#wooden gravel board

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[kinascum]

TAG! - M. STURNIOLO

SYNOPSIS: What happens when your brother's best friend pushes your boundaries in a thrilling encounter?

CONTENTS: nls!reader, explicit sexual content, strong language, power dynamics, degradation, chasing? primal? idk, no actual piv, oral (male), semi-public, humiliation.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

pt2 (chris)

You sit around the kitchen table of the cozy cabin, the glow of the moonlight spilling in through the windows, casting shadows across the well-worn Monopoly board. The laughter and banter of the evening's game slowly die down as the last few hotel properties are snatched up, and the bank is declared bankrupt. Your brother Nate, and his best friends, grin at each other, the competitive spirit still lingering in the air. It's late, and the yawns start to take over, signaling the end of the night.

The cabin's wooden floorboards creak as everyone heads to their designated sleeping areas. The fireplace crackles, casting a warm, flickering light across the room. You settle into your bed, but the excitement of the day keeps sleep at bay. The rustling of blankets and muffled snores from your brother's room reminds you that you're not the only one who remains restless.

The whispers of the night beckon you and you find yourself tiptoeing to the bedroom door. You peek into the hallway, noticing a sliver of light seeping out from under Matt's door. Curiosity piqued, you ease the door open to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, staring at the floor. "Can't sleep either?" he asks, looking up and catching your gaze.

"Yeah, it's like my brain won't shut up," you admit, stepping into the room. "Wanna go outside for some fresh air?"

Matt nods, a glint in his eye. "How about we play a game to pass the time?"

Intrigued, you follow him out into the cool night, the crunch of gravel underfoot. The moon casts a silver path down to the lake, where the water laps gently against the shore. The air is alive with the scent of pine and the distant sound of an owl's hoot.

"Okay, I'll chase you," he says with a smirk, "and if I catch you, I win."

You laugh, thinking it's just a way to burn off some energy. "What do I get if I win?"

"We'll see," he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ready or not, here I come!"

And with that, he's off, his sneakers pounding the ground as he sprints towards you. You squeal, the thrill of the chase igniting your senses. As you dart away from him, the night air feels alive with electricity, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the kind of thrill you live for, the kind that makes you feel alive.

The game starts innocently enough, the two of you weg through the trees, laughing and panting. But as the minutes tick by, the adrenaline turns into something else. Something you've felt simmering between you for a while now, something you've been too scared to acknowledge. The wind carries the scent of him, a tantalizing mix of aftershave and pure masculine energy. Your skin tingles with anticipation, and you start to feel the heat building deep within you.

Matt's breath is hot on your neck as he catches up, his strong hands grabbing you around the waist. You gasp, feeling his solid body pressed against yours, the game turning into something much more primal. You can feel the heat of his body overcome yours, and it sends a shockwave through your core. This isn't just a game anymore; it's a dance of desire that you're both eager to explore.

He whispers in your ear, his voice thick with lust, "I win."

With a firm grip, he spins you around and pushes you to your knees. You look up at him, a mix of fear and excitement swirling in your eyes. He's serious. The gravity of the moment hits you like a ton of bricks, but you don't resist. You want this. You've wanted this for a long time.

He unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking in the stillness of the night, and unzips his pants, pulling out his hard cock. "You know how this goes," he murmurs, stroking himself, watching you with a hungry gaze. "You're gonna let me use that pretty little throat?"

Your heart races as you lean in, your mouth watering despite the fear. You wrap your lips around him, and he groans, his hand tangling in your hair. He's not gentle, pushing deeper into your mouth, his grip tightening with every moan. The taste of him fills your senses, a mix of salt and earth, and you can't help but feel a twinge of excitement. This isn't how you thought this night would go, but the way he's looking at you, the way he's holding you, it's like he's claiming you, and it turns you on more than you ever thought possible.

You try to keep up, but he's too much for you. You gag, and he laughs, a dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Look at you," he says, "such a good little slut, take it." Spit trails down your chin, and your eyes water, but you don't stop. You can't. The thrill of it all is too intense.

"I bet Nate never knew what a whore you are," he murmurs, his voice low aging. "Letting me fuck your mouth out here like some cheap hooker." His words are like a slap in the face, but they only serve to make you wetter. Your eyes narrow as your brows chisel in, but you're his, and you're letting him do this to you. It's a power play, and you're both acutely aware of it.

"Oh, you're mad?" He laughs. The sound of branches underfoot in the distance makes your heart leap. "Better hurry up," he says, his eyes glinting with excitement, "or Chris might find you like this and want a taste" The thought sends a jolt of fear and arousal through you. "Oh, but you'd love that, being used by both your brother's best friends?" Your mind races. What would Nate think if he found you like this? What would Nick do? The possibility of getting caught only adds to the thrill.

Matt's hand moves to your chin, holding it in a firm grip as he fucks your mouth harder, faster. "Take it, baby," he growls, his hips bucking against your face. "You like it, huh?" You nod, unable to speak with his cock lodged in your throat, you mumble around his shaft. You do love it. The degradation, the power he has over you in this moment, it's intoxicating.

Finally, with a grunt, he pulls out, coming all over your face and chest. You collapse back onto the ground, gasping for air, your heart racing and your eyes like storms behind shed tears. He wipes his dick off your shirt, smiling down at you like he's just conquered the world. "You've always been mine, don’t get mad now," he says, his voice full of satisfaction. He leans down, his hand on your jaw suddenly pulls away and the sing on your face is accompanied by the hot spit thrown at you. "Mine to use whenever I want."

The night air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, and you can't help but feel a little bit used. But you don't care. You're his, and that's all that matters. The tension between you is palpable, the line between friendship and something darker is now irrevocably blurred. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, tasting him on your lips, and wonder if this is the start of something new.

As you both catch your breath, the sound of footsteps grows louder. Panic flares in your chest. "we have to get back." You stumble to your feet, your legs wobbly from the intense experience. Matt chuckles, tucking himself back into his pants.

Together, you sneak back towards the cabin, your heart pounding in your ears. As you enter the cabin, you see the light from Nate's room is now off. Did he hear you? Did he know what was happening outside?

You slip into your bed, your body still humming with desire, your mind racing with thoughts of what's to come. The lines between friendship and lust have been crossed, and there's no going back.

tags! @sturnstvs @gxldenlush @immattsslut @slut4chriss @stasiesturn @jetaimevous @solarsturniolo @watercolorskyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @meowira @secretagentspy @shadowthesim @baileysturns

love, paz<3

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Nine)

CW: Female masturbation, brief description of male masturbation, reader is kinda like Bella from twilight when he disappears, hot and steamy shower hookups, humping with no clothes on, THEYRE ABT TO FUCK!!!

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

NOTE: I just wanted to say a big thank you to everyone who has been PM or leaving little messages in my requests. Thank you for your ongoing support during my time away from the app. On a short note, if you are ever struggling with mental health or issues in general, please feel free to message me. I appreciate the love you guys give me, it really does make writing so much easier from the continuous support

It was void — a soft hint of nothing penetrating the air like poison. It had been nearly two weeks, a perpetual torture of hearing nothing, seeing nothing. You weren’t sure what was worse; him leaving with only a scribbled note or the idea that he wouldn’t come back.

Before him, it never mattered. His presence was occasionally, only lulling you to sleep in the simmer of a summer night as his feet padded gently across wooden floors, floors you had now stepped on. Your skin felt engraved into his apartment, every board digging into the thickened skin of your feet like a tattoo.

You felt grumpy constantly, soppy fingers nestled into your cunt to ease the pungent ache of arousal that leaked from your drowsy heat. The crook of your neck was constantly hot, overworked with sweat as you cried out into the air, head thrown back in an attempt to build the never-coming release.

Your hips would rock in a fastening motion against the vibrating toy; nipples perked up from the arrogant breeze that kissed your skin, the window open as delicate flutters of your throat filled the air.

You were desperate and incredibly overworked, always working past your designated hours to distract yourself. When you weren’t in the office, you were out, crammed into a pushy bar as you chugged down the searing taste of golden liquor, your belly hot with turmoil as you nudged away anyone who got too close, anyone who wasn’t him.

You were perplexed by the growing emotions that consumed you, confused as to why you felt as strongly as you did so quickly. Maybe it was the way he took care of you, licking your slick into the pool of his mouth until you gushed around his tongue. Maybe it was the way he fucked you, nudging every crevice of your cunt with precise expertise, that had you crying. Or maybe it was the way he watched you, eyes lapping in every delicate movement you made, observing you like a trained hawk.

Days went by slower, draining on like they were anxious to be replaced by the moon, the constant need for brightness scorching your skin as you huffed and puffed. The atmosphere slowly began to transition, the leaves turning a crisp malt before they would eventually crumble under the wind.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay longer, I could get a head start on-“

“Go home, Y/N, I see you more than I see my own husband these days, enjoy your weekend.”

You grumbled, feet skidding against the carpark floor as you slammed your door shut, anxious eyes staring into the backseat before flicking the lock. There was a dull ache in your lumbar spine, coiling into the middle of your back as you jammed the gears into drive.

Like clockwork, you sighed as you drove past the roads you had driven on with Simon, remembering how warm your mouth was, stuffed full of aching cock that later bruised your pillowy walls. Your finger flickered to your car play, adjusting the sound before you began to mumble lyrics into the air.

The sound of gravel skidded against worn tyres as you pulled into your cul-de-sac, brows furrowed at the plain sight of your neighbour’s side. You felt like a clingy ex, desperate for any lick you could receive from the man.

Simon felt just as tortured; his body was scolded with fresh wounds and bruises, blown welts of blue and yellow gouged into his skin in an eerie display of his work. When his finger wasn’t pulling a trigger, ripping the hairs from his nose as gunpowder and gnarly metallic drenched his olfactory organs, his wrist ached with a twisting motion, tugging at the fat of his cock in the barely luke-warm showers as his mouth filled with water.

It was unusual for the man to feel this needy, his sex drive was normally relatively low, especially whilst he was away on deployment. The Lieutenant wasn’t dumb; he would never allow himself to grow distracted on the job, but he never thought he would have a greater reason to go home.

“Ay’ Lieutenant, ye’ excited to go home ‘n see that pretty lass of a neighbour?”

Simon’s face turned sour as he looked at Soap, “Watch ye’ mouth, Johnny.”

Johnny snarled into a cheeky grin, tipping back the shot that melted into the glass as Price clapped the two men on the back.

“We did well, gentlemen. Our flight leaves at 0600. Take some time off during our break, make the most of it, a’right?”

“Is there ever a break in the Task Force?” Gaz quipped, boyish smile on his face as more alcohol found its way into their systems, throats burning at the foul aftertaste. The banter from the men didn’t simmer down for hours, endless rounds of drinks lined across the bar table before they stumbled back to their quarters in the dead of the night, duffle bags tucked neatly into the corners of their beds.

The smell of espresso burned through your nose as you crowded into the line of the coffee shop the next morning. Saturday mornings in your town always seemed the busiest, dogs barking on leashes at ongoing birds as Mothers cooed at their newborns and businessmen honked at the elderly, steaming a trail of gas down the intersection.

The flat white you ordered was duller than usual as the half-full cup made its way into a crammed bin. Your keys felt heavy in your hands as you flickered with the lock on your front door, barging it open with a grunt before you locked up. Dusk began to fall once more, the sound of cicadas chirped into the hues of the sunset before darkness consumed outside the walls of your house.

Your mouth was stuffed full of cheap Chinese takeaway as you binged another episode of Criminal Minds, tongue-tingling with the residue of roasted duck before you yawned, huffing into the bathroom as you stripped yourself bare.

Simon was quick to thank the taxi, bag tucked tightly in his calloused palm as he made his way up the porch steps. He stared at his slight reflection in his window, tugging his front door open as he kicked off his boots. A smile etched onto his face as he heard the dampened sound of clutter on the other side, undoing his belt as he wove his door shut once more, eager fists banging upon yours.

You grunted into the air at the sudden interruption, leg soaked with water as you dipped it in to test the heat. Your dressing gown quickly scolded you as you wrapped the garment around the bareness of your skin, nipples strained against the thin fabric as you muttered to yourself.

The knock repeated as you grumbled out, “I’m coming!”

Wood swung open as your eyes widened, taking in the dishevelled, yet incredibly striking appearance of your beloved neighbour.

“I missed hearing you say that.”

His voice was rough, the lack of sleep and obvious torment he had succumbed to during his time away evident as you gawked at him.

“Simon? Hi – You’re home.”

“Landed about an hour ago.”

Your brows furrowed as you ushered him in, the breeze drifting under your attire as you shivered slightly.

“How was –“ you paused, “How was your deployment?”

“Gruelling, but it’s work.”

You nodded, taking in the sight of him again as you swallowed thickly.

“Do you want something to drink?”

Simon shook his head, eyes flickering up and down your frame, taking in the leftover moisture that drenched your calf and the way the fabric stuck a little too well to you.

“I could go for a shower,” he stated.

Your back was burning hot, cool tiles barely succumbing to the growing desire that fuelled through you as the man pushed you against the drenched wall, your core whining for its needed release as your legs locked around his hips, pussy clenching around nothing as the girth of his shaft ground against your sloppy mound.

Scorched kisses buried into your neck, impaling into your flesh as you offered him more skin to toy with, heavy gasps pounding through your lungs as you whined, a tight grip coiled around the back of his neck.

“Si-“ you squeaked as a heavy grip found your chest, tugging at achy nipples with a swelling grip.

“Missed your voice,” the man practically growled before your lips interlocked, tongues exploring the depths of your mouths in an attempt to make up for lost time. You could taste the alcohol and smoke on his, and he could taste the caffeine on yours.

“I didn’t know when you would come back,” you panted in between the movement of your lips.

“Don’t think I could’a spent another day without your cunt.”

His words were foul, yet your pussy practically squelched, throbbing with neglect as you mewled against him, tugging his bottom lip in between your teeth as he grunted, rubbing his tip against your wanton entrance.

“Please fuck me, Si.”

“If you insist,” he grinned, cowered into your neck with an arrogant smirk before the inviting heat of your fluttering cunt welcomed him.

[goldfades]

thanksgiving | JOE BURROW [009]

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.6k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | your first thanksgiving with hayes!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | domestic!joe + family. playful arguing, joe being the husband-est hubby ever, one cup of wine, nothing else! just a sweet, thanksgiving fic for the series!

The drive to the Burrow family home was picturesque in that cozy, Midwestern kind of way—all open fields, wooden fences, and the occasional rusty mailbox at the end of a long gravel drive. The trees lining the road were just barely clinging to the last of their autumnal colors, leaves blowing in the cool November breeze and scattering across the asphalt like a final hurrah before winter set in.

You weren’t sure why you were nervous. It wasn’t like this was your first Thanksgiving with Joe’s family. Far from it. But something about this year felt different—maybe it was the fact that Hayes was here now, his first big family holiday, and you wanted everything to be perfect.

"You’re quiet," Joe remarked, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on the console between you.

You glanced over, snapping out of your thoughts. "Just thinking," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

He gave you a sideways look, the corners of his mouth quirking up. "About what? How Jamie’s gonna try to give me shit the second we walk in the door?"

You laughed, because he was right. Jamie Burrow was the king of light-hearted roasts, and you knew Joe was gearing up for it. But you shrugged in response, keeping your act casual. "Maybe. Or about how your mom is gonna sneak Hayes away and spoil him with who knows how much pie before dinner."

"Definitely pie," Joe agreed with a chuckle. His smile made your chest warm, even though the nerves were still lingering.

Hayes was making little coos from his car seat in the back, and you turned to check on him. His chubby cheeks were flushed from the heater, and he was clutching his favorite stuffed bear in one hand while kicking his feet. It was hard to believe that this little human was yours—yours and Joe’s.

"He’s ready for all the attention," you said, more to yourself than to Joe, but he heard you.

"Good. They’ve been talking about seeing him for weeks," he replied. "I think my mom’s got a whole picture board made up just from the five photos I sent her."

"Robin would," you said with a smile, your shoulders relaxing a little. The Burrow family had a way of doing that—making you feel like you belonged, like you were just as much a part of them as Joe was. It was one of the many things you loved about them.

As the car slowed down to turn into the long driveway, you sat up a little straighter, taking in the sight of the house. It looked exactly the same as it always did—a warm, welcoming mix of red brick and wood, with a wide front porch that was already decorated with pumpkins and a “Gather” sign leaning next to the door.

"Here we go," Joe said, putting the car in park and flashing you a reassuring smile.

You took a deep breath, your hands fidgeting with the straps of your bag. "Here we go," you repeated, and even though you still felt a little nervous, you couldn’t help but smile as you opened the door.

Joe was already climbing out of the driver’s seat, opening the back door to unbuckle Hayes. You stood there for a moment, watching the way his broad frame seemed to soften as he scooped up your son, cradling him with a gentleness that never failed to make your heart skip.

"Alright, buddy," Joe murmured to Hayes, who blinked sleepily at him. "Time to meet the chaos."

You grabbed the diaper bag from the backseat and slung it over your shoulder, walking up to meet them as Joe waited for you. The two of you exchanged a quick look, a little smile passing between you like an unspoken promise: whatever the day held, you’d tackle it together.

The crunch of gravel under your boots was loud in the stillness of the late November morning. Joe walked a step ahead of you, Hayes nestled snugly against his chest in his thick little jacket, looking adorably rumpled from the car ride. The baby let out a soft coo, still half-asleep, and Joe’s hand instinctively rubbed gentle circles on his back, soothing him like it was second nature.

The air was cold but not biting, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and dried leaves. A light breeze tugged at your scarf, and you pulled it tighter around your neck as you glanced up at the Burrows’ house. There were already signs of life inside—the flicker of movement behind the curtains, the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen. A plume of smoke curled lazily from the chimney, promising warmth and something delicious cooking inside.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached the steps. Robin had clearly been busy, her festive touch everywhere. The pumpkins on the porch were arranged in perfect, symmetrical groups, with a few gourds tossed in for good measure. The handmade wreath on the door was adorned with tiny pinecones, sprigs of holly, and a big orange bow that somehow managed to look charming instead of tacky. A set of hay bales sat off to the side, topped with more pumpkins and a scarecrow that was a little worse for wear after years of use.

"You think they went all out just for Hayes?" you asked, half-teasing as you nudged Joe with your shoulder.

Joe glanced back at you, his lips quirking up into a smirk. "Probably. He’s already their favorite."

"Not hard to believe," you said, tilting your head toward Hayes, who was now fully awake and blinking up at Joe with wide, curious eyes.

Joe stopped at the front door, shifting Hayes so he was perched comfortably on one arm while he knocked lightly with the other. The sound barely had time to echo before the door flew open, and Robin’s face appeared, flushed and glowing with excitement.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she immediately zeroed in on Hayes. "Oh, give him to me. Come here, my sweet boy!"

Joe chuckled, handing Hayes over with a kind of resigned fondness. "Barely even a ‘hello’ for me, huh?"

Robin waved him off, already cooing at Hayes, who rewarded her with a gummy smile. "You I can see anytime. This little one, though—look at him! He’s gotten so big!"

You laughed as Robin disappeared further into the house, bouncing Hayes gently and muttering about how he looked just like his daddy. Joe sighed but smiled, holding the door open for you as you stepped inside.

The warmth of the house hit you immediately, along with the unmistakable smell of Thanksgiving—roasting turkey, spiced apple cider, and the faintly sweet aroma of whatever pie Robin had undoubtedly baked that morning. The living room was cozy and inviting, with a fire crackling in the stone fireplace and a few throw blankets draped over the couch.

"Mom, don’t hog him," came a voice from the kitchen, and a second later, Jamie appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His face split into a grin when he saw you. "Hey! There’s my favorite sister-in-law."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as Jamie pulled you into a quick, one-armed hug.

"Favorite by default," you teased.

"Still counts," Jamie shot back before turning his attention to Joe. "What took you so long? You get lost?"

Joe shrugged, unbothered as he dropped the diaper bag by the couch. "Traffic."

Jamie snorted. "Sure. Anyway, Dan’s in the kitchen pretending he knows how to cook. You should go make sure he doesn’t burn the gravy again."

Joe raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, patting your back lightly before heading toward the kitchen. That left you standing in the living room with Jamie, who was now peering over Robin’s shoulder at Hayes.

"Man," Jamie said, shaking his head in mock awe, "he really does look like Joe. Poor kid."

"Watch it," you said, swatting his arm lightly, though you were smiling.

Robin just rolled her eyes. "You boys always have something to say. Ignore them, sweetheart," she added, planting a kiss on Hayes’s cheek. "You’re perfect, aren’t you?"

Hayes gurgled happily in response, and you felt a swell of gratitude as you watched the scene unfold. It was moments like this that made all the chaos and exhaustion of parenting worthwhile.

"Alright," Jamie said, clapping his hands together. "Who’s ready to eat too much and regret it later?"

You laughed, shaking your head as Robin led the way toward the kitchen, still doting on Hayes. You lingered for a moment, soaking in the warmth and the laughter, feeling, for the first time in a while, like you could actually relax.

The warmth of the house felt almost like a physical thing, wrapping around you in layers of comfort and familiarity. You sat curled up on the armchair in the corner of the living room, legs tucked beneath you, holding a glass of wine that was just the right balance of fruity and rich. The first sip had melted the tension in your shoulders, and now, halfway through the glass, you felt completely at ease.

Across the room, Joe was sprawled on the couch, one arm thrown over the back as he laughed at something Jamie said. Dan was perched on the other side, gesturing animatedly as he told some elaborate story about a coworker, complete with ridiculous voices and exaggerated facial expressions. Joe’s laugh came easily, a sound that always made you smile, deep and genuine, the kind of laugh he didn’t always let out when the weight of everything was on his shoulders. But here, with his brothers, he was relaxed, his guard down in a way that made you love him even more.

Robin bustled in and out of the room, keeping herself busy but always finding a way to linger near Hayes. The baby was content in Joe’s dad’s lap, looking up at his grandfather with wide, curious eyes as they played a gentle game of pat-a-cake. Hayes giggled at the clumsy movements of his grandfather’s hands, a soft, tinkling sound that had the whole room glancing over every few moments to smile. Robin kept stopping to coo at him, her face lighting up every time Hayes smiled back at her.

"You’re spoiling him already," you teased, setting your glass down on the side table.

Robin glanced over, not looking the least bit guilty. "That’s what grandmas are for, sweetheart. Besides, look at him! He’s an angel."

"Yeah, until bedtime," Joe muttered, earning a laugh from Dan.

"Don’t listen to your daddy," Robin said to Hayes in a sing-song voice, tickling his chubby cheek. "You’re perfect."

"Perfectly spoiled," Jamie chimed in from the couch.

"You’re one to talk," Robin shot back, narrowing her eyes at him. "I remember a certain little boy who used to demand two desserts at Thanksgiving."

"Still do," Jamie said with a grin, leaning back against the couch.

You laughed softly, watching the easy banter unfold around you. It was such a stark contrast to the usual chaos of your day-to-day life. The house felt alive but not overwhelming, full but not stifling. There was a rhythm to it, a comfort in the way everyone seemed to fall into their roles so seamlessly.

Joe caught your eye from across the room, his lips quirking into a small smile that made your heart flutter. He tilted his head slightly, silently asking if you were okay, and you gave him a reassuring nod.

"Hey," Dan said suddenly, sitting up straighter and looking between you and Joe. "You two never answered—who was Hayes’s first word gonna be for? Mom or Dad?"

You raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Isn’t it a little early for that? He’s barely babbling."

"It’s never too early to start betting," Dan said, leaning forward like he was ready to instigate. "I’m putting my money on Mom."

"Obviously," Jamie cut in. "Look at how much time Joe spends at practice. This one’s got all the one-on-one time with him." He gestured toward you with a smirk.

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," Joe said, though he didn’t sound the least bit offended.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and unrestrained. "I think we’re all underestimating Robin here," you said, nodding toward her. "If anyone’s going to win, it’s going to be Grandma."

Robin looked up, clearly pleased. "Now, that’s what I like to hear," she said, lifting Hayes into her arms. "Tell them, sweetheart. Your first word is going to be ‘Grandma,’ isn’t it?"

Hayes let out a happy squeal, and the room erupted into laughter.

"See?" Dan said, pointing. "The kid’s already choosing sides."

It was moments like these that felt so profoundly domestic, so deeply rooted in love and connection, that you couldn’t help but feel a pang of gratitude. This was what life was supposed to feel like, you thought. The laughter, the teasing, the small moments that weren’t flashy or grand but were filled with warmth and belonging.

As the conversation shifted to old family stories—Jamie reliving his disastrous high school football days, Dan reminding Joe of his most embarrassing childhood moment—you leaned back in your chair, letting the sound of their voices wash over you.

Joe’s laugh, Hayes’s soft coos, the crackling of the fire—it all blended together into something that felt sacred. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself fully relax, the wine warming you from the inside out as you soaked in the feeling of being surrounded by love.

It wasn’t long before the front door opened again, ushering in the kind of joyful chaos that only a late arrival of more family could bring. Dan’s wife, Emily, walked in first, balancing a casserole dish in one hand and wrangling their two kids with the other. Their little girl, Claire, darted into the house immediately, a whirlwind of energy as she flung herself into Robin’s arms, shouting, “Grandma!” Her younger brother, Ethan, clung shyly to Emily’s leg, his face half-buried in her coat, though his eyes sparkled with curiosity.

The house shifted in an instant, going from comfortably bustling to vibrantly alive. Jamie, who had been halfway through a story about Joe getting tackled during a backyard football game as a kid, was cut off mid-sentence by Claire’s shriek of delight when she spotted Hayes.

“Is that the baby?!” Claire exclaimed, rushing over to you so quickly you barely had time to laugh.

“Yes, this is Hayes,” you said, scooping him into your arms just as she reached you. “Want to say hi?”

Her eyes went wide as she nodded, standing on tiptoe to get a better look. “He’s so tiny!” she whispered, her voice full of awe. “Can I hold him?”

“Maybe in a little bit,” Emily said, swooping in to kiss Claire’s forehead before gently redirecting her. “Let’s give Auntie a little space first, okay?”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Emily said to you warmly, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “You look amazing. I don’t know how you do it with a newborn.”

“Oh, I don’t,” you said with a laugh, glancing at Joe, who was now helping Ethan out of his coat. “It’s definitely a team effort.”

Joe glanced up at you, catching your eye with a soft smile, before looking down at Ethan and saying, “All right, buddy, what do you say we find a snack?”

Ethan nodded eagerly, finally warming up to the environment as Joe led him toward the kitchen, leaving you with a heart-melting view of your husband holding a tiny hand in his much larger one.

Robin, meanwhile, had taken Claire under her wing, walking her over to show her some toys she’d dug out of storage for the grandkids. Jamie and Dan were now animatedly talking over each other in the kitchen, their voices growing louder as they debated which team was better this season.

The dining table was already set for dinner, though the plates were still empty, and the smell of roasted turkey and fresh-baked rolls wafted through the air. The kids’ laughter mingled with the low hum of conversation, creating a symphony of family life that felt utterly perfect.

You leaned back against the armrest of the couch, Hayes nestled against your chest, his tiny fist curled into your sweater. The warmth of the moment settled over you like a blanket. For years, Thanksgiving had always been a holiday you loved, but this year, it felt entirely different.

This year, it wasn’t just about stepping into Joe’s family dynamic—it was about being part of it. Fully, completely.

Hayes stirred in your arms, letting out a tiny yawn, and you pressed a kiss to his soft cheek. The sounds of the house swirled around you: Jamie shouting at Dan about a botched play from years ago, Robin gently scolding Claire for nearly toppling a lamp, Joe’s deep laugh ringing out from the kitchen as he handed Ethan a cookie before dinner.

It was chaotic, yes, but it was also yours.

For the first time, you realized just how much your life had changed—and how much fuller it had become. You weren’t just visiting anymore. You were here, firmly planted in this family, and now you had your own little addition in Hayes to make it even more complete.

You took a deep breath, soaking in the moment, and when Joe reappeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a soft look on his face, you couldn’t help but smile.

“You good?” he asked quietly, nodding toward you and Hayes.

“Better than good,” you replied, your voice soft but full of meaning.

And as Joe crossed the room to press a kiss to the top of your head, the sounds of family and love filling the space around you, you couldn’t imagine life feeling any better than this.

As the remnants of Thanksgiving dinner were finally cleared away, the house slowly shifted into that post-meal lull, the kind that only happens after too much food and a full day of laughter. The dishes were stacked, the leftovers tucked neatly into the fridge, and the smell of pumpkin pie and cranberry lingered faintly in the air.

True to form, Joe and Jamie were in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and good-naturedly bickering over who was doing more work as they washed and dried dishes.

"You're just rinsing! That doesn't count as actual cleaning," Jamie quipped, flicking a soapy sponge at Joe, who dodged it easily, his laugh echoing through the house.

"I'm faster, though," Joe shot back, grinning. "If you were in charge, we'd still be on the first plate."

From your spot on the couch, you watched the exchange with a small smile, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in your chest. It was always like this—Robin ran the kitchen like clockwork, and the boys cleaned up after, bickering and laughing the whole way through. It was a system that worked, one steeped in years of tradition and familiarity, and now you were part of it.

Hayes had been fed and changed, and after a day full of passing from one adoring family member to another, he was finally fast asleep, his little cheek resting against Joe’s shoulder as he cradled him gently. Joe had scooped him up the moment he was done cleaning, murmuring something about "making sure he settles down" when in reality, you knew he just wanted to hold him a little longer.

The game was on in the background—a close one, judging by the animated way Dan and Jamie were arguing from their spots on the other side of the living room. Robin sat in her favorite chair, knitting something that looked suspiciously like a baby blanket while quietly enjoying the chaos. Claire was nestled beside her, yawning but refusing to go to bed just yet, her eyes glued to the game.

Joe finally sank down beside you, careful not to jostle Hayes, who let out a tiny sigh before burrowing further into his dad’s chest.

“You okay?” he asked softly, leaning close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.

You nodded, your heart swelling as you took in the scene around you. “Yeah. This is... really nice.”

Joe smiled, his gaze flickering to the screen where the game was heating up. “It’s the perfect ending. Well, almost.”

“Almost?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Almost. If Jamie would stop yelling about bad play calls, it’d be perfect,” he joked, his grin widening as Jamie shot him a glare from across the room.

The sounds of the game blended with the laughter, the clink of glasses, and the occasional hum of Robin’s knitting needles. It was perfectly chaotic, just as it had been all day, but now there was a softness to it, a sense of winding down and simply being.

Joe’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer as Hayes snuggled deeper into him. “I think this is my favorite Thanksgiving yet,” he murmured, his voice low and full of contentment.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting the warmth of his words and the moment wash over you. There was nothing extraordinary about it—no grand gestures, no flashy celebrations—just family, love, and a feeling of belonging so deep it made your chest ache in the best way.

And as the night wore on, the game eventually fading to background noise, you thought about how lucky you were to call this your life, your family. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours, and it was more than enough.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[justnatoka]

Haunted

Poly! The Lost Boys x GN! Reader

A/n: This started as a drabble. Oh well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Word count: 1.7k

Warning: mention of injury

Prompt: "I'm pretty sure it was a ghost." / "I'm pretty sure it's not." / "Oh really?" / "Ghosts don't bleed."

Summary: After days of running you finally find shelter, both literally and figuratively.

Your panting filled the silence of the empty room, echoing back from the walls of the run down house you were hiding in. It was clear it has been standing abandoned for many years, decay and nature slowly sneaking in through the cracks and taking over. Lucky for you, one of the windows in the back was shattered, probably adventurous teens exploring the place since the door has been boarded up. It was a good enough hiding place for now.

A wave of pain shot through your shoulder as you tried to find a more comfortable seating position against the wall of the kitchen, a nice reminder that you weren’t out of the woods yet. You had been running for days, your body growing more and more exhausted. It looked like you finally managed to lose the hunter chasing you, at least for now. Hopefully, you can spend the day here sleeping.

The next big problem was your shoulder. You had no idea what he shot you with, but it wasn’t healing, not like you usually do. You were more resilient than humans of course, but if you didn’t find some help and soon, you would bleed out.

As you were thinking through your options, trying not to lose yourself to the fear gripping your lungs like a vice at your hopeless predicament, you heard gravel crunch outside. You were instantly on alert, quieting down your breathing, fight or flight taking over once again. You got ready to run if need be. It was possible that it was just some critter scurrying away in the dark, you thought, but then the sound came again and it was clearly something bigger, walking on two feet. As they got closer, you could make out three, four different pair of footsteps. It was not your pursuer, but that didn’t mean they were friendly. In your current state, you didn’t want to risk getting into an altercation with four people, even if they were just ordinary humans. Finally, you could hear them talking too.

“You think it’s haunted?”

“What’s the matter, Paul? Are you chicken?”

“Shut up, Marko. I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Oh, really? Then why don’t you go in first?”

“I will! I’ll show you!”

You heard wood splintering, and it became clear that they were ripping off the wooden planks from the door.

“It looks like no one has been here for a while. I wonder why the humans avoid it so much.” It was a calmer voice that spoke up next, and your brain subconsciously picked up on his word choice.

‘Humans’? Is it possible…?

“I heard that there has been a murder. A man slaughtered his entire family. They probably think it’s cursed.” This one sounded amused, like he was laughing at the fear of others.

“You hear that, Paulie? It’s definitely haunted.”

“Man, shut up!”

They finished dismantling the barricade and the front door swung open with a loud creek. You didn’t take your eyes off the opening connecting the kitchen to the hallway, just a few doors down from the main entrance. As you were slowly and silently backing up to another door behind you, leading to the living room with the broken window, your only escape route, you bumped into a small dresser. To your horror, a glass tipped over and shattered on the floor. Your senses were probably dulled from exhaustion, otherwise you wouldn’t have made such a stupid mistake.

“What was that?”

“Maybe it was a ghost. Let’s go and say hi.”

The footsteps approached and you quickly turned the corner into the living room, just in time to hear them step into the kitchen. They were too close. Then you heard a high-pitched screech, and someone fell over laughing.

“What the hell, Marko? Not cool, man, not cool! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You should have seen your face! Ow! Stop punching me!”

“What’s going on, boys?” The other two arrived to the kitchen as well.

“That glass broke, and I think I saw something move through that door over there. I’m pretty sure it was a ghost.” The voice belonging to ‘Paul’ said.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not.” It was the calm one this time.

“Oh really? How do you know, Dwayne?”

“Ghosts don’t bleed.”

Silence. Shit. Some of your blood was probably smeared on the wall you were leaning against earlier. You eyed the window. If you could make it there and get outside, the way is clear to the tree line. You can hide in the woods. But if you make a run for it, they would definitely hear it. Oh well, it’s not like you had anything to lose. You glanced back one more time towards the door to the kitchen before quickly turning around to bolt. You didn’t even make it two steps before bumping into something solid and someone grabbed hold of your arms. You panicked, clawing and scratching and hitting any surface you could reach, struggling and hissing, but you couldn’t overpower them. Myriad thoughts were running through your terrified brain. How is this possible? Why can’t I get free? I’m injured and exhausted, but I should still be stronger than an ordinary human. What are they going to do to me? Is this where I die?

“Look what we have here, boys,” came an amused voice from above you, and as you looked up, you stared into the striking blue eyes of the stranger. You quickly took in the scruffy face and the bleached blond mullet before trying to get away once again. You could sense the others stepping into the room behind you. You were surrounded. In your last desperate attempt you vamped out, baring your sharp teeth and hissing in the stranger’s face. His expression changed instantly, the smirk melting off his face. But instead of jerking away from you in fear, his brows furrowed, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth.

“They are one of us,” you heard from behind. The man holding your arms was looking you over more carefully now, his scowl deepening at the sight of your frantic eyes and torn clothes, gaze immediately drawn to your wounded shoulder, still oozing blood through your shirt. His eyes finally met yours once again, now full of concern and, to your amazement, glowing yellow in the dark.

“What happened to you, sweetheart?” His voice was so gentle. You felt tears gathering in your eyes and slowly running down your cheeks as you collapsed in his arms, relief flooding your body. They were like you. They can help you. You’re finally safe. The word safe ran through your head over and over again. He wrapped you up in his arms, his hand running up and down your back in a soothing manner, letting you cry into his shoulder.

After your sobs quietened down, he led you over to the beaten up old couch, letting go of you in the process, but staying close. As you wiped the tears from your eyes, your vision becoming clearer, you saw three guys standing over you, all of them full of genuine concern. The one next to you spoke up again.

“I’m David, and this is my pack,” he motioned to the others. One of them, a blond with a friendly smile sat down on your other side.

“I’m Paul, this is Marko,” the one with the colorful jacket and curly hair waved, ”and the big, brooding fella is Dwayne.” He nodded at you in greeting. “What’s your name, dollface?” You muttered out your name, voice still thick from crying. Paul’s smile brightened, immediately making you at ease, your body finally starting to relax.

“What happened to you?” It was David who spoke up again, his voice somber and his face serious.

“Hunter,” you whispered out and they went rigid. You continued. “He’s been chasing me for days. I finally managed to lose him a few towns over, then I found this place. I thought I can hide here for a bit, get some sleep.” Your hand went to your shoulder, their eyes following the movement. “He shot me with something two days ago. I don’t know what it was, but I’m not healing.”

Paul drew in a sharp breath beside you, and you could see from the corner of your eyes as Marko started pacing around, his hands clenching and unclenching in anger. His steps echoed loudly in the silence following your admission.

“What do we do now?” Dwayne asked, his gaze full of determination.

David looked straight at you, his voice calm as he started speaking, but his eyes echoed the same sentiment you saw in all of them. They were not going to let anything happen to you.

“We’re taking you to Max, our sire. He will figure it out what you were shot with and how to deal with it.” He softened a bit as he added. “You’re safe. You’re one of us now.”

This brought fresh tears to your eyes and for the first time in many days, a smile tugged up the corner of your lips.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice full of emotion.

As you moved to stand up, your legs gave out. Your body has been running on pure adrenaline for a while, not being able to feed while being chased, and it looked like it finally has caught up to you. Before you could collapse to the floor, steady hands took hold of you and you were hoisted from the ground. Looking up, you were met with Dwayne’s warm brown eyes.

“You can rest now,” he said, sending you a small smile as he carried you out the front door, away from the house, away from the fear and desperation. Listening to the murmuring of the others talking, exhaustion finally took you over, resting your head against Dwayne’s solid chest, his steps lulling you to sleep. The future looked just a little bit brighter.

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

[moonstruckme]

if your not taking requests feel free to ignore me

could u do camp counselor james! where he and reader reunite next summer at the start of a new camp session?

I am lovely, don't worry! Thank you for requesting :)

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 884 words

It’s early May, and the sun is still pleasant. After last year, you know to relish the first few cool nights in the cabin, before the summer heat sets in and you become dependent on tiny handheld fans and those popsicles from the canteen. For now you’re enjoying it, the wooden boards of the dock warm under your thighs and your head tilted up to the sun as your toes kiss the cool water. 

The air smells like pine and fresh water. In a few days, all you’ll be able to hear are kids screaming exuberantly, splashing around in the water and small feet pounding on the dirt, but now it’s just the sloshing of the waves against the shore, the steady thunk of the canoe someone’s already gotten out hitting the dock. It’s peaceful. Meditative. And maybe it’s because you’re so focussed on that that you don’t hear James’ car pull into the gravel parking lot, or his friends bickering about who has to carry what inside, or really much of anything until there’s a set of footsteps approaching from behind you, and you turn around. 

“James!” You’re every inch the girlfriend in a movie, embarrassingly so, but you’re too excited to second-guess yourself as you get your feet under you and run to meet him. 

“Hey,” James laughs, stopping a second before you do to brace for impact. He grabs you under your legs and hoists them up around his waist, grinning hugely as he pecks you on the lips. “Hey, careful, no bare feet on the grass, remember?” 

You roll your eyes. You’re not supposed to let the kids run around without their shoes in case there’s some broken glass or something, but there never is. “You just wanted to pick me up,” you say. 

James’ smile widens. “Yeah, you got me.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck as he crushes you to his front, both of you gripping the other like you’re expecting to be torn apart. He can’t have been here more than half an hour, but James already smells like camp, sunscreen and something woodsy mingling with the smell of his shampoo. 

“I missed you,” you admit, turning your lips into the side of his head. 

James hugs you impossibly tighter. “I’m so glad you get it, angel. I was telling Sirius about how much I missed you on the way here, and he was being very unsympathetic about it. Deeply coldhearted, really—” 

“Fuck off,” says Sirius, and you look over James’ shoulder to see him and Remus approaching. “You saw each other last weekend!” 

“God, don’t remind me!” James lets you go just enough to smush his lips to yours. “Far too long. Cruel, unusual treatment.” 

Sirius humphs. “And yet you were apart from us for three months last summer, and I didn’t hear nearly so much of bereavement.” 

You smile and pat your boyfriend’s shoulder, a silent request for him to put you down. 

“Trust me,” you say, going over to hug Sirius, “the rest of us did. He was waxing poetic about you all summer. I think the kids were a bit worried.” 

“Yes, well.” Sirius cracks, grinning as he kisses you on the cheek. “As he should.” 

“Hi, lovely.” Remus looks thoroughly worn out from the long drive—or more likely, from his friends’ bickering the whole way—but he scrubs a fond hand up and down your back as you squeeze him around the middle. 

“I can’t believe you guys are here,” you say, beaming as you peel away from him. James immediately pulls you back against his front, his arms twined loosely around your waist. 

“We couldn’t very well leave him to wax poetic all summer again.” Remus smiles, and Sirius nods fervently. 

“You should have seen him, babe,” he says. “He was having a proper crisis over it. Now I’ve got to spend my whole summer doing charity work just to keep him from being torn apart.” 

“They do pay us,” James reminds him. 

Sirius waves him off. “For those wages? It’s charity work.” 

You lean your head back on James’ shoulder, sinking into his hold. You do have some inkling of the crisis Sirius is talking about; when your boss at camp had called him a couple of months ago and he’d been faced with either not seeing you for the three months you’d be here or going with you and not seeing his friends like he did last year, he’d put her off for weeks before deciding. In the end, Remus hadn’t been difficult at all to convince. He’s always wanted to work with kids, but James had to pitch the idea of being an art instructor to Sirius relentlessly before he’d finally agreed. 

You loved getting to know James last summer, and getting to see him in his element when you went to visit him on weekends throughout the year, but you suspect that now, with all his favorite people in one place for the entire summer, you’ll get to witness the happiest version of him you’ve seen yet. 

“The kids don’t get here until Thursday,” you say. “Want to see if we can have a bonfire tonight?” 

James chuckles. He leans over your shoulder to kiss your cheek, his smile unmissable against your skin. “Those are always fun.” 

[krystalkatpaws]

I uploaded Sock’s final codes🧦 7 designs including wooden boards, broken window, & dirt w/gravel💕I’ve included pixel grids for the hat & tee that I had to delete but I might recreate them on a new island👀 Enjoy🤍🤍🤍

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crossed Wires 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: silverfox!Andy Barber, Cole Turner

Summary: you try to balance your work with your private life as your boss and a new client try to blur the lines. (short!reader)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The gravel mulches loudly under the tires of the truck. You grip the ridged wheel as the seat belt strains against your shoulder. You make yourself sit back, the seat slid up as far as it will go. Still, the bumper shortens your perspective.

You figured you’d get a call to the old Orson place when you heard it sold. That was months ago though and the new owner finally set down roots there. You haven’t seen them, you’ve only heard the whispers that accompany any happening in Hammer Ford; from a new recipe to the juiciest of scandals. You pay much attention to any of it.

You keep your hands at ten and two as you follow the long gravelly drive to the farmhouse facade. There’s a single car parked outside the garage. It’s a sleek white SUV, luxury by the looks of the hood ornament. It’s not what you expect around here. That paint job will be dusty in now time, if not scratched by errant pebbles.

You pull in and shut off the engine. You undo your seat belt and check your watch. Right on schedule. You open the door and step on the rusted step below the door, letting yourself down with a hop. Your tan work boots kick up dirt as you round to the passengers side and swing the door open to retrieve your heavy work bag.

You sling the thick strap over your shoulder and snap the door as you head towards the house. You rest your hand on the side of the bag as you near the steps, searching for any sign of life. The stairs creak as you climb onto the low porch.

“Can I help you?” The deep voice startles you. 

You blink and turn to face the man sitting on the wooden boards, bolts and screws around him along with metal parts and wooden boards. You hadn’t seen him through the tight slats of the railing.

You keep your usual vague stare as you sniff, “got a call about the breaker.”

He squints at you, a squiggle forming between his brows. He’s older. His grey hair has a single bolt of its former dirty blond just above his forehead. Despite the heat and the dirt sprinkled over the boards, he wears a pair of dark slacks and a button-up rolled to his elbows.

“You’re the electrician,” he states as he sets aside the small screwdriver in his hand. He stands with a grunt, grasping his knee before he straightens.

“Sure am,” you reply flatly.

“I spoke with a man,” he intones, hands going to his hips as he looks down at you.

“That’s would be my boss. Cole.”

“That’s his name,” he steps forward, wiping his hand on his shirt, staining the light gray fabric, “Andy.”

He offers his hand and you shake it curtly. All the farmers pride themselves on keeping a firm grip and you never faltered with them. He squeezes before he lets you go. He doesn’t have the typical callouses, you even have a few.

“How’d you get into this work?” he wonders.

“It’s work. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t– I don’t mean anything,” he stammers.

“Didn’t think you did,” you sniff, “so, what am I looking at?”

“Well, I don’t really know,” he reaches back to rub his neck. The power keeps… flickering.”

“Ah, been a while, probably just need to wait for it to stabilize. City worker came out months ago for the meters,” you explain.

“Right, well, I heard sizzling.”

“Show me where you heard it.”

He nods and gestures you towards the door. Before you can reach it, he pulls the wooden screen door back and waits for you to enter ahead of him. He tells you it’s just down the hall and stop you near the basement door. You peer down the stairs and flick the light switch. There’s a low buzz.

“I don’t think you need to worry about it,” you look up, “but I can have a look.”

“Oh, okay,” he utters, “I also had another question. You might know something about it.”

You look at him. He seems put off by your expressionless stare.

“I wanted to install an automatic opener in the garage…”

“I can do the wiring, sure, long as you buy the parts,” you answer. “I can give you recommendations, odds are, you’ll need a whole new door as well.”

“Sure,” he agrees uneasily.

“Can schedule an appointment when you decide,” you turn your palm out, “I’ll just go grab my ladder and have a look then.”

You go to step past him but he’s not quick enough. You nearly collide and find yourself moving back and forth with him, trying to get by. You stop and stare. He stills himself and turns sideways, waving you by. You pass and let out a slow breath through your nose.

You stalk back down the hall and onto the porch. You hear him following you. You come down the steps as he continues his close pursuit. You don’t exactly know what he’s doing but you won’t ask. Cole says you need to work on customer service and not tell people to get out of your way.

You go around the bed of the truck and open the back. You reach for the ladder but another arm stretches further and faster. He pulls the ladder out before you can and you step back with a grunt.

“Hey, I can get it,” you insist.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind helping.”

“So why am I here?” You ask curtly, immediately knowing you asked a bad question.

“Sorry, I was just… being nice,” he says.

“Right,” you try to soften your tone, “it’s just… it’s my job. I can carry the ladder.”

“I know you can,” he looks down at you and you feel even smaller. You don’t like it when they try to play gentleman, it’s condescending. You might be short but you’re strong enough. 

“Thanks,” you grab the ladder and yank it from his grasp.

He lets go and you continue past him. He huffs and follows a few paces back from the end of the ladder. You angle it up the steps.

“At least let me get the door,” he inches past you, “okay?”

“Thanks,” you repeat in the same even keel.

You enter and take the ladder down the hall. He hovers just down the hallway, watching as he shifts his weight between his feet. He’s the worst kind of customer, the kind that have to supervise. 

You step up the ladder and look past it. “Mind holding it?”

“You sure?” He gives a trite arch of his brow.

You blink and keep your eyes from rolling, “I’d appreciate it, sir.”

He comes forward and braces the ladder staunchly. You climb up and suppress a snarl. City folk think you’re all backwards out here but they can’t wrap their damn head around a woman with a brain.

[safeplacesnupin]

Boardgames (Drabble)

Remus was panting as he ran down the train tracks, worn trainers kicking up gravel. He squeezed through a hole in the fencing that only a child could fit through, sliding a bit down the steep slope on the other side of the fence. He managed to stop himself alright at the bottom before he could topple over into the dirty river. Taking just a second to be thankful for his good timing, he was off again, not stopping until he came to the underside of a bridge.

When he got there, Remus bent over, putting his hands on his knees as he focused on getting his breathing back under control.

“What took you so long?” A sharp, nasally voice startled Remus out of his position. He looked up, mouth splitting into a grin missing a few baby teeth as he spotted his two best friends in the whole world.

“Severus, Lily!” He greeted. “Sorry! Mum was hovering, but I managed to convince her I wasn’t feeling well and then snuck out when she put me to bed.”

Lily frowned a little, unsure if this was the wisest course of action, but Severus smirked at the sandy haired boy in front of him in an approving sort of way. It made Remus’ stomach flip in excitement.

“So what are we going to do today?” Lily asked.

“Well…” Remus shifted the bookbag so that one strap was hanging off his shoulder and the pouch was within easier reach. “I found something really cool! I know you’re not really a board games kinda guy, Severus, but maybe we could give this one a go?”

Severus let out a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest as Lily bounded on over to Remus. Remus crouched down, letting the bag rest on the ground. Lily followed suit, so Severus stepped over as well. He remained standing, looking down his nose at the other two kids. Remus looked up at him from behind his fringe. He knew Severus tried to act older than he was, but that was just one of the many things Remus liked about him. Lily sometimes complained, but not often.

“Come on… please?” Remus appealed to him. “Next time, we’ll do whatever you want. Just one game, *promise!*”

Severus bit his lower lip, and Remus was certain he’d won. Severus’ long fingers drummed against his upper arm before he sighed again and then crouched down with them as well. “Oh, alright. But we get to do what I want the next two times.” He relented.

Remus and Lily shared identical grins. “Great! We’ll have to learn how to play together. I’ve never heard of this game before, I just found it in the back garden.”

“Found it?” Severus frowned as Remus pulled out an ancient looking wooden box. Carved into the top was a jungle like scene and corner portraits of a monkey, rhino, elephant, and explorer. Right in the center with a carved arrow through the words was the name. Jumanji.

Prompt by Chalilodimun on the Snupin discord server! You should totally join us there!

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[idiotwithanipad]

This may or may not be a shameless self-insert / new OC🙂‍↕️

She looks exactly like me but her personality is way off from mine😂And my name isn't Amy so there's that👍🏻

When I said I wanted to haunt Button House, I meant it🥹

I'm diabolical...

The Sun was out, the sky was blue, and the grounds were bustling with people frolicking about the green meadows. The ghosts made themselves busy by joining in the fun, watching the people playing golf, pretending that it was themselves who sipped casually on glasses of ice cold lemonade.

Julian stood beside each golfer and pretended that it was he who made the swing. The Captain analyzed each swing and it's accuracy, giving compliments to each hole-in-one scored. Fanny and Kitty basked in the sunshine and reminisced on the taste of lemon water and fresh fruit. Pat kept an imaginary score board and cheered each time someone even came close to getting a hole. Thomas stood idly beside the scout leader, shielding his eyes from the sun as each ball flew by.

A woman and a strangely dressed younger woman stood on the warm grass talking, nobody seemed to pay attention to them or their conversation, but a certain fur-clad someone lurked beside the younger woman, admiring the stars on her thick hoodie and trying to catch the sun raises reflecting off of her spiked choker.

Soon, the younger woman excused herself and turned on her thick heeled boot, heading back towards the house.

"Eh, typical. The youths nowadays don't appreciate a game of golf, do they, pat? Y'know, can't do a single thing without their smartphones". Julian scoffed, brushing off his cuffs and returning his attention to the next golfer. Pat watched as the woman disappeared back inside the house, shaking his head slightly; it baffled him how someone could want to skip out on such a beautiful day.

The woman passed reception and headed upstairs to one of the rooms, unlocking the door and heading inside. Her bag rested against the headboard of the bed, she sat down on the edge and reached inside for an item she'd been craving all day. She brought out a semi-cold can off Monster and cracked it open, the sweet scent making her dry mouth water.

"Ay, where you go?" Robin muttered, he took his eyes off the girl for only a moment to watch Julian 'swing', he could've swore he heard no footsteps or gravel crunching under her boots; they should've DEFINITELY made a sound with how big they were.

Curiosity tugged at his brain as he seemed to be puppeteered back to the house, sniffing around and looking left and right. Nobody saw him, but he was more than used to that, but as his eyes scanned the empty reception area, a violent coughing came from upstairs. Choking.

"Ooh..." Robin's eyes widened and his knees almost began to quake as he started up the stairs towards the noise. It got louder and louder and more severe as he went, followed by a startling 'thud'. He picked up his pace and began to smell a sweet, sickly stench coming from a door up ahead down the corridor.

The eerie silence which followed made him curious as he waited a few seconds before entering the room. He passed his head through the wooden door and looked around, his eyes almost immediately landing on the floor. Or at least, to the young woman from earlier lying on the floor, the sweet scented liquid spilled out onto the floor.

"AY! She dead!" Robin bounded back outside onto the lawns, his eyes bulging and his jaw slack. Everyone else turned to face him in confusion.

"What? Who's dead?" Fanny questioned, her stiff arm bobbing back and forth at her side as she turned to face the crazed caveman.

"Girl with big stompy boot! She-..." Robin held his hand up to his mouth, his pinkie stuck out as though he were holding a wine glass.

"Glug glug glug, crrck! -" His free hand came up to thump against his chest and his eyes rolled back. A supposed pantomime of someone dying.

The ghosts eyed each other, unable to hide the puzzled looks on their faces.

"... Come again" Pat chimed, clasping his hands together and bouncing up and down on his heels.

Robin groaned in exasperation and focus solely on Pat.

"Look, big stompy boot girl drink, have big cough, then dead. She upstair. Come!" Without waiting, Robin spun around and ran back towards the house, beckoning them as he went.

Suddenly full of curiosity, the rest of the group followed suit and remained silent.

"See? TOLD YOU!" Robin pointed. The girl stood in the corner or the room, staring down at her own body still lying dead on the wooden floor, the now empty Monster can free of her hand and crumpled slightly beside her. The rest of the ghosts gasped and gawked at the stranger. Her eyes, under their coat of eyeshadow and eyeliner bulged in horror.

"Oh, well, hello, pet. Welcome to Button House, my names Pat Butcher. Um, sounds a little awkard when you say out out loud, really, but you're a ghost now. Nothing to be frightened of" Pat beamed, seemingly forgetting about the arrow speared through his neck.

The girl's eyes kept darting between Pat and the bed, or better yet, what was under it.

"Uh, can someone- down 'ere.."A voice chimed. Thomas got down onto his knees and peered under the bed, spotting Humphrey's head resting on the polished floorboards.

"Oh no, not you, anyone but you-" Humphrey's pleads were cut short by Thomas grasping his head in his hands and pulling him up from under the bed, securing him into the crook of his arm. The girl's jaw hung loose as she stared at the decapitated head now facing her.

"Ah, there you are, uh, hello, my names Humphrey. I'm- just a head at the moment but my body should be somewhere around here" Humphrey mused; it'd been so long since he'd felt the fear of first becoming a ghost and reacting to the uncomfortable new fate.

The girl couldn't muster any words, except gawking and gasping at the unknown strangers stood before her, each one inching closer by the second.

"What are those beastly things clamped over her ears?" Fanny blurted, her eyes scanning the strangely dressed girl.

"Oh, I'm not sure, but she looks scared, Fanny. Let's not pry just yet". Pat suggested, looking back at the elder woman with an awkward grimace.

"Well anyway, she can be my friend, she can stay in my room. Can't you, new girl?" Kitty beamed, giggling and clapping her hands.

"Now now, Kitty, let's not get ahead of ourselves. The poor thing's scared to death, probably confused also, she just needs some guidance" The Captain asserted, ignoring his poorly timed pun, tucking his stick beneath his arm and pressing his heels together.

Robin lifted a finger and leaned forward.

"Uh, me find first" The caveman added proudly.

"Uh, actually, Robin, I've been under that bed for a week now, so technically I found her first" Humphrey bragged.

"You see her die from under there?" Robin pried.

"Well, no actually, I just saw her shoes. Or boots, rather. The size of those things-" Humphrey muttered, his forehead creasing at the mere memory of the giant stompers.

"I didn't see her fall to the floor, too far off to the side for me to see, so"

"HA! I hear her do big cough from all way downstair!" Robin blurted. The captain and Pat could tell the situation was becoming tense between Robin and Humphrey, as they watched the girl shuffle further into the corner, her knees gliding through a chair which was situated against the wall. She stared down at it in horror and leapt out of the way.

"Yeah, don't worry, Poppet, you get used to that" Humphrey smiled.

[cloudlessly-light]

Nobody else (chapter 5)

Title: Nobody else Summary:It’s because of them that she keeps fighting. Because of all of them.

An Ian Doyle arc AU. Word count: 2,4k   Rating: Mature Warnings: Violence, guns, knives, reference to blood, injury and broken bones. Mention of throwing up. Canon typical violence. Hospital stays.

 2010

She’s woken up to loud laughter, the kind of laugh that she rarely heard from Jack nowadays. She smiles as she stretches on the bed, content to hear the sound of Aaron and Jack from down the hall. The clattering of pans lets her know that they’re cooking, probably pancakes because she knew that it was Jack’s favorite, and something they usually did on Sunday mornings.

It was almost sickeningly domestic, their life together. Something she never really had imagined for herself. When she gets up she’s quiet as she makes her way towards the kitchen, her smile only getting bigger as she hears Aaron’s voice, telling Jack to be careful and not that many chocolate chips.

“You can never have too much chocolate.” She tells them and is greeted by two smiling faces, Jack’s a copy of his fathers. “Can you Jack?”

“Exactly, Emily said so!” Jack nods and reaches for the chocolate again but Aaron is quicker and he puts them high in the cabinet where he knows his son won’t reach. In return Jack pouts and jumps off the chair he had been standing on.

“It’s not fair that you always gang up on me.” He feigns a huff just as she comes to stand by his side. His arm sneaks around her waist automatically to pull her closer.

“That’s because we are clearly right, and you’re wrong.” She teases, her lips grazing his throat as she speaks and he pinches her side in return, causing her to jump.

“Don’t start,” His voice lowers as he speaks, his eyes on Jack who’s made his way towards the kitchen table. “Or I’ll add some pretty bruises to that fantastic ass of yours once Jessica has picked Jack up.”

When her cheeks tint pink, he can’t help the low hum of satisfaction that rumbles in his throat before he presses a kiss to her lips.

“Thought so.”

“You’re insatiable.” She mumbles against his lips before pressing another swift kiss against his lips.

“Can you really blame me? You’re my everything Em.”

*

2011

She wakes up back in the same room that she had run from. Her mind is fuzzy, barely remembering escaping, only having flashes of cold rain and a painful fall. She’s nauseous and she doesn’t know if it’s from hitting her head or the drugs that Ian clearly had used. Her body is heavy, the pain somehow feeling duller than it had for days.

It’s dark, it was always dark with the windows being boarded up, but she catches a hint of sunlight from under the door. It must be daytime, whether it was the next day or if it had been days since she had tried to escape she had no way of knowing. Everything felt like a dream, no scratch that, a nightmare. There was no sign of Clyde, but next to her on the wooden floor there was another pool of dried blood and she knew he was dead.

The room smelled like iron, sweet and sickly and she knew Ian had decided not to clean up only to make her suffering worse. Her clothes were ripped, she was shivering from the cold. The silence felt deafening and she found herself wanting to scream just to hear something besides the thumping of her own heartbeat. But she stayed quiet and still on the cold floor, too tired to try and move, too dizzy to keep her eyes open.

She had been so close, but it hadn’t been enough.

*

She’s walking on a path, gravel crunching under her feet with every step she takes. The sounds irritates her, makes her anxious so she stands still and looks around. She can’t see much of anything, green and yellowing fields surrounding her, except the lonely road she’s walking on. She’s afraid, feeling like the only person in the world, hiding from something, or someone. But then she sees something, a figure in the distance, her blonde hair flying in the wind. She’d recognize that woman anywhere. Even though they hadn’t seen each other in weeks.

“JJ!” She calls and the figure turns, familiar blue eyes and a wide smile greeting her and she starts to run towards the other woman.

“You came!” She grins and Emily wraps her in a hug that is too tight, probably tight enough to hurt the other woman, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“I need you.” She whispers, fear still lingering in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m here. I came as soon as I heard.” She takes her hand and they start to walk again, the gravel sounding less like crunching now, every step a little easier. JJ was her best friend and she knew that the other woman would always be there when she needed it.

But somehow, she still felt alone.

“I’m so close to giving in.” She says and they stop walking. When she looks around it’s suddenly dark around them, the fields looking like an endless ocean of danger now.

“You can’t. You have to keep going.” Blue eyes stay on hers, keeping her grounded.

“How?” She feels a tear roll down her cheek and JJ carefully wipes it away.

“You’ll figure it out.” She looks around and sighs. “I have to go.”

“JJ, don’t leave me. Please don’t go.” She tries clutching at her hand, but she slips through her fingers like smoke.

“I’m right here, Em. I’m coming, we are coming.”

*

“Rise and shine.”

The door is wide open when she opens her eyes, cold air forcing her to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from shattering. He’s standing right in front of her, his dirty shoes in her face and it’s the first thing she sees. She grunts when he pushes her with his foot to roll onto her back, the suddenness of it making pain shoot through her.

“You finally going to kill me?” Her voice is weak and raspy, her throat dry but she still manages a smug smile.

“Oh love, you’re underestimating me.” He grabs her shirt and it rips even more, exposing her skin to the cold air and her bra showing. “I told you I’d keep you alive, and I will. You’re going to watch everyone you love die, one by one. You’ll have a front row show.” He snarls in her face as he forces her to stand. “And when I kill that boy of yours I’ll make sure to tell him that it’s because of you that he’s going to die.”

“Ian…” She feels her eyes tear as she thinks about Jack and Ian smiles in return, menacing and cruel in every way.

“You’ve always been so pretty when you cry.” He swipes a tear from her cheek with his thumb and then licks it off as she flinches from his touch. “You tried to break me, for years you’ve known where Declan was and you never once thought about how that would make me feel did you? Not once did you imagine the pain I was in while rotting away in North Korea. Now you know.”

“He didn’t deserve to live your life. He deserved more and now he has it.” She feels his hold on her tighten even more, breaking the seams of her shirt. When he throws the scraps of what’s left she feels his eyes on her and she tries to cover herself the best she can.

“Still beautiful, I’ll admit.”

“You’re vile.” She wants to spit at him, but her mouth is too dry. When he grabs her upper arm hard enough to bruise she grits her teeth to keep from making any sound but she knows that he’s bruising her skin with his hold. He starts to drag her along, forcing her to walk the graveled road to the main house. Small stones break the skin of her already torn up soles but she refuses to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

The gravel crunches under his shoes and she’s reminded of her dream, of JJ with her kind smile and unrelenting patience. She thinks of her best friend and the nights they spent together, how they would communicate without words and how she would always be by her side through thick and thin.

He hauls her inside and towards one of the backrooms, still muttering about Declan and the pain he would cause her, but she shuts him out and instead she thinks of her best friend, of her family, she needed to be strong for them.

She feels cold metal around her wrists and that’s when she finally pays him attention again. He’s rolling something towards her and when he lifts the sheet she sees a type of machine.

“What are you doing?”

“A four-leaf clover should be a nice addition to your other tattoos.” The sound of the electric needle makes her eyes widen. “You still have two don’t you?”

“Yeah, and that’s enough ink, thanks.” She says dryly even as he turns the electricity higher.

“Ink?” He huffs as he walks around her, needle still in hand. “No, no the North Koreans can’t afford ink. They brand themselves.” He grips her hair tight enough for her eyes to water and pulls her head back. “And I want you to remember this forever.”

The burning pain forces her to cry out, it’s unlike any other pain she’s felt before. The smell of her burnt flesh makes her nauseous again and she’s sure that she’ll throw up. But he keeps her pinned even as she tries to fight him, his hold on her unrelenting.

The corners of her eyes start going dark and she thinks she’s going to pass out again, but Ian splashes water on her face from a dirty bottle she hadn’t noticed beside her. He wanted her awake, to feel every agonizing second of his torture. In the back of her mind she knows that this is it, this is his final punishment before leaving her to go hunt down her team. She knows they’re looking for her, that it had been close to a week now, that they had to be close. At least, that’s what she was hoping.

When he finally pushes the machine away from her she gasps, the pain still intense, the burn of it something that will be as etched to her memory as his mark is on her skin. She doesn’t fight him when he unlocks the handcuffs and hauls her up to stand, but he still cuffs her hands together behind her back. He wasn’t going to risk her running again, even now when she was too weak to do much of anything.

“Look at yourself.” His voice is low in her ear and when she looks up they’re standing in front of a mirror. Her pants are torn, her skin dirty and marred with bruises and cuts, but she barely notices any of it, her eyes immediately drawn to the angry red mark on her chest. “You’ll bear this mark, my mark for the rest of your life.”

Her eyes flick to his face behind her, he looks pleased, he’s enjoying this more than he’s letting on, the evidence of it pressed against her even through his jeans. He had always been a sadist, had always enjoyed the pain he caused people, but she thinks that maybe she underestimated just how much until now.

For a second she thinks he’s going to force himself on her, his hand slowly moving towards the waistline of her pants, but the sound of loud boots against wooden floorboards stops him.

“We got a problem.” Liam says the second he’s inside the room, barely even sparing her a second glance as Ian lets go of her and she stumbles forward. “They’re here.”

Her heart immediately starts hammering in her chest, they were here, they were coming. She felt fear for her team, that they were being led into a trap but she also knew that they were her last chance. She stays silent though, keeps her face as neutral as possible as she dares a look at Ian who looks calm, which worries her even more.

“We knew they would, eventually.” Ian reaches for his gun and pulls the safety. “Get her into basement, quickly.”

Once against rough hands grab her, Liam’s large hands almost enclosing around her upper arm as he drags her further into the house. She tries to keep up, but she’s dehydrated and dizzy and she keeps stumbling over her own feet, slowing them down.

“I swear I’ll shoot you myself if you don’t fucking stop.” He mutters, face just a couple of inches from her own as he grins. “In fact, it would be a pleasure.”

“I’d like to return the favor.” She gets out through a mouth that feels like sandpaper, every word uncomfortable to form. But she refused to look weak in front of Liam, even as he all but threw her down a flight of stairs.

She feels something snapping as she tries to catch her fall, pain shooting through her arm and back as she hit the floor with a loud thud. The door closes and she hears it lock behind her before she’s fully understood what was happening. Everything was spinning again, and she grunts through clenched teeth as she tries to roll onto her back. Another shot of pain runs through her as she attempts to sit up, and she realizes her shoulder must be dislocated.

It didn’t matter though, because suddenly she heard gunfire, loud voices and screaming. They were here.

It’s too much, the room is spinning too hard, her body too tired. She doesn’t want to give in, tries with everything in her to stay conscious and it works for a while. She doesn’t know how much time passes, but the world is going blurry. She wants to keep fighting, but just as the door opens and a blurry figure appears at the top of the stairs she feels her eyes closing.

The last thing she hears before the world goes black is a male voice, familiar to her.

“I got her!”

[kpforpresident]

CMBYN

Summer 1983

///

The summer night Clarke met Lexa was hot and syrupy, with sunlight streaming in thick buttery ribbons through the dappled olive trees that dotted the Griffin’s family villa. Clarke had boarded the hours-long flight with her parents every May for as long as she could remember, spending their summers in the northern tip of Italy so that her father could spend the long days studying languages and history and archeology, so far from their home outside of Boston. Clarke and Abby good-naturedly came along for the months in the sun, surrounded by the heavily laden fruit trees and long hot days. Abby was able to spend the long months away from her co-owned medical practice due to her senior standing, Clarke afforded flexibility through her private school leniency and natural ability to excel despite missing the last month of school since she could walk.

Clarke and Raven had been sitting on the edge of the warm terracotta roof, legs swinging idly over the edge of the gutters as a shiny green car pulled up to the front of the house, gravel spattering beneath its wheels. Clarke and Raven exchanged a long-suffering glance as the car slowed, and then stopped, a shadowy figure peering out of the back window with their face obscured by the hot sum beaming onto the glass. Raven, Clarke’s summer friend of many years, had watched with half-baked amusement every summer as another wide-eyed young Ph.D. student had climbed out of similar hired cars, mouths agape and eyes shining as they drank in the sight of the imposing villa, ready to spend their summer soaking in the Italian sunshine and collaborating with Mr. Griffin on a variety of archeological subjects of varying degrees of vague interest to Clarke. 

Clarke turned to Raven, prepared to make another joke about spending another summer listening to the pretentious drivel of yet another soggy white man when the car door opened hesitantly, revealing the slender ankle of someone who was most definitely not a man. A slim hand rose to shield light green eyes as the woman tilted her head up to gaze at the villa, shiny brown hair glimmering over a freckled dotted shoulder. Jake and Abby burst from the battered wooden door hand in hand, the mystery woman revealing a perfect set of white teeth as she set down a small suitcase to warmly shake their hands. The three then head into the cool tiled interior of the villa, her bag in Jake’s right hand as he ushers her in.

A quiet cackle burst from Raven’s mouth as she observed the slightly vacant expression on Clarke’s face as she greedily drank in the sight of her father’s newest protegee. 

“Oh C, you are well and truly fucked.”

[questionableratatouille00]

𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓞𝓷 6

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: On her outing with Wanda and during an activity in therapy, Y/n is able to reflect on her time with Natasha. She can remember the good times, the bad times, and everything in between. Is she finally on the true path to recovery?

Warnings (Entire Series): This series deals with mature topics, including, but not limited to: death, mental health issues, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, grief, trauma, general unwellness, illness (both mental and physical), and a most likely inaccurate portrayal of group therapy (though it’s much better than whatever was going on in TFATWS.) Please mind the warnings below.

Warnings: cursing, dead romantic partners, death, thoughts of burying yourself? Eating and food (cupcakes), let me know if I need to tag anything else.

🌻Series Masterlist 🌻

————————————————————————

𝐈 ��𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

You drove up to her house, parking next to her car in the driveway. You felt your mind drifting as you sat in the car for a moment. Taking a deep breath, you hyped yourself up as you walked up to the front door. You rang the door bell, trying to ignore the very gay thoughts you were having.

It's just a girl's day, Y/n, you told yourself. Calm the fuck down.

She opened the door, grinning widely. She was wearing jeans, with a plaid shirt and what looked like suspenders. Her hair was down, with curls. She looked gorgeous.

"Hi," you breathed.

"Hey. Uh, you wanna take my car? I'm not going to tell you where we're going. It's a surprise!" She smiled, and you felt yourself doing the same.

She linked arms with you, pulling you down the driveway by your elbow. She lead you to the passenger's side of her car, opening the door for you. "Ladies first," she giggled.

You climbed into the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt as she did the same. She placed her hands—decorated with thin silver rings with dark nail polish—on the steering wheel, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway.

She flipped the radio on. “Ooh! This is a good one.”

A quick glance to the little screen showed that it was Fearless by Taylor Swift playing.

“You’re a swiftie?” You asked, glancing at her.

“Kinda. I like the country stuff, and some of the softer pop stuff.” She explained.

“You’re a swiftie?” You asked her. It was a month into your relationship, and she was driving you home.

“Something like that. I like Reputation, mostly.” Nat explained. “Not a huge fan of slower stuff. Or country.”

“Got it.” You nodded.

“Cool.” You smiled. You chuckled as she sang along to the song, you chiming in every so often.

“Fearless!” You both sang at the same time.

“We’re almost there,” she assured you after a few more Taylor Swift songs.

You’d been driving for about twenty minutes, the road a yellow-orange sand, like a baseball field, but with more random rocks and gravel. The grass on the sides of the road were a bright green, just like the hills out your window, or the trees out her’s. The scenery was beautiful, but you couldn’t help from wondering where exactly she was taking you.

Your brows furrow slightly when you saw the sign. “Westview Sunflower Farm?”

She grinned. “Yes! It’s beautiful. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“I’m trusting you.” You chuckled, though you had to admit, you didn’t doubt her taste in..what could you even call this? Scenery? Agricultural beauty? Regardless, you were positive that you wouldn’t be disappointed.

She drove past the sign, and wooden boards standing straight up, painted brown with large sunflowers—some seemingly coming from a stem, others just in a vertical line—were stuck in the ground. They were on either side of the road, and you smiled. The people who own this place are good decorators, you thought.

“It’s cool. It’s like a pumpkin patch, but bigger and sunflower themed. There’s picnic tables spread throughout—almost like a maze, but if you’re an adult you’re usually tall enough to see over the flowers. There’s a little stand—well technically it’s a building but who cares—and the owners sell baked goods and other stuff in there. It’s awesome.” She beams fondly.

“You know a lot about this place,” you noted.

“Me and Vis would come often.” She recalled, and she was still seemingly joyful, though you could hear a hint of sadness in her voice.

“That’s awesome.” You said, because you didn’t really know what to say to that.

“Yeah.” She agreed, turning her head to look at you for a moment. She smiled warmly, pure gentleness in her eyes.

“Watch the road,” you warned. She quickly focused back on the road. You realized what you’d said, and you frowned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“It’s alright.” She gave you another small smile, as she pulled into the parking lot. Your eyes widened as you surveyed the surrounding area, identifying all of the huge fields of sunflowers. You saw the tiny little food place she was talking about. The building and every sign nearby were all wooden and painted with sunflowers. There were places to take pictures, places to wash your hands, and even a small playground near the closest sunflower field.

“Wow,” you chuckled. She led you to the food stand, and you marveled at all the baked goods inside. So many treats decorated as sunflowers—cookies, cupcakes, cake pops, and more. You each got a cupcake, and you offered to pay.

"No, it's--" She began to protest.

"You drove here. Let me." You cut her off, paying for the sweets.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, she nodded. Once you got outside of the tiny shack, she linked elbows with you, leading you off into the sunflower field.

"Picnic table?" You suggested, but she shook her head, giggling.

"Nope! Even better." She led you to a grassy area, surrounded by sunflowers. It was pretty secluded, farther away from the picnic tables. She gently guided you to the ground, laying down on her back. You matched her pose, as you laid side by side.

Chomping on your cupcakes, you talked about random things. The weather. Halloween coming up. Group therapy.

"I really signed up out of the blue," she murmured. "It was a random decision."

"Do you regret it?" You turned your head to look at her. She turned her head to look at you. You locked eyes, her expression a bit unreadable.

"No," she answered after a moment. "I don't. Do you?"

"No."

"My neighbor..she suggested it one day. It was very..strange, to say the least." She chuckled.

"Yeah? Which neighbor?"

"Agnes, the creepy lady a couple doors down. She always gives me this weird feeling. Like she knows something I don't." Her expression turned dark, before she snapped out of it. "Anyway, how'd you join?"

"My old friend pestered me into taking care of myself, funnily enough." She chuckled at your response.

"My husband and I came here every chance we could when the weather was nice. Those are some of my favorite memories with him. He was smart, and gentle, and kind. We were high school sweethearts, y'know. He was nothing like any boyfriend or girlfriend I'd ever had."

"Gir-girlfriend?" You caught the words.

"Oh--yeah. I'm bisexual. Funny thing, most of the people in our therapy group are LGBTQIA+."

"Really?" You hadn't known this. How had she managed to learn all this?

"Yeah. Thor's pan, Steve's bi, both Sam and Bucky are gay, Clint's bi, so is Tony, Bruce's asexual, and Peter--the intern who works there--he's trans and bi. Maria was telling me about her wife a few meetings ago--I have no idea about Coulson, but y'know. He's at least an ally."

"How do you know all that?" You laugh a little.

"I guess I'm just social?" She smiled.

"So..any dates? Since..y'know?" You wanted to dig a hole and bury yourself as soon as the words left your mouth.

"No." She shook her head. "You?"

"Nope." You admitted.

"Maybe..I'm wrong about this." She began. "But..there's something I want to ask."

"Ask it anyway." You urged her.

"..What if this was a date?" You could hear your heartbeat as she asked.

"Then I think I'd like it." She smiled at this.

"I think I would too." You agreed. She took your hand in hers, before looking back up at the sky.

"I'd like everyone to share one fond memory they have, whether that's with a person they lost, or just a memory that happened in the past." Phil Coulson prompted.

For once, you went first.

"When we moved into our apartment. Nat and I..one time, we went to the beach. And she joined a volleyball game with some random strangers. She was so damn competitive--her team won every round. I bought her ice cream afterward. Mint chocolate chip was her favorite." You chuckled, recalling the day. Nat's black bikini bathing suit, splashing around in the water, the sand between your toes.

Wanda smiled from beside you. Phil Coulson nodded, before the next person began to share.

After the meeting, the group gathered outside the building.

"Do you all wanna meet up at a cafe or something?" Wanda suggested. "How about next Saturday, at the place near Vormir?"

"Vormir's that one weird store with the guy who's always super sunburnt, right?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah," Wanda confirmed.

"I work weekends." Tony stated. Bruce nodded, before explaining that he does too.

"I'll be outta town, but you guys should go." Steve told the group.

Before you knew it, you were roped into a group outing.

A/n: Finally something is happening! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'm so excited to continue this series!

[akwolfgrl]

Witches of 221 b part 1

Sherlock paced across her living room, Suziria splayed across the back of the coach, wooden puzzle in hand. This case was proving to be annoying. The perp never stuck in a pattern other than vulnerable omegas in quite a few parts of the city. It had been a week since the last attack, and Sherlock was getting restless. She had already stalked the areas that were most likely to new crime scenes and the old ones as well. She had already finished her last cig and couldn't be bothered to roll more.

Sherlock stood in front of her board once again, “He stabs the omegas. Obviously, the knife is a replacement for his dick. He's impotent and angry, seeking to control and take back what power he feels he's lost. He takes mostly jewelry as souvenirs, but on the male omegas, he takes their shoes,” Sherlock growled, ruffling her hair, her fingers slipping through her curls. So far, there were five victims, one died of blood loss on the way to the hospital, three more died on sight, and the last one died an hour after.

“Perhaps he has a job that makes him feel small,” Suziria asked from their spot on the coach.

“While that is a possibility that doesn't help at the moment," Sherlock waved dismissively towards the couch. As Sherlock continued to stare at the board, her phone rang. "What?" She barked into the phone.

"There's been another, this time, he killed them," D.I Lestrade's voice told him. "62 Queens Road behind the nightclub."

"We will be there, don't touch anything!" Sherlock hung up the phone and strode towards her coat. She quickly drew it across her body. Suziria climbed up her leg and the back of her Belstaff, placing the wooden puzzle in the left pocket before perching on her shoulder.

With any luck, it was the actual stabber and not an opportunistic killing. There had been several of them ever since the press broke the news. People were using him as a way to try and get away with murder. They hailed a cab and slid inside, giving the cabbie directions. When they arrived, Sherlock tossed the cabbie a handful of bills and hurried towards the police tape. Lestrade was there waiting for her, Donovan nowhere in sight.

"Where's the body?" Sherlock asked, cutting to the chase, ducking under the police tape.

"Right this way, twenty-five female omega, no jewelry, but her purse wasn't taken, leaving out robbery. She was stabbed several times," Lestrade spoke, leading Sherlock the short distance to the body.

Sherlock stood over the bloody body with a fading stainless steel coloured magic taking on every detail, the pretty blonde laid face down. She was in a waitress uniform headed home from work. Sherlock kneeled closer to the body, and there was a slight tan line around her wrist indicating a routinely worn bracelet. He was getting more violent, and chunks of her hair were ripped from her scalp. Sherlock took a glove and used it to lift her hand. There was no blood under her fingertips, only gravel. She had tried to crawl away, and he most likely knelt on her while stabbing. It was most definitely their guy. Going by how she had been able to move while he was on top of her, he must be slight of build as well as short going by the angle of the thrusts from the prior bodies.

"Got anything for me, Sherlock?"

"The man is also slight of build, seeing as he clearly knelt on her, and she was able to move. If he had been a heavier man, she would have found it difficult," Sherlock shook her head. This case was puzzling and frustrating. She should have been able to solve it by now. She would need to do a reading tonight.

"It's okay, Sherlock, maybe he has help? That could be why the crime scenes are so clean of DNA and evidence pointing to the killer," Suziria pointed out, patting her cheek in an attempt to be comforting.

"That's a good point. Lestrade, check the database for any witches capable of cleaning a crime scene. No omegas, though." It could be another Moriarty associated case.

"On it," Lestrade didn't bother to argue with her for once.

Sherlock had been on the trail of a man named Moriarty, a consulting criminal as he was known. His cases always frustrated her. He helped criminals do better crimes, which at first had been thrilling, and better cases to solve. However, now it was just annoying every time she unraveled one knot of his tangled web. There was another one waiting for her. She even resorted to working with her brother.

[werdlewrites]

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summary: For someone so young, the vacancy speaks - if not screams for concern. A soul to live through more than one lifetime. Experienced and damaged from it. Never knowing peace with darkened skin just beneath her eyes from a lack of rest. “What is this?” She asks no one in particular, more so, the universe. It’s a call for help. A demand from the Heavens above to provide clarity, or a plea from the depths of Hell to wipe this image clean from her mind. warnings: parental abandonment, hallucination wc: 2,949

Snow has begun to fall all across Indiana. The winter air bites at your skin like a thousand needles, leaving cheeks blotchy as heavily covered arms wrap tighter around your torso. Her fingers ache without gloves and every step feels like she’s run a mile. The boots are borrowed and too big. Too clunky but perfect in dire times when she’s forgotten her old pair back home. She’s unable to distinguish if her socks are dampened from such a loose fit, or if her flesh has just gone cold from exposure. Either way, she moves with purpose and determination. Forcing each step forward no matter how badly she wants to retreat. The gravel is frozen, unmoving as the shoes scuff along the path. His car was left chilled and untouched, refusing to seek out the joys a weekend had to offer. Instead, finding solace in the quiet shelter of his home.

No lights beam out through parted curtains, instead using the glow of nature to fill the spaces with life. Autumn stands on his porch, kicking at the wooden boards to dust away the heavy snow that’s gathered at her feet, and that’s all she manages to do for a moment. Chewing at her cheek with an unsteady posture, continuously looking elsewhere. Prey looking for an escape as if the door had shown teeth, ready to kill.

Autumn has whispered unspoken conversations to herself during the drive. How she would tell him and then predict his response. Every scenario is prepared for, but that doesn't ease her nerves as she knocks at the Byers front door. Maybe he would still be sound asleep. Grasping at the shredded strings of peace so that he can finally find some rest. Maybe, just maybe, she was lucky enough to be left out in the cold with no other option than to turn her back on the silent home. But footsteps crush that dream as they inch closer, and she has to remind herself that this is what she wants. What they both want. No more lies. No more secrets.

Jonathan is suddenly squinting from the bright assault against his eyes like he hadn’t seen sunlight for days, or planned to for that matter. His hair was disheveled and his clothes a mess, just barely out of his pajamas into something casual. The disturbance leaves him disgruntled for a moment before he drinks in the sight of her and relaxes. “Oh, hey,” he says with a heavy yawn.

“Did I wake you?” Autumn teased with a small smirk on her face.

“Hm? No, no. I, uh, I’m supposed t’be up. I’ve got work soon and I accidentally slept in.” Jonathan laughs despite the joy in her eyes flickering out.

The girl’s shoulders sag and the smile falters, now understanding his chaotic state as he frantically dresses for a shift. “Oh.”

Maybe, just maybe she would be unlucky enough to have worked herself up to this very moment, only to be left disappointed. But she feigns a smile, laughing away the grip on her heart. “Duh. Have t’get back t’real life, and shit.”

An uneasy grin shines from the boy for only a moment, before settling as he wears a look of concern. “Is everything okay?”

Confusion washes in, still forcing a lie to the front. “Yeah, of course. I-I just thought we could hang out. I forgot people have jobs,” she jokes. A hard swallow slithers its way down to burn up her insides.

“Well, what about later? I could call-”

“Don’t!” Autumn interrupts all too quickly, her friend's eyes full of surprise. “I-I mean, our phone - it’s broken.” She rolls her eyes, hoping to further convince him of this false reality. “I’ll be busy, anyway, later. I’m going…out of town.”

Fuck.

“With my dad,” she continues, no matter the sudden pressure of now coming up with another lie. “I just thought we could do something before I go. But, I’ll see you at school! We can make plans, yeah?”

Jonathan seems less certain. His grip tightens on the door, rocking on his heels anxiously as he looks her up and down. He doesn’t buy it, and she can tell. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Her fingers clench inside deep pockets, fidgeting and pulling at the lint. Autumn would scream if she could. She would fall at his feet and let the world know of all that’s happened in such a short time. All she had lost and all she had gained. Her cries would echo the agony, and she would succumb to exhaustion in his hold. A final relief from the weight she carries. But her back straightens in preparation for another load, feet firmly planted as hasty words spill forward. “I’m fine, honestly.” She’s already falling away from her friend. One step after another carrying her backward down the short steps and onto the gravel. “Enjoy being berated by customers!” She calls out, just before turning on her heel to hastily make her way back toward the Jeep.

She knows he’s watching. She can feel his tired eyes dig into her back like claws to rip out the truth. But he finally surrenders to the cold winds and the tick of the clock, and then there’s the sound of the front door finally closing.

It’s all a blur after that. The exit from his home is a forced calm. She even wears a small smile in case the boy happens to look out the window to watch her leave. But as the girl fades from sight, a held-in-breath passes and her body slumps against the seat. Her fingers white-knuckled over the steering wheel, driving aimlessly until the nerves finally get to her. She’s parked on the side of the street, keys abandoned on the dash as she focuses on steadying breaths. There’s no blame in Jonathan for trying to slip back into his old life, and who was she to drag him back out into the chaos? She would tell him someday, sure. He was bound to hear the news through gossip as Hopper escorted her to the front desk of the school's office, going over legal documentation. Bound to stumble upon her front step and find that no one was home.

She’d tell him first. Someday soon.

It just wouldn’t be today.

Gathered slush is pushed aside as a car peacefully roams through the neighborhood. The sudden movement is enough to pull her from a daze, watching as it moves down the winding street toward a home in the distance. Autumn finds herself in a familiar setting, yet not at all comforting as acid degrades her from the inside out. She’s parked a few feet down from her old sanctuary, without his car in sight. There’s a silent debate about whether to turn her back on it. Like he did to her. But there’s an undeniable pull, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly she gives in to it. Letting those unseen hands pull her along the sidewalk and up the empty driveway. She���s only released the moment she finds something…off. The front door now has a different shade of white, something no one would notice unless you saw it every day for the last 16 years. The print of Hopper’s boot is gone, along with the splintered wood.

Someone else had been here.

She reacts without thought. Fingers tight around the handle in an attempt to pry it open, though it doesn’t budge. Frantically, she digs through the contents of her bag, searching for the key only to find it no longer fits the lock. Panic sets in, eyes blown wide as she catapults across the yard to prove herself wrong. The curtains are pulled shut in the long stretch of living room windows, keeping secrecy buried within the shadows. She pushes on. Nearly tripping over heavy footsteps as her attention is stolen away by newly replaced windows. No shattered glass or cracked lines. Like nothing had ever happened. The sliding door in the back is sealed shut, too. Once finicky and easy to pry open if you angled it a certain way, but now locked in place.

Trembling hands cup against the glass to shield her from the shocking glare, giving her access to an empty home. The long stretch of the hallway had been stripped of framed photographs. No table to collect the junk mail or keys. The dining room still holds the table she once sat at, but it’s newly polished to hide away any scuff marks gained through time. It’s almost as if she never existed, and that thought leaves her knees weakened.

She can see the railing of a staircase, feeling a phantom pain just at her fingertips as nails once clawed their way down the wood. The place where he followed; that man. The stranger that crept through the halls undetected until she found him. Had he expected her, somehow? Standing among her father's dedicated work, waiting for the girl to stumble upon him. Would things have gone worse if Steve was the one to wake first? Did he know she wasn’t alone and simply did not care? Willing to risk it, no matter the price.

A heavy breath fogs the chilled glass. A ghost to dance along its surface and distort her vision. A near blessing to hide the new emptiness of her old home. But as it fades, something else eases into her view. A recognizable smile paired with sweet blue eyes to hide his malice. He stands in the reflection. Tall and threatening just at her back, waiting with great patience.

She turns with haste, nearly slipping and seeking support against the door as she takes him in and this place of nightmares he stands at the center of. Her world has shifted. The glow of sunlight against fallen snow is now replaced by fluorescent fixtures in the ceiling. Her home has morphed into a long stretch of tiled walls, encapsulating the once soft ground she stood upon. It’s all familiar and for all of the wrong reasons. It holds a feeling of dread as her heart threatens to give out and succumb to the end. Thin lips are moving but there’s no voice heard. No words of promise laced with something sickening and evil. A single hand pries itself free from the confines of a coat pocket, reaching out to her as he takes a small step forward. Autumn is gone before he can take hold. Finding enough strength in trembling knees to carry herself around him in a full sprint. She won’t dare to look back. The only focus was to put as much distance between them as she could. The hallway seems never-ending.

Doors are mirrored across from one another, bolted shut and unmoving as she forces her weight against them. The girl rounds a corner with haste, dampened boots gliding across the polished flooring and ultimately forcing her body to collapse. She feels the pressure of the cold surface against her, but no throb of pain. She looks then, finding the man in a casual stride, yet closing the distance with ease. Autumn scrambles to stand, pushing herself further down the hall and toward the double doors. She’s uncertain if they’ll give way or remain solid like the others, but she still charges forward, eyes tightly shut as she throws herself against them.

Quickened steps react in panic. They skid and separate to balance out the weight shift, her focus now locked on the eerie space. The rainbow screams loud against perfectly painted walls, bleeding out into the flooring. But it’s not the room that holds her attention, or the chess board with scattered pieces, the players having just left. It’s not the roll of crayons as they fall from the nearby tables, or the fear of fire flickering just beneath the furthest door.

A figure waits for her in the mirror; short and dressed in gray-toned sweats. From afar, Autumn could swear it was the same girl that once invaded her mind, somehow finding her again to seek help. The teen chances a glance just over her shoulder, finding the space empty and free of threat. No footsteps to echo down the hall or soul-piercing eyes to strip away her life. With that minimal comfort, she advances. And the child does the same. The same foot with the same pace, and it leaves her frozen on the spot. It’s a trick of the mind - it’s all a part of the illusion she’s trapped within. But every motion is mimicked. Step after step, they grow closer to the mirror's surface. At first, she believes it to be that unnamed child. Then, a boy. The hair buzzed down to soft fuzz with no real defining facial features. It isn’t until Autumn takes in the color of their eyes as they stare up at her, expression unreadable, that things become more alarming. She recognizes the girl. The marks along her skin and the hue in empty eyes. Younger than she remembers. Never seen in photographs but easy to picture as her face morphs through time.

She stares back at an unknown version of herself, only more hollow.

For someone so young, the vacancy speaks - if not screams for concern. A soul to live through more than one lifetime. Experienced and damaged from it. Never knowing peace with darkened skin just beneath her eyes from a lack of rest. “What is this?” She asks no one in particular, more so, the universe. It’s a call for help. A demand from the Heavens above to provide clarity, or a plea from the depths of Hell to wipe this image clean from her mind. Their lips move in sync, though such a frail voice remains unheard from behind the shining barricade. But there is a voice. Not of a child, or of her. Not of the man lingering down the hall. Autumn’s name echoes through the room, pulling the child's attention away to instead look toward the double doors at her back. They swing and he emerges from the shadows, standing proud in the glimmering light with eyes locked on the child. Now feeling his presence creep in like a predator, Autumn turns to meet him with blood frozen in her veins. She can feel the small hairs rise beneath her layered tops, her chest aching and releasing a hazy cloud as a hard exhale turns to mist.

It’s a stark contrast to the eerie hallways she raced through. Her eyes were forced to squint from the pain of brilliant light, shocking her back into reality. She stands on the same snow-covered concrete slab, hands and back pressed firmly to the new glass door, slowly slipping as her knees shake from tension. The rushing currents of blood fill her ears with a sharp ring, gaze unfocused as she struggles to settle. It’s hard to know if anything was real. If she only surrenders to familiar surroundings, letting her guard down to be thrown back into darkness.

She waits.

A muffled noise somehow breaks through the deafening barrier, only becoming more clear with every call. Autumn follows the noise with hesitance, finding a neighbor leaning further into her view to gain some attention. The elderly woman raises a hand in greeting, wearing a timid smile. The sight of her brings a sudden awareness - a jolt to the body as she pushes herself away from the surface. Lips tremble as they try to mimic the other woman. “M-morning, Mrs. Collins.”

At the sound of her name, her shoulders fall to rest and there’s less concern in her eyes. Now more gentle, yet curious. “You’ll catch a cold out here,” she states. Her arms crossed tight over her chest, bundling up her husband's jacket as she inches closer with care. “D’you leave something behind?”

The question lingers in the air. Heard, but not fully registered and her mouth hangs agape in search for a stupefying response. But the woman fills the space between them with ease, a small chuckle heard as she moves through every memory made. “I used t’leave things behind after every move. The rush of it all leaves your mind so frazzled, you barely know what’s happening.”

She’s lost within her own world, while Autumn stands without guidance in a vacant field. The horizon stretches on forever, never giving closure or providing answers. She’s simply lost, though Mrs. Collins does all she can to pave a rocky path. “I didn’t think I would get the chance to say ‘Goodbye.’ Your father was in such a hurry. He barely spoke a word t’me. I even tried t’offer up my grandson t’help load up the trucks. Awfully stubborn, your father.” She waits a moment, eyes fixated on the empty dining room that once echoed with laughter. The glow from within breaking through closed curtains, allowing silhouettes to dance along the ground. “I had no idea you were even moving. It’s so exciting, isn’t it? Making new memories.”

Winter has stolen life from more than vivid nature. It snuck inside - silent and without warning as it filled the girl's chest. The unseen reaper, casting out pieces of her collected soul with every breath. Left as a shell. Without thought and unfeeling, picturing her father loading up their entire life so that he could vanish into the night. Autumn could hardly find the strength to hate him. To loathe or pity him and this unknown story he writes out for himself. There’s only a wilted smile, uttering a soft, “Goodbye, Mrs. Collins,” before closing this chapter in her own story, leaving it behind for good, so that she can begin another.