothly, leaning in.

Corny, but Grian will allow it. He closes the gap, tilting his head up to meet Scar’s lips.

In that moment, everything else fades away. All the nervousness, all the second-guessing, even the bombshell discovery of the existence of ghosts- there could be one standing in front of them right now and Grian wouldn’t care. The way Scar gathers Grian in his arms, hands gently roving through his feathers- it’s bliss. It’s perfect.

Scar kisses him strong and purposefully, with no trace of carelessness or haste. He doesn’t rush. There’s intent written into every single movement, jaw working to deepen the kiss. Grian curls against him, hands splayed across Scar’s chest. He can feel Scar’s heart pounding through his flushed skin, and it’s wildly exciting- to think Scar is just as breathless as he is.

Growing bold, Grian dares to slip his tongue into Scar’s mouth, and the noise he makes- part surprise, part delight- sends pure electricity fizzling up his spine. His mind is starting to drift away from him, lost in the sensation of weightlessness, of floating, that almost makes him feel like he’s gone completely incorporeal- like his own spirit has become untethered from the mortal coil.

Then Skizz’s voice comes down the stairs.

“G-Sharp! Scarface! You down here? We just saw a freaking ghost on the cams, and- oh my god!”

Grian breaks away from Scar, but not quick enough. He turns to see Skizz and Impulse standing at the bottom of the stairs, expressions shocked. And then, as if they’d rehearsed it, they both break into massive shit-eating grins and spin around to high-five each other.

“Woo!” Impulse cheers. “We got ‘em! Ladies and gentlemen, we finally got them.”

“Yeah, baby!” Skizz pumps his fist in the air. “Oh, I love it!”

“Oh, would you two stop it?” Grian huffs, but he’s not really cross. Hard to be cross when he’s on cloud nine. “The ghost did most of the work, alright?”

“That’s right,” Scar sniffs, winding an arm around Grian’s waist. “You know, I- I’m startin’ to think you all were in cahoots! Cahoots, I say!”

“Dude, if only,” Skizz laughs, walking over to clap them on the shoulders. “Could not have planned it better, that’s amazing. Well done, gentlemen!”

“Yeah, it’s about time!” Impulse adds, crossing his arms. “I was starting to think we’d graduate before either of you fessed up, I- I had to take drastic measures…”

“Impulse,” Grian says warningly, “if you’re about to tell me you started this whole paranormal investigation group just as a way to push me and Scar into confronting our feelings, I swear-”

“No, no,” Impulse assures him, chuckling. “I really do like the ghost-hunting deal, don’t worry. But uh, we did deliberately ditch you guys in the hopes that something would happen.”

Scar waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, things happened, alright.”

“Scar!” Grian swats at him, but he’s laughing and it feels good. It feels right. After all this time spent worrying about worst-case scenarios, about denying his feelings for the sake of maintaining the comfortable mundanity of his comfortable life, it turns out the scariest part was the fear itself.

The irony doesn’t escape his notice. A bit on the nose, if he’s honest.

“But in even bigger news,” Impulse graciously continues, “you saw the ghost? And you believed it? You, Mr. Non-Believer in all things ghostly?”

Grian sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know…”

“This is incredible!” Skizz claps his hands together. “Okay, okay, we gotta go cleanse the area and I wanna hear everything, got it? Don’t leave a single detail out!”

Grian slips his hand into Scar’s as they follow Impulse and Skizz back up the stairs. “Yeah, alright,” he relents. He supposes he’s due for a lot of ‘I told you so’s’. But really, it’s a small price to pay for the life-altering knowledge that ghosts are real… and for finally finding the courage to believe in something extraordinary.

Scar hums. “Wait, details about the ghost or about the kissing?”

“Scar!”

~*~

#hermitcraft #hermitshipping #scarian #my writing #listen i am only a casual phasmo enjoyer and idk anything about architecture school pls don't come for me abt any inaccuracies #just here for a good gay spooky time #wanted to see if i'd be any good at writing commissions (ie. solely based off someone else's idea) and i had FUN #but it's always easy to be inspired by mel <3

608 notes · View notes

chriscamopants · 2 months

Text

I mean it // homewrecker Matt

Summary: in which Matt is only friends with a guy because he really wants his girlfriend…

Author’s notes: I do not condone cheating, nor is it an acceptable thing to do to anyone, so again if you don’t like it, don’t read it. However, if Matt Sturniolo came up to me one day and offered to steal me away from a current boyfriend… I would not hesitate to take my clothes off on the spot. I rest my case.

Warnings: smut . cheating plot . degradation . praise dom Matt x sub fem reader . mentions of drinking + smoking . mentions of drugs . hair pulling if you squint

“She wears a ring? Came through without it, you really think she stays true? I doubt it, because I am fucking your girlfriend and there’s nothing you can do about it” - I mean it, G-Eazy

‘Yeah but Matt’s a dick…’

You shrug at your friend’s pointed comment, swishing around the last half of the strange alcoholic mixer that had been thrust into your hand the minute you had walked through the door.

Both of you stand to the side of the noisy, open living room area whilst your backs lean against the cold wallpaper of some rich kid’s penthouse.

‘Yeah… I know’

‘I could literally list all of the things wrong with him on my fingers and I would run out of them. I don’t even know why your boyfriend chooses to be friends with him’. She continues, taking a sip of her own drink whilst you stare off into the distance, mostly looking over to the opposite side of the room where a ping pong table has been set out and both the boyfriend in question and Matt - the subject of your degrading conversation - are playing in a heated game of beer pong.

‘I’m not sure either’

‘He’s a womaniser with literally no respect for anyone around him, he’s a narcissist, and he’s just constantly rude to people.’ She continues to rant aimlessly, her very large hoop earrings jingling as she shakes her head and denies someone who was offering her a selection of ecstasy pills on a silver platter.

The person doesn’t seem to care for the denial and instead shrugs his shoulders before moving on to pester the next highly intoxicated person, coaxing them into falling even more inebriated by placing the tempting round pill into the palm of their open hand.

She then starts again, waving her hands about dramatically whilst you secretly get lost in your own thoughts.

‘You should have heard what he said the other day about a random girl who passed us on the sidewalk, if I-’ but then her voice slowly fades into the distance the more you focus in on Ryan, who stands next to a Matt that cheers him on whilst he aims a ping pong ball up to throw it into one of the cups opposite them.

Matt wears a baggy dark green zip up hoodie that looks almost black in the flashing red LED lights of the room as weed smoke blows up into the air in thick plumes, like tiny little volcanos releasing their clouds of ash.

Suddenly, your heart squeezes strangely and you find yourself beginning to blush in embarrassment when Matt senses someone staring at him and so flicks his eyes over to you. He has his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets and wears a cheeky little smile on his face that puckers even more after he deflects his eyes to the back of Ryan’s head. He then looks back at you and makes a face, as if to playfully scold you for staring.

You bet he finds all of this so funny. The fact that you are looking at him instead of Ryan.

It immediately makes you feel bad, because you know that if you bump into Matt later tonight, he is most definitely going to bring this up just to tease you about it. However, something within the look of his eyes makes you inwardly squirm. Or maybe it’s the way his smirk suites his face so attractively…

But then you come to the conclusion that it is neither of those things, because what it really is, is the way he inconspicuously lifts his middle and pointer fingers up to split them at either side of his mouth and 'scratch his face’ whilst making direct eye contact with you.

He’s got a pair of fucking balls to innocently mimic the dirty joke of eating someone out, you’ll give him that. Whether it is intentional or not, it still makes you screw up your face in disgust and avert your eyes, to which Matt smiles in victory before re-joining the conversation that is being shared around the ping pong table at his end.

His lower half isn’t visible as he stands behind a Ryan that holds a cup in his hand already whilst his other one lets go of a white ball. Everyone watches it bounce to the other side of the table before it neatly splashes into one of the opposition’s cups.

People cheer for Ryan whilst the other random guy groans with his head thrown back. He playfully points at Ryan and Matt, saying something before he swipes up the shot and knocks it back with a screwed up face of disgust.

They’re probably all drinking the equivalent of burning gasoline in those vile, non-diluted drinks. And judging by the way Matt and Ryan have polished off quite a few of the cups on their side already, it’s clear that they must have come to get absolutely shit-faced at this party.

You secretly roll your eyes and nod along as you hum, pretending to listen to a word your friend is saying before another random girl who - your guess, knows her - comes up to chat.

This gives you an excuse to slip out of her eye-line.

Matt.

Aka, the asshole of all assholes, however… also more fondly known as ‘your boyfriend’s best friend’.

It’s not like what your friend says isn’t true, because all of it is. He is a womaniser, he is a narcissist, and he most definitely is disrespectful to everyone most of the time. In fact, Matt sometimes scares you. You don’t like opening your mouth in front of him at all, nor should anyone else, because no matter what is being said, he’ll still manage to be rude about it.

To say he is a fucking bully is an understatement. He’s the kind of person that will snigger at a guy in glasses and whisper about his appearance after he has passed by to his friends or trip up someone in the school hallways ‘by accident’, only to then watch their folders go flying for the fun of it. He is mean and unpleasant, and quite frankly a terrible influence on Ryan.

Plus, annoyingly, as your friend also points out, Matt loves girls, and he loves the attention he receives from them, because he knows he’s hot. Which doesn’t bother you at all, because you’re with Ryan. But what does concern you however, is that more often than not, you catch Matt looking at you in ways that clearly shouldn’t be allowed, especially since he knows that you are taken. No less taken by his best friend.

They are subtle, and he always immediately looks away after you catch him, but usually with no regret in his eyes and sometimes even with little conniving smirks on his face as though you are both sharing a little inside joke.

Ryan is as clueless as ever of course, he trusts too many people, and only ever really sees the best in Matt. He refuses to believe that Matt could be using his friendship for something else entirely. Because unfortunately, sometimes guy are only friends with other guys because they really want their girlfriends.

And lately… Matt has been absolutely oozing those vibes. Sometimes, you get inwardly pissed at Ryan for not realising the obvious signs, because Matt really doesn’t make it discreet. At all.

It always starts with the stupid shit like looking over at his phone whilst he’s texting Matt to arrange a hang out time, only to see Matt replying with an oh-so-innocent ‘oh cool, will ur gf be there?’ as a sneaky way of making sure that you’ll be around.

Either that or it’s him making blatantly flirty remarks, right in front of Ryan.

Stupidly… most of the time all of these go over Ryan’s head and you just have to roll your eyes at him.

The other thing that also leads you to this conclusion is the very worrying fact that you know Matt has a clear track record of being a notorious homewrecker. It’s like… his thing.

He loves pursuing something that people tell him is actually out of his reach. He loves being able to feel like he can touch the untouchable. And here he is, best friends with Ryan, but only because Ryan has a girlfriend… you.

Someone that he maybe- possibly? To your recollection… wants to fuck.

But that’s just your take on it, and it might not even be true, who knows what actually goes on in the complicated weave of Matt’s mind.

Heading further into the haze of the party, you stroll about, practically choking on the smell of sweat, perfume, nicotine and weed. Not to mention the fact that you almost get crushed in between the grinding body parts of people as their skin brushes and presses up against your own.

You trip up on your feet a couple of times and find it pretty hard to breathe in amongst all of the party goers as you barge your way through the claustrophobically intense crowd that flashes generic neon party colours of red, blue and green from the installed lights above.

Your ears ring and your head thumps at the sound of the tasteless rap music still playing, so you decide to do what any normal person would and go up the stairs to find an unoccupied room where you can just lie down and have some peace and quiet. You’re sure the guy throwing this rager has a couple to spare, even if in some of them people have already gone to fuck.

You’re not too drunk to have lost your grip on what is actually going on around you… you can still think straight, however, you’re not exactly stone cold sober either. So, you wobble your way up the stairs and then walk along the corridor, having to try a few rooms before finding a nice empty one.

Sitting down on the plush double bed you sigh. However, in your intoxicated state, you don’t quite realise that the light to the bathroom suite is on and that someone else is also shuffling around on the other side of the door.

Who that someone is, is only made apparent to you after the bathroom door unlocks and he comes stepping out whilst flicking off the light switch.

You quite literally freeze, and part of you thinks you get so much of a fright that you sober up a little when you gaze upon a full bodied Matt standing in the darkened doorway of the bathroom.

Oh…

Matt looks equally as caught off-guard as you as he narrows his eyes.

‘What are you doing in here?’ You stupidly announce, as if it is your own private room that he is in. He rolls his eyes and scoffs, his usual clipped tone being exercised on you as he responds with a sharp ‘I’m just looking around, jesus it’s not like it’s your bathroom’.

You gulp and shake your head in understanding, inwardly scolding yourself on the idiocy of what you had just said. Trying not to stumble upon your words the next time around you keep your eyes trained on him as he marches across the room to have a nose at some of the pictures hanging up on the walls. Now, your hands are shakily white knuckling the bedsheets… fuck, you can’t just leave! That would be weird.

You don’t have to start speaking again however, because Matt does it for you.

‘So why are you up here by yourself? Thought you would have been begging for Ry’s attention by now’. You can feel his smirk through the back of his fucking head.

Pretty much everything that comes out of this man’s mouth makes your blood sear hotly within your veins. Who the fuck does he think he is to say something like that about you?

‘Well I’m not am I?’

This is the only good comeback you can manage to think of and bite back in the time that he gives you. He is already starting to make your hands shake with nervousness.

His back is turned, but he always somehow manages to command your attention.

‘Yeah I guess so’ he shrugs, but then starts an annoying chuckle as he suddenly looks over his shoulder at your body sitting meekly on the bed, his jawline still as sharp as ever and protruding from his neck. ‘Seems like instead you’re looking for my attention then huh?’.

The quipped hum that travels from his throat makes you flush a cherry pink, and you struggle to keep up with his wit since you get nervous about the way he looks at you and the way he commands himself. ‘Oh really, and what gave you that impression?’. But immediately after you say this you wish you could take it back, because Matt swivels on his feet as though you had walked directly into a trap of his own making.

Which to be honest, you kind of had…

‘Well for one, you’re in here… with me. And two, you just couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of me earlier… and that’s not really supposed to be what loving girlfriends do’ he pouts his lips and tilts his head meanly, already psychologically bullying you because of how much you had looked at him earlier at the ping pong table in comparison to Ryan.

This time you directly roll your eyes at him and decide to get back up from your position on the bed. At least now you feel like you’re not at a loss for power due to the height difference. You don’t like the way that it’s too easy for him to completely tower over you from your spot on the patterned bed covers.

You can tell that Matt is also a little tipsy based off of the way he sways a little as he stands still, but just like yourself, it’s not enough alcohol to make him completely lose his grip on reality and who you are. So why is it, that he looks at you as though you are a hunk of fresh meat up for grabs?

Suddenly he looks away, taking a deep breath and reaching his hand to the nightstand next to the bed. He swipes up the book resting on top of it, and then slowly reads out the title of the classical novel. ‘The Lover’s Den… it’s one of those must reads isn’t it?’ He asks, still with the added patronising tone that never fails to tick you off.

Your skin feels itchy, and you want nothing more than to run out of this room and away from Matt’s presence, because his attitude really affects you in the strangest of ways. ‘Sure I guess…’ you shift awkwardly, trying to keep your answers as brief as possible.

You wish he would just put the book down, but instead he flips it around and starts to read the blurb.

‘An erotic romance filled with dark twists and a lover’s secret…’.

As he speaks these words your heart plummets into your ass. Next come his hooded eyes that flick up to yours and narrow impishly.

Please just let this be over.

You don’t want to be around Matt any more than you can help it, for conflicting reasons. If before you weren’t sure if whether or not he wanted to fuck you, now you’re pretty much certain he did.

You just hate the way that he is so critical about you, and how he can easily make you feel shy and embarrassed about yourself.

Matt is really attractive, almost unfairly attractive, which just makes you feel sick to your stomach about how often your feelings fight with one another when discussing the concepts of right and wrong. Because you shouldn’t be thinking about that at all, especially when you’re in a supposedly “loving” relationship with Ryan- that transforms into a less loving relationship with every single step Matt takes to get to your heaving figure.

By now he has dropped the book and it’s flopped quietly back down onto the mattress, the suggestive pages of the erotica long forgotten by Matt in favour of him getting to what he really wants… you.

‘Aren’t you a little tired of your relationship?’ He gently starts, as if trying to take on the tone of some kind of marriage counsellor. Your heart squeezes as little paper butterflies make their way around the step ladders of your rib cage.

Oh fuck, how the hell are you supposed to respond to that?

You end up simply keeping your lips sealed in shock. Instead, you opt to nervously gulp a drop of your saliva down your scratchy throat as one of your feet naturally takes a step back from his advancing body.

‘Maybe you want to explore a little before you tie any proper knots with your boyfriend no…?’

Matt has reached you now, and as a natural reaction you simply freeze in your spot of one foot stepped behind the other, your heart still galloping and your eyes blinking up at him widely.

As you begin to stutter, Matt’s mouth peels up into a satisfied smirk with his jawline sharp and his hot breath dispersing directly onto your face because of just how close he is. In fact, he’s so close that you can see the small little pores where his dark stubble grows in to shape his beard.

‘Y’know I like exploring too… a lot…’

His voice reduces to nothing more than a mere whisper now as his face gets incomprehensibly closer to yours. Your hands lay limp by your sides, that is, until Matt slowly gravitates his veined ones forward to pinch your softer skin in between his rougher, more masculine grip whilst his thumbs rub temptingly over the flesh that conjoins your pointer fingers to your thumbs.

Your breath is shaky and audible as Matt falls into a hushed quiet, taking your own silence as permission to press his lips against yours.

Something within your brain sounds a shrieking siren that screams ‘RYAN! RYAN! RYAN!’ Over and over again as Matt’s soft lips enclose over yours with a gentle victory that he treats cautiously at first. He’s buttering you up with his tender caresses and soothing voice, knowing exactly how to play to your weaknesses since he’s had practice at swinging sledgehammers at other people’s happy relationships before.

But, unfortunately for Matt, the little nagging voice of Ryan inside of your head succeeds.

Bile almost rises in your throat as reality comes to slap you in the face. You’re knocked out of Matt’s bewitching trance and are absolutely horrified as to what you are doing with him whilst your boyfriend is most likely located just down the stairs from the two of you.

Ripping yourself away, you jump back in terror and leave Matt to open his eyes and blink them, his lips already swollen with arousal before his hand comes up to smoosh against them in a vampiric manner. He then rubs away any saliva that might have oozed from out of his mouth as though he were swiping away blood.

Shaking your head in silence, you once again have practically no words to utter and instead spin on your heels. Making a beeline straight to the door, you leave Matt’s sexual aura behind, his presence and strong smell of aftershave still polluting your nose and playing with your senses before you grasp a hold of the doorknob and slip outside.

However, regrettably, you don’t leave Matt standing alone in the centre of the room for long, because as quickly as you had closed the door right in his face, you are shyly cracking it back open again and sliding into the room with a guilty grimace once more.

Matt only stands there with his arms crossed and a smug fucking smile on his face, the dim bedside table lamp lighting up both of your complexions with a yellowish lustre. It’s as if he knew that you wouldn’t be gone for long - which to be fair, was right - but it still irked you to admit it.

With a final swallow, you put a signature on an imaginary infidelity contract whilst standing meekly a couple of strides away from him. Fiddling with your hands self-consciously, you voice a curious but soft ‘tell me more…’.

Matt’s shoulders rise and his chest expands with a satisfied sigh, knowing that he has won and absolutely loving it in the process.

Walking up to you, his feet pad quietly on the carpet whilst your breaths once again mingle with one another. Regrettably, you feel now that the heartbeat is not just within your chest, but also in between your legs as Matt easily slips his body around to your back.

He exhales another gentle sigh, now a cool air hitting the side of your neck and making you shiver whilst his chest presses against your shoulder blades. Taking your hands within his once again, he now does something that makes you screw your eyes shut and completely mentally kick yourself because of how much you enjoy it.

Pressing his flat palms over the tops of your hands, he splays them onto the bottom of your thighs before sensually sliding his fingers into the slots between yours. Then, he starts dragging both of your hands up each of your thighs, making sure that you can feel as much as he can underneath the pads of your fingertips whilst he breathes into your ear and expands his chest along your back.

‘Hm… I also like a lot of touching…’ he whispers into your ear before nudging it with his nose.

The more you let him guide both of your hands, the closer they get to your now throbbing centre as they slip up your tender inner thighs. But before you two touch it, he expertly manoeuvres them back out to the sides.

Once again, the sensation of your boyfriend’s malicious best friend touching you without him knowing catches up to you and you accidentally freak out.

Jumping away slightly you shake your head and this time move further into the room rather than sprinting back out of the door again.

You begin to pace.

Matt looks at you as though he has the praying eyes of a panther, predatory instincts kicking in as soon as you move away from him.

Smacking his lips in annoyance he raises his eyebrows sassily at you, his earrings glinting in the small stream of light and glittering every time they wobble when he moves.

Making up your mind and making it up quickly, you throw your whole entire relationship built up on trust into the trash as you stutter out a pathetic, cheating question that you hope will answer the doubts running around in your head.

‘You won’t tell a fucking soul about this will you?’

Matt raises his eyebrows again to look at you in judgement before substituting his incredulity for a smirk instead. Placing one of his hands over his heart, his other one raises to his head whilst he pledges allegiance to you with a mocking nickname lilted onto the end of the quip for good measure.

‘Cross my heart and hope to die, sweetheart’

With this… somewhat reassurance, you genuinely believe that Matt won’t tell a soul. So, you decide to think like a man… with your clit instead of with your brain, just as they would with their dicks.

‘So… what else do you like?’ You curiously ask, your voice still laced with a huge amount of hesitance, because you know of Matt’s dating history… and based off of some of the horror stories you’ve heard, you’re sure he likes a lot of different things. He doesn’t seem to be the picky type.

But you let Matt answer for himself, and you also let him once again walk back up to you, this time allowing him into your personal space without any fight at all. In fact, you’re actually more responsive to his touch.

He trails his hands around the hem of your jeans, before fiddling with each side of your shirt whilst his seductive eyes mimic his raspy voice.

‘I like things sticky… wet and messy… if it’s not messy I don’t fucking want it’.

His voice is slow, like dripping hot honey coated in sugar. The overall sensual manner of it makes your panties pool and you can practically feel yourself sticking together down at your core. Matt plays on this a little bit more after he sees how much it affects you.

‘Can you do messy baby? With those gorgeous thighs of yours? You wanna be my good girl tonight?’

He pouts boyishly and then tilts his head just that little bit so that he can feather a teasing kiss onto your lips before pulling away.

By now he is standing in the gap between your legs, enough so that when he compliments your thighs he can reach down to them and cup the backs of them, giving them a testing little squeeze.

His nose runs down the arch of your neck to your shoulder as he does this and at the same time, you both test the waters by giving each other an inconspicuous grind. Matt moans slightly into your skin at the erotic motion whilst the scruffy hair by his ear rubs against your jawline.

Throughout all of this dry sex however, he still manages to keep cool and collected. Unlike you, who practically falls to a puddle at his feet. The only thing keeping you up is his big palms supporting your thighs whilst his lips pucker and pepper a sprinkling of small kisses all along your exposed shoulder.

‘You wanna know how I taste don’t you? How I feel’. His voice rasps cheekily whilst referring to his cock. Now it’s your turn to let something of a stuttered whimper out into the air that gets semi-trapped on the way up because of just how far back your neck tilts to let Matt in to your exposed skin. You notice that now, your back is also arched for him and his cock as well. God how needy could you be?

‘I bet you’re just aching to hear what I sound like when you pull my hair…’ he continues his tease, showing you no mercy as your own hands grip and tighten onto each of his shoulders. They tremor in apprehension.

And now, Matt decides, is the best possible time to give you another kiss. Only this time, it’s longer, heavier and thicker with the feelings of lust laced within the twists of his tongue. Matt also lets your thighs go just so that he can grab a hold of each side of your jawline to steady himself better into the kiss.

Just like he had said before, it’s messy, and it’s sloppy. You easily feel the slick consistency of your salivas layering over the fullness of your lips. He rubs his own pair against yours before trapping them and sucking them, his tongue licking slowly over the plump pink flesh.

‘Give me your tongue baby’

He speaks quietly into your lips, pinching your hip bones after he teases his hands underneath your shirt. Clearly wanting you to reciprocate his tongue motions, it doesn’t take you long to do so whilst he gently pushes his nose to nudge against yours. Sensually, he starts to walk backwards.

Bending his knees, he falls down onto the bed and it squeaks underneath his heavy weight before his thighs spread open and he hauls you to sit on top of one of them. You can feel your cheeks burning.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, just to gaslight yourself into believing that you’re not really doing what you’re actually doing.

If you can’t see Matt and see the way you’re perched on top of his thigh as he easily cradles your ass possessively within his hands, then it’s not happening.

After you start to use your tongue more, from Matt’s tilted neck, you hear a throaty hum of delight before he rasps a quick ‘that’s my girl’.

Only your stomach pools with regret. Because you’re actually not his girl. You’re supposed to be Ryan’s.

You try your best to push the thought to the back of your mind however, and instead focus on the way Matt gently starts to apply pressure to each of your ass cheeks, willing them to slide forward, before he moves his thumbs to the front of your hip bones so that he can dig them into your skin and push you back into a grinding motion.

Your breathing is heavy, as is his, but you still continue to kiss, the sounds of your lips erotically moving together being pretty much the only sound in the room until you decide to speak up in response to what he had said earlier.

‘Well it serves Ryan right for being so stupid and not dropping you when he should have…’

Matt sniggers meanly with a toothy smile through your kiss, almost triumphantly at the fact that he had managed to slip past Ryan’s eyes with ease and take you as if it were like taking candy from a baby.

‘Fuck… you’re just as bad as me baby, aren’t you?…’ he muses in surprise, raising his eyebrows teasingly whilst you break away from each other’s kisses just so that he can look into your eyes. His irises flick between the left side of your face to the right, his hands still working you into a soft grind above his thigh whilst he passes his reddened tongue over his moist lips, almost hungrily. You find it within yourself to weakly smirk at his statement.

‘I’ve been waiting to put my hands on you for so fucking long baby, you have no idea’ he mumbles, again with another low and conniving laugh, not even a single thought about how Ryan would feel about all of this travelling through his mind.

Nope. His only concern currently, is how he can’t wait to hear the way you breathe his name through sweat, tears and pleasure as he has you in any way he wants. He feels proud, as if he is finally claiming his prize for being the shittiest friend known to man. But Matt isn’t really a friendly type of guy anyway. So he doesn’t give a shit.

The only thing he had been interested in was you in the first place, all he had needed to do was find a way into your life without making it too obvious that he was trying to steal you right from underneath Ryan’s nose.

Slowly, he slips his hand down to the front of your jeans, swiftly and expertly manoeuvring his fingers to the button so that he can pop it open and yank down the zipper with a desperate speed about him.

‘Shut up Matt… I don’t want to hear you gloating about this’. You whine pathetically, shyly looking down at Matt’s spread legs and the bottom of his green hoodie that currently covers his black belt, just so that you don’t have to look into his eyes.

He scoffs, yourself still not safe from the sharp edge of his tongue. You yelp when he decides to flex his torso and flip you two around.

‘Oh so you’re gonna be a cheeky little bitch about this then hm? Well, maybe you don’t deserve to have my cock…’ the spit he comes out with is ugly and threatening.

You’ll admit… you’re not quite expecting the change in power dynamic, and just the very sight of seeing Matt crawling his body over yours and trapping you with an animalistic look in his eyes makes all of this seem very real. There’s no going back now…

You gulp and blink with doe-like shock whilst Matt hooks his thumbs into your jeans to pull them halfway down your legs.

He sighs. ‘What would you rather me talk about then?’

But you only pant in return, cautiously looking down towards your jeans that are slowly being peeled from your smooth thighs as Matt’s face finds itself extremely attracted to your open neck.

‘Ugh, I don’t know Matt? Just… anything other than Ryan’ you complain, mildly rolling your eyes. Before he can go in to kiss your flesh, Matt catches this and actually snorts a laugh in response, clearly finding your lack of care for your shitty boyfriend highly amusing.

‘Hey, don’t worry, as soon as I’m finished with you the only name you’ll be able to remember is mine…’. Your thighs subconsciously squeeze at this comment, but you can’t quite clamp them together fully because Matt’s hips are in the way. He notices the tension in both of your muscles and so decides to milk it further by leaning his face down closer to yours whilst whispering a gorgeous ‘yeah? You like that?’ that rolls from off of his tongue with ease.

‘Mhm hmm’ you hum in return, trying to keep your mouth closed so that you don’t whine into the air when responding. Matt is clearly happy at this, reaching down one of his hands to his own pants that are fitted nicely around his legs.

He then places his other hand flat on the bed right next to your hip before using it to hoist all of his body weight up so that the hand down by his pants could expertly undo his belt and slip it out from the belt loops.

It’s extremely attractive, to see him towering over you like this just to undo his belt, and you feel your clit throb behind your panties once again when he bites his lip in concentration to get the rest of his pants undone just by using a single hand.

‘I wanna taste you so bad, but we’re gonna have to be quick baby…’ he mumbles to you after both of your attentions are side tracked to the door, where loud voices can be heard as people walk down the corridor and bypass the room. Too many people know who both of you are at this party, so it is risky doing this in here anyway, considering the fact that there is absolutely no lock on the door.

Pushing down his pants, you nod once again to agree with him before gulping at the slivers of his tanned thighs that reveal themselves the further down his jeans drop.

‘How do you wanna have me?’ You speak up timidly, feeling an awful lot like a mouse in the presence of a lion, one wrong move from you and you’re toast. But you decide to play along with Matt, because he seems to like it when you play the clueless game with him.

‘Have you ever had someone’s thigh before princess?’

Matt seems to immediately know what he wants to do to you with how quickly he responds and seems even more delighted at your virginal response of ‘what the fuck does that mean?’.

‘Sweetheart… has Ryan taught you nothing?’ He coos softly, his patronising tone still there whilst he sneakily slips his hands into your panties to pull them down and have cool air hit your centre. He has to bite his lip at the sight of your gushing wetness.

‘Well not really… he’s always sort of wanted to be on top so I’ve just let him…’. At this response, Matt scoffs and shakes his head in disappointment.

‘God Ryan what the fuck are you doing man?’ He quickly mumbles under his breath as if Ryan is in the room with you two before he turns his attention back to your needy figure.

‘I want you to cum all over my thigh angel… think you can do that for me?’ He questions encouragingly, your panties now also half way down your legs and sitting just above your sagged jeans. Your heart flutters and your back arches up once again whilst you hesitate.

Now, the throbbing is turning into a stinging because you haven’t touched yourself at all since this whole encounter has started, so you decide to simply answer with a quick ‘yes Matt, I-I can do that’.

He praises you right after with a sultry ‘that’s my good girl’ before getting up from his position over you and instead sitting down on the edge of the bed beside you.

Sitting upwards a little, you help Matt grab onto you, and his hands practically swallow your sides whilst he stretches you out onto his lap. Moving a little further up onto the bed his cattish eyes gaze up into yours with his pupils dilated and his mouth a blushing red.

Getting you onto a singular thigh, your knees plant on either side of the mattress and sink down softly due to the weight of your upper body. Your sensitivity touches the lower part of his thigh when you press yourself onto him.

Hissing, you whimper slightly in open-mouthed pain whilst your hands claw onto the sleeves of his green-hoodied shoulders.

You look down at the dark haired skin of his powerful muscle, testing the waters of what he’s about to make you do before you hear a low and guttural ‘spit’ violently exhale from his mouth. Glancing back up at Matt you see that he has an expectant look laced within his eyes.

And it doesn’t matter how much your brain screams that this is all terribly wrong, because you still will you mouth to produce an acceptable amount of saliva before knocking your head downwards and letting it all slowly drip from your open mouth.

The thick globule splatters noisily against Matt’s thigh and now Matt finds himself continuously throbbing at the look you give him as the last remnants of your spit linger around your mouth in mid air like a small spider’s web tendril blowing in the wind.

At least, it’s like that until Matt reaches out one of his fingers to whip it away and lick it into his own mouth.

Your saliva glitters in the low lighting and is soon joined by Matt’s own spit after he gathers it into his mouth and also releases it onto his now already lubed up thigh.

‘Fuck angel you are going to love this…’ he muses cockily, grabbing both of your hips within his hands before groaning whilst he lifts you slightly to place your aching and bare centre onto the sticky consistency of your strings of saliva.

Gritting your teeth upon first impact, you have to close your eyes and try not to whimper at the strange sensation Matt’s thigh gifts to you whilst Matt himself looks up at you, proud of what he has made you feel thus far.

He knew you weren’t going to last long at all.

Your face gets very red and very flushed, very fast. As soon as Matt starts to use his hands in a similar way to how he had when you were both clothed, the pressure it brings to your core nearly makes you light headed. You feel so sensitive, and you can hear your spit being spread about his thigh as he tenses his muscle and then relaxes it to give you a perfect pleasure point when rubbing you over it.

You still have your eyes closed, but from the darkness of your vision, you can clearly hear Matt’s smooth voice cooing a gentle ‘open up those pretty little eyes for me…’.

You struggle to do this in between screwing up your face in pleasure, and knocking your head back automatically every time he decides to lift his thigh up a little into the grind so that you can feel it even harder when you ride him. But you slowly manage to peek both of your eyes open ever so slightly.

‘Fuck sake Matt what are you doing to me…’ you breathe out shakily down to him, both of your noses brushing from your position straight above him. After getting used to his motions, you also decide to help him out a little by engaging further and now using your own legs to hoist your harder and faster on his thigh.

‘I’m just doing what Ryan never could…’ he whispers back up to you in a snake-ish manner, knowing how good he’s fucking you and also knowing that it’ll never be the same with Ryan ever again after this. You’re just simply going to want more and more of Matt instead…

‘It would always make me so jealous whenever he put his hands all over you. I swear he did it on purpose just to tease me… and it killed me every time because I so desperately wanted to know what kind of face you’d make if it were my cock stretching you out…’

Whining to him in stimulation once again, your gut flutters and you have to bite your lip to suppress dizzy spells because of how perfectly he’s using his leg.

‘I love feeling you on me like this princess, you feel so fucking good…’ he breathes back up to you in response. ‘I won’t even have to jerk off later because you’re gonna make me cum in my pants’ he continues.

‘But… what about - fuck - giving you a taste?’ You moan into his lips after you start to messily make out with him once again, now both of your lower and upper body halves at work to help you reach your high.

Matt hums a groan in response to this, bucking his hips forward a little in excitement yet still keeping the quick rhythm of his thigh for you.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay, you can let my face have a turn next time’ he utters quickly and without worry, automatically assuming that there’s going to be a next time - which probably is accurate with the rate that this is going at. Yet, it’s still bold of him to assume.

However, most of your thinking is forgotten as you soon feel like you have bypassed a certain point within your build up stage that tells you that you are ready to cum, because it starts to burn in your gut and you feel like you seriously can’t keep quiet at all anymore with whimpers, whines and moans expelling from your mouth into Matt’s.

Uttering something completely inaudible to him, he seems to catch on that you’re close to finishing and so reaches one of his hands up the front of your top to play with one of your tits beneath your bra. This only enlarges the feeling whilst Matt praises you with showers of ‘you’re being such a good girl for me’ and ‘you’re doing so well angel… just a little more’.

The last remnants of his praise are eeked out of him before something within you snaps and a gushing waterfall of pleasure rolls all the way up your gut like some form of ricocheting explosion. You almost cry, and your eyes certainly dampen a little with tears as your mouth drops open.

From below you, Matt admires the sounds of ecstasy tumbling from your lips as you cum.

‘Shhh, shh- shhh, I know baby, I know…’

Whilst he helps you ride out your high, he hushes you gently like a baby, stroking your back and gazing up at you sympathetically, as if it wasn’t just him who had caused your body to react in this astronomically earth shattering way.

‘Jesus pretty, you’ve soaked my thigh…’ he remarks in absolute shock after you wobble your way off of your seat on his leg to crash tiredly next to him onto the bed. You smirk in exhaustion, before your squished lips mumble a ‘yeah well that’s all of what Ryan couldn’t give me, so savour it Matt…’ into the mattress. Matt also snorts, before cleaning up a little bit of your sticky cum and licking it from off of his finger right in front of you.

‘There… I did get to taste you in the end…’ he muses playfully, to which you hide your face into the blanket and groan at what you had just done.

The feeling of realisation after you’ve made a mistake is never a nice one, however, what is as equally concerning is the fact that you don’t seem to care as much as you thought you would have, which sends warning sirens off in your head once again.

You had just cheated on Ryan… but what’s even worse is that you had cheated on him with his so-called ‘best friend’, the same best friend who had coaxed you into cheating with him in the first place.

‘Ryan can’t know about this…’ you croak fearfully into the mattress whilst Matt stands up to put his pants back on properly again.

He spins around to you, his skinny, short figure accentuated in the light as he does his belt back up with a cheeky grin on his face. His hair is fluffy and tussled at the front from when you had carded your hands through it a couple of times whilst you had fucked.

His little chain with a small horse pendant on it also glitters with malice and cockiness at the state he had left you in, crumpled on top of the mattress. God, he’s going to love sneaking around behind Ryan’s back to fuck you, he always gets a free high from playing these kinds of games with people’s heartstrings.

‘Don’t worry… I don’t kiss and tell… plus, keeping it a secret is all part of the fun anyway…’

@gamermattsgf

@sturnobsessedwh0re

217 notes · View notes

amnesique · 1 year

Note

jealous conrad fisher? smut if you want, but it doesn't need to be

false god — conrad fisher

(gif made by @conradfiisher , all credits to the creator)

warnings: SMUT (18+, MINORS DNI), car sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, slightly praise kink (not mentioned but—), NOT PROOFREAD

you were outside at a college party and you were talking to some guy that approached you while you were waiting for your boyfriend to show up. you didn't know what was taking him so long, but you were starting to feel uncomfortable that the guy wouldn't stop looking at you up and down, even though you already mentioned that you had a boyfriend who you were waiting for.

disconnecting from the conversation for a few seconds, you pulled out your phone and texted conrad, your boyfriend, to let him know that that guy was bothering you and to hell him to hurry up. exactly then the guy wrapped his arm around your neck, pulling you towards his body and forcing you to look up from your phone to his face.

"are you texting your boyfriend?" he asked, grinning like a douchebag, leaning even closer to you, if that was even possible.

what was wrong with him? didn't he believe you that you had a boyfriend or did he take it as some kind of a sick challenge?

you tucked your hair behind your ear, putting your phone back in your pocket, wanting to take his arm off of you, but he held you close. "yeah," you said, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. "i actually am," you smiled politely, trying in vain to be nice to such a piece of shit.

"where is he?"

"he is right fucking here," conrad's voice spoke from behind you two and it made you let out the breath you hadn't even realized you'd been holding, your body relaxing a bit as the guy removed his arm off of you to turn around and look at your boyfriend. "that's my girl in case you didn't know,” he added and moved closer to you and placed his hand protectively on your waist.

the boy threw his hands in the air, pretending not to know anything about it, and you almost laughed in his face, while conrad held back himself from killing him.

he left, so it was just you with conrad, but his grip around your waist hadn't loosened. he was still stressed, you could feel it in his touch, but at the same time your mind was going elsewhere when you remembered how his fingers felt on his skin.

"what was all that about?" he asked you, continuing to look in the direction the guy had taken her, but you couldn't help but look at how good he looked. your mind didn't seem to work every time he would appear around you, mostly when he would touch you like that.

you shrugged, and that was the first time he had ever looked only in your direction, focusing now all of his attention on you. "i did told him that i have a boyfriend, but i guess he took it as a challenge."

conrad grinned and he pressed you against his body, continuing to keep his hand around your waist. "you're so stunning, i'm not surprised he dared to take a look at what's mine," he said, caressing your cheek with the thumb of his free hand as you locked your gaze on his.

he knew the effect his words had on him. he knew how to make you melt in his hands, how to make you a complete disaster under his touch.

"are you saying you're jealous?" you asked, looking at his lips, noticing how he laughed and you felt your whole body shake when he did it.

"i don't have reasons to be jealous when i know i'm the only one you think of," he said and his hand moved from your cheek to the chain around your neck that he had given you, tugging on it gently.

you longed for his kiss, for him. and he knew it, and that's why he was dragging it out as long as he could, until he would've lost his mind too. it wasn't easy at all for him to look at you and not kiss you, but it was worth teasing you a little bit.

both of his hands moved down to your ass, on top of the material of your dress, pinning you against his body, and kissing your neck, making you rest your head on his shoulder and letting out a weak whimper right next to his ear.

his teasing was already becoming his torture because he couldn't afford doing more than this to you in public, so he whispered in your ear. "do you want to take this to my car?"

you nodded, feeling how he wanted you too because of the approaching between your bodies. "yes, please," you said and he grinned into your hair, staying a little longer in the moment and after that, he rushed to the car, pulling you by your hand after him.

you awkwardly chuckled behind him. it was kind of funny how needy you both were when it came to the other, how easily you would've ignite for one another.

when you two got to the car, the both of you stopped and looked at each other. conrad was unsure of his next move, and he just kept caressing your hand that he was still holding, looking at you as if he could see through you, even though it was actually dark where his car was parked. "soo," he said, exaggerating the last letter. "how will it go?"

you grinned at him, and he felt the ground slipping from under his feet, as you opened the driver's door, motioning for him to climb in first. he looked at you confused for a second, but your grin wouldn't go away, so he eventually caught on your idea, so he climbed in, pushing his chair all the way back and reaching his hand out to you.

you accepted his hand and sat yourself carefully with your thighs on either side of his lap as you closed the door immediately behind you.

you leaned into him, your chest pressing against his, and you kissed him, slowly, wanting to make him lose his mind like he did with you.

he placed one hand placed on your waist —and you let out a sound right then— and the other placed on your cheek, caressing it in circles. the ring on his thumb made such a lovely contact with the skin of your cheek and it made you lose yourself in the kiss, at one point even slightly parting your lips, at which point he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

your tongues teasing each other, fighting for dominance, as the kiss only increased your desire even more.

he had been the first to break the kiss, his hand still on your cheek and his breathing heavy as he said, "i need to feel you."

and you felt the same need.

you agreed, bringing your foreheads together, just enough to try and steady your breathing as you felt yourself starting to get even wetter at those words, and feeling him hard right under your ass.

because you were wearing a dress, you only had to deal with his clothes, so you slipped your hands between your bodies to undo his pants. feeling a little freer, conrad made a faint sound of relief, and he moved his hips a little higher —making your front sliding right against his erection, making you let out a soft sound as well—, to make your work easier.

once his jeans and his boxers were out of your way, you stood up a little, him helping you put your underwear aside, and when you laid back down on him. he buried himself inside of you, inch by inch, making you rest your head on his shoulder to mask the needy whimpers that escaped your lips.

he lifted your chin with two fingers, making you look into his green eyes that were burning into your skin, leaving his mark on you. “let me hear you,” he whispered, and then, seeing how you looked at him, he couldn't help but connect his lips with yours in another tender kiss.

his movements were full of desire, but also tender, moving somewhat slowly inside you as he kissed you like his life depended on it and as one hand of his massaged your clit.

you were grinding on top of him, putting your hands on either side of his neck as he helped you, holding you by your waist with his free hand, lifting you up and down on him.

it felt so good, way too good, that you started moaning into the kiss, knowing how much he loved hearing you.

"you're doing such a good job," he whispered in your ear, taking a break from kissing your lips, and going to place kisses on your neck.

you dropped your head to the side to give him more access to your neck, arching your back, and you felt yourself tighten slightly around him.

"just like that," he groaned next to your ear, increasing the rhythm in which he massaged your clitoris, him wanting to bring you to your orgasm as quickly as possible, because himself also couldn't last much longer.

your hands slid from around his neck to his shoulders, you pulling him close to you as the knot in your stomach felt too tight, almost close to breaking free.

both of your breaths had become rushed once again. you could hear him next to your ear as you could even hear yourself. that rushed they were.

"i'm sure no one could've made you feel this good, right?" he asked you, feeling your walls tighten more around him.

you nodded, chasing after your orgasm and starting to kiss him under his near, on his neck, on his jaw.

his jaw clenched, struggling to hold himself back a little longer, even if his movements had become sloppy. "tell me, do you think that douchebag would've made you feel this good?"

you couldn't believe what you were hearing, but still, his jealousy had just been what made you let go.

unable to hold on even longer, as he felt the release wash over you, and your breathing slowly beginning to ease against his neck, conrad let go as well, his release filling you as a little bit of it was leaking down your inner thighs.

with him still inside you and you on his shoulder, your breathing had calmed down, but you hadn't forgotten what he said exactly before you finished, so you looked up to look at his eyes.

"you said you're not jealous,” you said amused.

he looked at you with his lips parted and his short front hair catching in his eyes. "well, i'm not."

you moved a little on top of him, as he whimpered and you shivered, so you can put your hands around his neck and get a better look at him. "and then what was that before?"

“i don't know what you're talking about,” he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“you do,” you said with a grin on the corner of your mouth. “ too well” you added, as you leaned over him to capture his lips into another kiss.

#the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #tsitp fanfic #tsitp x reader #tsitp x you #tsitp x y/n #conrad fisher #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher smut #team conrad

2K notes · View notes

toon-tales · 2 months

Text

Hiya! Ok, so, I'm here to analyze, again. But! Not a scene. I'm here to analyze the evolution of the one and only #Broppy, from the first movie. I've been planning to include the three movies and the holiday specials, but I figured I can't add that many pics in one post. I can only add ten, soooo-

Let's take it from the beginning: the first appearance for Branch.

If you ask me, he was being rude, maybe even embarrassed Poppy in front of everyone. Yeah, I love Branch, and he's my baby and all, but dude, you shouldn't have done that, especially not in front of everyone. Like, yeah, we later know his backstory and his grandma and his brothers, but still, it's not Poppy's fault, he shouldn't have treated her like this. Sure, her believing life was all cupcakes and rainbows might have been provoking to Branch, but he's still at fault, and I think more people need to make peace with that.

Also, something I noticed, is that Branch and Poppy were close even before the events of the first movie, cause, literally everyone calls her 'Princess Poppy', except the snack pack. They just call her Poppy, and the fact that Branch also calls her Poppy just proves they were close.

Now, later, we see Branch holding Poppy's scrapbook, then staring at even more scrapbooks on the shelves. Like, cute, sure, but it's not what you feel, it's what you show, Branch.

Okay, now, this scene:

The fact that Poppy was knocking on the rock just means she never got into Branch's bunker before. But she knows the address, so that counts. Maybe he had given it to her when they first met in case she needed something after he'd found her hurt with a broken arm or something then they became friends- I'm totally drifting from the post. Sorry about that.

Now, there are two theories:

Annnywayyyy, let's focus on the scene after:

"Which is why I have to ask you..." she hesitated, before continuing, "will you go to Bergen town with me and save everyone?"

She hesitated! She freaking hesitated! Meaning? She probably never asked Branch to help her before. She surely had problems in her life, but she also had her friends, so I belive she always went to them whenever she was in trouble. But now those friends aren't here, which forces her to ask the person who she trusts the most after them. Branch. And, disappointedly, he refuses, because of the fear he's living in.

Moments later, Poppy surprisingly invites the entire village to Branch's bunker to keep them safe. Which was wrong of her. True, she was trying to protect everyone, but using Branch's house without his consent was wrong. Sorry. Sure, it was the safest place for now, but that still doesn't justify it. You can see he was clearly annoyed (which she loved). But I don't really blame her, just like I don't really blame Branch. They both did wrong.

Skip, skip, skip, skip, skip- hold... rightttt here:

Ah, yes. That scene. Now, look. He showed up, because he knew there was no way Poppy could do this by herself, and he wasn't wrong. Poppy, in return, also knew he would come, because it was the third hug time by then.

"I guess we were both right." That line. It speaks volumes for their relationship, yet no one talks about it! They both look at things from different perspectives, BUT, it doesn't mean either of them is wrong.

Like when they arrived at the troll tree: "The troll tree." "Bergen town."

Or when they found out the others were still alive: "They're alive?" "And on a silver platter too. We were both right."

Please writers and artists, we need more content with this line. Add it to your fanfics/art!

Skip, skip, another skip (yes, I skipped the part where Branch tries to avoid talking about his feelings cause it's kinda... i don't know, i just don't know what to say about it. It's sorta obvious), skiiiiiip, annnndddd, right here:

THEIR. FIRST. HUG.

My babies, oh my sweet precious babies. They've been through so much together, and finally, Branch has found it in himself to actually open up about his past (mostly).

I've spoken about this scene in more details in this post.

Now, we're going to talk about one of the most important scenes in the history of Broppy. This:

Branch is talking. He's always used to being in the shadows, never helping anyone, and here he was, helping a Bergen. If that's not a big change, I don't know what is.

And let me tell you, not only Branch was changing in this scene. See Poppy?

She's learning to look deeper into things, even persons. She's finally realizing that Branch, the grumpy, sarcastic troll, might not be as bad as she thought. They're both developing.

Until the rules are swapped.

Branch is the one to find the bright side, and Poppy is the one to cover it. And you can see how disappointed he is.

"I can't wait to see the look on your face when you realize the world isn't all cupcakes and rainbows." But when it happened, Branch realized that this wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want her to be like him, because this was him - a person who doesn't see the cupcakes and rainbows in life, not even in the slightest.

The way he was trying to cheer her up

And the way she actually smiled. Poppy was still there, her happiness was inside, not gone but hidden, and Branch was trying to find it again.

Yet she didn't even notice her own colors returning. Maybe because she was focused on the change in Branch? She wasn't startled when he sang at first, she wasn't happy, just like he used to be. He didn't use to care, until later, when his feelings began to resurface again, because Poppy helped him. Just like he was doing now. Neither did he notice his colors coming back

Aaaaaand, I think the rest doesn't really need analyzing.

Feel free to add or comment on anything.

Part two

Part three

#Trolls #Branch Trolls #Poppy Trolls #Broppy #Broppy analysis #This is so totally new for me so I'm trying my best #I had to merge them because Tumblr won't allow more than ten pics #Trolls analysis #'It's not what you feel it's what you show' line is from 'the song 'Misery' by Maroon 5

283 notes · View notes

smuthospital · 9 months

Text

⭐️Degrees of lewdly: Eden⭐️

Premise: You're a spooky place youtube explorer, and you get lost in a big scary forest! Eden voorhees lol. Reader is fem. Enjoy!

Art by Minagami

Re-upload because tumblr took it down last time.

Content Warning: Non-con, kidnapping, tummy bulge, blood, Eden is Jason, Voorhees

Miners DNI

You've never really gone hiking before and it's proven itself to be a lot more difficult than you originally thought it would be. You like to explore places you've never been, spooky places. more for the thrill. you started filming it and posting your videos on youtube. You usually take some friends along, but all of your friends decided to be little babies this time since the place you're exploring is extra creepy this time. It's a large forest 20 miles away from your city. You borrowed your mom's car to get here. you always tell them you're at a friend's house because they'd kill you if they ever found out you're putting yourself in possibly harmful situations. This forest is known for creepy sightings, disappearances, ghosts, and lots of other things your viewers would love to watch. You've been to abandoned hospitals, cemeteries, tunnels, all that good stuff. You don't think you'll actually see anything, but you brought a can of pepper spray just in case.

The wind howls, making the trees dance above you. The shapes that were once branches in the day have turned into long gangly fingers that desperately reach for you and the bushes now house entities with red eyes and fangs that you imagine want to tear you to pieces! "Wow, guys. This might just be the scariest one yet, haha. There's probably some sort of scp in here with me haha!" You try to keep yourself company by talking to your soon-to-be viewers when you post this, but it's really just to keep you calm.

"I'm a bit lost. The trail kinda disappeared somewhere around here, I think. there's just so much long grass and it's more of a footpath than an actual trail." you complain as you try to spot any familiar landmarks. It's almost impossible. It might be easier in the day for sure, but the night masks everything. You step over decayed logs and large roots, feeling worry set in. What if you're really lost!? Your thoughts come to an abrupt stop when you hear a strange sound not too far from where you're standing. Your blood freezes as you feel a cold sweat coming on. Maybe...maybe it's a person? And maybe they can help you?..or..a monster!? No, (Y/n), this is no time to be silly! That could be a person willing to help you before you get yourself completely lost!

Little did you know you were already a mile deep, walking in the wrong direction.

“I heard a sound. It could be someone who could help me get back on track.” You whisper. You turn off your video camera's flash light and carefully make your way to where you heard the sound, being careful not to step on anything that could alert whatever it is of your presence. You don’t want to startle it, just in case it's an animal willing to protect its territory from invaders like yourself. The sound came from below you. There's a rocky slope leading down to a river. You get down on your knees and peer between the long grass. You can't make out much in the dim moonlight... until you spot a giant of a man dragging a sack through the shallow water. His size alone sends shivers down your spine. Even from where you're crouching, you could tell he would dwarf you the way a cat would to a mouse. You examine him a bit more.The sack is stained in a dark colour that is seeping through the fabric and into the water. You don't dare move a muscle or even breathe. You can't believe your eyes. This can't be real. Are you in a horror movie?

You make sure he disappears behind the tree line with the mysterious sack before letting out a breath. You didn't want to accidentally alert him of your presence in any shape or form. He was probably just a hunter. Yeah, he could have helped you, but he also could have added you to the wet sack and you were not risking that.

You stand up and turn around, ready to get as far away from here as possible, only to bump your nose into a tree. The collision causes you to drop your camera. That's strange. You don't remember walking around a tree to look over the cliff. You rub your nose in annoyance. Wait a minute... This tree didn't have rough bark like the rest of them...Your brain blanks out. You've been in denial this entire time, your brain working extra hard to rationalize what's happening. Before you is a large torso. You can't even see their shoulders from how close you're standing, just a wide, firm chest. You crane your neck up and it takes you a good three seconds before your brain registers that you're looking at the man from before..and he's wearing a mask!

He looks down at you with a focused gaze. You let out a short scream and try to run away, but being within arm's reach of the giant makes it too easy for him to simply reach out and grab the back of your top. He lifts you off your feet with one arm and brings you to his eye level. He cocks his head to the side, observing you slowly. He looks down at the camera you dropped and places his large boot on it, pressing down and crushing it. You start to hyperventilate. He's gonna chop you up and wear your skin, he's gonna keep you in a dark hole and shout "It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again!" You thrash in his iron grip, pushing at his large hand and sobbing untellable pleas for mercy, but your begging falls on deaf ears. "I-I'm sorry. I-I'll leave, I promise! Please let me go! I-I didn't mean to bother you, I'm sorry!" You cry. Your little struggle seems to have made your shirt ride up a bit, showcasing your supple flesh to his thirsty eyes. His eyes laser focus on your bare skin.

To your confusion, his hand reaches to caress your skin, feeling the smooth texture before slowly moving up. You wiggle more, scared of where this is going. His hand soon finds your breast and cups it before giving it a squeeze. He shudders. His breathing becomes heavier as he continues to mess with your body, his thumb rolling over your nipple. All you can do is whimper and wiggle in his hold. his hand begins sliding down and you scream. You suddenly remember you brought a can of pepper spray, whipping it out of your back pocket and pointing it at his face. Then as you were about to press down and unleash the fire juice, it was gone. In his hand that was previously molesting you lies the remains of your poor pepper spray, crushed and bubbling pathetically. He was so fast you hadn't even realized he snatched it. You just stare at him in horror. To your surprise, he's not even mad, too preoccupied with the need to explore your privates. You hold his wrist and look into his eyes. He looks back into yours as if telling you to stop. You hesitantly let go, and he nods as if to tell you that you've made the right decision. His hand cups your pussy through your jeans, pressing in a bit at the entrance. He seems eager.

He lifts you higher and uncomfortably sets you on his shoulder, his hand on your ass to keep you in place. You don't even bother struggling. You'll wait for an opportunity. If this man wanted you dead, you'd be dead. You don't want to provoke him. From your spot on his shoulder, You notice that he's got a hunting rifle strapped to his back along with a machete. He has an assortment of things attached to his hips among them being a hunting knife and bullet pocket. You shiver. One more off-putting thing that's just about forcing bile up your throat is that he's also covered in a dark wet liquid. You haven't noticed till now, but you haven't been breathing so his smell has now come to your attention. He smells strongly of iron. To that, you're not very surprised.

He starts marching down the hill you were previously watching him from. You have no idea how you saw him disappear through the treeline and he still managed to sneak up on you. He picks up the large stained sack where he left it in favor of locating his little spying mouse. It smells awful, the meaty smell assaulting your senses every second. It's been 15 minutes and an opportunity to escape has not shown itself. This is it. This is how you die. Your body will never be found. Maybe in a few years in a shallow grave by some hiker if you're lucky. This inhuman mass of muscle is going to cut you up and eat you. Maybe even skip cutting you up. He could probably eat you whole as pre-workout. He lifts his leg to step over a large log, his grip on your ass slightly loosening just enough for you to catch him off guard and slip off his shoulder. You grunt as you fall into the dirt and leaves behind him. You scramble up before the giant can scoop you up. You run in a random direction. You just needed to get away from him, getting out of the forest was a problem for later. You didn't even think about how fast he'd be. How could someone be so big and fast!? He took off after you and suddenly, he was on your ass. You've never felt such a primal fear as he chased you like a hungry animal.

A large hand grabs your shoulder and rips you backwards. You fall on your back and stare up at the man now on his knees in front of you, his body completely casting a shadow before yours. He gets down on his hands, caging you too the ground, his body inches above yours. You stare into the holes of his mask and into his rabid eyes. He leans in by your neck. You stop breathing once again, you think your heart stopped. You feel something large and hard pressing roughly into your crotch. You hear him take a deep breath and smell you..."Smells nice." His voice is deep and rough, but it sounds like he rarely uses it. You scream and begin to cry again, not being able to take it anymore. You fight him with all your might. He grabs your wrists with one hand. You hear him chuckle a bit before his hand comes up to cup your check. He suddenly squeezes it and twists your face around to get a better look at your features. He grinds his hips against yours, teasing you of what's to come. He roughly releases your face, before standing to his full height and dragging you up with him. He tosses you back over his shoulder, this time with an almost bone-crushing grip. “Name.” His tone is commanding. When you fail to answer right away, his fingers press into the area on your crotch. Threatening to rip right through. “(Y/n)! My name is (Y/n)!” He hums in response.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as he walks back over to where he left his murder mystery sack. He navigates through the forest as he knows it like the back of his hand until he comes upon a clearing where his home stands. A lonely wooden cabin. He drops the gooey meat bag on the ground. You cringe at the wet sound it makes on impact. You peer over at the sack to see a human hand flop out. Before you could react, he slams his hand over your mouth painfully. "Shut up." He waits for you to nod before removing his hand. He opens his front door and steps inside. It smells musty, like old wood and man smell. Not bad, but not amazing either. He walks up his stairs and sets you on a very large bed. You take a deep breath in, your stomach sore from being jabbed by his shoulder for the entirety of the long walk.

He doesn't let you get comfortable though. His hands are on you in an instant, grabbing your clothes and ripping them to shreds like tissue paper, you're naked before you could even hold any of your clothes together. Hungry eyes leer over you through his mask. You feel his hot breath fan you through the bottom of his mask. "S-stop it, please! Don't hurt me!" You beg. As if to mock your plea, his rough hand grips your plush thigh a little too close to your cunt and squeezes it tightly before shoving it against your chest, making room for himself between them.

He releases you for a moment, only to unzip his uncomfortably tight pants. You shut your eyes and look away, only to feel the soul-crushing weight of his cock slam against your lower stomach. You writhe underneath him, small sobs and hiccups coming from your mouth every few seconds. He pauses for a moment but ultimately decides to continue. You peer up between your wet palms and see him rubbing the tree trunk between his thighs while looking down at your pathetic form.

"W-wait! I-I'm not rea-" He grabs your thighs and forces you closer to him and lines his cock up with your entrance, he slides it up and down your folds, causing you to shudder. He doesn't care if you're ready or not. You shut your eyes as he presses forth. You scream in pain. It won't go in. You're too tight, he's too big and you're dry. The tip can't even get through. You whimper in pain. It burns. You need moisture. He lifts his mask a bit and you get a peek of his jaw. It's noticeably sharp and covered in stubble. You feel his saliva plap against your poor dry cunt before he puts his mask back into place. He tries to enter you again. You yelp. He gets a bit through before he can't anymore. He sighs. He was trying to be gentle. He didn't want to break you so quickly...

He grips your thighs tightly. You feel his nails dig in. You barely have time to register the pain before you feel like you're being ripped in two. He's forcing his way in. You immediately let out a scream and begin spazzing. He just continues until he reaches his base, more than snug against your insides. Drool leaks past the corner of your lip as you stare off into space. He breathes heavily and stares at the bulge he created in your lower stomach. He brushes his hand over it and watches as you whimper and twitch. He pulls his hips back and watches it disappear before ramming himself in again and seeing it jab through your insides. He chuckles.

You lay there, unable to do anything but feel what he's doing to you. You lift your arm and place it on his lower stomach, hoping to stop him that way. You feel his rock-hard abs through his shirt and push. "You're...adorable...fuck.. you're tight." He groans before he slams himself deep inside and you clench around him. He hisses and struggles to pull out halfway, your insides trying to pull him back in. He slams in again and presses himself as deeply as he can, firmly hugging your cervix with his cock. Your eyes cross as he thrusts in and out, keeping a proper pace. Moans spill from your lips along with jumbled-up words he can't make out, all of which sound like music to his ears.

He leans over you, forcing himself snugly against you again, his mask right next to your cheek. He groans as he feels you twitch around him. "Feel..so good... was worried you'd rip... you're only bleeding a little." You can hear the smug grin in his tone.

It feels so good. You're so ashamed, feeling good when you're being raped by a maniac. You clench your tear-filled eyes as he pounds into your aching cunt. The knot in your lower stomach bursts as you cum. He moans as you tighten around him. He stills for a second, just enjoying how you feel before he pounds into you like a feral beast. You're surprised your pelvis is holding up. He grips your waist tight and grunts as he empties his balls deep inside you. You can almost feel yourself getting pregnant. You feel too full. Your stomach bloats with cum. You feel hot and fuzzy. Your pussy is so very sore and your legs are numb. He pants above you. "I've been thinking of getting myself a little wife like you." He says as he slowly pulls his still throbbing cock out with a wet 'pop'. "You're a pretty little thing and you take my cock well. Be grateful I'm letting you live as my cock sleeve." He stands up, towering over your crumpled body once again. "My name is Eden. Your duties from now on are cooking, cleaning, mending my clothes and taking my seed. Do not make me repeat these orders. Object and I won't hesitate to remind you of your place. I was gentle this time." His giant cock is still dripping your juices. You can't stop looking at it. Ge takes notice and climbs over you before grabbing your head and forcing you close to his groin. "I see you love cock. Lick it clean then like a good wife. go on."

You look up at him and hesitate a bit too long. You see anger flash in his eyes and you quickly envelop his tip in your mouth. He groans as you lick your mixed juices off, going as deep as you can without choking. He moans and grabs the back of your head. He stares down at you with such intensity that you can feel him burning holes into you. You suddenly feel your throat being invaded and your nose pressing into his pubic hair, nose pressing into his crotch. He moves you back and forth, face fucking you. You struggle to breathe properly through your nose. You let out muffled whimpers and cries, sending vibrations through his cock. He grunts in pleasure before you feel a load of hot thick liquid being shot into your mouth and down your throat. You're so tired. He slowly pulls his cock back and laughs at your exhausted state. Your head flops back onto the bed, your jaw and lips so incredibly sore and raw feeling. "Good girl." He says before your sight fades to black. You explored a bit too much.

#lemon #non con #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #slashers #noncon x reader #obsessive love #degrees of lewdity #eden the hunter

864 notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 9 months

Text

i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best

alexia and r post alexia's surgery :)

no warnings!

-----

If your flight from England hadn't been delayed, you wouldn't have missed it. Alexia wouldn't have had to go back for a surgery she was terrified for without you next to her. The universe didn't seem to be on either of your guys' side recently. You wouldn't have gone home for Christmas, content to stay in town with Alexia and be with her before the surgery, but she had insisted. Your girlfriend was never more stubborn when it came to your wellbeing, and she seemed to think you needed to go home for the holidays, so you did.

Alexia's mom had called when you landed, telling you that only that the surgery had gone well, and that Alexia was home resting now. So, instead of heading right to the hospital like you planned, you changed course for your girlfriend's apartment.

It was quiet when you walked in, not that you expected anything different.

"Hola, y/n," Eli said, pulling you into a hug. You were going to ask for more details about the surgery, but Eli was already heading towards the door.

"She's very grouchy, she's been asking for you. Good luck in there," she informed you, before heading out of the apartment.

If Alexia had scared her mom off, you weren't exceptionally excited to see what awaited you in the bedroom. Alexia had been in a seemingly permanent bad mood for weeks, since she'd injured her knee in the first place. It was hell for her, you knew, not being able to play, so while you weren't thrilled with her behavior, you understood it. You headed to the bedroom door, preparing yourself for Grumpy Alexia, before gently opening it and stepping in.

You found Alexia as you expected, reclined on the bed, knee propped up on a throw pillow, staring out the window. Her expression was the same as it had been for weeks; jaw tight, brows furrowed, eyes devoid of their usual spark. What you didn't expect, however, was for her to turn to you the minute you walked into the room, eyes immediately pooling with tears, lip jutting out slightly at the sight of you.

"Ale," you said, walking closer to the bed where she lay. You wrapped your arms around her upper body, feeling her tremble against you. She held tight, hiding her face in your shirt, and you let her. Her hair was in a bun behind her head, and you pulled the hair tie out carefully, beginning to run your fingers through the smooth blonde strands. You hadn't seen her cry in weeks; she'd been the picture of strength since her injury, not allowing anyone, even you, to see how she was really feeling about the whole thing.

The state she was in worried you. Eli had said the surgery went well, but Alexia was acting like it hadn't.

"What did the doctor say?" you asked quietly, guiding her face away from your shirt. You probably could have waited a little longer for her to calm down before asking, but you weren't sure you could handle not knowing for another minute.

"It is fine. He cleaned the area, and there is nothing wrong. I should be back in a month and a half." Alexia said, although her expression didn't really match the news- this was best case scenario.

"That's incredible," you told her, cupping her flushed cheek with your hand. She nodded, but tears still fell. "Why are you crying, love?"

"I missed you," she replied, avoiding your eyes. She was normally not that vulnerable with you, and you were beginning to think whatever the doctor had put her on was making her more emotional than usual.

"I missed you too, so much," you assure her. "This is good, Ale, you're gonna be back. Soon." She pulls back from you, wiping at her face harshly.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "I was just really scared, and now I am relieved, and I am not really sure why I am crying. I just missed you." Alexia looked genuinely confused at her emotional state, and you bit back a laugh.

"That's okay, baby. But I'm here now, yeah? And everything is okay."

"Si, todo esta bien," she replies, almost as if trying to convince herself.

"Do you need anything? Food, water, ice?"

"No. Come lay with me?" She requests, reaching out to tug you closer to the bed by your shirt.

"Of course. Let me change first, I'm all airport-y." Alexia pouts slightly at that, but releases you. You love clingy Alexia; she almost never let herself be like this, only when she was sick, or hurt.

You change, heading back over to the bed, sliding in next to your girlfriend. You're extra careful, not wanting to jostle her knee at all, leaving some distance in between the two of you. Alexia bypasses that completely, shifting over until she's laying half on top of you, head turned to rest her cheek against your chest. You allow her to get comfortable on top of you before you wrap your arms around her. Her hands come to rest over yours, and she sighs contentedly.

You flick the TV on, not really caring what was on, much preferring to watch Alexia drift off. Just when you think she has, though, you hear her soft voice.

"I thought I might be done." You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Alexia was a dramatic person, clearly. No one had ever even considered the idea that she wouldn't be back, except her. Her fears were real, though, and she didn't need to hear that they were irrational.

"I knew you wouldn't be," you tell her.

"How?"

You think for a minute, deciding whether or not Alexia would make fun of you for being gushy. You were pretty sure she would, but she'd appreciate your words regardless.

"I just did. The way I know I love you, the way I know you're the person for me. You just know sometimes. I knew you'd come back, because you're strong, and you don't give up. You fight hard for the things you want. I had every confidence you'd be back on the field with me before long."

Alexia was quiet. You looked down, seeing her biting her lip, thinking hard. You move a hand to run gently over her lip, encouraging her to release it from her teeth, which she does.

"I used to have that confidence in myself. I do not think I do anymore."

You knew this. You'd watched her confidence diminish recently, in the wake of her re-injury. She was more scared than you'd ever seen her.

"I'll have it for you, until you feel it for yourself again. Deal?" Alexia smiles for the first time, looking up at you through her long lashes.

"Deal."

-----

Alexia wasn't out of commission for very long; it was a simple surgery, and she was back on her feet within the week. This had proved to be too long for her, though, because she was practically bouncing off the wall by the time she was given the all clear by the doctor.

She had big plans to cook you dinner, and take care of you for the evening. Between practices and taking care of her, you'd hardly had time to think in the past week, something she was looking to remedy. She'd been sure to thank you, for everything you'd been doing, pairing her words with sweet kisses, letting you know that she really did appreciate all that you'd done for her. It seemed obvious to you that you'd take care of her, and you didn't expect anything in return. You knew Alexia would do the same for you.

Alexia's first day really back to normal was a day you had a double practice. You were exhausted, having been kept up half the night by Alexia's restless tossing and turning, something you didn't dare bring up to her, knowing the guilt would be horrible for her. You returned home, looking forward to collapsing into the couch and not moving until bed, to something you weren't expecting.

Upon walking through the door, the smell of something burning filled your nose. You could hear Alexia cursing to herself, followed by the shattering of some glass, and then some more cursing. You flung your shows off, running into the kitchen.

"Ale?"

She was stood in the middle of the kitchen, a jar of pasta sauce broken on the ground in front of her, a decent amount of smoke coming of the stove. She looks up at you as you walk in, almost helplessly, face flushed with anger.

"Ale, baby," you coo, moving forward to her. She throws an arm out, motioning for you to stop.

"No, amor, there is glass, let me clean it up," she says, clearly upset. She moves slowly over to the paper towels, but you walk around the glass, setting a hand on her arm.

"Go sit down, Ale, I'll clean it up," you tell her, because it looked like she had been on her feet too much, if the way she was resting almost all of her weight on her good leg was any indication.

"No," she tried, but you stopped her.

"I'm not asking, Alexia, go put your knee up," you say, turning your back to her turning the stove off, and removing the smoking pan from it. You heard Alexia leave the room, slowly, and you got to work cleaning everything up. Once the glass and sauce had been taken care of, and you'd opened the windows to air out the room, you followed Alexia out to the living room, looking at your phone.

"What do you want to eat? We can order something," you suggest, thinking Alexia would prefer to not discuss the disaster than had just occurred in the kitchen. Alexia was a good cook, so something must have gone really wrong. Alexia didn't respond, though, and you looked up finally, finding her sitting on the couch, staring at her lap. Her blonde hair fell into her face, blocking you from seeing it.

"Ale?" you ask again, moving forward to take a seat next to her propped up leg. She still doesn't look up at you.

"I am so sorry," she says miserably, voice cracking, and telling you that she was crying.

"Don't worry about it, I've committed worse crimes in the kitchen," you tell her, thinking she was just embarrassed. The blonde woman shook her head though, finally looking up at you. Her lip quivered, and she looked so upset, you couldn't help but reach out and take one of her hands in yours. She flinched, and you looked down, seeing a burn on her palm.

"Shit, Alexia, hold on," you said, moving to go get a cool cloth to put on it. She grabs your shirt though, looking up at you almost pleadingly, and you sit back down. You'd never seen Alexia look at you like that before, like she couldn't bare to be away from you, even for a second.

"What's going on, my love?" you ask.

"I messed dinner up," she says shakily. That may be the understatement of the year, but it doesn't seem like she's in the mood to joke about it yet.

"It's fine, baby, we can just order something, or I'll cook," you tell her. You're still not really sure what the big deal is, and your eyes widen when she responds loudly.

"NO! No. I do not want you to cook," she says. "I wanted to cook for you."

"I appreciate that baby, but really, it's okay,"

"No, it is not okay. You've been so perfect all week, all month, and I try to do one thing for you, and I fuck it up," she sounds so upset at herself, you find yourself frowning at her tone.

"Ale, don't be ridiculous. I've barely done anything." This is definitely not true, but really, it felt like nothing. You'd go to the ends of the earth for the girl next to you, so a few extra chores, taking care of her, seemed easy.

"No, eso no es verdad," she cries, before she inexplicably dissolves into sobs.

"Alexia," you sigh, moving to sit next to her and wrap an arm around her shoulders.

"I am so much work, and I made a mess, and you had to clean it up," she rants, voice muffled from where her face is buried in your shirt.

"Stop that. You aren't a lot of work. I don't mind doing any of the things i've been doing. I'm happy to do them, because it's you. I don't care about cleaning up your mess, I only care that you heal properly," you insist." Alexia doesn't respond, only pushing her face further into your chest.

"Alexia, were you cooking dinner because you felt bad that you've needed me this past week?" you ask tentatively. You get a nod in response. Guiding out from your shirt, you hold her face in between your hands, forcing her to make eye contact with you.

"Love, you don't need to feel bad for needing my help. Ever. I love you, and I'm going to take care of you when you need me, always. You aren't a burden. You don't need to make it up to me. You just need to be you, and I'll be happy."

She looks so unsure, so not like herself. She was ordinarily the picture of intimidation, of confidence. Now, though, she looks up at you with tear filled eyes, listening to your every word like she's not sure she can trust you to tell her the truth.

"Estas segura?" she eventually asks quietly.

"I'm sure, Ale." She gives you a weak smile in response, resting her head back against your chest. You wrap your arms around her, squeezing tight until she laughs lightly against you.

"Sushi?" you ask, and Alexia nods enthusiastically. "Okay, but first, you're letting me treat that burn. How did you even do that?"

"I grabbed something from the oven without oven mitts," she mumbles, and you fight back a laugh. You aren't successful, and her head snaps up to glare at you. "I move slow since the surgery. Everything started burning, and I had no time," she rambles, and you cut her off with a long kiss to her lips.

"I'd eat whatever you burned in that pan if it meant you wouldn't feel like you need to compensate me for taking care of you." Alexia blushes. There is silence for a minute.

"You could not tell what it was?" she asks timidly.

"...Chicken?"

"Garlic and onions," she replies dejectedly.

This time you don't try to fight off your laugh, but Alexia laughs with you, and the sound of it relaxes your whole body, doing more for you than a candlelit dinner ever could.

-----

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

716 notes · View notes

foldingfittedsheets · 9 months

Text

One of my earlier jobs in life was at a little pizza place. I worked there when it was first starting up. It’s the only job I’ve ever been fired from and it was because a new manager came in and cleaned house. Because my state requires a reason to be fired he said I used too much pepperoni. So now on job applications I get to write that I was fired for “excessive use of pepperoni.” Never fails to get a laugh.

Anyway! For this story to make sense I’ve first got to set the stage. This pizza place started out as the Wild West of management but one of the original investors was super committed to work programs through the prison. We hired a ton of ex convicts and they were all, to a one, super hyped on Christianity. Like born again for the sole purpose of lauding Christ with their every breath.

I hadn’t been working there long but I’d definitely noticed the Jesus bug had gone around, and as I’ve never been religious at all I tried to steer clear of the topic for my own safety.

The day our story takes place, I was folding boxes. Anyone whose ever worked pizza can attest, there’s so much box folding. It’s something that happens at every lull, the pizza machine demands box folding on a grand and epic scale.

On my right folding his stack of boxes was a guy wider than he was tall, made of pure muscle, Corey. He was newer on staff, and due to a stutter he didn’t talk much. All I knew about him was that he got hired through the rehabilitation program and had done time.

On my left folding was a tall middle-aged woman who loved to yell at me, Cindy. She and I rubbed each other the wrong way and had nothing in common, leading to a tense working relationship.

We folded boxes in silence. This was really my best case scenario as a quiet Cindy was a Cindy not riding my ass, and Corey intimidated me.

But the weight of the silence grew too much for Cindy, who finally said, “I really want to go to bible school.”

I folded a box. I had less than no idea what bible school even was and I didn’t want to get sucked into a religious topic.

On my right Corey said, “W-why, Cindy?”

“Well, cause I believe what’s in the Bible, but I just don’t know it all.”

He nodded sagely to this.

Cindy continued, “And every time I sit down to read the Bible I get real sleepy. And I know it’s the devil.”

It’s so hard to convey her tone in written format. It was delivered with the emphasis and exasperation of an inevitable inconvenience. Like, I just know it’s the squirrels eating the bird seed.

I froze in place at this pronouncement. My only exposure to Lucifer was Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics and I was trying to mentally twist into a frame of mind where The Morningstar cared enough about this one middle aged lady expanding her knowledge of the Bible that he followed her around cursing her with sleepiness when she picked it up.

I think I expected Corey to say, “Well that’s silly,” or something to acknowledge what a bizarre thing Cindy had just said.

Instead he said, “Yeah!” In a tone of complete agreement.

I didn’t look up. I tried to keep my face neutral at this development.

But something must have shown. Corey said, “You don’t believe in God?”

I shrugged casually and said, “If I did I wouldn’t talk about it at work.”

“C-cause it’s t-true. If y-you t-ry to r-read the B-bible on unsanctif-fied gr-round the d-devil m-makes you s-sleepy!”

I made a noncommittal sound and fled into the back room.

Over the next week it drove me crazy though. The logic of it wouldn’t leave me alone so finally one day when it was just Corey and I in front, and the restaurant was empty, I said, “Hey man, I have a question.”

He shrugged and listened.

“I really don’t mean this with any disrespect, I just genuinely want to know about the logistics-“

“J-ust ask.”

“Okay, so if Cindy gets tired when she reads any book, is it only the devil making her tired when it’s the Bible?”

His face went purple with fury and he yelled, “F-fuck you!” at my retreating back as I fled once more into the back room.

It will forever remain a mystery.

#ramblies #story #funny #as a caveat I don’t mean this story with any offense if you’re religious #but I think to assume that you’re being targeted specifically by a cosmic entity who rivals god is an insane hubris #the idea of a devil is already wild cause like he punishes bad people in the mythos so it seems like he's committed to people #paying for bad behavior rather than trying to trick them into it? but everyone treats lucifer like a boogey man which is weird to me #ffs foibles

443 notes · View notes

genericpuff · 3 months

Note

I know LO has been over for a while but something that's always confused me is the 10 year punishment thing. (I dropped the comic before the judgment so correct me if im wrong)

apparently Persephone was sentenced to 10 years in the mortal realm. Yet she complains that Zeus keeps extending her punishment but the timeskip only ends up being 10 years? (From 20 yrs old to 30). that makes it sound like she had a shorter sentence that was extended to 10 yrs (what a fuckin slap on the wrist if it was).

Either her punishment was 10 yrs and Perse was just banking on early parole release or she always had a short sentence which ended up being a measly 10 yrs anyway.

But then that would mean Demeter's punishment period was either tied directly to Persephone's or (for some reason) she had a full 10 yr sentence while Persephone got an initial shorter period

If it's not either of those then shouldn't her punishment be longer? 11, 12, 15, 20 yrs instead? Would make more sense that she was mad if she had to serve at least twice as long as she was told to

Ah so actually she wasn't sentenced to 10 years, she was basically sentenced to a perpetual punishment until Zeus felt certain conditions were met, such as her filling all of the responsibilities of Demeter and turning Minthe back to normal.

So the reason it wound up being 10 years was because Zeus kept finding reasons to extend the sentencing, clearly in an attempt to keep her away from Apollo as he was already suspecting that he might use Persephone's fertility goddess powers to overthrow him.

(joke's on Zeus though, he was overthrown with a poison cupcake lmaooo)

That said, Persephone was... really dumb when she failed her 10th inspection. Primarily because she broke one of the rules Zeus put in place for her before he did the inspection-

Like it's really funny in hindsight to read this scene because at the time the narrative was definitely trying to make us believe that Zeus was the bad guy here, and to a point he's definitely fucking around and not actually planning on letting her out of confinement while also doing jack shit to get to the bottom of his own suspicions regarding his son... but also girl, if your plan was to prove to Zeus that you had filled your end of the bargain, then why try and give him the letter prior to your once-a-year inspection? Either you're failed again over some arbitrary made-up bullshit reason so you can use the guilt-trip method after he's already screwed you over, or best case, you pass and you can deliver the letter to Hades yourself! It was a really dumb move on her part to immediately jump to asking him to bend the rules he made for her when she should know Zeus isn't gonna feel obligated to 'owe' her anything, and is completely contrary to her being as "smart and cunning" as the narrative tries to make us believe (remember when she hustled Hades at chess and lied to him about having a driver's license? where's that Persephone?)

And yeah Zeus really isn't wrong when it comes to how Persephone herself is such a "uwu look at me I'm a smol widdle baby girl, please break the terms of my punishment for me because I asked with tented eyebrows bats eyelashes" , this is honestly why so many people like Zeus as a character in LO contrary to how much the narrative tries to make us hate him, because while he's absolutely an asshole who deserves to be knocked down a peg, at least the narrative doesn't try to gaslight us into thinking he's a good person like it does with H x P. Zeus is a shithead but unapologetically authentic; Persephone and Hades both pretend like they're saints on earth (and the narrative tries to sell them to us as such) meanwhile they're constantly picking on lower class people and using their power and influence to get their way even when they haven't earned it.

But also yeah, it's funny how the fans will say "age doesn't matter when you're a god, time doesn't mean anything when you're immortal" to dismiss the massive age gap between Hades and Persephone, but then cry foul over Zeus keeping her in confinement for 10 years which is a pretty bare ass minimum sentence when you really think about it. Like, if the passage of time really is that inconsequential to a god, then how is 10 years even a punishment? It's only suddenly seen as a massively unfair punishment when it's Persephone who's suffering it.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical

200 notes · View notes

mlmxreader · 4 months

Text

You're The Only Hell Your Mama Ever Raised | Dean Winchester x m!reader [NSFW/MDNI]

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ You're The Only Hell Your Mama Ever Raised, Warrant with dean Winchester please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ After ten years of living with Bobby, you decided to join the Winchester brothers with hunting; four years later, things between you and Dean start to get a little more complicated than just hunting partners.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ alcohol consumption, praise kink, swearing, blowjobs, cum swallowing

↳ word count: 1545

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

It was such a vivid memory that you could hear Bobby talking in the twilight hours of the night, hushed tone and grumbling with every other sentence, almost as if he had ever regretted taking you under his wing the same way that Rufus had; they were the closest thing that you had to parents, and with Rufus halfway across the country working on a case, it was down to Bobby to keep an eye on you.

But you couldn’t tell who he was talking to, you couldn’t hear who was on the other send of that fucking phone, but you figured that it was likely to be either Rufus or John Winchester - an old friend of his who had a little bit of trouble with his own boys, the youngest of which was the same age as you.

“It’s time that boy was shippin’ out,” Bobby grumbled, and you knew without seeing him that he was shaking his head and stressing himself out. “And I mean come hell or high water. He’s old enough now, he should be in his own home with a good damn job. Not still bouncing between my place and Rufus’ place… set him up with Dean and Sam? Are you stupid? He isn’t a hunter!”

You waited for the inevitable as you scratched the side of your neck and chewed at the inside of your lip, not really sure how to react to such a suggestion yourself; you had known Dean and Sam since you were kids, but it was different now you were all grown up.

You hadn’t seen them for years, and there was no doubt in your mind that they had changed a lot more than you ever did.

“He smokes and spits and drinks and fights, sure,” Bobby scoffed. “But that’s on me - I let him get away with it and don’t tell him off properly… yeah, no, no, his friends do all look like trouble - but I wouldn’t expect anythin’ less… no, he sleeps pretty much all day and he’s never around at night - you’d think he was a vamp til you saw his teeth… I just… where’s the boy I used to cuddle? He was so little, and such a nice kid… where’d I go wrong?”

You wanted to go down and reassure him that it wasn’t his fault how you turned out; Bobby and Rufus did everything for you, they never gave up on you no matter what you were like.

You could understand why he was so frustrated, but you didn’t want him to sit there blaming himself at all. So, you crept down to where he was in the kitchen, and waited for him to hang up before you hugged him tightly and shook your head.

“You didn’t go wrong with me anywhere, Bobby,” you murmured to him. “You and Rufus are the best dads a guy could ask for.”

Bobby sighed heavily, although he couldn’t help but to hug you back as he frowned. “Ten good years you’ve been with me, kid - and it’s like suddenly I don’t know you no more.”

You pulled away and cleared your throat, nodding slowly. “I’ll go find the Winchester boys. They’ll put me on the right track, don’t worry.”

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Four years, you had been on the road with Sam and Dean, now; you checked in with Bobby and Rufus as often as you could and went to visit whenever you got the chance, but you were happy with the boys in all honesty.

But it was a slow night tonight, on the way to the next town hoping that there would be a case, you and Dean were forced to share a room, as there were only two left in the motel and Sam was… preoccupied with someone who worked at a local pub.

“You’re not the only hell Bobby ever raised, y’know,” Dean chuckled, shaknig his head as he took a long swig from his bottle of beer.

You shrugged as you hummed softly, nursing your glass of vodka as if it would last all night. “Yeah, Rufus tried to tell me that - but you know me, I only ever do things that my way… and to think, Bobby thought I was a good boy just goin’ through some phase.”

He grinned, doing his best not to laugh as he quirked a brow. “You? Good?”

“You can’t say much anyway,” you mused. “You’re the only hell your mama ever raised.”

He nodded, pursing his lips slightly as he struggled to hold back the laugh. “Maybe so, but at least I didn’t try and pretend to be good.”

You shook your head as you licked your lips, quirking a brow. “Remember when your dad used to dump you at Bobby’s and we’d sneak out all the time?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were always doing it so I went along - it was only fair,” he pointed out. “But you know how it went down when Dad found out I snuck out… wouldn’t let me have no fun.”

“Don’t worry,” you told him. “Two more years to make it sixteen, then you’ll see - we’ll both have changed our ways.”

Dean put his beer bottle down, crossing the room as he raked his eyes over you, swallowing thickly before dropping to his knees between your legs. “Well, if we only got two more years to make some trouble… why don’t we raise a little hell ourselves?”

You started to chew at the inside of your lip, breath hitching in your throat as you looked down at him and noticed that sparkle in his green eyes; you nodded, which only earned you a playful smack to the side of the knee.

“C’mon, be a good boy and don’t act coy,” Dean told you softly. “Tell me.”

You nodded again, clearing your throat and almost gulping. “I’m sure we can raise a little hell.”

Slowly, he ran his hands up your legs, settling his fingers between them so that he could feel the outline of your cock; gently and carefully, he started to palm it through the dense and coarse fabric. “This okay?”

You stifled a moan as you nodded. “Y-yessir.”

He grinned. “I like that. You want me to keep goin’?”

You couldn’t even stifle your moan anymore, letting it out with a shuddering breath as you raised your hips a little and practically squeaked out for his touch; Dean helped you slowly, pulling your jeans and boxers down to your ankles before wrapping his hand around your cock and giving it a few firm pumps.

With great control, Dean slowly licked a stripe from the base to the tip and hummed softly.

“Don’t stop,” you groaned out softly, and when he finally took you into his mouth, you felt like that was it.

Fuck raising hell, you never wanted the sensation to end; his mouth was so warm and wet, his tongue worked you so expertly and when he used one hand to massage your balls and the other to wrap around your cock and stroke it - fuck.

You didn’t want anything else in the world. Your hand managed to find its way into his hair, tugging at the short brown strands softly as you tilted your head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before closing your eyes tightly shut.

Letting yourself drown in the feeling of his mouth around you. The soft sounds of his mouth as he took every inch of you one bit at a time; his eyes closed as he focused on nothing but making sure that you felt as good as possible.

Even the soft little moans he made around your cock only spurred you on more and more as your breathing grew more ragged and harsh by the second, doing your best not to buck your hips and fuck his mouth as hard and fast as you could.

But fuck, when he started to twist his hand a little bit, you were nearly completely over the fucking edge.

Dean’s movements picked up as he realised how close you were getting, almost desperate to taste your cum in his mouth; his spit and your precum mixing so that his mouth squelched a little around you; you could already feel it coming, your toes beginning to curl in your shoes as you heard him gag and grunt around you.

Your grip on his hair grew tighter as you gently bucked your hips against him, needing nothing more than to know what it felt like to cum in that pretty and smart mouth of his. You buckled, thighs shaking as you yanked at his hair one last time and, without warning, finally came.

To his credit, Dean didn’t stop, still sucking and licking your cock until it was perfectly clean, a long trail of spit from his mouth when he pulled away at last, looking up at you with a massive fucking grin.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, wiping sweat from your forehead as you realised just how fucking weak you were from your own orgasm. “You weren’t kidding about raising hell, huh?”

Dean shook his head as he laughed softly. “Nope… but if you wanna, we can keep goin’, maybe see just how far we can get until the morning.”

if you made it to the end of this fic and you enjoyed it, then please, if you have any cash to spare even if it's £1, then please consider making a donation to help Tahani to save her family. Please, every little contribution does genuinely help!

184 notes · View notes

justauthoring · 10 months

Text

the bait.

zoro only wishes he'd gotten there earlier.

a/n: okay, so... listen, three things; i meant to write something for opla when it came out but of course, as usual, i'm late to everything :) (fashionably late???) second, i can't help it. i love protective!zoro :) and third, yes i will post the third part to naturally soon!

ALSO! i've never seen one piece (probably won't ever tbh) so this is strictly based off of the live action. if things aren't canon accurate to the anime, it's because it's not meant to be!

word count: 3,757

warnings: attempted sexual assault, creepy guy, also rushed ending

want to support your local writer? send me a coffee!

“Absolutely not.”

At least, that’s what he said.

No one had really bothered to listen to him regardless of the fact.

“Zoro,” you sigh, frowning at the nasty glare set on his face, harsh eyes set specifically on Nami as he faces her fully, arms crossed over his chest, seconds away from practically lunging at her (at least, it sure seemed that way – you knew, or hoped, he wouldn’t actually).

He doesn’t acknowledge you. Not at first. It takes you grabbing him by the crook of his elbow and tugging him to face you for his eyes to finally fall on you. Almost instantly, his gaze softens as you shake your head up at him.

“There’s no way I’m letting her use you as bait like that–”

“It wasn’t Nami’s idea, Zoro,” you huff, “it was mine.”

His lips part, hands falling to his side in disbelief. “What.”

“We need that treasure, yeah?” You ask, trying to appeal to his logical side. The rest of the crew is watching as well, and you know he’d rather not make a scene in front of all of them if he can help it. He’s not thinking all that rationally, though and you know that as well. The second the plan had left Nami’s lips, he’d cut her off with a harsh no that everyone had chosen to ignore at first. The second time he’d said the words, he’d been firmer, harsher, a cruel tone bleeding into his tone as he cut Nami off.

You needed him to understand that this wasn’t her idea and this certainly wasn’t her fault.

“Yeah,” he nods, shrugging, “but we can easily steal it another way–”

“Not unless you want all of the Marines after us in seconds–”

“We can handle them,” Zoro cuts Nami off, turning to her once again with a glare. “I can.”

Nami rolls her eyes; “the whole of the Marine’s?”

And his answer is blunt; “yeah.”

She scoffs.

Stepping in before the two of them actually fight, you opt for physically stepping in front of Zoro this time. “Listen, this was my plan, okay?” You try to placate, setting your hand on Zoro’s chest to hold him back. “Mine alone. I’m volunteering. When we scoped things out, he wouldn’t take his eyes off of me, right?” Zoro frowns at the recollection, and you’re quick to continue. “I'll distract him just while Nami quickly slips in. In and out, she grabs the treasure and the second she gives me the okay, I leave, right?”

You turn to Nami, smiling at her.

“Yup,” she nods, leaning against the table where her map lays of the restaurant the heist would be taking place in. “In, out. I’m quick. I wouldn’t do this if I thought Y/N was in any danger.”

Turning back to Zoro, you nod; “see?”

“Besides,” Sanji speaks up, shrugging his shoulders. “The rest of us will be keeping an eye just in case.”

“Yeah!” Luffy calls out, grinning widely at Zoro who stares back at him unimpressed. “We won’t let anything happen to Y/N! I promise.”

Zoro doesn’t say anything at first. His eyes drift from Luffy, across the crew, Nami and then finally you. He can tell that no matter how much he argues, none of them are going to budge–and Nami had a point. He knew that the crew would never intentionally ever put you in any danger.

Not to mention you… he could tell this was important to you. Helping the crew like this.

“Fine,” he huffs, ignoring the tightness in his chest as he meets your gaze. “But the second something goes wrong, mission or not, I’m–”

“Stepping in,” Nami finishes for him, sending a smirk Zoro’s way as she rolls her eyes. “I’d expect nothing less.”

And that settles that. A moment later and Nami is finishing the plan, you lean in to listen intently to her words as Zoro watches from behind you, eyes drifting across you. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in your abilities, but it was the premise of the entire idea. Zoro didn’t need to know the man they were trying to steal from to know he was a sleazebag–the guy practically oozed it and a single glance at him at Zoro feeling disgusted.

To know that you’d have to be batting your eyes at a man like that?

It made him feel sick.

It didn’t help that you were exceptionally skilled at it, though.

Sanji’s kept a very close eye on him since the entire operation began, never drifting too far in fear that Zoro might lunge forward at any given second. If the cook was being honest, he wasn’t all that comfortable with what was happening either (a gentleman like himself, of course) but he also knew how crucial this mission was and he didn’t want to put Nami in any unnecessary danger either.

So, he stuck to the plan and tried to make sure Zoro did too.

God, why’d he always have to get stuck with the mosshead?

“I must say, you look rather… fetching tonight, my dear.”

Forcing a smile on your lips, you turn your head towards the man, batting your eyelashes prettily as you brush a strand of ruly hair behind your ear. You play the part of bashful well, even though you feel sick to the stomach at the man’s rather… gross flirts.

“Why, thank you Mr. Becker,” you smile back at him, letting your weight fall against the side of the counter of the bar. When the mission had started, you’d come here first, remembering that Nami had told you that your target often spent his free time at the bar, drinking himself to a stupor and preying on whatever poor girl had caught his eye that night. Of course, tonight you were his prey and you had every intention of making sure that by the end of the night, this man would prey.

It was the main reason why you’d been so okay with offering yourself up as bait. Never in a million years would you allow your body to be used like this, but this man was notorious for trapping young rich women, lying to them with pretty words and hopeful promises, until he forced himself on them and stole every pretty penny off of them. The Strawhat’s goal was to get the treasure for yourselves, but your main goal was to teach this man a lesson.

You could see why so many women fell for his tricks. Despite being older, he was handsome–though the admission felt sour on your tongue–and he was exceptionally charming. Or, rather, he would be if you didn’t know the truth. An hour of his charms and flirts and you’re already feeling exhausted from his games, knowing that this is just what he does… makes a woman feel special and beautiful, only to use them for sex and steal every bit of their money right off of them. He had a big enough name that no one believed these women, but you? You did.

“Please,” he admonishes, “call me Rinano.”

You beam, “thank you, Rinano,” you correct, making sure to say his sultry tone, shifting your body so that you’re facing him. The dress Nami had found for you certainly was beautiful, you only wished you’d gotten to wear it on better terms. A floor length, black, silk dress that hugged you in all the right places, with a rather tempting slit that ran quite high on your leg and a neckline that dipped low enough to have anyone’s eyes glancing at it.

You know the second the words leave your lips, the words go straight to the man’s penis. His eyes bulge faintly, and this dazed look washes over his eyes as his eyes dip lower, just briefly, taking in the view of your chest.

You ignore the shiver that threatens to run up your spine.

“Please, Y/N, I think it’s time we moved this somewhere else, no?” He offers, eyes finally falling back on your own as he extends a hand out towards you. “Somewhere… a little more private?”

You mull on the decision briefly. It wasn’t part of your plan to go anywhere private with the man, knowing that this is how he lures women into his trap… but Nami still wasn’t done. Or, at least, she hadn’t given the signal. And you didn’t want to risk her or the mission…

Letting a smile curl on your lips, you set your hand in his.

“I’d love to.”

He grins, shifting to lead you through the crowd. You chance a glance back towards where you know Zoro is, but it’d gotten a lot busier since you’d come in and you can’t make him out in the crowd. Your chest tightens with worry, but you try to shake it off. You know Zoro would never let his eyes off of you, and you know the rest of your crewmates wouldn’t ever let you be in any danger either. You’re sure, even if you can't see him, that Zoro knows where you are.

“Hey man, you got a light?”

A frown curls onto Zoro’s lips when suddenly there’s a group of men standing around him, effectively blocking off his view of you. His body tenses as he glances at the three men, noticing for the first time just how busy it's gotten in the restaurant–Zoro and the rest of them had already had to make sure there was enough distance between you and them so as not to blow your cover. Zoro, though he argued against it, was forced to stand near the entrance of the restaurant, a good distance away from the bar and where you were, but it had been fine because Zoro had still been able to see you.

Now though? Especially with these idiots standing in front of him? He couldn’t see you at all.

A quick glance to the left and Zoro realizes he’s been separated from Sanji somehow as well.

Shit.

“Excuse me,” one of the men cuts in, taking a step towards Zoro. “We asked you a question.”

“No,” Zoro answers bluntly, glaring at the men as he tries to shove his way through.

“Are you sure?” Another one asks, the one holding a cigarette in his hands, a frown on his lips but as Zoro’s eyes flicker to him, he notices a glint in the man's eyes. “I forgot one at home and I’ve just been dying for a smoke–”

“I don’t have one,” Zoro grounds out, “get out of my way.”

The third one steps in front of him, hands held by his sides as he laughs; “hey, man… we’re just talking here. No reason to get mad.”

Zoro glares at him.

“I mean…” the one holding the cigar speaks up, “it’s not like you’re looking for someone, is it?”

Panic sets in then. By the smirks on their faces, Zoro comes to the startling realization that these men aren’t just annoying but that they must be Rinano’s men and they’re fully aware of who Zoro is and what he’s here for. And if they knew, then…

Zoro doesn’t hesitate, his right hand falls on his swords before striking his leg out towards the man to his left, knocking him up the chin and effectively knocking him on his ass. Instantly, a chaos of panic ensues as Zoro fights the other two, screams from other people in the restaurant but Zoro pays no mind to them. Rinano’s men are exceptionally weak that it barely takes Zoro anything to knock them down, and his eyes instantly shoot towards the bar the second he can, only for his heart to fall the pit of his stomach when he realizes you’re no longer there.

“Zoro!”

It’s Sanji who’s calling out for him, racing towards him through the panicked crowd and he’s slightly out of breath when he reaches him. Sanji’s eyes fall on the three men on their backs around Zoro and sighs; “so, they know.”

“Y/N’s not at the bar.”

Sanji’s eyes widen, head snapping towards the bar before he curses. “They knew who I was, tried to corner me like you. We should find Luffy and Usopp–”

“There’s no time.” Zoro cuts in, shaking his head. “You go. I’m finding Y/N.”

Zoro is pushing his way through the crowd before Sanji can say otherwise, leaving the cook to let out a huff.

The door slams behind you the second you step through, causing you to jolt slightly in reaction. When you turn your head over to glance, Rinano is simply smiling in your direction, stepping past you and further into what you assume is his ensuite above the restaurant. You hadn’t really known where you expected Rinano to lead you, but you figured it made sense he’d have a room above the restaurant he owned–it was, after all, easily accessible for the women he’d lead from the bar.

You’re quiet, scoping the room as Rinano pulls out two wine glasses at the bar located on the far end of the room. His back is turned to you as he prepares the glasses, and you shrug, using the time to see if you can find anything; Nami had snuck into the vault you knew was in the basement but you figured there might be something worth taking in here.

“For you.”

Blinking, you turn back to Rinano, smiling faintly as you accept the glass from him and take a seat right by the bar. Rinano takes a seat across from you, swirling the wine around in his cup, eyes on you as you take a slow sip of the wine. You weren’t a big drinker and you’d been careful to monitor your intake throughout the night, not wanting to be tipsy while with a man like Rinano–but one drink wouldn’t hurt. Plus, you needed the courage to steal your nerves.

It was a whole new ballgame being alone with him like this.

Honestly, you still weren’t really sure what you were doing. You just hadn’t wanted to put Nami in any danger and tip him off at all…

“You know,” Rinano says, and your eyes fall on him, head tilting in curiosity. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Letting out a light laugh, you shrug; “well, the food here was delicious.”

“Ah, yes, I know.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes–smug asshole. “But, if I remember correctly, you hadn’t come alone last time, right?”

Body tensing, you take another sip of your wine. “Ah, no,” you nod, setting the wine glass down as you fix the strap of your dress. “No, I came with two friends before.”

“Yes, a boy with an odd straw hat and a man with green-hair and three swords.” Rinano recalls, and your eyes squint–what was he getting at? “If I remember correctly, the green-haired man made quite a fuss about being allowed to keep his… weapons on him.”

You blink. You… hadn’t known Rinano had been watching all of that.

“Yes, well, he’s very protective of them,” you explain, leaning against the back of the seat when you feel your vision blur for a moment, head spinning momentarily.

“It’s also odd, you see,” Rinano continues, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees as he stares back at you, gaze intensely on your own. He’s waiting, you realize–watching you, more like it. Why, you’re not sure. “I could’ve sworn I saw a similar looking man watching us from the entrance all night. He seemed particularly keen on keeping his eyes on you.”

You feel your breath quicken, and somehow, you can’t explain it, your hands are shaking. Your whole body feels like it’s shaking, actually.

“The two of you seemed close that first night you came in,” Rinano continued. “I’d tried to catch your attention that entire night, but you hadn’t seemed to care when he was next to you. And him on the other hand… he’d glared at me the entire night for even looking at you. I wonder why, then… you were at my bar tonight, batting your eyelashes at me with your tits out on display?”

You stare back at him, noticing the anger and glint in his eyes as he stares back at you. Something uncomfortable twists in your chest and you’re moving to stand before you even realize. “I… I think it’s time I–” but your words get cut off as you feel your world spin. You’d stood up, you know that, but you find yourself on your back, staring up at the ceiling and your body won’t respond to you despite how hard you try to make it.

Then, Rinano is in front of you, leering over you.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he smiles down at you, “you enjoyed the wine more than I expected.”

Your eyes widen, blinking as you feel your body slipping.

“You–you asshole!” you cry, forcing the words out but they’re more slurred than anything. Rinano just laughs, and then his hands are on you, grabbing you by the waist as he moves to pick you up. You use every last bit of strength in your body to push him off, forcing your legs to work as you move to stand but you make it one step before you’re crashing to the ground, hitting it with a hard thud that has your breath leaving you for a moment.

In a flash, you’re flipped around, Rinano over top of you.

“I imagine you thought you’d come in here, get your money’s worth and rob me blind, yes?” Rinano grins down at you, and your body refuses to move even as his hand moves to the strap of your dress, pulling it down. “But you see, Y/N, that’s not how this works. Women are simple creatures and all it takes is a pretty smile and they’ll bend over backwards for men like me. Usually, I like to pick women who have something more than just their bodies to offer me, but… well, you really did catch my eye that night.”

The strap of your dress is yanked off, while his free hand hikes the skirt of your dress up, revealing your panties and bra. Your mind screams at you to do something, but your body refuses to listen. You can feel your heart pounding madly against your chest, but nothing happens.

“St–stop!” you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you feel his hands lift you, moving to the zipper of your dress. “Get off me! Stop!” but your words are slurred as your lips begin to fail you as well. The sob that wretches past your lips is piercing as you hear the familiar sound of a zipper, feeling a cold brush against your back before the carpet of the floor scratches against your bare skin.

Rinano leers above you, eyes dazed as he moves to pull your dress off.

“You really are magnificent,” he whispers, “maybe I’ll just keep you around… you’ll be my own personal treasure.”

Your head lolls to the left, feeling his hands drift across your bare stomach as tears stream down your cheeks.

Where… where was Zoro?

You wanted Zoro.

But in the back of your mind, you knew that if Rinano had known about you, he’d known about the rest of them as well.

You feel Rinano’s fingers slip under the band of your panties when the door slams open. You can’t turn to see who it is, but the sight of it is enough to have Rinano’s eyes widening, panic flooding his vision before suddenly his weight is knocked off of you and you see a familiar flash of green blur past you before a cry echoes across the room. There’s the distinct sound of someone choking, gasping for breath, but you can’t turn and see and you’re left there, exposed and vulnerable, sobs wracking your body, until a shadow falls over you.

Zoro is suddenly there. His wide eyes are on you, panic flooding his gaze as he pulls you into his arms, pulling your dress up and back on as he zips the back of it for you. You’re limp in his grasp and you want to say something, force your mouth to move, but you can’t. All you can do is stare back at him as he pulls you into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he whispers and it’s the softest you’ve ever heard him sound. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Nami had profusely apologized but you’d only brushed her off.

It seemed Rinano’s one mistake was he hadn’t known about Nami so everything on her end had been successful. For that, you were grateful. It wasn’t all for nothing.

The rest of the boys had come to check up on you as well the next day, clearly each worried but you’d brushed all their concerns off. It wasn’t any of their faults. It was yours… and you wouldn’t let them take the blame.

It takes a whole day before Zoro finally checks up on you.

He’s eerily quiet as he steps into the room. It’s late at night but Nami wasn’t here yet… by the look on Zoro’s face, you figure he’d asked her to hang back a minute, give you two some privacy.

You watch him, a frown on his lips as he takes a seat next to your small cot.

Then, after a minute, you speak up; “I'm sorry.”

And his eyes widen, head snapping to you in disbelief.

You just shake your head, a sob breaking past your lips as you curl into yourself. “I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. It was my idea and you could’ve gotten hurt because of me–”

Zoro cuts you off by setting his hand on your own, squeezing. Your eyes fall on him, lips left parted, sniffling. “This isn’t your fault,” he mumbles. “I came in here with every intention of telling you to never do that again… to never use you as bait but… but that wouldn’t be fair of me. And I’m not here to make you feel worse.”

Your lip trembles. “I… I didn’t think that’d happen,” you whisper, staring down at your entwined hands. “I… I was so scared.”

Shaking his head, Zoro leans forward, “I wouldn’t ever let anything like that happen to you. I’m just… sorry it got that far.”

You squeeze his hand back, “it’s okay. You came. That’s all that matters to me.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla #opla x reader #zoro roronoa #zoro roronoa x reader #opla!zoro x reader #opla!zoro #opla!zoro roronoa

713 notes · View notes

jackhues · 10 months

Text

how'd you make it? - mockingbird! au (platonic! hughes)

requested by: @toasttt11 , anon :)) - combined two bcz they fit rlly well

notes: continue sending in requests for the au! check out the request rules below! thanks for requesting <3 this ones got a focus on luke, but there's a cute quinn moment! ALSO, there's a cute surprise in this one, hope you guys like it (takes place in summer '24)

likes are good, reblogs are better <33

mockingbird! au request rules!|| mockingbird au! masterlist

gif not mine

"go back outside," you laughed, shoving jack's face away from yours.

you were at the hughes' lake house for the summer, spending most of your time wakesurfing, swimming, and hanging out on the boat. today was the one day you wanted to stay inside on the couch and finish the book you'd bought while the boys had the day to themselves.

of course, jack had other plans.

"i don't wanna," he groaned, plopping down on top of you.

"jack!" you laughed, trying to shove him off of you. finally, you gave up, putting your book to the side to let jack lay on top of you.

"why don't you wanna go outside?" you asked him softly.

"because i wanna spend time with you," he answered simply. "quinn went out with his girlfriend to that chinese place for lunch, and it's awkward being the only one with luke and his girlfriend. they're like... weird hormonal teenagers."

"oh, so it's because your brothers are gone that you're spending time with me," you rolled your eyes, laughing a bit.

"even without that, i'd still wanna be with you," he answered in a matter-of-fact voice. "it's why i'm gonna marry you."

"jack, stop making me blush," you hit his shoulder lightly.

"what," he laughed, pulling away. "there's a ring on your finger for a reason."

you smiled, admiring the way he looked at you with such adoration in his eyes. he acted like it was so simple. like he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and that was that. in some case, you supposed it was simple.

before meeting jack, you wouldn't have been able to imagine something like that, let alone believe someone could love you that much. but he changed that.

and you loved him so much for it.

"you're thinking," he said, getting up off of you and helping you sit up. "is it good or bad?"

"it's good," you promised. "i'm just thinking about how much i love you."

he grinned stupidly at that answer, "well of course you do. with these killer looks, how could you not?"

"you're such an-"

"luke! luke, what's wrong?"

your laughter was cut off as luke marched angrily past you and up the stairs and towards his room. behind him, ellen followed.

"i don't wanna talk," luke called, causing ellen to stop.

you and jack got up from the couch, making your way to the base of the stairs by ellen.

"what's wrong?" you asked. "why'd he storm up to his room?"

"i have no idea," ellen sighed tiredly. "he just came inside looking all mad, and then ran up."

jack furrowed his brows, "i thought he was outside with his girlfriend."

"did something happen with them, maybe?" you asked.

"i don't know," ellen muttered. she looked up the stairs, where luke had headed. "i'm going to go check on him. you two don't worry about him, i'll make sure he's okay."

you and jack nodded, letting ellen check on luke.

"are we sure it's not something bad?" jack asked you. "what if he's really upset over something?"

"ellen went to check on him," you reminded him. "it's better not to overwhelm him right now. we can go check on him afterwards if you want."

jack nodded, agreeing. "yeah, you're right."

the two of you headed towards the kitchen to take out your lunch. you and jack took a seat on the table, across of jim.

"did you finish your book yet?" he asked you.

"i would've, but someone didn't let me," you sent jack a look.

he held his hands up, a guilty look on his face.

jim looked up as ellen made her way back down. "any luck with luke?"

"he's asking for y/n," she said, looking at you. "honey, could you go upstairs and see what's going on?"

"yeah, of course," you answered, a little shocked.

jack squeezed your hand as you walked by, heading up to luke's room. you knocked on the door, waiting for an answer.

"go away," he muttered from the other side.

"luke, it's me," you called. "ellen said you wanted to talk to me."

you heard some shuffling, before luke said softly, "you can come in."

you opened the door, finding luke sitting on the floor next to his bed. he sat against the wall, his knees folded up to his chest and his head down. he didn't even look up as you entered.

"hi lukey," you said softly, sitting next to him. "you okay?"

luke sniffed, looking up at you with red rimmed eyes. "not really."

"c'mere," you muttered, pulling his head into your lap.

luke lay his head down, allowing you to softly run your fingers through his curls. his tears slowly subsided, and you waited calmly as he built up the courage to talk.

"how'd you stay with jack?" he asked finally. "like, it's been five years, and you guys are getting married in a few months, and not once have you guys even thought about breaking up. how?"

you pursed your lips, pondering the question. truth was, it took a long time for you to be this open and accepting to jack's love. you'd never received that same love as a kid, and never imagined to receive it as an adult.

"it's not easy," you answered him finally. "we were young, eighteen year olds when we met. i never even had a boyfriend before him. and then jack was some famous nhl player, and everyone knew him, and everyone hated that i was with him. but... honestly, we grew up together. we matured together. we made mistakes, but we learned to communicate and understand each other. it takes a lot, but we managed somehow."

you ran a hand through luke's curls, "i'm gonna take a wild guess and say something happened with you and your girlfriend. am i right?"

luke nodded sadly. "she-- she cheated on me. and then, and then she just said it like it was nothing. and then she started talking bad about you and jack, about how you guys probably aren't even a real couple, and i just-- i got mad. i told her she can go and do whatever she wants because i'm done." he looked up at you, "did i make a mistake?"

"no, no, you didn't," you assured him. "cheating's a choice, one that she made. when i said jack and i didn't have it easy, that's not what i meant. i meant that we both had things to work on in the start of our relationship. he was dealing with a lot of stuff with his rookie year, and i was still learning what a healthy relationship looks like. we worked on our relationship together."

"thanks, y/n," he smiled, closing his eyes a little. "that helps."

"anytime lukey," you smiled. "anytime."

outside the door, quinn smiled to himself.

he was walking past the room after his date, hearing your and luke's conversation. he'd spent the last four years doing everything to show you that you were family, that you were part of the hughes.

he was happy to see that you were believing it.

---

tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @svechnikovvv , @hockeyboysarehot , @jimothystu, @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila , @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy , @kjohnson-91 , @moldenhauers, @hischierdevils, @jackhughesily , @panarin10 , @equallyshaw , @power2myheart , @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya , @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 , @emsully2002 , @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 , @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj , @fandom-oneshots-etc , @ajbird18 , @cherrysodadevils , @cixrosie , @iikximii , @xcicix , @wbkz3gras , @cole-mcward48 , @starjoyyy , @eagerkya , @idontlikelizards , @trevzeags11 , @al-lie-cat , @kjohnson-91 , @bitchy55 , @privatemythss

join my taglist!

497 notes · View notes

doctorbitchcrxft · 4 months

Text

Something Wicked | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, implications of verbal parental abuse

Word Count: 4885

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

The two boys were bickering over coordinates Dean had received from an anonymous number.

“Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, Sammy.”

“Well, I'm telling you, I looked, and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something, I don't know what.”

“Well, maybe he's going to meet us there.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause he's been so easy to find up to this point.”

You sighed. You weren’t about to get in the middle of this argument and tuned the rest of it out. Alas, Dean won the argument, as he often did.

You stopped for some coffee along Fitchburg’s main street. The town itself was small, but it was quaint. A little too Middle America for your taste.

“Well… the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky, but other than that, no one's heard about anything freaky going on,” Dean sighed, handing you and Sam your respective coffee orders.

“Dean, you got the time?” you asked him.

“Ten after four. Why?”

You nodded in front of you at the playground you were looking at. “What's wrong with this picture?”

It was deserted aside from one child climbing on the jungle gym.

“School's out, isn't it?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. So where is everybody?” Sam added. “This place should be crawling with kids right now.”

You and the Winchesters walked over to a woman on a park bench reading a magazine. Dean approached her, saying, “Sure is quiet out here.”

The woman sighed, “Yeah, it’s a shame.”

“Why's that?”

“You know, kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing.”

“How many?”

“Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching,” she explained.

All four of you watched the little girl playing by herself, and the wheels in your head began to turn. Why would John send you all the way to Fitchburg over a few sick kids?

The three of you made your way up to the pediatrics ward of the hospital to investigate the sick children. Dean and Sam donned suits, and you wore a pencil skirt and heels. You couldn’t lie to yourself, Dean looked amazing in his suit, but you much preferred his usual leather jacket and biker boots.

“See something you like?” Dean smirked at you.

Your mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. He just snickered in response while your cheeks burned.

A doctor approached you and the boys before Dean could taunt you any further. You introduced yourselves and headed down the corridor with the man. “Well, thanks for seeing us, Dr. Hydecker,” Dean said.

“Well, I'm glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself. How'd you find out anyways?” the doctor asked.

“Oh, some GP— I forget his name— he called Atlanta, and, uh, he must've beat you to the punch,” Dean lied.

“So you say you got six cases so far?” you asked.

“Yeah, five weeks. At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. But now…”

“What?”

“The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are... wearing out.”

“Wait, but are there any signs of leukopenia?” you asked. “Any history in these kids of that?”

Dean looked over at you, confused by what you were saying. You continued to talk to the doctor.

“No, actually,” Hydecker answered.

“What about neutropenia?”

He shook his head as a nurse handed him a clipboard full of papers.

“Then, whatever this is would have to be attacking the bone marrow as well as the respiratory system… Have you done biopsies?”

“No, we haven’t,” Hydecker answered. “I’ll give that a try.”

“You ever seen anything like this before?” Sam questioned.

“Never this severe,” the doctor said. “And the way it spreads… that's a new one for me.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another.”

“You mind if we interview a few of the kids?” Dean questioned.

“They’re not conscious,” the doctor replied.

You were shocked. “None of them?”

“No.”

“Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?” tried Dean.

“Well, if you think it'll help.”

“Yeah. Who was your most recent admission?”

Hydecker directed you to a man sitting on a chair against the wall in the waiting room. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He explained to you the oldest girl was first, and then his youngest. He told you that her window had been opened, but there was no one who could’ve done so except for his daughter because her room was on the second floor.

You and the boys headed out of the pediatrics ward and back toward the car.

“(Y/N), how’d you know all that stuff?” Sam asked you, referencing your conversation with the doctor.

“I like to read,” you shrugged. Sam smiled at your response and walked a little ahead of you.

Dean came up next to you. “You were really serious about nursing, huh,” he said softly enough so Sam wouldn’t hear.

“I guess. I really do just like to read, though,” you smiled. “I think I just wanted to stick it to my dad. I always thought I’d be happier not hunting. But, uh, I just don’t think I could ever go back to being ‘normal’.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he responded.

Sam turned back to you and his brother. “You know, this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia.”

“No way,” you shook your head, “pneumonia wouldn’t be lowering white blood cell count. It’d have to be elevated for it to be true pneumonia. Infection and all that.”

Sam hummed. “Okay, so then what’s your theory?”

“Honestly? Not sure.”

“I'll tell you one thing,” said Sam. “That dad we just talked to? I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes home.”

***

“You got anything over there?” Sam asked Dean. The three of you had climbed through the home of the last two kids who had gotten sick looking for clues.

“Nah, nothing,” the older brother answered.

“Yeah, me neither,” you chimed in. You moved over to the window and paused. “Hey guys? I really don’t think it’s pneumonia.”

The boys came over and followed your line of sight to a rotted handprint with long, tendril-like fingers.

“What the hell leaves a handprint like that?” Sam asked.

Dean seemed to get pulled away into his own mind for a moment before he began to look a little sick. “I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job.”

Dean raced down the stairs to the window on the back of the house you’d climbed through. You followed him close behind. You would ask him what had happened to him in the little girl’s bedroom later.

Dean explained to you on the ride to the motel what he thought you were hunting: a shtriga.

“So what the hell is a shtriga?” Sam asked as Dean pulled into a motel parking lot. This motel was a little cuter than the ones you’d visited previously; centered around a white cabin with green shingles.

“It's kinda like a witch, I think. I don't know much about 'em,” explained Dean.

“Well, I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal.”

“Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about sixteen, seventeen years ago. You were there. You don't remember?”

Sam shook his head.

“And I guess he caught wind of the things in Fitchburg now and kicked us the coordinates,” Dean went on.

“So wait, this…” Sam paused, waiting for Dean to remind him how to pronounce it.

“Shtriga.”

“Right. You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?” Sam’s brows furrowed together.

“ ‘Cause it got away.”

Sam scoffed. “Got away?”

Dean was beginning to get frustrated, and you knew it was a cover-up for whatever was going on inside his head. “Yeah, Sammy, it happens.”

“Not very often.”

“Well, I don't know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn't have his wheaties that morning,” snarked the older brother.

“What else do you remember?”

“Nothin'. I was a kid, alright?” Dean said defensively. You followed him into the motel lobby only to see a little boy watching TV in one room and a boy around ten or eleven walking out of it.

“A king or two queens?” The boy asked, looking between you and Dean.

“Two queens,” you and Dean answered quickly. “And one king, actually,” you added, stepping aside to reveal Sam behind you.

A woman entered smiling at you both. “Checking in?”

You nodded to her.

“Do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner,” the woman instructed the boy.

“I'm helping a guest!” he protested, but turned away under his mother’s hard stare. “Two queens. And a king.”

“Will that be cash or credit?” she asked you.

Dean took out his card. “You take MasterCard? Perfect. Here you go.”

You watched him look behind the woman at the boy pouring his younger brother a glass of milk. And there he went again; pulled into what you could only assume was memories of himself and Sam.

The woman before you held out his card to zoned-out Dean, and you took it from her instead. “Uh, thanks.” She handed you the keys, and you nudged Dean to bring him back to reality.

***

Dean explained to you and Sam what shtrigas fed off: children, most commonly. The only thing that could kill them were specially designed wrought-iron rounds while the thing was feeding. They often take the form of something unsuspecting; like an old woman.

“Hang on,” Dean said. “Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far and dead center?”

“The hospital,” you noted.

“Now, when we were there, I saw a patient; an old woman,” Dean continued.

“An old person huh?” questioned Sam. “In a hospital? Phew. Better call the Coast Guard.”

You giggled at Sam.

“Well, listen, smart-asses, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall.”

You and Sam stopped snickering and looked up at Dean. He raised an eyebrow at you.

And so, you headed to the hospital. Fortunately for her— but unfortunately for your hunt— the old woman with the upside down cross on the wall was just cataract-ridden and crotchety. Upon your return to the motel after thoroughly freaking out the old woman, you pulled Dean to your motel room for a talk before bed.

“What’s up?” he asked, sitting on a chair in your room.

You sat on the bed across from him. “Where do you keep going?” you asked.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, I just realized how stupid that sounded. You keep, like, disappearing into your own brain,” you responded. “Like in the motel lobby. You zoned out looking at that kid and his brother.”

“Oh, that,” he said quietly. “I, uh, it’s stupid.”

“Dean,” you leaned over your crossed legs and rested your hand on his knee. “I’m asking you. It’s not stupid. I just care.”

“Oh, come on—”

“Dean,” you said. “You made me a pinky promise at that scary asylum. You promised you’d tell me. Please?”

He huffed out a small laugh. “You know how I said my dad hunted this thing before?”

You nodded.

“Well, I’m the reason it got away.”

“How? Didn’t you say it was sixteen, seventeen years ago? You would’ve been ten, dude,” you responded.

“Yeah, but it’s complicated. My dad left us alone in motel rooms all the time. He made me repeat to him what I was and wasn’t supposed to do every time he would go out on a hunt. Sam and I would fight over the last bowl of Lucky Charms from the groceries Dad got us for the week; y'know, stupid kid stuff,” he chuckled. “But it’d been days. I was climbin’ the walls, (Y/N). I had to get some air. I went to an arcade to just… blow off some steam, I guess.

"When I came back, the thing was over Sammy’s bed. I was frozen. My dad came in and shot it a couple times, but it got away. Dad just... grabbed us and booked. Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away, but by the time he got back to Fort Douglas, the shtriga had disappeared; it was just gone. It never surfaced until now. Y'know, Dad never spoke about it again, I didn't ask." He looked away from you attempting to swallow his emotions. "But he, ah, he looked at me different, you know? Which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn't listen; I almost got Sammy killed.”

“Dee, you were a kid,” you said softly. He went to cut you off, but you stopped him. “No, let me talk. I know how that feels. My parents left me with Stevie all the time. I would've done the same thing you did. We were kids. We had to take on parental responsibilities. Anybody would be going stir crazy, especially at ten years old like you were.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No,” you told him, grabbing his hand. “You cannot blame yourself. I won’t let you. Would you let me?”

He shook his head.

“Exactly.”

He held your intense stare and rubbed a thumb over your hand. The two of you awkwardly pulled away from each other, and Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you, for, y’know—”

“Yeah, any time,” you said, walking him to the door.

***

The next morning, you and Sam were teasing Dean about the old woman from the hospital the night before. You were headed to the car to go get some breakfast.

“ ‘I was sleeping with my peepers open’?” Sam laughed heartily, remembering the old woman's strange way of talking.

“I almost smoked that old girl, I swear. It's not funny!” Dean grunted.

“Oh man, you shoulda seen your face,” you giggled.

“Yeah, laugh it up. Now we're back to square one.” He looked over to the ten-year-old blond boy sitting on the bench behind his mother’s office. “Hang on.” He led you over to the child. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“My brother's sick,” he replied.

“The little guy?”

He nodded. “Pneumonia. He's in the hospital. It's my fault.”

“Ah, c'mon, how?” You could tell Dean’s mind was racing just based on his tone.

“I should’ve made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't've got pneumonia if the window was latched,” the boy lamented.

You watched, frowningly thoughtfully, as Dean looked away from the boy.

“Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault. Okay?” Dean assured him.

“It's my job to look after him,” the boy frowned, tearing up.

His mother hurried out of the motel toward her minivan. “Michael, I want you to turn on the 'no vacancy' sign while I'm gone. I've got Denise covering room service, so don't bother with any of the rooms.”

“I'm going with you,” he protested.

“Not now, Michael.”

“But I gotta see Asher!”

Dean responded before his mother could. “Hey, Michael. Hey. I know how you feel— I'm a big brother, too— but you gotta go easy on your mom right now, ok?”

His mom dropped her handbag in haste, cursing under her breath. You rushed to pick it up for her.

“Listen, you're in no condition to drive. Why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital,” Dean offered.

“No, I couldn't possibly—” she answered.

“No, it's no trouble. I insist.”

Michael’s mother handed Dean the keys and thanked him before addressing her son. “Be good.”

Dean turned to you before he went over to the car. “We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?”

You and Sam watched Dean pull out of the motel parking lot, driving much more carefully than he ever did when you and Sam were in the car.

“C’mon,” you said. “You got the keys?”

“Yeah,” he threw them to you. “Where we goin’?”

“Wait, you’re letting me drive?” you asked Sam.

He shrugged.

You squealed childishly and jumped into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t lie, you loved this car. You loved how the steering wheel felt in your hands and the way the engine rumbled.

“Seriously, where we going?”

“The library,” you answered. “Town records, national records, internet, anything and everything. Dean wants this thing dead, and I intend to get it done tonight. And I gotta tell you, dude, something’s really bothering me about this whole thing. I mean, I never even formally went to nursing school, but I knew it couldn’t be pneumonia immediately. Why would pediatric doctors be unable to figure that out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I get you. Something isn’t right.”

***

You and Sam poured through as many books you possibly could as quickly as you could. Sam was at his computer, scrolling with a furrowed brow when his phone rang. “ Hey. How's the kid?... We’re at the library. We've been trying to find out as much as we can about this shtriga… Well, bad news. I started with Fort Douglas around the time you said Dad was there?... Same deal.

"Before that, there was, uh, Ogdenville, before that, North Haverbrook, and Brockway. Every 15 to 20 years, it hits a new town. Dean, this thing is just getting started in Fitzburgh. In all these other places, it goes on for months. Dozens of kids before the shtriga finally moves on. The kids just languish in comas, and then they die… Ah, I don't know. The earliest mention I could find is this place called ‘Black River Falls’ back in the 1890s. Talk about a horror show.”

Your brain began to make connections between all of those events. “Wait, Sam, put Dean on speaker.”

He did so.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to stay with me on this one. This could just be me spitballin’, but—”

“Just say it, (Y/N),” Dean said through the phone.

“I’ve been thinking, why wouldn’t Hydecker immediately rule out pneumonia? If he’s such a spectacular and caring doctor, why wouldn’t he know that pneumonia ups your white blood cell count; not depletes it? And the chance of all six kids having a pre-existing condition that lowers your WBC is incredibly low. I mean, why else wouldn’t he biopsy the kids?”

“Okay, WebMD, what does that have to do with anything?” Dean asked.

“I told you to stay with me.” You began typing in your computer searching for articles on the earliest case Sam had found in Black River Falls. “The point is, I think Hydecker’s our guy. Think about it— the center of the kidnappings is the hospital. And any pediatric doctor would be familiar with what pneumonia actually does to a kid’s body.” You smiled sourly at a photo you pulled up of doctors surrounding a child’s bed in 1893. You turned the computer around to Sam. “Boom.”

“(Y/N), that is huge.” He leaned over and lightly punched your shoulder. “Good going.”

“Thanks!” you grinned. “Dean, meet us back at the motel. Don’t deck the guy in the face, please. Not yet, anyway.”

“No promises,” he grumbled.

“Dean—”

“Fine.” He hung up the phone.

“Alright, we gotta get back before Dean explodes,” you told Sam. “Can I drive again?”

“Sure, why not. Just don’t tell my brother.” He tossed you the keys and you giggled.

***

“We should have thought of this before. A doctor's a perfect disguise. You're trusted, you can control the whole thing,” Sam said.

You and the brothers were back in the motel room.

Dean threw off his jacket and paced agitatedly. “That son of a bitch.”

“I'm proud of you for not drawing on him right there,” you said.

“Yeah, well, first of all, I'm not going to open fire in a freakin' pediatrics ward.”

Sam nodded. “Good call.”

“Second, wouldn't have done any good, because the bastard's bullet proof unless he's chowing down on something. And third, I wasn't packing, which is probably a really good thing, ‘cause I probably would've just burned a clip in him on principle alone.”

Despite the situation, you found Dean aggressively grumbling about guns very attractive.

“You're getting wise in your old age, Dean,” Sam quipped.

“Damn right. 'Cause now I know how we're going to get it,” replied Dean.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Shtriga works through siblings, right?”

You knew what he was getting at. “No, Dean, I don’t like that.”

“What?” Sam asked, clearly not picking up where you and Dean were at.

“(Y/N)—”

“No, dude, we gotta get Michael out of here. I’m not letting you use him as bait.”

“Dean, what?! That’s out of the question!” Sam protested.

“It's not out of the question, Sam, it's the only way. If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance.”

“Michael's a kid. And I'm not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook,” Sam scoffed.

“Dad did not send me here to walk away.” Dean turned away from you and Sam and gripped the edges of the dresser.

“Send you here? He didn't send you here; he sent us here,” Sam replied.

“This isn't about you, Sam. I'm the one who screwed up, all right. It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me.”

“What are you saying, Dean? How is it your fault?” Sam paused, taking a moment to calm down. “Dean. You've been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on.”

Dean proceeded to explain what he had to you last night. Sam gave him the same lecture about how it wasn’t his fault, but Dean began to protest again. “Don't. Don't. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it.”

You were surprised at the tough facade he gave his brother in contrast to the way he was vulnerable with you.

“But using Michael— I don't know Dean. I mean, how 'bout one of us hides under the covers, you know, we'll be the bait,” Sam tried.

“No, it won't work. It's gotta get close enough to feed— it'll see us. Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid.”

***

Michael was completely against the idea and even threatened to call the cops on you. You and the boys returned to their motel room dejectedly.

“Well, that went crappy. Now what?” Dean groaned.

“What did you expect? You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid,” the younger brother sighed.

There was a knock at the door, and you opened it to reveal Michael.

“Hey,” you said, surprised.

“If you kill it, will Asher get better?”

“Honestly? We don't know,” Dean told him.

“You said you were a big brother,” Michael started, “You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?”

“Yeah, I would,” Dean replied quietly. Your heart swelled at how much Dean and Sam cared for each other.

The young boy nodded. “Me, too. I'll help.”

Dean had hooked up a security camera to the boy’s room, and you and he watched the monitor closely. You were beginning to feel cross-eyed from how tired you were. It was around three in the morning, and your body protested against your will to stay awake.

“You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?” Sam asked his brother.

“Consecrated iron rounds, and yeah, it's what Dad used last time.”

“Hey, Dean? I’m sorry,” the younger brother said softly. “You know, I've really given you a lot of crap, for always following Dad's orders. But I know why you do it.”

“Oh, god, kill me now,” Dean groaned.

You giggled to yourself, eyes returning to the screen. “Dean, look.”

There was a bit of movement off to the right of the screen outside of the window. You and the boys picked up your guns, holding them tightly and waiting for the right moment.

“Now?” you asked.

“Not yet.”

The shtriga moved closer and leaned over the bed. You could see Michael tense under the covers and draw them closer to himself. The creature leaned over the bed, pushing the covers down.

“Now?!”

“Now.”

You and the boys burst through the door and began to shoot the creature after Michael rolled away. It flew off Michael’s bed and fell to the side you couldn’t see.

“Mike, you alright?” Dean asked the kid.

“Yeah,” came his muffled reply from under the bed.

“Just sit tight.” Dean approached the shtriga, his gun at the ready. There was no movement for just a moment, before the shtriga shot up and grabbed Dean by his throat, throwing him across the room.

“Dean!” you cried, trying to run to him. The shtriga threw you to the side against Michael’s bed. Your back protested as you tried to roll and grab your gun that had fallen out of your hand in the chaos. You noticed the shtriga leaning over the top of the younger Winchester. Sam’s body went limp and began to go gray as the shtriga began to suck out his life force.

“Hey!” Dean gruffly spat. The shtriga turned to the older brother just to get shot straight between the eyes.

“Nice!” you said. You rushed to Sam’s side and smoothed a hand over his messy hair while he tried to catch his breath. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“You okay, little brother?” Dean called from behind you. You thought it was adorable how much he cared.

You and Sam stood and you tried to help hold the tall man up on his unsteady legs. You guided him over to the shtriga, and Dean shot it three times at point-blank range. The shtriga’s body fell in on itself, disintegrating.

You looked up at Dean, whose face was still set in hard lines.

“It's okay, Michael, you can come on out,” Dean told the boy peeking out from under his bed. He rose to stand beside you, smiling tentatively. Dean put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. You looked on, feeling your heart swell at what you knew was a full-circle moment for Dean. You knew these moments were few and far-between in a profession like yours, and you had learned to savor them in your memory.

***

You and the brothers returned to your rooms to pack now that the monster was dead. As usual, you were finished packing before the boys were and leaned against the Impala waiting for them.

You watched Michael’s mom’s car pull up in the motel parking lot. At that moment, the boys came out to join you.

“Hey, Joanna. How's Asher doing?” Dean asked the mother of the two boys.

“Have you seen Michael?” she asked him.

“Mom! Mom!” the child in question ran up and hugged him. “How's Ash?”

“Got some good news. Your brother's gonna be fine,” she smiled down at the boy.

“Really?” Michael grinned.

“Yeah. Really. No one can explain it; it's a miracle. They're going to keep him overnight for observation, and then, he's coming home.”

You smiled as Sam asked, “How are all the other kids doing?”

“Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town,” she explained.

“Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Hydecker?” you asked.

“Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something.”

You shot a knowing look to the boys.

“So, did anything happen while I was gone?” Joanna asked her son.

The boy looked to Dean before responding, “Nah, same old stuff.”

“Okay.” Joanna smoothed a hand over Michael’s blonde hair. “You can go see Ash.”

A wide grin spread across the boy’s face. “Now?!”

She nodded at her son, who ran into the car. “I, ah, I'd better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself,” she told you and the boys. The three of you watched as Joanna’s car pulled out of the parking lot. Sam and Dean turned to you and placed their bags in the trunk next to yours.

“It's too bad,” said Sam.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” you assured him.

“That's not what I meant,” he shook his head. “I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark— he'll never be the same, you know?” He paused. “Sometimes I wish that....”

“What?” Dean questioned.

“I wish I could have that kinda innocence.”

Dean walked to the driver’s side door. He leaned on the roof of the car and said, “If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn

hi hi! quite a few tags were broken :( please let me know if i've misspelled your tag! make sure you have notifs for my blog on so you don't miss an update!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

241 notes · View notes

ladymarycrawley · 11 months

Text

Forbidden but delightful - Mason Mount

Request: I actually had a imagine request for Mason Mount…where the reader works for him and they’ve always been fond of one another and one day she comes in wearing a guys jumper, it doesn’t fit her properly and it smells like a man. So Mason feels himself becoming jealous, when in reality it’s just her brothers jumper that she ended up wearing because she fell asleep at his babysitting his kids + @anon that asked me sth based on Mase's Nike shooting that got out out in august/september

Warning: none

Tag list: @prideofpd , @johnstonesfc , @chelsealover , @masonxomount , @masterclassbaby

(gif credits to @bracedes)

A thing Mason promised himself he would have never done in his life was falling in love with someone that worked for him or that simply happened to cross his path for business reasons: he knew it would have been unprofessional but, most of all, he feared he would have ended up as the wronged party.

Another thing he knew deep down his heart was that promises are sometimes meant to be broken and the aforementioned one was one of those.

Since Y/N took on the role of his personal stylist she became the ever so present object of his thoughts as she charmed him since day one, when that shy smile of hers made him blush and ask for more, more moments of him in her company.

He knew she had something special but didn't know what that was, he only knew it was something that made him feel relaxed, at peace with the world around him. It was as if she held an aura of calmness that was never enough for him as his engaged lifestyle required a lot of it.

Needless to say they got along instantly and, as he was one of the most appreciated footballers on the planet, she soon became one of the most envied women for spending so much time with him. That time they would spend together wasn’t related to fashion matters only but quickly spread to their spare time too: after their work for a magazine, Mason invited her over to his house to celebrate their first job together.

In the meanwhile, on her part, a small sentence he said to her like “I’d like you to always feel at ease when you’re around me, we don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to but I’d like you to be totally yourself” was what made her like him as soon as his brother Lewis introduced him to her. What he expressed was quite an easy concept not to be taken for granted as a lot of famous people would likely treat their employees as servants, making their business life miserable but that wasn't his case.

Everyone loved Mason for being a down to earth guy, a family guy that always had the most beautiful smile painted across his lips and that smile was the second thing that made her weak to her knees: it could light up a dark room faster than artificial light and warm her heart at the same speed.

The second time it was her turn so she asked him to join her in going to a club in the centre of Manchester. It was just the prelude of their game of looks, subtle and unintended touches, sweet words. All of that happened without them even realising it as it felt so spontaneous, so right.

The crucial moment in their professional as well as personal career was when the Red Devils player was asked to feature in the next Nike Underwear campaign as one of their latest posterboys.

“That’s huge, I can't believe it” She kept on saying in disbelief as he was in a delighted mood too. That was probably the biggest job she got until then and they were both buzzing.

“I’m sure all the girlies will love me even more after this shooting” You joked, alluding to the shirtless pictures of Mason that would soon reach every corner of planet Earth through the worldwide coverage they would have had.

He blushed a little and chuckled. “Yep and they’ll probably hate you a little too cause you’re stealing their place”

“Me?? I’m just doing what I’ve been hired for and just got you the biggest shooting to date”

“Yeah but don’t flatter yourself sweetheart”

Sweetheart? Y/N would have never thought of hearing that nickname coming from his mouth and above all, addressed to her. The shade of bright pink that painted her cheeks after that exchange of words, matched her geranium skirt and that combination didn’t go unnoticed to her client who smirked, quite pleased with what his sentence ignited in her.

They both gave each other knowing looks, a look that made Mason’s heart beat faster and Y/N’s legs shake.

The stylist cleared her throat with a fit of coughing before looking at the time on her phone screen, deciding it was time for her to go home before things would have gone out of your hands.

“Are you already going home?”

“Yes, I have erm - a friend over for dinner, yeah” She nodded as if she was trying to convince herself to buy her own lie.

“Do I know her? Oh wait, is it your best friend?” The Englishman didn’t really care about her guest, he only wanted to spend a couple more minutes with her and make sure she wasn’t seeing any guy he would have to compete with.

“No no, you don’t know her…” She said dismissively, putting her bag on her shoulder.

“Is this mysterious friend a guy you haven’t told me about?” He said, crossing his hands and trying to sound as chilled as possible.

“Please! Not interested in any guy right now” Yeah, in any guy that wasn’t called Mason Mount. “Really have to go now, my house is a mess and she will be there in less than an hour… see you tomorrow, Mount, don’t be late cause we’ll check your Nike’s outfits out!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t…have fun tonight”

“Yep…thanks”

They almost whispered their goodbyes with a hint of sadness and delusion in their voices, as though neither of them wanted to leave each other nor wanted the other one to be left alone but the positions they were in forbid any kind of romantic relationship: it would have been too complicated and too risky.

The very risky thing though was the task she had to undertake the next day: some Nike people met Mason and Y/N at the sportswear brand’s headquarter in London and shared a quick chat to get to know each other better, before skipping to the part where they would explain the shooting they had in mind for Mason to be featured in.

She gulped the moment they showed them the underwear models they could have chosen among.

Y/N’s mind soon got crowded with not safe for work images, as the sight of the Manchester United player’s toned body covered only in a pair of tight boxers, smiling at her began getting more and more vivid.

She shook her head when the Mason in her mind bit on his lower lip and seductively brought his hands to his sides to take off the tiny piece of clothing covering his lower body.

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Oh yes, yes I’m so excited for this you have no idea” She laughed.

The people working with them smiled and left the room to do God’s knew what, leaving her and Mason alone.

He chuckled, lowering himself to her level so that his lips were close to her ear and whispered “Bet you’re more aroused than excited for this job”

You widen your eyes and hit him on the shoulder.

“I’m fully focused on my work, wasn’t thinking about anything vile”

“Even if you’re thinking about it that would be nothing wrong with it…I won’t tell anyone about your secret crush for me”

“Stop it! How old are you? 15??”

Mason giggled and swiftly pecked her cheek. “I love it when you get annoyed at me”

If someone would have seen that scene they would have thought they were a couple, a cute couple but sadly it wasn’t the truth and maybe would have never been…

Y/N arrived at work the day of the Nike shooting some minutes late and she entered the venue out of breath.

“Hi! Sorry everyone, stuck in traffic and it was horrible” She justified herself panting. What she just said was a white lie because she had nothing to do with London’s traffic: the night before her elder brother asked her to babysit his children because he had planned a night out with his wife and forgot to call someone to look after those two rascals that spent all the night shouting and running around the house.

She tried to say no when he asked her that favour, as she had a big day coming on but he said he really needed her help.

So she fell asleep on the sofa, after battling to put her nephews to bed, waking up just in time to go back home in a rush, begging her brother to give her a lift, and put on some knee-high boots that would have complimented that oversized grey jumper she borrowed from him to fight the coldness of the night.

Mason raised his eyebrows when he saw her, recognising immediately what she was wearing was a man’s jumper.

She styled it as if it was a dress and she looked so hot in his eyes but couldn’t stop thinking she must have spent the night with some man, that’s the reason why she was late.

The shooting went as planned: Mason looked genuinely flawless and sexy in that underwear, smiling at the camera and she kept on biting her lips as she couldn’t help thirsting over him as he looked nothing but hot ... that infatuation for him would have been the death of her.

She thanked that one person that asked for a little break because she needed a giant cup of coffee and some fresh air.

“You look good” Those were the first words she said to Mason that day.

“You too”

“No way, I look hideous as I’ve barely slept and arrived late on what’s the most important day in my career” She blurted annoyed at that, something unforgivable from her point of view.

The footballer started biting on his nails as he was clearly nervous and maybe needed some fresh air as well as she did.

“This…” The strong smell that tickled his nostrils interrupted him “...this smell, where does it come from?”

“Oh I think it’s my jumper” Y/N admitted shyly, referring to the garment that looked huge on her.

What Mason noticed made her blush, as if he caught her red-handed while doing something inappropriate and he glanced at her sideways, as if that inappropriate thing she did disappointed him somehow.

“It still smells like him...” She said under her breath but he still heard her and couldn’t help but widen his eyes in shock: in his head they’re perfect together, smiling and laughing every day, even subtly flirting so he thought she was single and he could go on courting her but now she’s wearing another man’s clothes? The poor man was confused to say the least.

“You told me you weren’t interested in any man…”

“And I’m not”

He raised his head and smiled quite relieved with the real explanation behind all of that.

“So why are you wearing another man’s jumper?”

“Oh god Mase, are you jealous?? This is my brother’s. He asked me to babysit his kids last night and took this because I was cold and in a rush so it was literally the first decent thing I’ve found”

“Oh well…I was ready to mock you for your walk of shame actually”

“No dear, you’re dying for me to tell you I haven't slept with anyone last night and now you’re joking only because you didn’t get angry” You giggled, offering him a cup of hot coffee.

“Can I take you out tonight?”

“Mason I- I don’t think that’d be a good idea, I mean we’re working together”

“I know that but I’ll do my best to keep things separated, I promise” He gave you puppy eyes, making you giggle.

“If you wanna try…”

“You don’t wanna try?”

Of course she wanted to, she'd been dying too…and she'd been dying to know what his lips tasted of too: she quickly glanced around to make sure all the people involved in the shooting were still out and unexpectedly kissed him, the coffee flavour on his lips mixing with her nude lipstick.

“Now go on posing, nothing happened!”

Nothing could swipe Mason’s smirk off his face as he brushed his thumb over his lips that now tasted like her.

“Yeah...nothing happened”

Mixing work and private life wasn’t something they were willing to do but sometimes breaking the rules has that forbidden charm that brings to one’s soul the highest of delights and that’s a risk worth taking.

#mason mount #mason mount x you #mason mount imagines #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount fics #mason mount fanfictions #mason mount fluff #manchester united #manchester united imagines #premier league #premier league fics #england nt #footie fics #football imagines #football writing

478 notes · View notes