#to the people who have sent asks and tagged in things I promise I’ll get to them!!

[sidraofthewildflowers]

“Have we ever thought that being lost is our destination?”

.

.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally. 

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was. 

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :) 

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here. 

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission. 

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could. 

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill. 

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.  

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously. 

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window. 

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt. 

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter. 

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.  But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

[slrprki]

SK8TR B0Y

skater keeho x male reader

tags/cw: flirting ofc, suggestive undertone, keeho’s kind of desperate, m/n usage, he/him pronouns, i guess a plot twist??

authors note: this is for sure gonna be a series. i’m doing this with all of the idols i write!! cause i just need skater idols flirting with m/n. THATS IT THATS ALL! enjoy pookies.

the night sky shined its glory while the soft autumn wind blew along a slight cool breeze. m/n zipped up his jacket, tucking his hands into his pockets. he promised his friend that he’d finally take up his offer and go to the skate park with him.

the male walked on the sidewalk, his boots crunching on fallen leaves within each step. where could this park even be? they had many of them around town. it wasn’t helping that his friend wasn’t responding to his texts either. every question sent still shown up as delivered. m/n let out an content sigh as he came up towards another park. his legs practically ached from the journey he’s made on foot.

the park wasn’t as packed as he thought it would be. maybe this is one of the less popular ones. he made his way inside, observing the people around him. no sign of him. oh well, he suppose he could sit down and take a small break. just as he turned around to find somewhere to sit, he heard a noise. someone whistled.. was that towards him? “is it my birthday or what? didn’t think I’d be getting free eye candy tonight.” a voice spoke up, walking towards m/n. he whipped his head around, giving the male a confused stare. “excuse me?” he said, turning his body to the male completely, taking more a defensive stance.

“relax, baby. just couldn’t help but notice a thing like you.” the blue haired man said, shamelessly looking the other up and down. “what’s someone like you doing out here, cutie?” he questioned, licking his teeth and keeping his deep gaze on m/n. “i’m just looking for a friend.. did you need something?” “is your number too much to ask for?” he asked with a wink. m/n’s eyes widened. the man in front of him was attractive and quite tempting. he’s been told many times that he shouldn’t trust skater boys. they’re all known for being hoes, but the way this man looked into his eyes.. no. he can’t just give some dude his number like that. he has to earn it.

“i don’t just do flings. if you really want to get with me, you got to prove yourself.” this only made the male in front of him smirk. “oh so you’re a feisty one, huh? i can easily break down those walls.” he moved closer, starting to observe the others facial features. “i don’t even know your name.” m/n crossed his arms, standing back. “keeho. yoon keeho. you’ll learn it easily. soon enough, you’ll be screaming it.”

the males face flushed. who just says that to a stranger? “well, yoon keeho, i have to go find my friend now..” m/n trailed off, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. he instantly pulled it out, answering quickly.

“hello?”

“hey! sorry m/n for dodging your texts. i’ve been at the park for a few hours and i don’t see you.” his friend said.

“oh.. i’ve been to 4 different ones. i’m at the one near this school.”

“oh!” m/n suddenly heard laughter.

“what’s so funny?”

“i’m there as well. i’ll come find you!”

m/n was about to say something before phone suddenly hung up. he then groaned. “look, it was nice talking to you.. i guess? my friend’s actually here so i’m going to go.” the male was about to walk off until the sight of his friend came into few. the male skated over, smiling brightly. “hey m/n!” he said, coming to an abrupt stop, giving him a quick side hug. “m/n, i didn’t know you knew keeho.” m/n brought his gaze over to keeho who stood right next to him. “i don’t. i just met him a few minutes ago.” “i see. i’ve been meaning to introduce you to him. he’s my cousin!”

“WHAT?!”

[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 5

Summary: Now that you and Negan are on good terms, you have demands from Gregory to deal with and a liquor run that doesn't go as expected...

Tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Gossip, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Alcohol Mentions, Flings,

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: y'all I promise the last 2 chapters won't be as long lmao

check out the previous chapter here!

If there's one thing about Negan that irritates people, it's his luck. 

From what he can tell, no one saw the message he sent last night before he quickly deleted it. Sure, he’s caught a few strange looks from the likes of Tara and Aaron, but none of them have said anything.  

To him, that's a good sign. If they saw the message, he figures they'd have made some snarky comment by now just to relish in his discomfort.

Negan had originally planned to stop by and see you before classes started, but a detour on his way to school threw off his timing. And so he had to wait until the first break of the day to make his move. 

Letting his class out a few minutes early, he grabs a small paper bag and makes his way to your classroom. Just to prove he's on his best behavior, Negan waits outside your room, holding himself back from barging in during your lesson. 

And who says an old dog can't learn new tricks?

"Negan?" You glance up from your desk once you’ve dismissed your class. He catches the surprised look you didn’t quite manage to hide as you ask "What are you doing here?".

He grins, holding up the paper bag and giving it a little wiggle. "I got a baggy with your name on it," he teases, clearly enjoying himself "thought I’d walk you to the teacher’s lounge while we spitball some food ideas".

You’ll admit, this is the last thing you expected. Despite the most recent do-over you and Negan have been navigating, you hadn’t pegged him as the type for strolls together or gifts.

Yet here he is, holding out the bag like it's the most natural thing in the world. Hesitantly, you approach, eyeing the gift as if it might be a bear trap in disguise.

Slowly, you reach out and take it, half-expecting something ridiculous inside. Negan just grins, watching you closely but giving you space to discover the surprise for yourself.

Sticking your hand in, you’re met with something soft, yet firm and slightly moist. You pull it out, raising an eyebrow as the familiar shape comes into view. 

"Because you ate my muffin," you recall, nodding at the blueberry muffin in your hand. The memory of that little stolen snack clicks into place and you can’t help the smile on your face.

"Jesus, sweetheart, maybe phrase it a little better," Negan says with a mock gasp, glancing around to make sure no one’s in earshot "and people say I have a filthy mouth”. He shakes his head, putting on an exaggerated look of disbelief.

“Oh stop it,” you nudge him as you take a bite of the muffin, savoring it with a long hum “ mmmm, thanks”.

Negan nods and you both begin to walk down the corridor and towards the teacher’s lounge. You know you should wait until you get there to eat the muffin but what can you say, it’s been a while since someone got you something nice. 

Swallowing your bite, you ask “Has the spirit of Christmas finally possessed you?”.

“Me?” Negan furrows his eyebrows at the accusation “Course not, I’m still being all grinchy”.

You can tell you’re coming up on the cafeteria because of the rapidly growing noise. Trays clatter, students laugh or yell at one another and the smell is surprisingly appealing. Although you’ve never had the cafeteria food here, it doesn’t look like the slop you’d see in movies or as if the food’s been sitting there for months. 

“I don’t know,” you reply to Negan, having to raise your voice so he’ll hear you over the noise “you seem pretty jolly today for a grinch”.

Negan leans back and rolls his eyes dramatically “Doll, if you keep making these baseless accusations, I’ll make sure the only food at the staff party are muffins”.

You shrug, not minding that threat “Don’t threaten me with a good time”. 

Negan smirks, about to turn that into some sort of innuendo when he sees him down the corridor. A grunt leaves Negan, his eyes looking past you and to the rat that got promoted to human. A somehow nervous disposition despite being drunk with power. Beady eyes. Thinning hair. Perpetual frown.

Gregory.

Before Negan can drag you both to the nearest supply closet—to avoid Gregory, no other reason why he’d like you so close and pressed against him— you’re both spotted.

“Ah! Just the two I was looking for,” Gregory catches your attention and you turn to see the dementor that drained the color from Negan’s face “well, one of you at least”.

He wags his finger, pointing from you to Negan “Michonne told me at least one of you is still doing the staff party, correct?”.

“Uh, we both are,” your best fake smile comes out. As much as you don’t want to be polite, Gregory’s higher management. 

Negan, surprisingly wise enough to know when to keep quiet, falls back slightly, positioning himself a step behind you. You push aside the unsettling thought that you might be his sacrifice to your superior.

“That’s wonderful and did I just hear food?” Gregory asks, stroking his chin as he tries to look more authoritative “what’s on the menu for the party?”.

“Well, uh— we were thinking some casual finger food like muffins and maybe pretzels or chips… and… um,” you scramble trying to think of easy to get foods that are also festive “…mixed nuts?”.

The look of Gregory’s face says it all. Horror. 

“Mixed nuts and pretzels? Chips? I mean,” he scoffs, throwing his hands up helplessly “this isn’t feeding time at the petting zoo! It’s all so… pedestrian”.

“We could do hot food too!” You blurt, your gut already twisting at Gregory’s criticisms. 

“And have you two prepare it?” He asks it as if the question is obviously rhetorical. 

Tilting his head to the side as he looks to Negan, Gregory asks “And Negan, when was the last time you washed your hands?”.

Dammit, you don’t need an all out war between the only other person helping you plan this party and your higher up. 

More trays clatter in the mess hall. Cutlery clangs together. Workers shout at students to stop playing around and keep the line moving in an orderly fashion.

“We can ask the cafeteria staff!” you suggest, eager to wrap up this conversation quickly.

Negan nudges your back, but your focus is on the skeptical look Gregory is giving you. “And we can make sure they know they’re not paid overtime for this,” you add with a resigned sigh.

Finally, a smile forms on Gregory’s face.

You get another poke in the back.

“Great! I know you would work something out!” He clasps his hands together “good luck with that, can’t wait for the party!”. With a satisfied nod, Gregory turns and walks off.

You take another bite of muffin to console yourself.  

You get another poke although this time it’s more of a jab to your side. “Mmh!” You argue, mouth full of muffin. 

“Oh now you feel the pokes! Really?!” For good measure, Negan pokes you again, aiming for the ribs this time.

“Stop! What do you want?” you grumble, still chewing.

“I can’t ask the cafeteria staff to make the fuckin’ party food!” Negan lowers his voice, as if there’s a chance the workers could hear him from the other bustling room.

“Why not? They’re so nice,” you shrug ”besides, they’ll understand if we mention Gregory’s shit. And the head cook, Sherry, was super sweet to me when I first joined the group chat”.

Negan just stares, a rare look of panic in his eyes “Why do you think, I can’t ask Sherry to make us food for our fuckin’ party”.

… oh.

“Is there any woman on staff you haven’t slept with?” you ask out of sheer frustration and just a sprinkle of sarcasm.

“Shockingly yes, I mean Tara’s a lesbian, Sasha and Rosita won’t touch me with a barge pole–“ you slap his arm before he can continue.

“Well, consider next lunch your time to grovel to Sherry,” you reply “I’m not asking by myself when we’re both planning the party and you’ve already screwed her over”.

“Not screwed her over, just screwed her” Negan corrects you.

He gets another slap to the arm for that one. “Can you not?” you mutter, shaking your head.

Carl and Enid stop in their tracks when they witness the slap, ducking behind the cafeteria door but still sneaking glances.  

“Does that mean they’ve broken up already?” she whispers to Carl.

“Next lunch. You and me. Cafeteria. Sherry,” you say, this time deliberately adopting your teacher voice.

Negan rolls his eyes but finally relents. The school bell rings, and a wave of noise erupts as students scramble to leave their cafeteria tables. 

“Fine,” he grumbles, mimicking your teacher voice as he looks down at the half eaten muffin “but you better eat that muffin before I eat it— again! ”.

With that, he turns and marches off back to the sports hall. Carl and Enid look at each other in shock. “Eat her muffin? Again? What?” Enid tries not to gag at the thoughts of two teachers going at it.

“Does that mean what I think it means?“ Carl shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts away “Ok, maybe they are actually together”.

You huff, watching Negan retreat before doing the same. Stuffing the rest of the muffin into your mouth, you go back down to your classroom and prepare for what’s to come.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

It’s been five minutes since the bell for lunch rang through the school. You stand at the spot you last saw him, waiting in the corridor outside the cafeteria.  

Checking the time on your phone, you just decide to give Negan another two minutes to show up when he rounds the corner and approaches with a dramatic pout.  

You flash him a broad smile “Thought you’d be a no-show”.

“Yeah, well, I’ve already abandoned ya once,” Negan mutters, edging toward the cafeteria doors and peering in at the chaos of kids “but fuck, if there is a God, I wouldn’t mind getting struck down right about now.”

You tap his foot with your own. “You’re gonna have to talk to her at some point,” you say “what else do you expect when you work in the same building?”.

Negan shrugs, looking unbothered. 

“Well, I’ve managed to avoid Amber… Tanya… Frankie…” he trails off “Hell, I even manage to avoid this one real freaky chick at the parent-teacher meetings”.

“At the—” Your jaw drops, struggling to decide whether to ask about the ‘freaky’ part or the fact that he’s even banged a parent “You— I… I have no words”. 

Grabbing his hand, you practically drag Negan into the cafeteria. Skipping the line of kids, you pull him to the side by the serving line. Sherry doesn’t notice either of you, too focused on taking out trays of chicken nuggets and replenishing the stack of juice boxes.

Across the sea of students, Enid tugs at Carl’s arm “Oh my god are they holding hands! In public!”.

Ron shrugs smugly, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Told you they’re together. I’ve got a knack for knowing when people are gonna hook up,” he says, glancing between Enid and Carl “well, most of the time”.

They subtly try to watch you both at the other side of the room, some of them letting out disappointed huffs when you drop his hand.

Negan lets out a long sigh, swaying slightly on his feet. The longer Sherry doesn’t notice you both, the further back he leans, as if trying to create some kind of invisible distance without actually moving.  

“I’m going to have to turn on the charm, aren’t I?” he mutters to himself, taking a deep breath before leaning casually on the counter.

“Or you could just be normal?” You propose but it’s too late. He’s already turned on the Negan swagger that somehow gets him women.

“Sherry,” he calls out “hey there, sweet thing”.

Sherry, in the middle of doing her job, shoots a steely glare in your direction. You don’t take it personally.

After a quick internal debate, she approaches. You stay quiet, taking Negan’s approach during your earlier encounter with Gregory. Anyways, it’s about time you see that oh so charming, smooth talking side of him.

“Long time, no see!” Negan flashes her a grin when Sherry hurries over “So, what do you say we get that culinary magic of yours flowing for the party on Friday?”. 

Maybe you’re too presumptuous but for some reason, you assumed smooth talking involved some actual smooth talking. Still, you stay silent, hoping Negan’s straight to the point method works.

Putting on a pitiful expression, Negan continues, not giving Sherry the time to even respond “And hey, I know I was a little… absent… after y’know, but I’m here now and would really appreciate the favor. Oh! And how’s about some food for thought, huh?”. 

Negan chuckles as he points at a chicken tender he wants to steal.  

Sherry studies him with a mixture of shock and confusion. “You- you come to me now? Asking for favors?” she guffaws “After everything?”.

She pauses, eyeing him warily before adding “You think just because you show up and act like nothing happened, I’m gonna jump to help you? You don’t get to just play the ‘favor’ card after all that’s happened”.

You gulp, feeling like you’ve walked straight into a soap opera. Negan gives a mock serious expression

“Alright, I get it. I ghosted you. Bad move. Real bad,” he haphazardly admits “But how ‘bout we call this a redemption arc? You do us a solid and I’ll do you a solid and stay out of your way, at the party and for the rest of our lives!”.

Sherry rolls her eyes, defensively crossing her arms “You stay out of my way anyway, asshole”.

Piping up, you try the sweet approach “Sherry, I get it, Negan’s a major asshole and hard to work with but you’ll be doing us all a massive favor here, not just him”.

She doesn’t look convinced, her hardened gaze never leaving Negan. 

“And it’s not like we’re expecting you to work during the actual party,” you try to ease the tension “we can heat it up on the night, if you could just… maybe make some extra mashed potatoes and chilli on Friday?”.

Tearing her eyes off of Negan, Sherry gives you a sympathetic look when she realizes you’re the new English teacher. 

“A word of warning, stay away from this jerk and do not trust him” she doesn’t even hide how she points at Negan, making him glance around the packed busy and mutter a quick “Jesus Christ”.

You nod, trying to show her a genuine connection and Sherry sighs. “I suppose I could do it,” she starts “but I want something out of this too”.

“I swear to fuck if you want to pimp me o—“ Sherry puts up her hand, silencing Negan before he can finish that sentence.

With her steely look fading, Sherry smirks. She nods towards Negan “I want to know what message you deleted in the group chat last night and I want an I-owe-you that I can cash in whenever wherever”.

Negan groans, his neck going slack as he looks up at the ceiling “Give me fucking patience…”.

You nod “That could be done. Negan?”.

He huffs, trying to buy time. “I just made a grammar error, that was all” he lies, and not convincingly.

“Bullshit” Sherry immediately calls his bluff.

“Well then fuck off, I’m not telling you!” He gets defensive, the words meaning nothing to him but everything to the already pissed off fling. 

“Ok, ok, he didn’t mean that,” you try to calm the situation, putting your hand on Negan’s chest to make him back away from the counter. The last thing you wanted was for Sherry to decide to throw a tater tot at him. 

“Can you give us a minute? Just one sec,” you give Sherry a quick smile as you lead Negan away and to a free table. You sit him down, his lanky legs making him look like a giant in a toddlers chair. 

Despite being in a room full of students, he doesn’t feel the need to put up a professional, mature mantle and instead, Negan sulks.

You sit across from him. “Negan,” you coax “can’t you just give her the actual answer? Or you don’t even have to mention the green fursuit thing! Just make up something embarrassing and she’ll believe it”.

Negan shakes his head, looking down at the table. “Nah, she’ll fuckin’ know. She wants something real embarrassing,” he grumbles “some humiliation ritual shit”.

He runs a hand down his face. “This sucks” he says plainly. 

 You give a solemn look before shrugging “But think of all the pizza and sloppy Joe’s we can have at the party”.

That makes him smile, a humorous look on his face as he agrees “All of this for some fuckin’ sloppy joes… alright, you stay here, I know why to say”.

You watch a dejected Negan go back up to the counter and wait for Sherry’s attention. She gives him a look you can’t read, saying things you can’t hear with the noise of the cafeteria.

Negan has his back facing you and with some dismissive hand gestures, you watch Sherry nod, somehow buying whatever shit he’s selling. 

She replies to him, a few more words get exchanged before Sherry holds out her hand and they shake. 

Success!

Glancing back at you, Negan gestures for you to follow him back out of the cafeteria. You don’t blame him for wanting to leave so fast, knowing he’ll see this as a win for Sherry. 

“You ok?” you keep your voice soft when you catch up with him in the corridor.

“Yeah it’s whatever,” he dismisses “She said she’ll do the catering so it has all worked out”.

”Great, now we’re serving up cafeteria food,” you’re unsure if this is a win or not “I’m sure that’s what Gregory had in mind”.

“Gregory can choke on a hotdog for all I care,” Negan mutters, clearly not happy “he wanted hot food and he got it, so he better show some fucking appreciation for once”.  

He’s still sulking, his mind elsewhere and presumably still with Sherry in one sense or another.

“If you want, I’ll take care of the liquor” you offer, knowing Negan’s done a lot for the day.

He smirks, though it doesn’t reach his eyes “Nah, that’s the fun part. You free after school?”.

“I am not letting you abandon me somewhere again!” You warn.

He rolls his eyes as playfully as he can, despite the lull in his mood. “Alright how’s about we drive separately? Is that enough to coax you out?”.

You pretend to think about it, humming as you tilt your head from side to side. “I guess so,” you agree just as the lunch bell rings out again. Darn. “Text me a place to meet?” You suggest.

“Texting during class?” Negan raises his eyebrows with faux surprise “Naughty!”.

And with that you reluctantly part ways, even if only for the remainder of the school day.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Maybe Negan is a bad influence. Much to your dismay, you did spend an excessive amount of your classes texting with him, trying to be as subtle as possible as you would pull out your phone and quickly arrange a time to meet after school. 

In the end, you agreed to meet up in the middle of town, knowing you’d have a few smaller grocery stores and the liquor store to choose your alcohol from. 

Negan mentioned that he’ll probably get there a half hour after school ends, knowing some of the sporty kids would pester him for some advice on how to keep training during the holidays. 

You were fine with that. If anything, you hoped that would be enough time for you to get there and buy all that you’ll need for the party. Then when Negan eventually showed, you could both relax and just go for a coffee.

Not that you’d willingly go for a coffee with Negan.

Ok, yes, you would but not like that . 

You’ve finally gotten to the point of being friends with Negan and that’s good enough for you. In fact, it’s better than you ever expected!

Despite the way he looks at you, the smirk that’s never far from his lips, the warmth in those big hazel eyes… you’re just friends! Swear! You remind yourself over and over again that the teasing and the constant flirting is just Negan being Negan. 

Nothing more.

Yeah, he’d probably go for a round or two if you made your interest known but then you’d be like Sherry: cast aside and avoided.

He’s the kind of guy who flirts to pass the time, who needs to make people laugh to feel alive. You know better than to read into it, even if part of you wonders what it would be like if things were different. But, it doesn’t matter.  

You’re friends. That’s all you are, and that’s enough… right? Just friends. You repeat it like a mantra, trying to convince yourself to believe it as you park your car along the main street.

Your hometown never put that much effort into decorating for the holidays. They might have a few lights strung up and a decades old plastic tree that they take out every year but it’s nothing compared to this.  

The town centre is alive with holiday spirit, transformed into a winter wonderland that glows with festive charm. Bright, twinkling lights drape across every building, casting a golden hue over the street. It feels like you’ve stepped straight into a Hallmark movie. 

Skaters glide and twirl gracefully, their laughter blending with the soft hum of holiday music playing from hidden speakers. Stalls line the square, offering everything from hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts to hand-crafted ornaments and scarves. 

Bundling up in your Winter coat, you decide you may as well go for a walk around while waiting for Negan, not knowing when he’ll turn up.  

You can’t help but smile as you watch skaters spin and laugh, their cheeks a rosy red from the cold. Families huddle together, sipping hot drinks while couples share quiet moments beneath the twinkling lights.

Everything about this place feels perfect, too perfect. The decorations are just right, the air crisp and clean, and the joy in the crowd is infectious. 

You almost feel out of place, like you’re the only one who doesn’t quite belong in this picturesque scene. Everyone else has someone, whether that be a partner, a parent with them or a kid of their own. You’re just with… you .

You don’t know how much time you take just walking around. Before you even enter a shop, Negan texts you. You’re leaning against the barrier to the ice skating rink when your phone ping.

Negan: you gonna get in?

You pause and look up, turning on your heels until… there he is, tucking his phone away again. Donned in a beanie and big coat, Negan looks like he’s going incognito.

“You a skater?” he asks, walking up to join you.

With a soft shake of your head, you go back to leaning against the barrier. “Nah, I think I tried it once or twice when I was a kid,” you reply “but I was always too scared I’d fall”.

Negan scoffs, mimicking your actions as he watches kids, couples and even the elderly glide across the ice effortlessly.

After a beat of silence, he asks “You want to give it a try?”.

“And have you laugh at me when I fall?” you question “I don’t think so”.

He chuckles as if you just caught on to his joke “I wouldn’t let you fall, promise”.

“As if I believe that,” you snort, taking a step back from the barrier. 

Negan scoffs before cooing “I said I’d promise! You wouldn’t fall once, I’d rather get frostbite on my ass than let the princess slip”. 

You huff in an act of annoyance, walking along the street and towards the liquor store. It surprisingly blends into the glow of the area, the neon open sign not looking out of the normal with the festive lighting that surrounds it. 

Your trip to the liquor store goes exactly how you expect. The door chimes as you both step inside and Negan confidently leads you straight over to the hard stuff. Whiskey, vodka, rum, gin, tequila. He loads bottles of it into your arms, humming to himself as he debates another bottle of tequila. 

“Shouldn’t we get something that isn’t so strong?” you suggest, balancing the bottles as you cradle them. 

Negan glances over the selection, taking his time to inspect the different wines. “Hm, yeah this ain’t exactly my specialty,” he admits, picking up a random bottle “usually I use the stuff for cooking and that’s it”.

Raising an eyebrow, you question “You cook with wine?”.

“Yeah,” he shrugs “for marinating, braising, sauces… stupid shit like that”.

“Stupid shit?!” You let out a shocked laugh “That’s not stupid, I had no idea I was dealing with a proper chef”.

Negan rolls his eyes, picking up a variety of red and white wines “Darlin’, I doubt that’s proper chef shit”.

Happy with his choices, Negan leads you to the register and you toddle after him, too busy making sure you don’t drop a bottle or bump into a shelf to protest with his choices.

“There we go,” Negan takes the bottles from you, loading them up for the cashier to scan “that should be enough to get everybody wasted”.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You joke “I don’t think anyone wants to deal with a drunk Gregory for the night”.

Negan chuckles at the idea. “Yeah, well hopefully a few others will get drunk enough to give him a piece of their minds” he throws a few bills on the counter. The cashier begins counting, keeping quiet.

You give him a skeptical look. “You’re paying?” you ask just to confirm. 

Negan nods smugly “I ran into Michonne when I was leaving today, she said as long as we keep the receipts, we’ll get reimbursed in the New Year”.

Picking up on his queue, the cashier hands him the receipt and you both leave, bottles clinking as you balance your heap of liquor.

“We can load them into the back of my car,” you offer, avoiding the judging looks of ongoers as they watch the two of your carry enough alcohol to poison an elephant “and if you want, I’ll pick up some mixers tomorrow. I’ll have to go out and get some more things for Christmas anyways”.

“Works for me,” he agrees, letting out a small giggle when you struggle to hold so much while simultaneously trying to open your car door. Managing to open the back door, you gently place the bottles on the seat before letting Negan do the same. 

You glance over at the ice skating rink one last time, watching the graceful glides and the occasional wobbly stumble.

”Did you mean it?” the words leave your mouth before you even think it through, something that happens more than you’d like to admit.

“Huh?” Negan looks back to you once he closes the car door. Following your gaze, his eyes land on the rink.

“When you said you wouldn’t let me fall on the ice”.

Negan’s face grows more curious, his lips slightly puckered as his tongue moves around his mouth. Studying you for a moment, he slowly nods.

“Good,” you’re convinced and begin tugging him over, locking your car with a click of your key.

Negan laughs, letting you drag him. He doesn’t believe this, half waiting for you to drag him into one of the smaller shops and not to what he thinks you’re doing.

It happens in a flash, and that’s pretty fuckin’ fast for someone like Negan. In an instant, he’s telling you his shoe size and you’re renting out skates. Hell, he doesn’t even have the time to beat you to it and pay himself, or have the time to make an innuendo about his large shoe size!

You giggle to yourself, not quite sure where this impromptu boost of confidence has come from.

This is not your type of thing, both ice skating and last minute plans but here you are, shoving your feet into ice skates. 

The sharp blades of the ice skate make you gulp and about a thousand different ways this could go wrong pop into your head. But strangely enough, the man that was once the bane of your life manages to pull your mind away from the lingering bad thoughts. 

Negan smiles to himself as he stands and clanks along the ground, his tall stature balancing on just the thin blades of the ice skate. He struts around, looking like something straight out of a cartoon show before you both venture on to the rink.

You and Negan glide cautiously onto the ice, the cold air biting at your skin. “You make sure I don't fall on my ass, sweetheart, and I’ll make sure you stay standing too” he teases, his voice carrying a mischievous edge, but there’s something softer beneath it, something you don’t often hear.

You laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it “Hey! That wasn’t the promise!”.

He grins, that signature smirk of his spreading across his face but there’s an almost shy glint in his eyes, the kind you’d never expect from a man as boisterous as him.

You try to steady yourself, the ice slick and unfamiliar beneath your feet. He’s not far behind you, his gaze fixed on you and trying to follow your movements. You feel the weight of his stare but it’s not as intimidating ( or annoying ) as you thought. It feels almost… protective? 

You glance over your shoulder and catch his eyes, which surprisingly aren’t ogling at your ass. His hands hover slightly in the air, like he’s ready to reach for you if you trip. For a second, you almost want to fall just so he’ll catch you.

“Good to know you don’t keep promises” you tease, your voice light despite the racing of your heart.

He laughs, a low chuckle that makes your stomach flutter and you’re suddenly very aware of the space between you. The icy air whips around you both, making everything feel sharper and more alive. 

“I’ll keep it,” he assures with a wink, but his gaze lingers just a little longer than it should “Promise I won’t let your ass hit the ice, scout’s honor”. He loosely gestures as if to cross his heart, keeping his arms out to balance himself.

You take a breath and push yourself forward. The world spins in a dizzying blur as you try to navigate the gliding motion. A rush of adrenaline surges up your legs, wobbling slightly as you sail across the ice. 

It feels like you’re going fast, as if you’re about to feel the wind blow through your hair due to the sheer speed you’re picking up. But then you look around and realise many skaters are overtaking you effortlessly.

Trying to propel yourself forward again, you go to push your foot off the ice when it happens. You falter, a slight sway quickly turning into a wobble and then—

Negan’s there, hands steadying you. Strong, confident but not without a touch of tenderness. His grip doesn’t last long, lingering long enough for you to regain your composure. Yet it’s enough to make your pulse quicken, enough to make you wonder what might happen if the distance between you was just a little smaller.

You meet his eyes again, a look of surprise on your face. 

“I can keep a promise” he simply shrugs as if that was nothing. Yet there’s no smugness or mocking tone that you normally associate with Negan. His playfulness is still there. With Negan, you don’t think that’s something that can ever go away, but it’s layered with something deeper.

Negan’s not watching your every move anymore. He’s watching you — clinging onto the way you make him feel like the world isn’t such a shitshow, not when you’re both here, side by side.

For once, this isn’t about trying to put another notch on his bedpost or figure out a way to have a quickie with you in his truck. Hell, he’s not even concerned with annoying you anymore.

You smile to yourself and take another step forward, hesitantly sliding your hand into his. Not romantically , of course… you’re just scared you might lose your balance.

That’s all. 

Negan pushes off of the ice cautiously, not going too fast as you try to copy his movements. Within a few minutes, you both find your rhythm and manage to do a lap of the rink, going slower than most but doing it nonetheless. The hardest part is turning, both of you acting as if you’re trying to steer a cruise liner as you try to get your feet to work and turn without a hitch.

“See, this ain’t so bad,” he quips, swaying slighting but staying on his feet.

“Suuuuure,” you laugh, watching as Negan looks down and concentrates on his footing. His eyebrows scrunch together, tongue poking out from determination as he straightens himself up again. 

Your eyes linger on his face, wondering if he always pulls that face when he concentrates.

“I’m surprised you’re not all talk” you comment, feeling his hand give yours a reassuring squeeze.

“Oh my fucking shit, is that your attempt of a compliment?” He laughs, flashing you a wide grin that almost borders on being cheesy. 

“WATCH OUT!!”.

Negan grip on your hand immediately tenses, getting ready to drag you away from danger but it’s not you who’s at risk. Seemingly out of nowhere, a man skates through the crowd, arms flailing as he tries to turn… or brake… or maybe both? It’s hard to tell but the look of panic across his face tells you something is wrong.

Negan veers to the side, just enough for the man to skate by and clip his shoulder against Negan’s. That touch is all it takes for Negan to lose balance, letting out a string of curses as he wobbles, tilting back and forth before finally hitting the ice. 

“Shit!” He grunts, awkwardly falling in his ass and accidentally yanking you down with him (thanks to your completely platonic and no underlying feelings hand holding).

The second he goes down, there’s no way you can pull back or try to root your feet into the ice to save yourself. With a squeak, you go down with him, landing with a loud ‘umph!’. 

Negan gets the brunt of the fall and then the brunt of you falling on to him, your head landing on his chest, which is surprisingly comfortable for you.

He lets out a long groan “You alright?”.

“Uh huh,” you feel stiff as you get up, kneeling on the ice as you remove yourself from Negan “and you?”.

“I’ll be fine,” he slowly gets up with a series of grunts “main thing is that ass of yours didn’t touch the ice, did it?”.

In spite of the situation, you laugh “Considering I landed on you, no, it didn’t”.

With the both of you hobbling to the rinks barrier like two 90 year olds, a wry grin tugs at his lips “That enough torture for you for one day?”.

He takes a deep breath, trying to mask the wince but the fall really did a number on him. You’re pretty sure he didn’t expect ice skating to be quite so brutal. The way he hit the ground, you’re surprised he didn’t crack his head open. 

“Come on, tough guy,” you tease lightly, your hand on his back as you guide him out of the rink and toward a nearby bench “let’s get you off your feet before I gotta drive you to the hospital”.

He shoots you a playful glare, but there’s no fire in it, just exhaustion. You help him settle carefully, and for a moment, you stand back and just watch him, checking for any serious injuries. 

“I ain’t broken,” Negan scoffs, trying to be serious despite the soft smile on his face “don’t worry about me”.

With a sigh, you gesture to his skates. “Take ‘em off and I’ll go return them,” you say “I think it’s best if you stay off your feed for a little while”.

As much as Negan wants to protest or do it himself, he complies, knowing his body needs to rest.

Once you’ve taken care of the skates, you wander over to one of the small stalls set up for the festive season, eyes scanning the counter until you spot some hot chocolate. 

Perfect.

When you return to the bench, Negan’s still sitting there, leaning back and looking at the sky with a half-smile. You hand him one him a takeaway cup, the warmth of the cup being an immediate relief in his hands.

“Here,” you say, settling down beside him “something to ease the pain.”

He takes the drink, eyeing you with a sarcastic smirk “You trying to butter me up so I don’t make fun of you for your ice skating skills?”.

You shake your head “Nah, just making sure you don’t turn into a grumpy old man”.

Negan raises his cup in mock cheers. “To not being a grumpy old man,” he says, then takes a sip and pauses “Hot Chocolate? Fuck, I thought you were after getting me a coffee”.

You laugh at that, taking a sip from your own before shrugging “Coffee isn’t a Christmas drink, it had to be some hot chocolate!”.

He rolls his eyes, taking another sip “You didn’t have to get me anything, y’know”.

“I know,” you reply, watching people whizz around the rink at speeds you’d be terrified to ice skate at “I wanted to, though”.

You let a silence stretch between you, giving him time to sip and adjust to the warmth. He’s still got that wall of snark up, but it’s more of a defense than a challenge.  

After a few moments, Negan clears his throat, setting the cup down between his hands and leaning back a bit more, his eyes drifting toward the rink. The sound of other skaters is distant now, a low hum in the background. His usual bravado seems thinner tonight, a more relaxed and innocent fun side of Negan coming out.

“I gotta say, this is a nice change,” he looks over at you, his smirk still there but lacking its usual sharpness “I never really do dates like this anymore, just the freaky deaky part”.

Maybe you said innocent fun too soon.

You scrunch up your face at the ‘freaky deaky’ before correcting “Dates like this? Negan, this isn’t a date”.

“Course it is” the thing with Negan is that he’s always been quick with the jokes but tonight, there’s a rare sense of truthfulness, as if he believes what he’s saying. 

You huff out a laugh, having another sip of your drink “No, it isn’t”.

Raising a hand, Negan starts to list out “Done something fun together, we’ve done a whole lotta touching— something you initiated most of, you took me ice skating and now we’re drinking hot fuckin’ cocoa together”.

You scoff, unsure how to come back from a list like that. Negan keeps going, “Oh and to make it better, since you’ve instigated most of this, you’ve taken me out on a date! Who would’ve thought?”.

“Not a date,” you keep to your alibi. He nods, taking in your response. 

“I guess that’s a good point, it ain’t a date until you seal the deal later” he sends a wink your way.

That earns him a playful shove “Ew, Negan! No!”. He laughs, catching your smile as he gives you one of his own. 

“I ain’t asking you to get down on your knees, doll, I’m just saying most dates end in a kiss at least” he knew that would get you reeling. And it does, making you do a fake gag as you laugh out of pure shock. 

You shake your head, keeping your tone light “You’re unbelievable!”.

“Guess you’re not wrong,” he admits, the walls slowly starting to lower “but you can’t blame a guy for trying”.

Negan is used to fighting it but tonight, just for a little while, he’s letting down his guard. And for once, it feels like maybe you’ve both found something real.

There’s an easy atmosphere between you, the kind that comes when two people are just content to be in each other’s company. Every now and then, Negan shoots you a sidelong glance, making little comments for you to laugh at or nudge his shoulder in response.  

The banter flows freely; light teasing, a few shared stories, and just enough sarcasm to keep it interesting. Although, it’s the kind of conversation where the words aren’t as important as the feeling of ease between you. 

For once, the world feels distant, the noise of it all fading away in the warmth of the moment. It’s nice. And you realize, despite everything you’ve both been through, this is something you’d been craving.  

Simple, peaceful, and without any pressure. Just two people, sipping hot chocolate, and sharing the kind of quiet conversation that feels like it could go on forever.

When your cups are drained and neither of you can find another excuse to stay, you begrudgingly get up and let Negan walk you over to your car. 

“So, what did you tell Sherry today? Any idea what kinda I-owe-you she wants?” you interrogate, looking up just in time to see him wince at the questions “I doubt you told her the truth”.

Negan hums, letting his sarcasm flow freely  “Yeah, only you know about my grinch fur suit and as for the favor shit, I really have no idea”.

“So if you didn’t mention the fur suit, what did you say?” you press, waiting as patiently as you can.

He sighs and you can see he’s debating whether or not to tell you. Keeping your gaze on him, Negan watches the Christmas lights. “I told her a half-truth,” he reveals slowly “told her I meant to send it to someone else, not to the group chat”.

His gaze flickers to you for a moment, slyly trying to gauge your interest.

“And?”.

Negan tries not to make a big deal of it “And I told her it wasn’t a text, hence the delete… I said it was a picture”.

You gasp “A dick pic!”.

He nods, although you don’t understand why he’d be so hesitant about telling you his lie, especially if his dick is involved. Most of the time, the man doesn’t even need an excuse to talk about all things ‘freaky deaky’ .

“What’s the catch?” You ask when you get to your car, digging the keys out of your bag. Negan bounces on his heels, looking anywhere but you. 

“No catch,” he shows you his awful poker face, yet again. You wait it out, knowing Negan won’t be able to keep his mouth shut for long.

…

…

…

“I told her it was meant for you,” he blabs. Wow, three seconds, you wonder if that’s a new personal record for him. You also wonder if this revelation means you can punch him in the face.

“What??!” You practically bark out the word, jaw slack and eyes wide open “Negan, there’s no way!”.

“I thought that seemed the most plausible!” He poorly defends “besides, we’re together a lot so it kinda made sense for me to be sending it to you”.

“Negan,” you groan, much to his satisfaction. 

He leans against your car as you get in, leaving the door open so you can hear his piss poor excuses. 

“If anything, think of it as a favor,” he can’t even hide his smirk and try to seem sincere “now you won’t have that janitor or Alden, Eugene, fuck or even Gregory trying to get in your pants”.

You roll your eyes and bite back “Yeah, cause that was such a big issue before”.

Negan grabs the door for you, ready to shut it before he adds “I don’t think you realize how many pants tightened when you waltzed into the school, doll”.

He misses your disgusted shudder and declaration of “ew” as he shuts the car door for you and takes a couple of steps back.  

Starting up your car, you try to convince yourself Negan is bullshiting. For some reason, thinking that you turn on Gregory is disturbing— who would’ve guessed that??

“You want a goodnight text later?” Negan calls out with a wink, not needing to gesture to his crotch for you to get what he means. 

You don’t bother rolling down the window to reply, letting your actions speak louder than words. Well, to be more specific you let your middle finger do the talking. 

Negan lets out a loud laugh, giving you a wave as you drive off. Despite the gesture, you still get that goodnight text later in the evening. But thankfully, it wasn’t a picture and instead it read…

Negan: Night sweetheart, thanks for the date tonight ;) I’ll have to take you out next time 

[freakbabyy]

Deception Prologue

A/N: Hello friends! Here's a snippet of the book I'm writing! It'll be an Eris x Reader book. Heavily inspired by Mulan. Basically you make Eris question his sexuality. LMAO. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

-----

“Winifred Eleanor Ambrose!” Vidia had yelled, “You have five seconds to get inside this house or mother help me-”

“Cauldon, boil me.” I mumbled, strolling towards the house with vigor now, knowing an upset Vidia had meant trouble. Crossing the doorway I finally asked her the million copper question. “What’s happened?”

“You. You’re what’s happened!” She pulled a bag from the floor, slamming it and its contents onto the shabby counter which trembled at the force. “Do you want to tell me why you’re packing? Why you have Finn’s letter in your bag?”

“If you’re asking me, I gather you’ve already figured out why.” I jammed my belongings back into my rucksack, grabbing a few other things I needed from the counter; a couple rolls of fresh bread, and stuffed them into the rucksack as well.

“Whatever idiotic idea you have, it’s not going to work, so drop it.” Vidia sneered, looking back into the other room as mother stirred in her sleep, before dropping her voice. “You’ll get yourself killed, or worse, the entire family crucified as you watch.”

“I don’t have a choice, Vid. Either we do it your way and somehow figure out how to winnow to Finn, who's currently somewhere North right now, and get him back before morning, or we do it my way.” 

“Your way,” She swiped at her eyes angrily, “Is idiotic. It’s a good idea for how to get yourself killed.”

“What choice do we have? I’m the only one who can do this.” Sighing, I dropped the rucksack to the floor, and ran my hands over my face. “I’m Finn’s identical twin, no one’ll know the difference. Tell the neighbors I went to join Finn, or you, on your search for a cure. You know it’s our best shot.”

“I know it’s the best option, but it doesn’t mean I have to like or approve of it. It’s my job as your big sister to look out for you, not the other way around.” She surged forward, wrapping her thin arms around me, burying her head in my shoulder.

“I’ll be okay.” I whispered a promise, as she pulled back, handing me my rucksack from near her feet.

“I’ll write to you.” She promised in return, as I took one last look around the run-down cottage, kissing my little sister's cheek on the way out, and closed the door behind me.

I didn’t let myself cry until I was on my horse, a tan mixed breed who we got at a discount at the market. She was the runt, and wasn’t looking too good until my mother had healed her, using her magic. My mother, Claribelle, was a healer known for her healing properties in animals. We had people travel from different courts with their animals, just so she could heal them. She enjoyed doing it, too, and didn't even charge anything. Though afterwards they usually sent a sort of gift, whether it be the healthiest milk from the cow she healed, a fresh blanket from thick wool of a sheep she had taken off of its deathbed, or sometimes, an offspring from said animals.

Acorn, my horse, was the first of many animals saved by my mother. My mother, who currently couldn’t sit up in bed. My mother, who became sick so quickly, and so fast, that no healer, nor her own magic, could figure out what was wrong. She had fevers at first, muscle aches, symptoms of the common cold; until she had started coughing blood. Now, she can barely move without our help.

There were seven of us, five of us had inherited my mothers healing ability, and two had inherited my fathers water-manipulation, ironically the two were my brothers. Vidia was the oldest, she’s been scouring the continent for tomes that may point to what could be ailing my mother. My twin brother Finnigan and I were born next; Finnigan was checking the solar courts, and I was supposed to be staying with my youngest sister, until the letter arrived. Dorian and Florian were the next twins born, Dorian was looking into Winter and Summer, and Florian was looking into the mortal realm in Prythian and Spring. Finally, my youngest sister, Iris, is tasked with staying with my mother, her being the strongest healer we have. 

I was to help her, do odd jobs in town to get some coin, but that idea was squashed like a bug as a group of men arrived at our door. They were clad in full armor, and held a stack of letters who were addressed to young men around the court. We had known the conscript was coming, every year after the autumnal equinox the high lords soldiers come, bearing letters conscripting the young men into the royal army. We had expected it to come one day, but the timing was impeccable.

Finn had just left the week prior, and we had no way to contact him. Vidia had tried telling the soldiers just that, yet we were told to either produce Finnigan, or face the consequences of High Lord Beron. That was when I had come up with the plan. Take Finn’s place in the army, serve my time, and then return home to mother, fully healed once my siblings and I continue looking for a cure, not worrying about if Beron would show up to punish us, or worse, send one of his sons.

“Woah, girl! Easy, easy,” I slowed Acorn to a stop, and tied her up outside the inn with the other horses that were there. “I’ll see you in the morning, rest up Acorn.”

Stepping into the threshold of the cozy inn, I ignored the stale alcohol smell and strode up to the counter.

“Good evening, Ma’am.” She smiled as I greeted her, returning the greeting. I had to raise my voice over the crowd in order for me to hear me properly.

“Room for one? Or a hot meal?”

“Just a room please.” I pulled out my coin pouch, and paid her the thirty silver coins. The room hadn’t been as run down as I was expecting, nor did it reek of alcohol or vomit, which I welcomed gladly.

Another room was connected on the right wall, and with a quick study I had realized it was the bathroom. It held a round tub, a toilet, sink, and even a mirror. Most taverns didn’t have adjoining bathrooms, so this was a luxury. I took the extra second to look at myself in the mirror.

I looked the same as I always did. Freckles splattering my face in mismatch constellations, red hair a tad knotted from the horse ride, but otherwise cascading in its normal waves. My eyes, a dark almost black brown, reminiscent of chocolate truffles I had loved. Paper white skin, which came from my mothers side; winter court. Too bad none of us had gotten winter powers. My eyebrows, matching my hair, and just as bushy. I used to despise them, how thick they were; but I suppose it’ll help sell the man disguise now.

Speaking of the man disguise, I suppose I had to change a few things; starting with my hair. Sure, men had long hair, too, the high lord sporting it even, but Finn’s hair fell just below his ears. The same eyes, bushy eyebrows, paper skin, even the same nose as I. The differences between us started there; his hair shorter, his cheekbones higher than mine, and he had a long scar across his nose from when we were children.

Grasping ahold of my hair, I grabbed the flimsy dagger strapped to my waist, and stared at my reflection, debating how to do this. Should I cut it in layers? All at once? Do I cut it at all? Was this a stupid idea? Was this entire operation stupid? Would it end in disaster, my head on a pike?

“Fuck it,” I swore, swiping above my fist holding my ginger locks, opening my eyes once I felt the hair flitter down towards the sink. I repeated the process, yanking a piece of my hair forward, cutting above where my fingers held it, and checking to make sure it was symmetrical in the mirror. “Not bad for an amateur.”

Hair grew back, faster than a blink usually; it didn’t faze me. The next part, likely would. The scar. Starting just below his left eye, stretching across the bridge of our identical noses, and stopping just shy of the end of his right eyebrow. 

“In,” I took a breath in, using some alcohol I found on the bedside table to douse the knife in the sink, hoping it did a good enough job of disinfecting. “Out,” I sighed.

“In,” I yanked off my glasses, not letting myself think too much. I angled the dagger, practicing the motion. One chance to get this right. “Out,”

“In,” I screwed my eyes shut, clenching my teeth together in anticipation before opening my eyes once more and solidifying my grip on the now sweaty handle. “Out!”

My knuckles were turning white from the grip I had on the handle, and my face stung even more than I had anticipated - bled more too. I didn’t let myself hesitate, knowing it wouldn’t scar that way if I did.

“You’re doing this to save Finn, you’re doing this to safe your family, you’re doing this to save your mother,” I repeated the mantra to myself as I cleaned the wound with a wet rag from the sink, using a bit of healing magic to make it stop bleeding, but not enough magic to make it disappear. “Good enough.” I murmured, turning swiftly and stalking towards the bed.

Sitting on the surprisingly soft bed, I dug through my bag looking for a set of night clothes. A simple tunic and loose pants would do for now. Both items of clothing were slightly baggy, useful for hiding my figure. Finn was thin, not very muscular, and rectangular compared to my wide hips and round breasts. In my bag was a roll of cloth from our cottage. A note fell from it.

Use to wrap around your breasts everyday when you wake. Do not sleep with it on. Wrap snugly and put your clothes on over. It’ll help. Good luck. I love you. -V

A stinging began in my eyes, and it wasn’t from the recent cut on my face. I put it back into my bag before climbing into bed, not knowing what the future held for me, or rather, for Finn.

[thecomfywriter]

top 10 of 2024

got tagged by @leahnardo-da-veggie. i haven’t done a tag post in a while but womp womp here we are. let’s get into it:

X. the feychild gently trolls

aka the witch-hunt of 2024 ft @ominous-feychild

IX. the festival of magic

lmao aka the promised event of the year that i quickly cancelled once school and life got heavy and i had to go on hiatus. shoutout to @wyked-rebellion and @satohqbanana for not only still participating, but writing a whole scenes and analyses even though i had fully fell off the face of the earth (kinda). real ones frfr

VIII. ‘what inspires you to keep writing’

aka an ask sent by @thelovelymachinery which resonated with a lot of people for some reason? i answered it at 3am so the range of my ask responses from that day were ridiculously goofy. i’m pretty sure the next ask after this deeply heartfelt one was just “chomp chomp” so the emotions were def silly goofy lmao

VII. thecomfywriter’s guide to self publishing

a guide i had made in response to a request from satoh pre-the great tcw purge. got around to it literally months later but at least she liked it!

VI. the 25k words

such a simple post and yet people still reblog it. thank you fools for congratulating me so much. fun fact! i did it again LMAO

V. the tov personality quiz

aka the alan lovers united and the hunt for morreial because literally only 2 people got morreial if you excluded the time i rigged my own results to get him

IV. ocs with dogs

i asked a question. more people than i imagined responded. turns out a lot of you don’t have dogs, but kept trying to convince me that having a wolf was the same thing. i asked about DOGS. DERPY WOLVES. NOT WOLVES THEMSELVES.

III. 12 days of askmas

fun fact! i wrote this post as a meme, kinda. ye know the memes where the format is “the buttersock from icarly, but i just fill it with eggs”. something stupid like that. but then @inseasofgreen reblogged with a “what if 👀” in the tags, then a LOT of people took it as a serious suggestion, and then i ended up doing it myself during exam season lmao

II. my first book signing

i genuinely don’t know why this did as well as it did, but it was so sweet to see how many people were kind about this little achievement i was so proud of. the signature was peng and purple, just as i like it

I. breaking hiatus booktok discussion

i said i’d break hiatus for two seconds to give my thoughts of a video essay i watched. i stayed for the endless reblogs and comments. then broke hiatus entirely because of this post lmao. L for me. W for the discussion we had, esp that one guys who responded with so much compassion i genuinely adored that response

—

cheers! thanks for a great year!

i’m tagging pae pae alone because pae pae @paeliae-occasionally

okay fine i’ll tag ain, sol, and smihi too. anyone else who wants to chip in, or if i’ve mentioned you above, feel free to scoop in and make your own list

@an-indecisive-nerd @sm-writes-chaos @thelovelymachinery

oh and here’s the website they suggested

[mugloversonly]

Cashew

Written for: @steddiemas prompt: SANTA @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: SANTA WC: 631 Rating: G CW: NA (Dad=Steve, Papa=Eddie) Summary: Steve and Eddie take Amelia to go see Santa Claus AO3

Amelia stood in between her fathers while they waited in line to see Santa. It was something all the other foster kids talked about, something she’s never done. When she told her Dad and Papa about it, they looked so sad, in fact her papa even cried a little. Which wasn’t that surprising, papa cries almost as much as she does.

But when her little voice said, “Santa’s never come to my house,” her dads made it their mission to make it happen. They celebrated Christmas as kids so she should too. And she was fine with that! Really! But at school she realized that the people in suits who moved her from her old houses to her new family probably didn’t tell them where she came from. So she had to, but she didn’t know how. Santa’s lap seemed like the perfect place, after all, he did grant wishes.

“Alright, Bedelia, climb on up.” Her dad said. She sat down on the big man’s lap and turned to him with a curious expression.

“What’s your name?” Santa asked.

“Amelia Munson, Mr. Claus.” She answered prim and proper, with all her manors. If he was going to grant her wish, she needed to be nice. That’s what papa said.

“What do you want for Christmas, Ms. Amelia?” Santa asked with a chuckle.

“Well, that’s the thing Mr. Claus. I’m adopted, and I don’t think the suit people told dad and papa.” She began.

“Told them what?” He asked and furrowed his brow.

“I don’t usually have a green tree. I usually have the candle row.” She said. “My mama and dada from before called it a M something said we were Jewish.”

“Ah, I see.” Santa said with a nod. “Is that what you want for Christmas? For your dads to know you’re Jewish?” He asked speculatively. Amelia nodded vigorously.

“But I want to have Christmas too, like they did.” She said pouting a little. “Is it okay to do two?” She asked softly. Santa smiled.

“Sure is, I’ll make sure you get your wish, my dear.” Santa said. Then it was time to take the picture. They smiled and papa came to get her off, Santa’s lap.

“Son, a moment?” Santa asked. Papa nodded and sent her to wait on the side. He leaned over to Santa and his eyes went wide as he listened.

“I understand, thank you for telling me sir.” Papa said and he hugged Santa tightly. Which, made Amelia think.

“Wait! Mr. Claus? Can I have a picture with you, and me, and my dads?” She asked before the next kid came up.

“You want that, honey?” Papa asked her. She nodded.

“Pretty, please?” She asked. Dad sighed, and shook his head. They both knew Papa wouldn’t be able to say no to her, so he was already moving to the jolly man. The three posed for their picture and Santa made them promise to come back next year.

~~~

Eddie walked hand in hand with Amelia toward the food court. They promised her a pretzel if she was a good girl for Santa and they made good on their promises. While she was chewing away, Eddie leaned toward Steve.

“Do you think we can get Chrissy and Robin to babysit?” He asked.

“Probably. You know they love Amelia. Why?” Steve replied. Eddie leaned in and whispered to him what Santa told him. Steve gasped. “We need to get stuff to figure that out.” Steve said nodding. “But we should ask Wayne to babysit.”

“Why?” Eddie figured he would but, the girls were closer.

“Robin’s learning Hebrew, so she might have some knowledge.” Steve said. Right, he forgot about that. Wayne it is then.

“Amelia? You want to go hang out with Grandpa Wayne?” Eddie asked.

tags

@katyawriteswhump

buy me a coffee

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

Star For The Night

Chapter Eleven of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Twelve

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5.3K

Chapter Overview: Estrella finally gets her chance in the ring

TW: typical boxing violence, men being creepy/weird, knife play (don't look at me like that), p in v penetration

Notes: hey everyone !! guess who's back from the dead LMAOOOO ,, okay so yes i took a break because 1) life was beating the ever living fuck out of me and 2) i'm still working out the kinks of where i want this story to go/ how i want it to end. i always forget that i'm going to need to wrap these things up with a pretty little bow at the end because i just get so excited that i jump in. no worries though because i still fully intend to finish this story. thank you to the people who were patient with me in my break, to the people the sent encouraging messages, and to the people that kept reading the story !! it truly means the word to me ((: still brain storming for chapter 12 so in the mean time please send me fun asks for the TF boys and Estrella !! lmk if you want to be added to the tag list/ if i left you off !! happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“I know you’re doing it to be respectful and all, but you don’t have to hide in a stall. You’ve seen me naked, Frankie.”

“Yes ma’am.” He comes fumbling out of the cramped space. 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finish tying your shirt. “What do you think?” You turn in a circle so he has a chance to see the full outfit.

His eyes darken as he walks the short distance to you.

“I think we should ditch this place and go to my house before Benny notices we’re gone.” He places two firm hands on your waist and pulls you into him.

“I don’t think we would be able to sneak past the guards.” You motion with your head to the door. “I have it on good authority that they have a military background.”

“Will and Pope definitely owe me a favor for something in the past. I could use that as leverage.” He kisses his way down your neck. “And I bet if you ask really nicely it could work.” Your head drifts to the side and he hungrily licks and bites at your skin.

“Hey! Break it up you two! There will be plenty of time for that later.” Benny walks into the locker room. “I know she’s your girl Fish, but tonight she’s my ring girl.”

“She is my girl.” Frankie wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean into him. “Officially.” 

Benny turns his head towards you seeking extra conformation and the giddy look splayed across your face is exactly what he needs.

“Oh shit!” He claps his hands together in front of him. “Congratulations guys!”

Benny bounds up to the both of you and pulls y’all in for a hug. You embrace him with the same energy. There were countless moments before in Benny and your friendship where you knew that he cared for you, but this one takes the cake. He clutches onto you and you can truly feel the happiness he’s exuding. 

“It took you long enough.” He says to Frankie as he releases y’all. “I would just like to say for the record that I definitely helped move this relationship along.”

You grin while the man next to you lets out an exaggerated groan. 

“What? I was totally playin’ a double agent. Operation catch-a-fish is complete!” 

“Operation catch-a-fish?” You and Frankie question in unison.

He hurriedly brushes the query off. “We can discuss that on a later date. Right now I need to give her a quick rundown of her role.” Benny shifts his attention solely on you now. “It’s super simple, I promise. I’ll go out there and do the intro for the whole night and then I’ll introduce you and wave you into the ring. After that you just need to call out the names of each fighter and then start the match. Just remember to say ‘fight’ once you have made your way outside the ring because it gets ugly in there fast.”

“Simple my ass.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. “How will I know the fighters names? I’ve never seen a teleprompter for the ring girl to read off of and I don’t think I can manage to remember all of those damn names.”

“I’ll tell you the names beforehand. We will have brief chances to talk during the boxin’ rounds since we will be standing next to each other on the side lines. It’s gonna be perfect.”

“You’ll be next to me the whole time?”

“Absolutely.”

You look up when you feel Frankie squeeze your shoulder. “The guys and I will be there too. We won’t let anything happen to you, Estrella. You’re going to do amazing.”

“Thanks. I really hope so.” 

It makes you feel good to know that they believe in you so fully.

“You’re going to look amazin’ too! People won’t be able to take their eyes off of you long enough to watch the matches!”

“God, don’t remind me.” You feel his hand tug tighter on you at Benny’s words. You aren’t the biggest fan of overly macho or hyper-masculine men, but this is just the right touch. It felt nice to not have to be the sole person protecting yourself. It felt nice that someone else is more than willing to take up the mantle.

“It’s almost 10 o’clock, Benny!” Will shouts into the locker room. “Let’s get a move on!”

“That’s my cue!” Benny hums. “The names of the guys you will be announcin’ first are Rodriguez and Montoya! See ya’ out there!”

You and Frankie follow Benny out the doors and watch with Will and Pope as he kicks off the night's events.

“Hello, everybody! Who’s excited to see what we have planned?!” The crowd erupts all around him. It’s deafening and quite the stark contrast to how the gym is during a regular week day. People encircle the boxing ring and hoist their beer bottles in the air. They look like a turbulent ocean. “That’s what I like to hear!” He shouts. “Now, I have an extra special treat for y’all tonight! Our usual ring girl is out so a good friend of mine stepped up to the plate and will be fillin’ in for her! You all know and love her! It’s … !”

When Benny says your name the crowd cheers again. You didn’t think that they could manage to get even louder than they were the first time. In front of you, Will and Pope part the sea of people in order to make an obstruction free path for you to walk. You take a deep breath and hold on tightly to Frankie’s hand.

“I’m right here.” He whispers in your ear. “I’m always going to be right here, Estrella.”

You look up at him with tears threatening to show themselves as he guides you through the pathway. His quiet words of support manage to silence the roaring people surrounding you. It feels like it’s just you and him in the room together. He squeezes your hand one last time before letting it go so you can climb through the ropes that encase the ring. Benny holds up the top rope so you can shimmy your way through and join him at the center.

“Ain’t she a peach?!” He asks the throng of people.

Of all the thoughts careening around in your head at this moment, something Benny said to you the first time you met sticks out. 

“Bein’ in there is electric, man. Gotta be one of the best feelins’ in the world hands down.”

God, is he right. You feel like you’re on the top of the world when in reality you are maybe a few feet higher than everyone else. The energy in the room fills you with a sense of confidence and excitement you didn’t know you could possess. Faces, some familiar and some new, stare back at you with glee.

“Happy to be here with y’all tonight!” You exclaim.

Empowered by the reaction that you receive, you take a lap around your new stage and wave to everyone. When you circle back around to Benny, you don’t think you have ever seen him look so proud. 

“I’m going to get my ugly mug outta here so our main girl can kick this thing off! Take it away!”

He jumps down to where Frankie, Will, and Pope are all standing and cheering for you.

“She’s a damn natural up there.” Pope marvels.

“I knew she could do it!” Benny wraps his arm around his brother.

“She’s going to be the star of the ring tonight, that’s for sure.” Will states. 

“That’s my girl!” Frankie shouts up to you. In reality, he would have been proud of you regardless. You tripped getting into the ring? You still got in there when no one else did. Your voice cracked when you started to talk? You were still brave enough to take on this entire room single handedly. You may be their star tonight, but you were his estrella every single day.

“The first fighters of the night are…” You pause for effect. “Rodriguez and Montoya!”

The boxers come racing out of the men’s locker room and make a beeline for the ring. The guests stepped to the side and allowed them through, cheering and hollering the whole time. After they breach the ring, they mirror you by doing a lap. They seem to be feeding off the audience the same way you are. You call them over to you so Friday Fight Night can officially get started. Following your instructions they meet you in the middle of the ring, but each one of them plants a quick kiss on your cheek and asks you to wish them luck. They each get into their fighting stance and wait for your signal.

“Round one!” You yell, slipping under the ropes to the safety of your friends. Benny thrusts a wireless mic into your hands when you get positioned next to him. “Fight!”

Benny uses that same mic to narrate what’s happening during the rounds and then to announce the winner of each match. After Rodriguez goes down hard in the third round, you slip back inside to hold up Montoya’s hand in victory. If you’re being honest, the majority of the night after that is an adrenaline filled blur. 

“Dawson and Overton!” 

“Dawson wins!”

“Clark and Edwards”

“Edwards wins!”

“Wood and Harrison!”

“Wood wins!”

In between screaming your lungs out announcing boxers for the crowd, Frankie has you wrapped in his arms. It feels so good to be able to lay your tired body against his chest as he places kisses on the top of your head. You can feel his steady heartbeat on your back and it helps you calm your own down. It’s so strong and grounding and yours. It occurs to you that having to get ready to help host the fights tonight stole the time that should have been dedicated to freaking out about Frankie finally asking you to be his girlfriend. You were finally his and he was finally yours. The earlier events of the night clearly showed his past was tumultuous to say the least. He willingly opened up to you about Rochelle, not that she gave him much of a choice, and about his drug addiction. Things that you know couldn’t have been easy to do. You saw it in his eyes that he was struggling to explain it all. Yet, the determination on his end to come completely clean for you was humbling and empowering. It made you want to show him your scars. After all, he wasn’t the only one with skeletons in his closet. 

“Okay, are you ready for the last round of fighters?” Benny has to talk loudly next to your ear in order to make sure you can hear him over the noise.

You give him a thumbs up and are secretly happy the night has almost concluded. As fun as this has been, you’re exhausted. 

“It’s going to be Jacobs and,” He pauses. “Brunson.” You must have made a face unconsciously because he quickly speaks again. “I know. I know. It’s going to be over soon. We’ll all be right here waiting for you.”

You nod at Benny and tap lightly on the arms that are currently encircling your waist. You look up at him and can tell that he doesn’t want to let you go, but smiles nonetheless as he untangles himself from you. 

“Just one more fight.” You whisper encouragingly to Frankie before climbing back into the ring.

“Last fight of the evening, folks! Let’s hope it's a good one!” You announce to the thoroughly drunk crowd. “Your final fighters are going to be Jacobs and Brunson!”

You try to hide your repugnance when Brunson is the first one to slip through the ropes and jog around hyping up the viewers. His dark black hair is meticulously combed back as usual. You muster up the last bit of your strength and call out to the two men. They trot over to you and stand by your side, Jacobs to the left and Brunson to the right. Jacobs leans down and places a small kiss on your cheek. It had become somewhat of a lucky thing to do this evening and caught on quickly with the rest of the boxers. They were always respectful and never tried anything else other than a small peck. You genuinely wish Jacobs well in his match. When Brunson goes in for his kiss, you instinctively swivel out of the way. 

“What’s wrong? Don’t you have one more kiss left for me?” He speaks so only you can hear. 

“Unfortunately, I’m all out.” You shrug innocently. 

Backing away from the freshly scorned man, you tell them to get into their fighting stances before hopping out of the ring to use the mic. 

“Round one! Fight!”

You pass off the mic to Benny so he can do his thing and retreat to the safety of Frankie. He obviously saw what happened up there and noticed how you were huddling as deep into his body as you could get.

“What was that?” He asks curiously. 

“Some prick who doesn’t understand when a woman clearly isn’t interested in him.” You scowl, trying to manifest Jacobs landing a punch to Brunson's jaw.

“Has he been bothering you?” His tone has shifted from one of curiosity to one of worry.

“He tries to hit on me when he comes into work out sometimes.” You feel his arms squeeze slightly tighter on you as you talk. “I shut him down hard every time and Benny is always close by. It’s not a big deal, but I should have told you about him. I don’t want to keep you in the dark.”

“I would have liked to have known if someone was giving you a hard time at work, but I’m not upset at you. I don’t really have any room to be.” You can feel his belly rise and fall as he laughs lightly behind you. “It took me a while to explain what was going on with me. I’m just glad that Benny was there to watch out for you. I am upset at him though.” He rests the underside of his chin on the top of your head.

You hum in agreement. “I also already have a pretty great boyfriend. Why would I even think of entertaining some random guy? He could never satisfy me the way you do.” 

Frankie breathes out heavily from his nose and you can feel your hair move. He leans down and places a kiss on your shoulder. “I’ll make sure you’re more than satisfied when we get back to my house.”

A shiver of excitement creeps its way down your back as his words settle in your ears. You know it's cruel and you know you’re in public, but you can’t help but rub your ass against him. The room is full of a bunch of drunk people watching a boxing match so who cares. His hands tighten around you to hold you into place. You’re unable to move your hips. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game right now, Estrella.”

“I guess I’m getting tired of watching other people do dangerous things and I wanted to try it out for myself.”

“I’m hanging on by a thread as it is watching you prance around up there in that tiny little outfit. Seeing you dance around for everyone? Get kissed on the cheek by random men? I’m losing my mind down here.” 

Both you and Frankie are snapped back to a lustless reality when the crowd lets out a wild cry. Brunson has his arms up in a defensive position while Jacobs wails on him with his glove-covered fists. Overcome by the glorious scene in front you, you start yelling like every other observer.

“Fucking hit him! Take him down, Jacobs!”

Frankie is still holding you while you flail your arms every which way. He looks over at Pope and Will who are transfixed by your sudden outburst. They raise their eyebrows at him and he mouths ‘tell you later’. There is no way they would have been able to hear him over your manic yelling anyway. 

“Break his fucking jaw!” You holler.

“Ella es luchadora esta noche!” Pope calls to Frankie over the commotion. 

“Esa es mi chica!” He answers.

Jacobs continues to hammer down on Brunson. In a last ditch attempt to get out of the predicament he is in, Brunson takes swings at Jacobs. Unfortunately for him, that left an open space for Jacobs’ fist to make direct contact with the side of Brunson’s head. He lands hard on the matt and, with his last bit of strength, taps his hand on the floor. Pompous fucker didn’t even make it past the first round.

You leap out of Frankie’s grip and charge the ring along with Benny. Both of you scramble to get inside to make the final calls of the night. 

“Jacobs wins!” You cry holding up the very hand that took down Brunson.

Benny wraps his arm around your shoulder and speaks into the mic.

“That’s a wrap on this week's Friday Fight Night, everyone! Thank you for coming out and showing support for Brass Knuckles! Remember to come visit us again next week and to drive home carefully!”

Jacobs thanks you for being a great co-host before he heads off to the locker room to shower, change, and head out. Everyone else begins to slowly file out of the building as well. Your strength being rejuvenated after seeing Brunson get what was coming to him, has you giggling and leaning against the ropes facing your friends. 

“You really held your own out there, hon. I wouldn’t want to mess with you.” Will teases. 

You stick your tongue out and laugh along with him as the gym gets quieter. 

“I told you she’d be a good ring girl, Benny.” Pope speaks over your shoulder. “I’d never steer you wrong.”

“I knew you wouldn’t, man.” Benny confirms with a grin. “Come on, Brunson, get up. It’s time to clear out. Better luck next time, hmm?” He looks down at the man sitting in the corner of the ring massaging the left side of his face.

“Yeah, I’m going, Miller.” He grumbles. “Can’t a guy leave the ring with some dignity?”

“I don’t think you had any dignity walking into the ring to begin with.” He chortles. 

You haven’t been paying either man any mind because Frankie has walked up to the side of the ring you are leaning against. He pinches the collar of your shirt between his thumb and forefinger and gently pulls your giggling self towards him. He captures your lips in a kiss and you can taste faint hints of the beer he was nursing during the show.

“That's the reason?” A grating voice calls out from behind you. “That’s the reason you won’t go out with me?” 

You break away from Frankie and turn to see Brunson looking at you still holding the side of his face; Benny is already staring at him with an open mouth.

“Excuse me?” You question, daring him to repeat what he just said. 

“Brunson, the fuck are you talking about, man?” Benny looks exhausted. You aren’t sure if that's from tonight or Brunson specifically.

“You keep shooting me down because you’re fucking one of Miller’s military friends?” He says it like this is the only possible reason for your rejection of him.

“Oh shit.” Pope whispers somewhere behind you. 

“Brunson.” Benny warns.

“Did it ever occur to you in your myopic little mind that I just don’t fucking like you?” You hiss. 

“You’re such a bitch.” He laughs as if he just said something incredibly profound. 

“That’s it!” Frankie growls behind you. “Come here, you fucking asshole!”

You whip around to see Will and Pope rushing forward to grab each of his arms so he can’t climb into the ring. 

“Alto, hermano!” 

“Don’t, Catfish! You know you can’t have assaultin’ someone on your record! It’s going to hurt your chances of getting it back!”

You don’t know what Will is referring to when he said ‘it’, but whatever it was is enough to cause Frankie to falter for half a second.

“Who’s gonna tell?!” He’s still trying to pull out of their grip. “I know y’all won’t and this fucker won’t be alive to report me!”

“Get the fuck outta the ring now.” Benny’s voice is ice cold when he speaks to Brunson. “You aren’t welcome back here after this either.” 

“What? All because I said she was banging your friend?” The battered man climbs to his feet and starts walking to exit the ring. “My bad, maybe she’s banging all four of yall.”

It happens so quickly that you don’t even have time to be scared. Benny’s fist flies through the air and connects with Brunson’s jaw with a deliciously satisfying crack. His body crumbles to the ground and unlike in his first fight, he doesn’t get back up. You don’t hear Frankie trying to get inside the ring now, Will and Pope are both silent behind you as well, and Benny looks as calm as ever. 

“I have been wantin’ to do that for a while now.” He beams. “God, that felt so fuckin’ good.”

“You just punched him.” You say airily. 

Benny just flashes you his boyish grin and shrugs. “He had it comin’.” He looks over your shoulder at his friends. “I know you would have done it, Fish. I was just a little closer. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It was probably better that you did it for a number of reasons.” Frankie admits. “The biggest one being I don’t think I could have stopped at just one punch.” 

“Well…what do we do now?” You laugh. “We can’t just leave him here. Although, I’m sure I could be convinced to.”

“You and Fish are goin’ to leave him here.” Benny answers nonchalantly. “Y’all have dealt with too much bullshit for one night. The boys and I can stay here to clean up and wait until this loser wakes up.” 

“Seriously?” Frankie sounds stunned. 

“Seriously?” You echo.

“Seriously?” Pope whines.

“Yeah! Y’all go get the rest you need. Bosses orders.” 

“This ain’t nothin’ we can’t handle.” Will assures you. 

“I still don’t want to do it.” Pope says, yet he seems to change his tune after Will smacks him upside the head. “But I would be more than happy too!”

You individually hug all three of them for allowing you and Frankie to leave. Benny was right, both of y’all did need rest. Too bad there were other plans in place already.

***

You have barely closed the front door before Frankie picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. He had to watch you frolic around all night in that tiny little outfit and he was struggling to keep it together the entire time. Your breasts were calling his name, that short skirt was teasing him, those fishnets begged to be ripped off, and that smile. Oh, your fucking smile. That was probably the sexiest thing that you wore tonight. He definitely wasn’t complaining about your outfit, but your smile made him weak. The fact that it seemed the biggest when you were looking at him brought him to his knees.

You hear him kick the door the rest of the way open and then he’s tossing you down on the bed. His normally soft brown eyes appear almost black as he stares down at you. You can’t help but clench your legs together and his eyes sweep over your body.

“God, you’re perfect.” His voice is raspy from yelling all evening. “I wish you could see yourself from my point of view.” 

A wetness in between your legs starts to make itself known to you. You watch as he tosses his cap off, pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, and starts to remove his jeans. The thigh high boots are all you manage to get off before he places a heavy hand on your leg.

“I want to try something a little different.” He states. “Will you let me?”

There is a command in his question, but also an air of hesitation. He seems like he wants you to be just as on board as he is. 

“I’ll let you do anything you want.” You say truthfully. 

A grin appears on his face after he hears your stamp of approval. Frankie turns around to the desk behind him and slides something metal off of it. He’s obstructing your view with his hands. 

“I told you before that Benny isn’t going to have an outfit to get back from you because I’m going to tear it off.” 

You nod, swallowing the growing lump in your throat.

“I decided that I didn’t want to do that anymore. I’m going to cut it off.”

He brings out the object that he took off his dresser and unfolds it in front of you. It’s a pocket knife. However, it’s bigger than any pocket knife you have ever seen. The blade is thin, long, and a blinding silver. Your wetness soaks its way through your panties the longer you take in the image of Frankie holding the knife in front of you. Where he was usually a soft and sweet looking man, now he looked dark and lustful. It’s making you and your body go crazy. You bite down hard on your lower lip hoping that the pain will distract from the throbbing of your clit. It’s unbearable. He balances himself over you by resting one knee on the bed. The next time he talks, his face is inches from yours and his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Don’t you dare move.” He speaks. “I don’t want to cut this beautiful skin of yours. Are you going to be a good girl and stay still for me?” He lets the knife hover over the knot you tied in your shirt earlier that evening.

“Yes.” You breathe out excitedly. 

Frankie carefully slips the blade beneath the knot and pulls upward. The cheap material is sliced through and falls delicately to each side of your body. He looks at your black bra like it’s offending him and repeats the same action with the knife. When your breasts are fully exposed in front of him, he lets out a deep sigh. You can see how hard he has gotten from watching your clothes get cut from your body. With his free hand he rolls one of your nipples in between his thumb and index finger. The feeling causes your back to arch slightly as you whine out to him. 

“What did I say, Estrella?” Frankie lays the knife flat in the valley of your breasts. The cool metal feels like it's pulling the warmth from your body. “I thought I told you not to move?” He picks it back up again, and with the tip ghosting over your skin, he drags it down to your navel.

“I can’t help it.” You smile. “My body just reacts to you.” 

There is a flash of sweetness in his eyes at your words before they cloud back over with lust. “I know the feeling.” He groans, palming your breasts.

Frankie sits back on his leg and lets his blade slip under the waistband of your skirt. You giggle quietly as it melts off your body just as easy as the other two articles of clothing. There is nothing left on your body, but fishnets and underwear. Your breath hitches as the icy metal slides its tongue down your leg. Watching Frankie’s eyes light up with your every reaction is pushing you further and further towards your climax. How could it be possible for him to make you come without his hands ever gracing your skin? You keep your own eyes trained on him as he starts slicing through the material of the fishnets. When he finally finishes, you’re the one who tears off your panties. As beautifully torturous as that was, there is no way you can wait for him anymore. 

“I’ve been aching for you all day.” You whimper, butterflying your legs open for his viewing pleasure. “Are you going to come satisfy me like you promised?” 

Frankie’s so enamored by your display in front of him that he loses his grip on his knife and it falls softly on the bedroom floor. He walks up the foot of the bed and grasps your hips firmly. Without you having to say another word, he sinks deep inside you and fills you to the hilt. Both of you gasp out in pleasure and gratefulness that this moment is finally here after this strenuous day. 

“Fuck. Every time I slip inside you it feels so right.” He utters out as he starts thrusting at a languid pace.

You’re too lost in the sensation of feeling every inch of him stretch you out to respond, but he keeps speaking.

“Every time you twirled around and every time I saw your lips pressed right up against the microphone, I wanted you.” His pace is speeding up now. “Every time I saw you perform for the crowd and every time I saw those men get the blessed opportunity to kiss you, I wanted everyone to know I wanted you. You’re my girl. You’re my Estrella.” 

“Yes, Frankie.” Your eyes are locked on him while he pounds into you. 

“I want you to say it. I want you to say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m all yours.” You gasp.

“Louder.” His voice is a mix of demanding and begging. “I don’t care if the neighbors hear.”

“I’m yours Frankie! No one else's!”

“That’s fucking right.”

He leans down to suck on your breasts while he continues pumping inside your cunt. Your hands find their home in his hair to pull on his curls. Hearing his deep grunts is causing you to feel drunk. His coarse hair is methodically rubbing your clit as he nips at your sensitive skin. You know your high is coming, you can feel it rising quickly to the surface. Wanting to be as connected to him as possible, you slide your hands down to his face and bring him up to your lips. There is a hunger between the two of you that is palpable in the kiss. Each of you is desperate to have more of the other. There is an unspoken knowing that no matter how much is taken, neither one will be full. He silences your screams as you come with his full lips as you release onto him. You feel yourself coating him completely. Frankie never breaks the kiss during or after your climax. You smile as you feel his lips quiver against yours as he finishes deep inside you. His hips quiver with each release.

“That’s it.” You whisper. “Let me have it. I want all of you.”

“You already have all of me, Estrella.” 

He didn’t pull out of you immediately, but when he did, you stopped him from going to clean you up. The two of you laid there on the bed, facing each other, as you traced the features of his face. There was something so lovely about the after. The quietness and contentment that encapsulated the both of you was like something out of a dream. If it were up to you, you would have stayed there until the sun rose. Frankie, unfortunately, was to be the voice of reason. He reminded you that you both had work early in the morning and that sleep was something you definitely needed after the day's events. He’s gentle when he washes himself off of your skin. As he puts the cloth away, you pull back the covers and wait patiently for him to hold your tired body. Before sleep can take you from this moment, you muster up the strength to ask one last thing. 

“Are you mine, Frankie?” 

“I’m yours until all the stars in the sky go dark.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 @golden-library @pati-et-vivere @mashomasho @lilmizmoz @angstylittlepascal @sofiparallel @selflcontrol @adriennemichelle98 @painitemoondust @pedritosgirl2000 @tpwkmera @romanarose @missbabyjay }

[chitty-chitty-bang-bang-bang]

“The Big Kumara”

Word Count: 1,912

Age Restrictions: 16+ (mild gore/vulgar language)

Trigger Warnings/Tags: Horror, descriptions of blood and corpses, anxiety, mental illness.

Synopsis: Your concerned relatives sent a psychologist to your house, so you can finally open up about the incident, that sent you into this spiral in the first place.

Author’s note: This is my Halloween Special for y’all guys. It’s not my usual style, because I’ve never written horror before. But I tried really hard to make it unsettling and scary, because I feel like this is the wwdits fanfic field, that is not explored enough. Anyways, hope you enjoy it. Happy Halloween!

__________________________________________

“February 24th, 2006.” The woman across from you said, after pushing the record button on the dictaphone, only then did she turn to you. “So, tell me the whole story.”

You took a deep shaky breath, feeling cold shivers run down your spine as memories flooded your mind once again and you started speaking.

“It was almost two months ago. January 5th. That day was as normal as you could imagine. I woke up, did my usual routine, marked off the day in the calendar and went to work. I used to work in a call centre at that time. I don’t anymore. Can’t return there… Anyway. I came to work and my friends Sutton and Jean said they wanted to visit some new place that opened during winter holidays and asked if I’d tag along, because they needed a sober driver.

I… agreed. Of course, why not? I don’t drink that much anyways. That’s fine.

The place was called ‘The Big Kumara’. Some student party bar, not the fanciest place. I remember, when we walked in, I was instantly hit with a very strong smell. I thought it might be some cleaning chemical, but it didn’t seem like it. The smell was nauseatingly metallic. I asked if anyone else feels it, but neither of my friends seem to notice, so I thought I might be getting sick and tossed that thought away.

We sat at the table in the corner. We can be a little loud, especially Jean, after he gets drunk, so we didn’t want to disturb anyone. They ordered a few drinks and went to the dance floor, I decided I’ll join them later, because I still didn’t feel very well. The smell. The smell was driving me crazy and I didn’t know why.

The place itself was also not my scene. There were mostly people, who were way too young to be there and some weird goth people, which for some reason seemed to make up the majority of the bar’s visitors. Funnily enough, the place couldn’t be further away from being traditional ‘goth’, so I didn’t know what that was about.

But my friends seemed to like it quite a bit, because about an hour later, Sutton excused themselves to go out for some ‘air’ with a European guy in a big fluffy overcoat and a top hat. Jean and I laughed it off, but some time later he did the exact same thing, giggling and waving at me, as he left with another man, this one was wearing… I think some kind of a cravat tie and a jean jacket, which was a bit weird, considering it was pretty cold outside.

They both promised to be back soon and I didn’t mind. I mean, we’re young, we’re having fun, who cares? And I was sure they would be fine, because it’s not the first time they were up to this kind of things. Heck, I also wanted to have a fun time, but I was way too sober to do it with anyone in that place.

So I waited… And waited… and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. But they didn’t come. It’s been almost three hours. I called them, I texted them and I got absolutely no response. Naturally, I was terrified of what might’ve happened. So I went outside and started looking for them, tried to see if I could spot those guys they left with or anything that could give me a clue of where they were.

Finally, I went into the alleyway behind the bar. Oh fuck… How do I even describe this?…

I heard someone talking in there. They seemed pretty upset about something, maybe even bickering with each other. But when I came over they seemed to notice and the talking stopped. I turned around the corner and saw a cloud of smoke and two bums lying on the ground, fast asleep. At least, that’s what I thought initially. I came a bit closer and recognised the clothes. Those were Jean and Sutton. For a moment I breathed out in relief, because I finally found them. These two dumbasses just fell asleep there!

Then I came even closer to wake them up. I still remember, how I put my hand on Sutton’s shoulder to shake them awake, but felt my fingers sticking to her jacket. There was some weird thick fluid on it, it was half dry and I pulled my hand away reflexively and noticed that this goo was dark. I couldn’t distinguish the colour in almost pitch blackness of the alleyway, but it was blood. I knew it, because now I started to smell that same metallic reek, that I became nose blind to, while sitting in the Big Kumara.

I don’t know what came over me at that moment. I knew, I should’ve called the police right away and leave it to the professionals, but… but something just prompted me to touch it again. I put my hand on Sutton’s jacket, then let my palm glide over to their neck and feel their cold skin with two dents in it. Like a bite. I wiped off the blood from their collarbone with my fingers and smelt it again, just to make sure it was actually real. Then I did the same with Jean. For a few minutes I just sat there in front of their corpses, examining them, as if I was trying to understand what those strangers had done to them, before I made it even worse by picking at their bite marks, making them bleed with stale cold chunks of red liquid.

I soon realised that my hands were now fully covered in their bodily fluid and panic took over me completely. I felt like I was part of it somehow. That I was also an accomplice to their murder. I didn’t know what to do, so I just took off running home. I left my car in front of the Big Kumara and sprinted home like my life depended on it.

I didn’t sleep that night.

I didn’t know what happened to them. I didn’t know how they died. I didn’t know why I let myself destroy what might’ve been the key evidence to how they were killed. I didn’t know why I kept silent about that and didn’t tell the police or even call the ambulance. I was a horrible person. I knew it. So I thought I was next.

The next day, I had to walk three blocks down at sunrise to get my car from the Big Kumara, but the place was surrounded by cops. I was too scared to come close, because the fact that I just randomly left my car in front of the bar last night would be strange, so I left it there for two more days. The weekends passed and at work, I felt even worse.

There were two empty places next to me, where usually Sutton and Jean would be. It seemed like a gaping hole in my life, that would never be filled again. I felt like people were staring at me. Each time I turned to look at someone, I always accidentally met their glance and I was freaking out. It’s like they knew. It’s like they all knew I was there and did nothing. Nobody talked to me, nobody wished me good morning or even waved. They just stared and whispered to each other. Maybe it was all in my head, but sure didn’t appear like it.

Also… each night I felt a weird presence in my room. I live on the fifth floor, but I can swear, there’s somebody at my window, coming in every night and spying on me. I don’t know who it is, but they just come and look at me… and they whisper something, but I can never make it out and I’m too terrified to take a look at whatever is hovering outside my window. I don’t know…

Soon, I became very paranoid. I got additional locks on my door. I flinched at any weird sounds around the house and at work. I couldn’t even focus on my job anymore, because I felt that when I’m not looking, everyone else has their eyes on me. Judging… Knowing…

I left work. I couldn’t be there anymore. Couldn’t sit next to two empty places. Couldn’t take the prying eyes of my coworkers. I couldn’t stay. Not a second longer… Now I’m unemployed. I’m not leaving my house. It’s too dangerous. Whatever that thing is, that goes after me ever since that incident. It will get me, as soon as I’m too comfortable. As soon as I don’t expect it anymore.

I’m not insane, I swear. And it’s not just a nervous breakdown. I know what is happening. I am not stupid. Somebody is after me. They’re after me…” You finally finished.

“But the culprit was found, right? Walenty Nowicki. He’s in trial.” The therapist said, showing that she did quite a bit of background digging on your incident.

“It’s not him. He didn’t do it.” You shook your head immediately.

“How do you know?”

“I just feel it in my bones. It’s not him. It’s something… else. Something abnormal…” You mumbled, realising how crazy you sound from an outsider’s perspective.

“Abnormal? What do you mean by that?”

“I… And this might sound stupid. I think it was a vampire.” There was no way you actually said it out loud.

“Or maybe, it wasn’t a vampire. Maybe it’s just the guilt that you keep suppressing, coupled with high levels of anxiety and lack of a support system?” She leaned on her hand.

“You don’t even believe me. You don’t even want to listen! Just because my relatives think I’m insane, does not mean I actually am! I never asked for a therapist, they just sent you in here! And this is my flat! My place! My temple! And you need to leave! Now!” You didn’t quite understand, why you were freaking out so hard. You shouldn’t be screaming at her, she’s trying to help.

But she can’t, can she?

You ended up forcing her out of your apartment and locking the door on all five locks you had installed. Suddenly, everything felt so quiet. It was already dark outside, but you left little to no light on. Otherwise, someone might see you move inside your house. Someone might notice you. You sat down under the kitchen table as usual, opening up another can of stew. They can’t get you here. You’re safe.

A brief moment of peace made you loose your concentration and that’s when it hit you. A cold hand on your shoulder piercing your skin with sharp claws. You wanted to scream, but couldn’t. Whatever it was, it covered your mouth with its palm. You turned around to see a man. He was there, but wasn’t. It’s like a hallucination or a projection… Scruffy in his appearance, his eyes stared right into your soul, making your heart beat faster than it ever had.

“You will forget about what happened to your friends. You will forget about vampires and you will forget ever going to Big Kumara. You are leaving a completely normal life.” He whispered and you recognised his voice as the one of the silhouette at your window.

What window? What silhouette? What voice?

You couldn’t recall anymore, as your mind drifted into blissful ignorance.

[bonniebird]

Jim Moriarty x Reader

Requested by Anon​​

Valentine event

Support me on Ko-fi

Make a request

“You don’t have to do this if you don't want to.” John said as Sherlock inspected the room. He walked around carefully before heading out into the hallway with you and John.

“It seems safe enough.” Sherlock said honestly.

“Safe enough? Enough? I want top-notch safety!” You muttered. Sherlock raised his eyebrows and sighed.

“On the budget, this place has the best you’ll get. We’ll be right outside with armed guards. So it should be safe.” Sherlock assured you. You glanced at John who once again reminded you that you didn’t have to go through with it but you took a deep breath and went to one side with one of the guards. When they were ready you were led into the room Sherlock had come out of before they left you alone. You stared at the glass in front of you.

“I didn’t think they’d let me get this.” Jim said with a grin as he gestured around the room. It was plain, just a chair and the glass. He had nothing on the other side. 

“Where are they?” You asked.

“Ah ah ah! Not so fast. I asked for one thing in exchange for the location.” Jim insisted. You frowned at him.

“You asked for me. I’m here. So please… tell me what we need to know.” You begged. Jim smiled and tilted his head as he watched you as if he enjoyed you begging.

“I’ll trade it.” He answered and smiled when you stood from the seat and looked at him curiously.

“You’ll trade it? For what?” You asked. Jim walked back and forward behind the glass. There was a noise somewhere in the room and you turned away looking towards the door which made a thinking noise. You assumed that if there was a problem Sherlock and John would be through it in a shot so you turned back. He was opposite you and you jumped but reminded yourself that there was glass between you.

“A kiss.” Jim answered. You frowned at him.

“You want to trade the information for a kiss?” You asked. Thinking for a moment you sighed. A kiss in exchange for several people's lives wasn’t that height of an ask. Uncomfortable of course but you could do that. 

“Fine.” You said and he smiled.

“But you have to mean it.” He insisted. You frowned at him as he motioned for you to get closer to the glass. "A kiss can be deadly if you mean it."

You leaned in expecting the feel cold glass against your lips but you were met with the warmth of Jim’s lips instead. You went to pull apart but his hands moved to your head as he deepened the kiss. The door started to rattle.

When Sherlock and John finally got the door open they found the room empty of everything but a single chair.

“There’s a gap in the wall. I can see the glass panel in there.” John said as he looked carefully at the walls. 

“I Assume they got out of here.” Sherlock said. He was crouching down at the opposite wall inspecting an almost invisible door-sized crease in the wall.

“Sherlock. We promised (Y/N) that nothing would happen.” John said to Sherlock who sighed.

“I am well aware of that. We need to get going. I need to look over everything that he sent us. I want to look at (Y/N)’s flat as well.” Sherlock said as he stood suddenly and left the room.

Jim tags:

@the-caravello-post @killing-gremlin @aegonandaemondtargaryenslut18 @lchufflepuffcorn

[rollercoasterwords]

so at the risk of sounding like an idiot…for whatever reason i thought this was going to be jegulily but has it actually been regulily bffs with jily/jegulus in a love triangle situation??? not asking in an angry or rude way but in an “am i so dense i missed this the entire time?’ way

(pls ignore me if you got this ask twice but my wife crapped out right as i sent this the first time)

yeahhh it’s not an easily categorizable relationship which is why the fic is not tagged jily or jegulus or jegulily bc it is. none of those. hang on i’ll explain under the cut don’t think it’s quite as much of a spoiler anymore but just in case

ok here’s the breakdown: regulus is in love with james. lily is in love with james. they first bonded when they realized they were both in love with james & both knew that nothing would ever come of it & both agreed not 2 sleep w him bc they knew it would just break their hearts etc. james is not in love with either of them. he loves them very much, but it is not the romantic love either of them desire. however he doesn’t view sex as a big deal just a fun thing to do with people, including people you love.

so like. in ch 20 what happened is that james + lily went home together, both kinda drunk, and in a moment of poor judgment & high emotion (they all might die the next day!) lily decided to sleep with james despite knowing it would mean something different for each of them & would probably make her feel like shit the next morning. james was down 2 clown & was just like aw my friend who i love of course i wanna have sex let’s have a good time! regulus walked in on them & got mad at lily bc he felt like she had betrayed their pact not to sleep with james & also bc he is jealous (he’s not being entirely fair to her, but emotions are messy sometimes, & lily understands why he’s upset). so in his anger he basically told james “u idiot she’s in love with u” & james, who thought he & lily were on the same page feelings-wise, realized that they were not & he slept with her even though he doesn’t reciprocate those feelings, which will hurt her.

so now lily feels shitty bc she sort of promised regulus she wouldn’t sleep w james and then did, and also bc james now knows she’s been in love w him 4 years which will irrevocably change & possibly destroy the once close friendship they had. and also she’s upset w regulus 4 telling james she was in love w him even if she understands why he did it. regulus feels shitty bc he walked in on his best friend sleeping w the man he’s in love with after she said she wouldn’t & he’s jealous & he’s angry at james 4 hurting lily even tho it wasn’t intentional & he’s angry at lily 4 putting herself in that situation knowing she’d get hurt & that it would hurt him & he feels guilty 4 telling james lily was in love w him bc he knows he just did it 2 hurt them both back so he’s angry at himself as well. james feels shitty bc he thought regulus & lily were both happy just being friends but is realizing that they’re actually in love with him and thus that his inability to reciprocate those feelings hurts them both deeply & there’s nothing he can do about it. & even if he could this is not a situation where either of them would be happy if he loved them both back like if he was in love with lily it would hurt regulus if he was in love with regulus it would hurt lily so. it’s a mess & everyone feels bad yayyyy who else cheered

[trickstersintime]

ABOUT THIS BLOG

Independent multimuse role-play blog featuring tricksters from various fandoms, written by Pirate.

MUSES

(Links with further details on these muses pending)

Quickfire rules:

Highly selective for RP, nigh private due to time constraints.

Asks can be sent in by anyone and will be replied to whenever I get chance but any intended as a proper role-play starter will need to be discussed first unless you’re already one of my partners.

I will only write with over 18’s. We do not have to write adult content but it does feature on this blog. I have special tags for NSFW, please see the NSFW section below. I also use the community filter system for mature content.

Be kind. Life's too short.

[XI's Timeline Info] He is a chronologically locked blog so everything that happens to him in all threads is canon everywhere.

Thread Tracker: To be added when it's ready (this can be seen on my old Loki blog at present for just his threads)

Detailed rules and info on how I run my blog below the cut.

Blog background by honeypsd

Main Rules - They’re long but informative!

I am a highly selective blog. I will be very, very choosy on who I write with simply due to limited time and wanting to give my few partners better attention. I promise I’m not scary, just super busy. Anyone is welcome to approach me to ask if I would like to write with them but my intake is extremely small so if I haven't followed you back the chances are slim at this time.

I can take up to a few weeks to reply at most, but if you like quickfire same-day responses I’m not the partner for you*. I work 40+ hours a week, have personal writing hobbies, a husband and cats who don’t get nearly enough attention, and occasionally a social life. I’m also a games addict. These being the reasons for my extreme selectivity. I want to write here with a few lovely peeps but that’s all I have time to squeeze in.

With my thread tracker, I generally go round each partner in turn before going round again, but on some occasions I’ll indulge in whatever has my mood or do a bit of catch-up on older threads. I'm a creature of routine so typically I'll try to do two replies every day Monday to Thursday.

I’m over 30 years of age. My pronouns are she/her. I won’t engage in adult content with anyone under the age of 18 or, ideally, 21 depending on your country’s consent laws.

I have a main Thor for my Lokis, and one other lovely partner, however I am looking for one who will write Thorki. I have an exclusive Carol Danvers (Captain Marvel). I have an exclusive Gale Dekarios for Astarion.

Have fun and be gentle with one another. I loathe call-out culture or telling people what they can and can’t write. I am strongly anti-censorship (but do believe in tagging!). This does mean occasionally I will write topics not to everyone’s taste. If you can dig that and blacklist what you don’t fancy, I hope you’ll find me pretty easygoing. I’m open to exploring all sorts of things. If you’re just here for the fandom posts, then welcome and I hope you enjoy!

Play Style/Guidelines

I am happy role-playing in both past and present tense. Length of posts vary depending on the situation, usually a couple of paragraphs, but I sometimes have shorter ones/one-liners if a fight scene or argument is taking place or if I want to mess around with some !crack posting.

Asks are welcomed and I usually answer all of these but I reserve the right to choose not to continue one intended as a thread depending on my time/muse. If you want to be sure if I’m taking something on, please feel free to message me. If continuing a thread from an ask, I will move it to a new thread and tag you as tumblr starts to make things look weird on the blog even using the new beta. If I get a lot of asks from one person in a short space of time I may not answer them all. Similarly, if you send me something I find to be baiting, trollish, or I have no clue how to answer it, it’ll be deleted.

If I need to drop an established thread for any reason, I will usually drop by your IMs and let you know. Please respect my need to do this just as I will always accommodate if you need to stop something of mine. If you have not replied to something for more than 3-5 months and I decide I want to drop it, I will likely not contact you about it. It’s perfectly ok if it got lost so do get in contact if you’d like to pick it up again or start something new.

Please don’t be afraid to contact me about a thread if you tagged me in something and have not had a first response within a couple of weeks. It may be that Tumblr feed failed to tell me or I got overexcited about something (including that very thing) and forgot to track it.

I am not strictly ‘mutuals only’, especially as that makes it difficult for sideblogs and sometimes I may enjoy playing with a person but I’m not into a lot of what’s on their blog. Contrarily, I also sometimes follow people who I have enjoyed playing with in the past but don’t currently thread with or those whose content I enjoy but I’m not up for interaction. If you do not want me to interact with you, please fully block me. I will not ask you why. I want you to be comfortable and I can’t guarantee I’ll remember who is who if we didn’t know one another well, it’s been a while and/or you’ve changed your url or the content of your blog.

Regarding OC’s, I do play with some, however I have a strong preference for canons or canon-diverged simply because I find it easier to immerse myself in a world I know about and engage with muses with which I’m familiar. If I had more time on my hands I would love to get to know these lovely creations in more depth but I’m even more selective when it comes to them. If you have a canon muse playing with me then you get an automatic pass for my muses to meet your OC if I feel suited to them. NB: Since cutting down to very limited partners, it is very unlikely now I will write with a new OC partner unless I have got to know you via other means/you’re friends with a mutual.

NSFW (particularly adult content/smut etc.)

I do write content that is not suitable for under 18’s/under 21’s, typically of a sexual nature. Tumblr in its infinite wisdom and purity entirely hides anything tagged ‘nsfw’ so I do not use this tag as it stops my thread partners from finding our stuff at all. I now ensure that all adult content is tagged appropriately and under the mature content filters so you can filter it out. If, however, you have something more specific you’d like to avoid, I use the following tags you may blacklist:

lokisinner - in place of ‘nsfw’ on Loki's posts

filthy pirate - in place of 'nsfw' on Jack's posts

naughty memes - in place of ‘nsfw memes���

lemon - threads where a story has progressed to something fully sexual

grapefruit - threads with sex that is beyond vanilla (I arbitrarily use this)

dubcon tw - threads involving dubious consent

noncon tw - threads involving noncon/rape (rare and always discussed prior)

Shipping

Laying it down with the honesty here, I love shipping. If I’m writing with your muse, chances are I’m interested in shipping (if your muse isn’t specifically a canon friend or family member or a minor). It’s not 100% the case, but it’s a huge part of what I enjoy exploring or working towards.

A further confession I have about this is I am very visual and mun-based about what my muses are interested in. If I personally have an attraction to your muse, it’s easier for me to write them having an interest. I also prefer canon FC’s purely because it’s easier for my mind to immerse in the established canon. So, if you have an alternate FC, I’m not into your muse, or you have it in your rules that you’re not much into shipping, this may put me off following back.

That said, I will ship with chemistry worked out between us. My favourite ships are frostiron, strangefrost, bloodweave, and thorki, so I am happy to pre-establish those.

I am Thorki friendly. This ship will be tagged with ‘incest tw’ if it is a verse where they are brothers. If it’s an AU where this is not the case, I will only tag it ‘thorki’, and even then only when shipping is occurring. My #god bros tag is technically a Thorki tag in disguise. I am also Sylki and Lokicest friendly.

Triggery/Squick stuff

Things on my no list are scat kinks, Mpreg and A/B/O. I don’t mind you playing them with other people if those are your thing, they’re just not mine. I also do not like excessive/detailed gore but my only actual ‘trigger’ is something I will discuss with you if your character brings it up. It’s so specific that I won’t detail it here and it’s not your responsibility to protect me from it.

Most other things are otherwise on the cards. I will roleplay NSFW and will tag it as such when it happens. I will do dub-con if requested or non-con if there is a reason for it/we are comfortable and have discussed the situation.

On Drama

As mentioned up top, I despise call-outs and censorship. Wherever possible I desire to avoid unnecessary squawking and mob-like behaviour. If you engage in too much drama (regardless of whose fault it is) I will unfollow you and/or cease playing with you. I’m not here for it. I loathe passive aggression and vague-blogging but I understand we’re only human and allow a few slip-ups now and again, particularly as I’m liable to have been guilty of it once or twice.

If you have a problem with someone I write with, I will thank you not to associate that with me unless by my own words I’m advocating something. Until I see evidence of something with my own eyes, that is when I form my opinions. Don’t police who I write with and I won’t do so with you. Unless I genuinely believe someone is at risk of harm I will not tell anyone not to play with someone, regardless of my own experience. We all behave differently with one another and we’re allowed to grow. If you cannot accept my viewpoint on this then we are not suitable for each other.

—

*If you are a role-player who only writes quickfire, on-dash immediate role-play and won’t continue a thread after that day or even anything up to the next couple of weeks, we won’t be able to keep a partnership unfortunately. I am happy to answer the odd ask for fun, play a few dash commentaries here and there to spice things up, but when it comes to a serious story I can’t do them on a short-term basis. I like to take time to build up relationships and play for the long haul as best as possible. We can absolutely wind down a thread, cut one short or skip ahead, but if we’re to keep writing together I need something intended to be continuous. My muses and I feel like energy is wasted if we keep having to restart and refresh with a partner.

In a similar vein, I will likely not keep playing with role-players who do frequent thread junking. If you’re a person who likes to refresh all your stories, drop everything and start again, that’s grand and I’m glad it works for you because we don’t all play the same way, but it won’t suit me. If you’re someone who does this but really values playing with me, then I would ask you to keep in contact/message me and ideally start a new thread that keeps the background we’ve already established or to chat with me about what else you’d like to do. I won’t chase after people and it’s not fair to make me do the hard work. Thanks for understanding and no worries if this means I’m not suitable for you!

[myveryownfanfiction]

Chapters 35

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT YOUR AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @onedirectionlovers2014, @illiana-mystery, @plush4bunny

warnings: swearing, strip poker, smut, unprotected martial sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos)

AN: whoa. 36 chapters. That’s fun. Thanks for reading everyone!

I leaned against Dan as I watched all the guys in navy uniforms mill around. Gurgs was complaining about how she couldn’t touch this year because of her boyfriend but I was tuning her out.

“I don’t understand what the big deal is.” I muttered. Dan chuckled and leaned down to say something but I put a hand on his chest to stop him. “Shut up. I understand that.” Dan kissed my head before hugging me tighter to his side. “Why is fleet week such a big deal?”

“Well for people like gurgs it’s to oogle them.” Dan muttered, eyeing her over his glasses. “For people like me, it’s for the poker game. If only I can get in.” I chuckled.

“Flobert came through?” I asked, tilting my head back to look at him. Dan nodded with a smile. “So I take it you’re going to be staying late?”

“yeah.” Dan confirmed. He kissed me softly. “I won’t lose all our money. Promise.” I reached up to cup his cheek.

“I trust you.” I said. He nodded before kissing my palm. “Time to work. I’m going to make a few calls. See if I can get someone to rent out my old place.” Dan furrowed his eyebrows.

“I thought you found someone.” Dan said. I nodded.

“he bugged out.” I said with a sigh. “Have to get the locks changed since he took the key and need to find someone who is actually going to live there.” Dan squeezed my shoulder and let me head out to his office. About an hour later, Dan came storming in and slammed the door. “You found out flobert lied about being in the navy?”

“how the fuck did you know?” Dan said, eyes narrowing suspiciously. I pointed at the computer.

“I got curious. His work history is public knowledge since he’d been a judge.” I said. “And you could do with checking your phone…” Dan fished in his pocket and frowned when he read my last message.

“yeah. Well…” he sighed as he laid down on his couch. “Fuck.” I giggled softly as Dan put a pillow over his face.

“Well considering they don’t have a place to play at the moment…” I said offhandedly. “The basements unlocked and free.”

“how did you know that they lost their spot?” Dan asked, peaking out at me from under the pillow.

“the beauty of checking your phone!” I laughed, tossing the stack of poster notes at Dan. He groaned in fake pain before chuckling.

“alright alright i get it.” He said as he sat up. “Alright. I’ll go tell them. Maybe that’ll get me in.”

“yeah. As long as you don’t pull the lifelong dream of playing poker thing.” I said. Groaning, I leaned back in the chair. “Fuck it. Can I come watch?” Dan nodded as he stood up, holding his hand out for me. I took it and we went looking for one of the guys that was going to be in the game. It didn’t take Dan long to find one.

“did i hear right? You need a place for the game tonight?” Dan asked. The guy nodded. “Well aren’t you in luck. I have just the place. If you’ll let me in.”

“I don’t know.” The guy said, eyeing Dan. “You’re the law…” Dan shook his head.

“Oh no no. I’m a lawyer. I have no allegiance to the law.” He said. “Besides…” Dan sent me a wink. “It will help me fulfill my lifelong dream to play poker for the first time.” The guy laughed and Dan squeezed my hand.

“alright you’re in. Just don’t go taking all our shit.” Dan smiled at me as the guy walked away to tell the others.

“wouldn’t dream of it.” He chuckled as he lead me towards the basement. As everyone from the navy set up the poker game, Dan picked me up and helped me sit on a file cabinet. I blushed before kissing him.

“good luck.” I whispered as he rubbed my leg. He smiled at me.

“still gets you something awful doesn’t it?” He laughed. I nodded and ducked my head. Dan kissed my head before heading to take his seat at the poker table. I giggled as he played up being bad to try to fool everyone at the table. When he dropped the losing hand, everyone started laughing.

“alright lawyer man. Take it off.” Someone said.

“huh?” Dan said, eyes flickering between everyone. “What’s that mean?”

“it means you lose the hand, you lose your clothes.” Dan’s eyes widened as it dawned on him.

“wait wait wait…” he blushed as I covered my mouth to stop from laughing. “Your fleet week game is a fucking game of strip poker?!” My laugh burst forward and dans head snapped over to me.

“yeah.” A couple guys said, eyes flickering over to me but frowning at the flash from my wedding ring. “Thought gurgs woulda told ya.” Dan groaned as he realized what was going on. I bit my lip and stared him down. When Dan ground his teeth, I raised an eyebrow. Reaching up, he pulled his tie off and tossed it on the table.

“dammit.” He muttered before picking up his next set of cards. I swung my legs as I watched the game progress. Dan wasn’t a bad poker player but some of the others were a little better. By the time it was down to three players, Dan had thrown his jacket and vest off. His shirt had joined the pile and I had to bite my lip to keep my focus on the game. Dan occasionally glanced at me, trying to see my reaction to the various levels of undress in the room. Gurgs had slipped in and was trying her best to not look but my eyes stayed firmly fixed on Dan. He smiled softly at me before turning back to the game at hand.

“Abbie is going to have a free throw contest!” Wyatt yelled as he came running in. Everyone looked at each other before running off. Dan walked over and helped me off the cabinet.

“you going?” I asked. Dan shook his head as he looked at me. “Gurgs said the door doesn’t lock.” Dan shrugged. “What’s gotten into you?” I laughed as he picked me, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“those other guys didn’t mean a damn thing to you tonight did they?” He asked, leaning his head into my neck and pressing soft kisses there. I shook my head. “Even though they’re younger, have muscles and look good in a uniform?”

“no.” I confirmed. “Especially when I have you.” Dan pulled back and kissed me deeply. “What’s gotten into you?” I laughed as he carried me over to the poker table. He set me down gently and kissed me again.

“you.” He whispered as he unbuckled his belt. I pulled my pants down and laid back on the table. I smiled at Dan as he pushed his pants down. Kissing me again, Dan slid into me and started to thrust gently. He moved to kiss along my jawline as he picked up speed. I tangled my fingers in his hair, guiding his head back up to kiss me. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. But damn if I’m not glad that I have you.” Dan groaned out.

“keep talking like that and I won’t last long.” I murmured, running my fingers through dans hair. Dan chuckled and thrust into me harder.

“surrounded by some of the best specimen of men in the world and you choose the one who’s old enough to be your grandfather, overweight and doesn’t know what he’d be doing if he hadn’t taken the same job I had thirty years ago.” Dan muttered. His breath fanned over my lips as he panted. “I’m the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. All because of you…” Dan trailed off as I orgasmed. “Fuck.” He groaned as he followed me over the edge. We laid there panting as we came back down.

“I think I’m the lucky one Dan.” I said softly as he pulled away and cleaned us up. Smiling softly at me, he led me back upstairs with everyone else.

[redfurrycat]

💕Know Your Tumblr Friends💕

Tagged by @callsign-crow, @itshoneywhatever, @mafiatsunafish, @merryandrewsworld, @perishablealex, @renai-chan in different versions of the tag game, so I just took all the questions and answered them all in one post, if ya don't mind, you lovely souls! 💕

*

Name? Starts with a P. It's a pretty common name where I’m from. (But you can call me Red here 😉)

Were you named after anyone? Nope.

Pronouns? She/her.

Where do you call home? Belgium.

Sign? Aries.

Time? 11h49 (I’m HUNGRY.) (Update. I ate and it was fries and homemade burger).

Fav band/artist? Hans Zimmer (composer). But I love many other composers! I don’t exactly have a fav band or artist as it’s not the kind of music I listen to (OST-Forever-Girl).

Do you have kids? No. I don’t want kids right now, I’ll wonder about that muuuuuch later. (Although I’m a cat mom at the moment.)

Use sarcasm a lot? I do sarcastic quips all the time… xD

First thing you notice 'bout people? Their smile. :)

Eye color? Hazel Eyes.

Scary movies or happy ending? Happy Ending FOREVER.

Special talent? *blank* (Too hungry to think of one... xD)

Your hobbies? To talk about something NOT related to fandom, I like Sudoku and Word scrambled games.

Any pets? It may be shocking to all of you, but I have a she-cat. A red she-cat. *grinning*

First pet? Twas a hamster….:D

Favorite animal? I love felines and birds of prey VERY MUCH.

Cereal of choice? As a kiddo it was Miel Pops, now I do the healthier version of honey cereals when I do eat cereals. And I occasionally eat oatmeal as well.

Are you visual, auditory, or kinesthetic learner? All three of them, depends on what is it I’m learning.

Playing any sport? Used to be tennis. Now I do walking and running, and I’d love to swim again!!!

How tall..? Small bean of 1m58.

Favourite subject in school? Latin in secondary school, and my American and British Literature at Uni, as well as all my Law and Judiciary classes. Instructive, especially because I now understand the related news.

Dream job? I don’t even know anymore… I’m completely lost. ☹

Favorite scent? honey and lavender, and strawberry.

Do you believe in astrology? Absolutely not. "Not in any god, not in myths and legends." (Although it’s pretty cool to read about myths and legends! :D *mythology nerd*)

How many playlists do you have on spotify/apple music? 0 because I refuse to use spotify or apple music. :D

Sharpies or highlighters? Both are good!

Song that makes you cry? Songs don’t usually make me cry. However, OSTs do. I’m HIGHLY sensitive to Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron/The Last Samurai/LOTR OSTs.

Last song? Dela by Johnny Clegg (That’s right baby, GEORGE OF THE JUNGLE SONG! :D)

Last series? still ER! (I mean there are 15 seasons or so, and I’m watching season 5)

Last movie? I was in the middle of ‘While you were sleeping’ but couldn’t finish due to stellar internet connection. :(

Song that makes you happy? Ain’t Worried by OneRepublic, Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins, and the Rickrolling Song! xD

Do you write/draw/create? Don’t EVER ask me to draw. I’ve started to write, which I’m still surprised about, I guess you could say I create some Top Gun content as well? Like silly posts about my fav pilots! :D

Currently working on? My Cheerleading Top Gun Sideblog. I’m still in the building process but it’s been fun so far! I discovered or rediscovered REALLY amazing content!!! :O <3 Writing-related? Dr. Goose Bradshaw Series. YUP. THAT’S RIGHT. 😉

When did I create this blog? Dunno…2013/14?

What I post? I reblog A LOT. And I LOVE adding to posts when inspiration strikes! xD Right now? I’ve posted several Top Gun  Recs Lists. (Top Gun and Top Gun Maverick have bewitched me body and soul!)

Other blogs? The Sideblog I was previously talking about can be found at @timetobuzzthefandomtower.

Do I get asks? Very occasionally 😊 (Though I don’t check it very often, so very sorry to anyone who might have sent something, I promise I’ll get back to you!!! <3)

Followers? 246?! (Holy Shit. When did that happen??????? I’ve never checked before! :O)

Average hours of sleep? 8 hours is the best for me, but I sleep less than that I’m sure.

Instruments? Fuck that. I hated the music class during HS. :O 

What I'm wearing rn? Short & T-Shirt. All comfy clothes.

Dream trip? New Zealand. Seems very far away, almost unachievable! xD And, the Vikings Lands. I. WANT. TO. GO. THERE. <3

Favourite song at the moment? Fake ID from Footloose :D

*

NO PRESSURE TAGS!!!

@auprintempss, @bradleybonkbradshaw, @captainclaudeandthehiddenlogs, @hardballoonlove, @missathlete31, @nanny-sc, @scottishaccentsareawesome, @skiddit, @the-ace-with-spades.

I know there are A LOT of questions, feel the heck free to choose which ones you want to answer, IF you want to of course! Have the sweetest of days! <3

[spaceship2earth]

I really hope this works.

Hello and welcome to the Official Spaceship 2 Earth blog! This blog is owned and run by the crew that was sent to explore the far ends of the galaxy around a year ago. In a way you can say we’re still doing that. Against our will. With no fuel.

My name is Apollo, and I’m the one who set up and mainly checks over this blog. The other two members are named Orion and Bell, our Captain and Junior Explorer respectively. I’ll let them write their own introductions.

---

Hello!! I am Orion, Captain of many crews, Trusted member of Many Others!! Unfortunately I shall not be a Member of other crews any longer. But!! I love my current crew dearly! (okay, i know i promised Captain i wouldn't edit any of his intro, but c'mon dude. seriously??) As stated by our amazing Junior technician (gee thanks), we are stranded far in the galaxy, too far for any help as most are concerned. But no matter! We are plenty capable of surviving! And appreciate any questions you have for us! Goodbye!!

---

Hi hi hi My name is bell im 12 years old and Im the captains second in command! i dont know as much as the captain or pauly but im always learning!! im very useful and i love exploring alot and i hope to be a professional explorer someday!! Things i like reading the mail we have and i also like eating though that makes me sick Things i dont like coldness apollo being negative and the captain he smells bad sometimes thank you for reading!!! 

(Hey, Apollo again, I apologize for her horrific grammar. She insisted on writing that herself instead of letting me do it for her, Hope her writing doesn’t give too much of a headache.)

---

I guess that's it for all of the introductions, No one's probably gonna see this But that wouldn't be surprising, If by some miracle this works send us your questions or whatever, It'd be a good time waster for me, and I suppose them too.

WRITTEN: APOLLO. -- SIGNING OFF.....

---

(OOC blog info and rules below cut.)

Hello everyone! Welcome to our New original Roleplay sci-fi blog, Our world center's around a Group of 3 explorers Lost in the vast endless reaches of space, With no fuel and no way to get home. (Heavy content warnings for dark subject matter)

As the Roleplay title suggests we will be posting and answering your Asks in character whatever they may be, go nuts!

This is an explicitly Proship friendly space so any arguing or unprompted hate will be ignored/deleted.

This blog is run by two people and Mods currently--Those being Mod Monnie [they/it] and AnonStarby. (AnonStarby will run the blog fully whenever Monnie is not available)

(Also to clarify Monnie Ships Apollo and bell together so BLAME THEM NOT ME /J) (seriously though if that triggers or upsets you block this blog)

Important tags to know--

Approved mail -- For asks

Transmissions -- for original posts

OOC -- For posts not in universe made by our mods

OOC asks -- self explanatory

Thanks for reading everyone!

Spaceship to earth created by Monnie.

[hiyyihrts]

Just as many of us are thrilled to see rep in s3, many, many women were thrilled at the idea of representation for themselves in s2. It isn’t unreasonable for them to notice the discrepancy in how one actress was treated in comparison to the s1 and s3 white female leads, and it takes nothing away from your love of Nicola / Polin to allow them to express their feelings about that without trying to gaslight them.

It wasn’t the pandemic that made Netflix not do a couple’s poster, or one for Simone alone, or deny requests for joint Johnny and Simone interviews. It wasn’t the pandemic that had Netflix do that and give the EW article to other characters, rather than Simone, Simone and Johnny, or heck, Simone, Johnny, and Charithra. No, y’all essentially got a Polin shoot for s2. Which, yay for you, but think how you’d feel if this season it was all Benedict or Francesca promo instead of Penelope. Wouldn’t you think Netflix was wrong? That it was fatphobic? I would. I therefore think what they did for s2 reeks of racism.

It wasn’t the pandemic that had the writers compare the Sharma sisters to horses, literally, horses in a horse race in s2, and pit them against each other for a white man.

I could go on, people post receipts of this all the time, and you don’t need to take it as personally as many have, but don’t gaslight fans who saw it. Don’t encourage white fans to dismiss the people who are deeply hurt by it. No one is saying not to celebrate what y’all are getting, but there is a discrepancy and pointing it out and demanding better is a good thing that in no way detracts from the fact that Nicola / Polin / s3 is getting everything and more than y’all could ever ask. It’s gross to tell woc to shut the fuck up and be grateful when they got so much less than what the selling point of the show (diversity) promised.

I normally don’t get involved in this kind of stuff but your post was in the Kanthony tag, so I felt it merited a response, knowing how much it would hurt people. People who have already been deeply hurt by Bridgerton and the fandom. This isn’t some kind of shipping war, it’s so much more important, and I’m dismayed at how callous the fandom is being about all this.

I haven’t and will never say that people can’t be upset by the blatant differences in how the seasons have been promoted. Nor have I said anyone shouldn’t talk about it or to be quiet about it. I see now that it was wrong to say the pandemic influenced what went on, bc people have sent me things since indicating that there very much is a lot of racial differences and unfair treatment for both of the leads the last season. It’s true Simone and Johnny both were paid dust, and to have the sister’s stories altered and changed is not something I agree with. I’m not trying to encourage anyone to do anything. The only thing I don’t agree with and I’ve said before is making it seem like any of these actors chose things that production did. I wish Simone and Johnny were featured more in this season and got more than what they did in the last! It’s Netflix and Shonda that are the ones pushing these things and deciding what does or doesn’t happen. Blaming the actors for it doesn’t do anything because they don’t have a say in what is or isn’t done, that’s all Netflix and Shonda. I don’t understand throwing vitriol over couples and actors who don’t decide things. I don’t agree with anyone doing that. And I’ll make it clear now that I don’t agree with Netflix or Shonda or condone anything they’ve done that has hindered Johnny and Simone in any way, shape, or form, or has caused fans to come after them for starring in a show and playing characters that people connect with and love dearly. I wish there would’ve been better representation than what we were given, and I hope the future seasons have even better representation and they take the criticism over racist descriptions and lack of promotion to their heads and it actually clicks that what they did wasn’t fair or right.