#sending him to hell with a lil spin

[sweatersadkitty]

i am a grace chastity is on the aromantic spectrum but NOT on the asexual spectrum truther.

happy halloween, bitches

[cyberrmusee]

hear me out- HEAR ME OUT- rivals satoru and suguru where they’ve been fighting each other over dumb shit since middle school and competing for better grades, whatever.

and one of them has a crush on you… so the other fucks you first. and sends pics/ maybe even is on call with the other??

this is evil i fear

- ⭐️

cw: m@ting press, mentions of bre3ding, dub con? sorta, phone s3x sorta?, m@sturbation, rivalry, bi suguboo and satoru :3

i hope this lives up to ur expectations at least a lil bit😭

satoru and suguru, had known each other forever, for as long as they could remember. They had also been competing for EVERYTHING as long as they could remember.

satoru had always been number one at everything he ever tried, sports, cooking, gaming, welding, hell anything you could think of, he’d tried it and mastered in no time. It would drive suguru up a wall.

But there was one thing satoru could never beat him at… charming a woman. Sure he could get one in bed easy, no problem, but when he actually liked a woman? oh he was fucked. That is to say, he practically had ZERO actual game, no matter his looks or status, especially since it was YOU.

Someone who wasn’t fascinated by his wealth, talent or status. The very reason he fell for you, the moment his status and wealth didn’t woo you, it was like something clicked in place for him, something chanted over and over in his mind "her, its her" and from the moment he AND his rival realized, he knew he was screwed.

Suguru however? oh this is his specialty. His natural flirtatious behavior and laid back demeanor, combined with all that damn smooth talking he does, he could have any woman within a ten mile radius, head over heels for him in 48 hours flat. He was just that good. It was the thing he prided himself most on, the one thing he could do, that his rival could not.

he’d caught sight of how satoru stared at you on campus, the yearning— longing in his gaze. the way his cheeks would tint pink whenever you walked past him without a care in the world, because to you, satoru wasn’t even on your radar.

it wasn’t until suguru noticed his white haired rival picking up on his moves, similar jokes, smirks and flirtation tactics— that he officially had set you in his sights. no way was he gonna get the girl with his fucking moves.

it started as just the usual, antagonistic, petty rivalry at first. he never planned to take it too far, just flirt with you enough to let his enemy know to fuck off with using what he deemed rightfully his. he didn’t even want you—though somewhere along the way he noticed the way your lashes fluttered when you spoke to him, the way your gloss sat on your lips and your shy smile when you listened to him and— holy shit the way your tits sat on your chest, just perfect. fuckin perfect.

it didn’t take long for you to give in to him and all his charms. not because you were easy, no but because he was too good at this, too charming, too laid back, too addictive. something about him had you craving every bit of his attention, affection and god his touch, you wanted him so bad, more than you’d care to admit out loud, your inner voice screamed at you “more more more more” until finally you caved and found yourself in your current situation.

he had you pent up beneath him, legs spread wide and slung over his shoulders, your body folded like a lawn chair in the meanest mating press he could manage, his hands on either side on your body as he slung his hips forward over and over and over. bed creaking under the sheer weight of both your bodies. wooden mast of the headboard banging against your bedroom walls. god, your poor neighbors.

his angry mushroomy tip hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed until now. your maw slacking open to whine out “s-sugu s’too much! can’t t-take it!” your head was spinning, your velvety walls hugging him tight, greedy cunt pulling him in deeper as you cunt wept around his shaft and he hissed at the bliss of pleasure. “you c-can take it pre-pretty girl—hah…fuck” his hair pulled out of his messy bun, raven locks swaying with the mass of his moving body, as he fucked you deeper deeper deeper with every thrust. “s’all wet like this f’me hm?” he grunted as he moved a hand to swipe at your puffy lips, covered in your own thick, clear arousal, bringing his fingers back up and stretching them apart to look at the glistening string of your essence between them before shoving the digits in his mouth, groaning as he savored your taste. “mmmm so fuckin’ good, pussy so sweet.”

you only crooned in response as his veins swept over every orifice of your gummy insides deliciously. tummy bulging slightly from the monstrous size of his weighted cock as he bullied the hilt of your cunt. eyes rolling back as that ball of heat built slowly in your lower tummy with every plap plap plap! of his hips against yours. “suguuu! m’gonna cummm!”you cried out as a thin sheen of sweat began to form on your skin, as the squelching noises of your greedy cunt, your moans and his grunts filled the room. through the haze of lust and sex in the room, your phone buzzes from your nightstand and had it not lit up, suguru would’ve missed it, but oh- oh, he could not miss the name that popped up on the screen.

“satoru 🩵”

he was calling and oh he had the biggest shit eating grin plastered on his face as he reached for the phone and put it up to his ear, between his shoulder and cheek, answering. "hey gorgeous was just calling to see if you maybe-" his rivals voice rasped out before he cut him off "she's busy." he grunted as his hips never slowed.

for a moment he sat in silence at the sound of sugurus voice, denial settling in his bones, but the unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, whines and cries sounding off in the background— he had you, fuck, he actually had you, and sounding like that? satoru hated to admit it was making him unimaginably hard as he huffed through his nostrils on the other end of the line. “you fuckin’-”only to be cut off by suguru yet again, hissing at the way your pussy clenched around him, your orgasm on the horizon as you whimpered underneath him “hold on, gotta m-make her cum first, why don’t you just s-sit tight and enjoy the show?” he panted out as he tossed the phone back on the dresser leaving his rival to hear how he put you through the mattress from the other end of the line.

he yanked you down the bed, pulling you more onto his dick, every crevice of your poor cunt so filled with him you swore you were seeing stars and he was he in your lungs. his arms snaked around your waist as he tilted your lower half up and leaned his body forward just a tad more to find that reallll special spot inside, your mouth forming an “o” shape as he hit it “ah there it is” he smirked as he pistoned his hips roughly, pulling sounds from you, you didn’t even know you could make.

satoru from the other end of the phone, would never admit to the way he yanked his pants and boxers down at the sound of your moans and cries. the way his cock pearled thick beads of shiny pre-cum at the tip just from hearing the way you sounded— so desperate, so pretty.

no he would never admit that he muted himself on the call and fisted his cock so pathetically and angrily as he listened to the one man he couldn’t stand most, fuck you silly, the way he should be. he’d never admit how he was picturing your body and— sugurus too? as his hips bucked up into his hand, pumping his cock, moaning and whining desperately as he tried to match the strokes suguru was giving you.

and god he’d never admit that he came so hard from listening to the sounds his rival made when he came, the grunts and moans that sent him over the edge as hot spurts of his seed spilled out of him and into his hand while sugurus spilled inside of you, because your greedy cunt wouldn’t let him pull out in time or so he claimed.

he didn’t need to admit it though, because while he may have thought he muted the call, he didn’t, and suguru couldn’t miss the faint grunts emanating from the other end of the phone as he picked it up right after finishing “you know, if you want a threesome, you should just ask.”and with that, he hung up.

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for like a month or two bc i forgot i wrote it i’m sooo sorry if it’s, terrible i did notttt proofread it😭

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ No Goggles!Mark Edition!～ꗥ❀

Pairing: No Goggles!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: Eh, mentions of series typical violence, nothing crazy

Tags: Hurt/comfort, but like, not in a fun way lmao

Word Count: 3,132

Synopsis: You couldn’t be minding your business harder as you tend to your garden, when suddenly he appears. It’s nothing but chaos and forced southern hospitality from there.

a/n: this literally ended up being the longest spin off so far but i swear no goggles really is the most fun version of mark to write for

you can start reading the main series ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

The late afternoon sun settles over the treetops, casting that warm, amber haze across your porch and the half-wild garden patch just beyond it. The air’s thick with the hum of crickets and honeysuckle. You’ve got your gloved fingers deep in the dirt, coaxing a stubborn little basil sprig into place.

You sigh, brushing sweat off your brow with the back of your wrist.

“Now don’t y’all bloom all at once—Lord knows I only got two hands and a prayer…”

You barely get the words out before the air pressure drops—fast. Sudden. Not wind. Not thunder. Something else. You look up just as a figure slams into the yard like a meteor, sending up a spray of dirt and rock like it’s a confetti cannon.

He lands like a disaster. Tall. Blood-smeared. Wild-eyed—and grinning like he just won a prizefight.

No goggles. No pretense. Just trouble.

You stare at him, trowel still in hand. “The hell are you supposed to be?”

“’Don’t y’all bloom all at once’,” he repeats, twisting your words into a terrible impression of your accent. “That’s adorable. Are you seriously real?”

He says it like he’s seen ghosts before, but you’re the haunting.

“I said,” you snap, “who the hell are you?”

He straightens, chest puffed out in mock confidence. “Aw, shucks, reckon I’m just a tumbleweed blowin’ through… lookin’ for a sweet lil’ rose to pluck.”

Smack.

Your glove cracks across his cheek so fast you surprise even yourself. The hit echoes sharp in the still air.

He touches his face, stunned for all of two seconds. Then grins like you just handed him a gift.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, “do it again. That was incredible.”

Your lip curls. “You mockin’ me, boy?”

He tilts his head, stepping closer like a moth to a bug zapper. “I was—but now I think I’m in love. Seriously, what are you? You sound like you stepped out of a fairytale with a switchblade.”

You take a sharp step back, raising your trowel just in case. “You’re not right in the head.”

“Debatable.” He circles you now, hands behind his back, still grinning. “Say something else. Come on. ‘Hands and a prayer’—what else you got? Threaten me again, but like… with that sweet little drawl.”

You glare. “I could end you with this trowel.”

“There it is!” he nearly shouts, eyes wide. “Say it again. Slower.”

You exhale through your nose. “Bless your dumb little heart.”

He actually stumbles back, laughing like he’s been hit. “Oh my god. You’re killing me. This is the best day of my life.”

You stare, baffled, as he floats a few inches off the ground, just to lazily hover around you like a drunk balloon.

“What’s your name?” he asks, voice low and curious.

“…[y/n].”

“Well, [y/n],” he says, saying it like he’s tasting it, “I think I’m gonna stick around a while. Hope you don’t mind. I need to hear you call me stupid at least six more times.”

You raise your brows, unimpressed. “Only six?”

His smile goes crooked. “Oh, you’re perfect.”

You don’t answer. Just look him over, still gripping your trowel like you might chuck it at his head if he makes another dumb joke.

He hovers lazily a few feet above the garden now, turning upside down midair with all the grace of a sleep-deprived bat.

“What even is this place?” he muses. “Everything’s slow, and hot, and you smell like peach jam and dirt. It’s kinda great. Definitely weird.”

You fold your arms. “You done floatin’ and talkin’ nonsense, or should I go grab a fly swatter?”

“God, you’re ruthless.” He flips back upright. “Can’t decide if I wanna fight you or marry you.”

“Try either and you’re gettin’ buried in the compost pile.”

He laughs again—loud and sharp, full of teeth. You don’t know what’s wrong with him, exactly. But it’s something. Something tilted. Like the world’s just a little sideways in his eyes.

He lands again, just outside swinging range.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go,” he says, holding up his hands. “Multiverse business and all that. Gotta go break something somewhere else.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” you mutter.

He starts to turn, then pauses. “Say goodbye to me.”

You blink. “No.”

“Say it with the accent.”

“No.”

“Say ‘see ya later, darlin’, don’t do nothin’ foolish’ or whatever y’all say before a good ol’ murder.”

You sigh, hard. “Go. Before I introduce this trowel to your spleen.”

He grins one last time and takes off—so fast he kicks up dust all over your garden.

You cough, waving a hand. “Jackass.”

—

You’re halfway through a slice of pie on the porch when the screen door creaks and you hear it again—that whoosh.

And there he is.

He doesn’t stick the landing this time, slamming into the dirt with a grunt then immediately going still for a beat.

“Are you serious?” you hiss, standing up quickly, pie forgotten. "You again?"

He groans, hand clutching his side. He’s bleeding more now—his suit dark with it. Face smeared with dirt. Hair a disaster. Still smirking, somehow.

You storm down the steps, apron flapping like a battle flag.

“You bleedin’ on my tomatoes now, is that it?” you snap, glaring down at the heap of superpowered insanity curled in your garden.

Mark props himself up on an elbow, wincing slightly, and shoots you a crooked smile. “Missed you too, darlin’.”

“You’re leakin’ like a busted faucet, darlin’,” you fire back, crouching beside him despite your better judgment. “And don’t think callin’ me sweet things is gonna keep me from usin’ this trowel again.”

He wheezes a laugh. “God, I knew you were dangerous.”

You eye the gash running down his side, brow pinching. “You need a doctor.”

He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes. “Got one right here.”

“I plant basil,” you deadpan. “I ain’t a trauma center.”

“You’ve got clean hands and good instincts,” he murmurs, quieter now. “That’s more than most.”

You blink. There’s something under his voice now. A crack in the static. Just for a second.

“…what the hell happened to you?”

Mark shrugs—or tries to. “Ran into someone who didn’t like my sense of humor.”

“Well, sugar, neither do I,” you grumble, already pressing a clean corner of your apron to the wound. “Hold still.”

He hisses at the contact, but stays quiet. Watching you.

You try not to notice how close his face is now. How he’s still got that half-smile, but it’s lazier. Sleepy. Tired in a way that doesn’t match his usual cackling energy.

“You got a name?” you ask, voice lower now.

He watches you for a moment, eyes unreadable. “Mark.”

You blink. Somehow you expected something fake. Something stupid, like “Omega Cowboy.”

“…Mark,” you repeat, testing it out. “Well. That’s almost normal.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he warns. “I’m still very much a problem.”

You press the cloth harder, and he hisses through his teeth.

“Yeah, well,” you murmur, “I’ve wrangled worse.”

He grins at that—slow and feral. “That right?”

“Mmhmm.” You narrow your eyes. “Now quit smilin’ like a possum in the trash and hold that tight. I’m gettin’ the kit.”

As you turn, he watches you go, head tipping back against the dirt, eyes slipping shut for just a second.

“…peach jam and dirt,” he murmurs again, like a prayer or a punchline.

And for once, he doesn’t laugh after.

You’re only inside a minute—maybe two. Long enough to grab the dusty first aid kit from under the kitchen sink and curse yourself for getting involved.

But the moment you step back onto the porch, you freeze.

Mark's slumped sideways now, face pale beneath the grime, body too still.

"Mark?"

No answer.

You drop the kit, heart jolting. “Oh, no you don’t, you lunatic—hey!” You rush to him, dropping to your knees in the dirt. “Don’t you go dyin’ in my garden, I just fixed the soil!”

You shake him once—twice. His head lolls. You slap his cheek gently, then a little harder.

“Mark, dammit, wake up!”

He groans, eyes fluttering open, unfocused.

“There you are,” you exhale, relief punching through your chest. “Come on now, get up.”

“Mm… m’up,” he slurs, trying to roll but only managing a half-hearted twitch. “This the part where you kiss me back to life?”

You glare at him. “This the part where I drag your dumb, heavy ass into my house so you don’t bleed out in the beans.”

He grins—dopey and dazed. “Romantic.”

“Shut up.”

With way more effort than you’d like to admit, you haul one of his arms over your shoulders and heave him up, grunting as he leans heavily on you.

“God, you’re built like a fridge,” you huff. “What are you even made of?”

“Sex appeal,” he mutters into your hair.

You elbow him in the ribs and he groans in a way that might be exaggerated. Might not.

You stumble inside together, kicking the screen door open and half-dragging, half-carrying him through the hallway until you reach the only place remotely suitable—the bedroom. You don’t have a couch big enough for all of him, and you sure as hell aren’t laying him down on your kitchen table.

You guide him down onto the mattress as gently as you can. He flops onto his back with a dramatic sigh, arms spread like he’s just been martyred.

“Well, well,” he drawls, eyes closed, “this is moving way faster than I expected.”

You toss a pillow at his face. “You’re bleedin’ out, not gettin’ lucky.”

“Shame,” he says, muffled by cotton. “I’m very charming in a near-death state. Some women are into that.”

You shoot him a look as you open the kit. “I’m into clean sheets and peace of mind, which you’re actively ruinin’ both.”

He laughs—wheezing, ragged, but real.

You try not to think about the way that sound lands in your chest like a spark in dry brush.

You reach for the alcohol and cotton pads, muttering under your breath. “Can’t believe I’m patchin’ up some interdimensional jackass in my Sunday sheets…”

He just grins, head tipping to the side as he watches you work.

You move in silence for a moment, hands steady as you clean the blood from his side. It's worse than you thought—jagged, bruised, and deeper than any normal person would’ve survived.

But he’s not normal.

You catch sight of something under the blood—a line of faded scarring, old and angry, spiderwebbing across his ribs. You frown, hand pausing for just a second too long.

His voice is quieter now. “Yeah. That one’s from a different me.”

You glance up.

He’s watching you again. Not leering. Not grinning. Just watching.

You say nothing. Just keep cleaning, dabbing gently with the cloth.

“…and that one,” he adds, pointing lazily to a jagged scar near his shoulder, “was from some cape who thought he could moral-speech me into giving up. Didn’t go well for him.”

You shake your head. “You act like this is all normal.”

He shrugs—or tries to. “It is. For me.”

You don’t answer. Just reach for the bandages. The weight of it sits between you—his body littered with stories he tells like punchlines. But none of them are funny.

He shifts, drawing a long, dramatic breath. “Y’know… if you cared about me even a little, you’d be feeding me right now.”

You pause mid-wrap.

Lord help you—you feel it. That tug. That deep-rooted, bone-deep southern instinct that kicks in when someone so much as breathes the word “hungry” near you.

You purse your lips, trying to fight it off like a sneeze in church.

“…You just bled all over my garden,” you mutter. “That don’t make you helpless.”

He makes a noise—somewhere between a groan and a pitiful sigh—and slumps dramatically against the headboard like a man meeting his untimely end.

“Can’t lift my arms,” he says faintly, flexing one just enough to contradict himself. “Might faint. Again. It’s tragic.”

You roll your eyes. “You dramatic little—”

“Please,” he adds, and it’s way too sweet to be real. “Just a biscuit. Maybe two. A spoonful of somethin’. You’d be so good at it. I can tell. Bet you feed people like it’s a holy mission.”

Your jaw tics.

Because he’s not wrong.

You hate that he’s not wrong.

You huff and stand, muttering all the way down the hall like you’re not about to do exactly what he asked. There’s a plate of leftover fried chicken in the icebox, half a tin of biscuits, and some peach preserves you jarred yourself just last month. You warm it all up without thinking—like muscle memory, like praying over your food.

It’s not about him, you tell yourself. It’s about basic decency. Hospitality. He’s a guest. A half-dead, annoying-as-sin guest. Doesn’t mean you weren’t raised right.

When you come back, plate in hand, he perks up like a possum sniffing pie. “Oh my god,” he breathes. “Is that jam?”

“Peach preserves,” you correct, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Made it myself.”

He places a hand over his heart. “Of course you did. I knew you were perfect.”

“Shut up and eat.”

He lifts a hand weakly—barely. Then lets it flop back down. “Mmm. Can’t. Too weak.”

You stare at him.

He stares right back. All wounded pride and fluttering lashes like some Disney prince mid-meltdown.

You suck in a slow breath. “I swear, if you’re fakin’—”

“You’re really gonna let me die in here... biscuitless?”

You squint at him. “If I feed you one bite, you better not say a word.”

His grin returns, slow and gleaming. “Mouth shut. Hand to God.”

You take a piece of biscuit, slather a little peach on it, and raise it to his lips with more irritation than care.

He opens his mouth way too eagerly and takes the bite, eyes closing like he’s seeing visions of heaven.

“Oh my God,” he moans around it. “Marry me.”

You smack his shoulder—not hard enough to reopen anything, but firm enough to make your point.

“You said no talkin’.”

He holds up a finger, chewing. Swallows. Then leans in just a little. “But if I did die, this would’ve been the best last meal.”

You glare. “One more word and you’re gettin’ the rest of this on a paper towel.”

He zips his lips, but that smug look stays carved into his face. You feed him another bite—chicken this time—and he groans again, dramatic as ever.

You’re trying to be mad. You really are.

But the thing is… there’s a part of you that likes this. Not the flirting, not the chaos—but the feeding. The doing. The tiny flicker of comfort you can give someone, even someone as infuriating as him. Maybe especially him.

When you reach for a spoonful of jam, he murmurs low, voice all gravel and velvet. “Tell me I’m pitiful again. Right after the next bite.”

You stare at him.

Then you say it soft, real slow, like you’re talking to a toddler with a fever, “You poor, pitiful man.”

And it’s like you flipped a switch in him.

Mark’s head rolls back against the headboard, mouth slack, eyes fluttering half-closed like you just whispered something filthy in his ear instead of blessing him with pity.

He lets out this low, broken groan—obscene for what was supposed to be a wholesome peach-preserve moment.

“Jesus, say it again—do it while feeding me the jam, I swear I’ll ascend—”

You snatch the spoon back, scandalized. “Absolutely not.”

He blinks his eyes open, wide and betrayed. “No—wait, come back—I blacked out for a second, that was the best thing I’ve ever felt—”

“You need help,” you snap, standing up and backing away like he’s contagious.

He makes grabby hands toward the plate like he’s being abandoned in a war zone. “Don’t go—please, I’m dying again—”

“I’m not hand-feedin’ you through your fake orgasm!”

He flops dramatically sideways across your quilt. “Just one more bite, I swear. I’ll behave. I’ll be good. You can even cuss at me while you do it—I won’t even moan!”

You squint. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

“…It might be.”

You sigh, hard, pinching the bridge of your nose.

This man is gonna be the death of you. And he’s smiling like he knows it, too.

You step back toward the bed, torn between pity and pure exasperation, and offer him one last bite of biscuit—mostly just to shut him up. He takes it slow, all soft eyes and syrupy theatrics, like he’s staring down the barrel of romance itself.

Then, faster than you can blink, he grabs your wrist.

Not hard—just firm enough to pull you closer.

“Don’t,” you warn, already knowing what’s coming.

But he’s got that look again—like chaos in human form—grinning just enough to be dangerous.

“I’ll be gentle,” he lies.

And then he kisses you.

Warm. Surprising. Way too pleased with himself.

You go rigid, eyes wide, taste of peach jam still fresh on both your mouths.

And then your hand flies before you even think about it.

SMACK.

The sound echoes sharp off the walls.

He flinches—but only just. Mostly, he laughs. Full-body, pleased-as-hell laughter like he just got everything he wanted and dessert, too.

“You kiss like you slap,” he says, dazed and delighted. “God, you’re a dream—where’re you goin’? No, no, don’t walk away—come back!”

But you are done.

You storm out of the room with a muttered, “Pervert,” and the sound of your bare feet on hardwood.

He calls after you, pitiful as a stray dog in the rain.

“Sugar! C’mon! Don’t go cold on me now—we were havin’ a moment! I’m injured! I’m biscuitless!”

Silence.

Then—

Click.

That distinct, unmistakable sound.

He stiffens.

You step back into the doorway holding Meemaw’s double-barrel shotgun like it’s part of your Sunday best. Hair mussed. Cheeks flushed. Voice calm as a lullaby soaked in arsenic.

“You put your mouth on me again without askin’, I’ll be scrapin’ you off the porch with a shovel.”

Mark goes perfectly still.

Then his smile spreads again, wide and wicked. “Oh my god. You are my dream girl.”

You raise the barrel a fraction. “Test me.”

He lifts both hands, still grinning like this is a honeymoon, not a warning. “Alright, alright—I’m behavin’. I swear. Just—leave the shotgun. For ambiance.”

You slam the door on your way out.

His grin doesn’t falter. Not even a little.

“... God I love this place.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Hi.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You drift into that sort of sleep that makes your head hurt. Even as you detach from consciousness, you feel the tempo in your skull driven by the pulse of your fatigue. The void behind your eyelids is painted in dull hues in splotches and smears. 

The residue of stress from your waking hours remains. It coils your muscles and knots under your shoulder blade. Just behind the curtain of sleep, it waits for you. A flight, your family, all that mess. 

You groan as you wake slowly. You shift as the blankets lay heavily over you, almost holding you down as you try to stretch out the stiffness. You arch your back and stop as you feel a firm prodding against your ass. 

You slap your hand down on the arm hooked around your middle. No way. Lloyd squeezes you and draws himself flush until you know exactly what he’s pushing against you. Ew! 

You jar away from him, ripping his arm off as you bounce and sit up in disgust. As you do, the blankets slip off his torso and he grumbles. His naked arm and shoulder bulge.

You huff and clutch your head. “Jesus, Lloyd, what are you doing?” 

“Mmm,” he curls his arm over his head, “shhhhh.” 

“Are you drunk?” You accuses. 

He giggles, “a lil.” 

You roll your eyes and reach for your phone. Your hand hovers over the night table and you frown. It’s gone. 

“Where the hell is my phone?” You hiss. 

“I unno,” he babbles. 

“Mr. Hansen,” you poke him, “where the heck is my phone? It was right here, now--”  

Your eyes skim to his side of the bed and pinpoint on the digital clock. Your heart drops. What the hell? You leap out of bed in a panic and rush around to the table, grabbing the clock as you whine. 

“No, no, it’s-- I missed my flight! Lloyd,” you slam down the clock, “what did you do with my phone?” 

“If you must know, I plugged it in. For you.” He raises a hand groggily, his eyes still closed. “I was being nice.” 

“Nice?” You spin and search around. 

You spot the cord plugged in beside the television. You don’t fail to notice the empty samplers of whiskey either. You storm across the room and pick up your phone. You tap the home button and it stays black. You gnash your teeth and push the power button on the side. The boot screen flashes on. 

“What-- you shut it off! You made me miss my alarm and my trip out. Everything else is booked up!” 

“Family sucks,” he gurgles. “You’re not missing much.” 

“That’s not fair,” you snap. “You don’t know my family, okay? Not everyone came from a cult of spoiled rich kids.” 

“I’m not spoiled,” he argues and stretches, the blankets slipping further down. 

“Oh, because that’s what’s important right now,” your anger spikes and you shake. You aren’t emotional. You do your best to repress everything, for your own good as much as his, but you’re at the end of your rope. After last night and now this, how can you not be enraged? “Ugh, are you naked?” 

“Can’t sleep in clothes. Gotta let it breathe,” he spreads over the bed with a yawn. 

You stand speechless, staring at him, helpless to the flurry of emotions coursing through you. Disgust, rage, disappointment, frustration, every last stitch holding you together snaps. You drop your head and sigh. 

“Fine, I’m just going to go home.” You surrender, “I give up.” 

You shake your head and traipse away. You go into the bathroom and shut the door. Before you resign yourself to the long journey back, you just need a moment. 

You sit on the edge of the tub and stare at the tile. You feel foolish. You don’t know why you came all this way for such an ungrateful brat. He might be your boss, you might need your job, but you deserve better.

Well, you don’t always get what you want, do you? No, it's people like Lloyd and his clan that do.

The handle turns and before you can react, the door swings open slowly. You look up and gasp as you raise your hand to block out Lloyd’s lower half. He shamelessly stands in the doorway, leaning on the frame. 

“Hey, Pixie Puff, it’s okay. How about we drive up to see the family? Me and you? We could make a road trip of it.” 

“Drive? You mean me? You’re still tipsy. Plus, you are not invited,” you snarl and look down. You don’t know how you forgot, or how you managed to sleep in it, but the ring still clings to your finger. You tear it off as you stand. You stomp up to him and shove it into his chest. “It’s all just a joke. Or maybe I’m the joke.” 

“No, Pix, you saved me,” he slurs. “Really. Last night... was amazing. I’ve never seen you like that. Fiery.” He reaches to touch your cheek and you dodge him. You grab his hand instead and put the ring in it. 

“I wasted my time,” you let him go. 

He watches you silently, swaying on his feet as you turn to the sink. You unwrap the sample-sized toothbrush and uncap the mini tube of toothpaste. You try ignore him as he looms in the door. 

“Please don’t leave,” he says. “You can’t Pixie pie. Please,” he staggers forward and you turn your face away before you can see everything. “Look, there’s Christmas brunch today and I can’t go alone.” 

You spit a mouthful into the sink and rinse it away, “well, you’re going to.” 

“No way,” he argues. “Mom’s been blowing up my phone and dad left me a long voicemail. I’m in trouble.” 

“It’s not my problem.” 

“But, but—you're my assistant. I’m your boss.” 

“And I’m not your fiancee.” You counter. 

“I demand it, I—I--” he blusters as he braces the sink. “I’m in trouble, Pix. I’ve been a bad boy.” 

The words make your insides crawl. How can he be so pathetic in both the most revolting and most pitiable way? You've never seen him like this and you never really wanted to. It’s embarrassing. 

“Like I said--” 

“No, no,” he grabs your wrist and you flick foamy paste onto him. “I’m not asking. You do this or—or you’re fired!” 

You stare at him. You weigh the consequences. It might be nice to be free, yet then again, you’ve been applying for jobs since you started working for him and haven’t gotten anything better. Only jobs with lower pay and menial work. 

“You want me to beg? I can beg,” he says. 

“Can you put some pants on?” You tear away from him and grab a towel. You throw it at him and go back to brushing your teeth. 

“Pixie,” he pouts. 

“I want a raise.” 

“Fifty cents.” 

“Fifty-- Five dollars at least. And a Christmas bonus. And vacation days,” you rinse the brush then your mouth. You use the hand towel to dry off. “And I want it in writing.” 

“What? You don’t trust me?” He challenges. 

“You lied to get me here. Then you sabotaged my alarm.” 

“I was helping--” 

“You know what you did.” 

“Christ, Pix, when did you get so mouthy? It’s making my balls hurt.” 

“That’s gross,” you avert your eyes to the ceiling, “cover up. I can’t focus.” 

“Ugh, fine,” he wraps the towel around his waist. “I’m sure you’ve seen one before. Probably not any as big but--” 

“I want to know why you’re doing this.” 

“You met my family, you know they’re a handful,” he crosses his arms and shrugs. His chest bulges and the thick hair brushes against that on his arms. 

“There’s another reason.” 

“No,” he denies unconvincingly. 

“I’m not going to go along with this dumb play if you don’t tell me. Don’t you think I deserve to know? If you keep me ignorant, than how can I be convincing, huh?” 

“You’re smart. Sneaky even,” he unfolds one arm and points at you. “Alright, cards on the table.” He drops his other arms and adjusts the towel around his waist as he grimaces. “That inheritance my sister mentioned. It’s... substantial. And I want it.” 

“Okay, but... wouldn’t that mean someone needs to die?” 

“Nah, the old bat’s been dead forever,” he sneers. “I get it when I get married. Well, a portion of it. Then the rest is all mine once I pop out a mini Lloyd.” 

You squint as you take in his explanation. It still doesn’t make sense. 

“Right, but you’d have to present legal papers. And a child. That’ll be harder to fake.” 

“Yeah, almost impossible.” He agrees and flutters his fingers over his mustache. He stares at you. Intently. 

Heat creeps up your back and across your shoulders. It curls around your nap and crawls up your cheeks. He can’t mean-- 

“Absolutely not,” you yipe. “You really are out of your mind. We are not getting married and I’m definitely not.... not doing that other thing.” 

“It’s just a piece of paper,” he says. 

“Just-- no way. No!” You wave your arms vehemently. “Not in a million years.” 

“Ouch,” he frowns, “you know, that hurts my feelings.” 

“You’re my boss, alright? It's just... deranged.” 

“I can be,” he shrugs. 

“Lloyd! Mr. Hansen,” you have to calm yourself before you continue, “I’m not going to sell myself because you want some trust fund--” 

“I’ll give you a cut,” he says suddenly. “How about it? Then you won’t even need a raise because you’ll be rich.” 

You go quiet. It’s fishy. You know you can’t trust him. He already lied to you a dozen times over. Besides, giving you a fair share means cutting you loose. Is it that much money? 

“How much?” You ask. 

“Ten thousand.” 

“All this for ten thousand? Sure. It’s more. I know it. So you give me at least a million or I’m going to fill up my tank and go home, right now.” 

“A million--” he coughs. “You drive a hard bargain for someone making less than 100k.” 

“And who’s fault is that?” You retort. “I want a million and I want that notarized.” 

“Notarized?” He whines. 

“Fine, can’t lose what I never had--” 

“Fine, fine, you can have it. I’ll get it notarized,” he nears and offers his hand, “but it’s Christmas and I think everything’s closed so... shake on it?” 

“I’m not having a kid. We’re going to a courthouse then I’m getting mine and going.” 

“We can do a surrogate--” 

“No kid.” 

“Adopt--” 

“Don’t push it,” you grab his hand and shake. “One million and I will suffer until the New Year.” 

He grins triumphantly, “you know, Pix, I always appreciated that about you. You always got my back.” 

“Go. You need to sleep off the Jack Daniels,” you retract your hand sharply. 

“And I’ll dream of all that money we’re going to get,” he giggles and rubs his palms together. “We’re going to be rich, baby.” 

“Lay down before I change my mind.” 

“Too late, we shook on it,” he winks and backs up. The towel catches on the rod next to the door and you quickly turn as it slackens. He lets out an oops as it falls off and you avoid looking back. “This show’s for free, baby, don’t worry.” 

“Get out,” you say. “I’m gonna need some coffee if I’m going to deal with you all day.” 

“Grab me some too, pookie? Pweez,” he taunts, “oh, and if they’re serving bacon, I’ll have at least a dozen strips. The grease is good for my hangover and once that hits, I’m gonna be a baby.” 

“That’s great,” you mutter dryly, “coffee and bacon. Now please, give me some space.” 

“It won’t be that bad, Pixie stick. Trust me. You got me.” 

“Not making it better,” you turn to the sink and lean on it. “Please.” 

“Right, okay, I’m going,” he picks up the towel and slowly pulls on the door. You sigh. “I’ll be in bed if you need me.” 

You shake your head. The door clicks and you look at your reflection. Are you really doing this? It feels like you’re selling your soul. You should’ve asked for more. 

You finally find your strength. You go out into the suite and grab your bag. You pull out your sweater and throw it over your head. You ignore Lloyd as he lays on the bed. 

You take your wallet and the room key. You don’t bother with your phone. You might just leave it there for the day because once your mother finds out you missed your flight, you’ll be in for an earful. You already feel rotten enough. 

As you find your way down to the dining hall, your anger returns. He did that on purpose. He spoiled your plans all for his stupid selfish ploy. The payout might be hefty but you’re already regretting this. Still, he as good as backed you into a corner...right? 

You get the coffee, two cups on a tray, and some muffins, and a greedy handful of bacon. You’re not hungry, you just need caffeine. You head back up to the room, basking in the silence of the mostly empty hotel. Everyone else did what you should have and hit the road by now. 

You make a sluggish return. The only thing you have to look forward to is the coffee and you’re sure that hotel fare is not gourmet roast. You balance the tray and slide the card in the lock. You enter the room, roiling in your thoughts. 

You’re too distracted to notice the noise before you get too far. You put the tray down as your ears prick at the dulcet groan. You glance over at Lloyd as something moves beneath the blankets. Is he-- 

“Oh god!” You exclaim and spin on your heel. “Jesus!” 

You race out of the room and slam the door as you enter the hall. You lean against and stifle a scream. What is wrong with him? Well, you know exactly what’s wrong with him. Daddy issues, mommy issues, sister issues, and maybe even uncle issues. He’s entirely corrupt and you just made a deal with him. 

This is going to be a nightmare. 

[bloodibambiidoll]

White Rabbit

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rafe goes to Barry for help with his “pouge problem” but he gets more help than he bargained for when he meets Barry’s cousin in the most unsuspecting way. He can’t stay away from her, despite Barry’s protests, especially when she’s just as unhinged as he is. Takes place during season 2 episode 4 “Homecoming”. Wk: 6.9k.(oops)

Warnings: Gun violence(reader shoots a guy but doesn’t kill him), cocaine use(both reader and rafe), Barry is not super stoked about R and Rafe being into each other, unprotected sex, oral (m & f), choking, hair pulling, face fucking, Dom!Rafe, Sub!Reader, unhinged reader, spit kink, digration, daddy kink, a lil spanking, biting, Rafe & R are obsessed with each other, R has the nickname “bunny” & is implied to be alternative, her outfit is described but other than that no physical descriptions. Lmk if I missed any please! 18+MNDI!!

A/N: This is my first time ever writing for Rafe, so it might not be the best ever but I fell for this man so hard and I just needed to write him with an unhinged girl. Shout out to my girl @babygorewhore for not only beta reading but hyping me up/brainstorming with me through this entire fic. I might make this into a series of some sort. Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!✨🖤

Rafe slammed his truck door shut as he walked up to Barry’s porch, scoffing when he saw him sitting there with his feet propped up while he read a book.

“Hey, you got my shit?”

“Shit, you’re early.” Barry closes his book and sets it down on the table in front of him, a condescending smirk spreading across his lips.

“Do you have my shit or not, man?” Rafe groans as he plops his large body down onto the rundown cushion of one of the porch chairs.

“Yeah, I got yo shit.” Barry chuckles, pulling the baggy from his pocket and tossing it on the table. “You got my money?”

“Yeah.” Rafe pulls a wad of cash from his pocket and slaps it into his hand before grabbing the baggy so he can make himself line. He snorts it, letting out a deep breath after. “I need a piece too.”

“Hooohoooo!! You need a piece? Country Club Killer now, huh?” Barry laughs, his hand coming down to slap his knee.

“Don’t!!” Rafe slams his hand on the table. “Mess with me right now.”

“Aight, what the hell you need a piece for?”

“John B is fucking back.”

“John B is fucking dead dude.”

“Nah man, I saw him for myself in the Bahamas, and just now Top saw him in town with my sister scoring beer.”

“FUCK!!!!” Barry kicks the table, sending it flying a few feet away. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin me? I’m done playing with these kids bruh.”

Barry kicks himself up from his seat, walking over to a locker on the side of the porch. He enters the combination before he pulls out a gun and starts to load it.

“You wanna be done with those little shits once and for all? You’re gonna need a lot more than just a piece. You gotta start going at this shit like a soldier.” He spins the barrel, clicking it into place before handing the gun to Rafe.

“You do this, you know I’ll take care of you, alright? You won’t be doing this shit for nothing man I’ll -“

“YOU THINK I’M SCARED OF YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH?” A male voice came booming from behind the house.

“IF YOU AREN’T NOW, YOU FUCKING WILL BE!” Another voice followed, but this one was unmistakably female.

“Dude, what the fuck was that? Is that chick okay? Should you like - I don’t know - deal with that or some shit?” Rafe’s blue eyes scan the other man’s face for signs of distress but it was almost like if he hadn’t mentioned it, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Nah bro, that’s my cousin. She’s got it, stop trippin. We doin’ this or not?”

There’s a loud crash and then he hears the girl's voice again.

“I TOLD YOU TO GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!!”

“Dude I’m gonna go check it out, that doesn’t sound good.” Rafe isn’t sure why he really gives a shit if this random chick who he hasn’t even seen is alright or not, maybe he’s just high and paranoid. Either way his curiosity gets the best of him and he starts walking towards the back of Barry’s place.

“She doesn’t need your help pretty boy, trust me.” Barry snorts and shakes his head as he begrudgingly follows him.

When Rafe rounds the corner the sight he sees is far from what he was expecting. The man who he heard yelling was shorter than him but more built, probably middle aged, he wore a white tank top and black board shorts and the look in his eyes told him that he was definitely one of Barry’s customers or less reliable dealers. The girl on the other hand? You were half his size, your hair in two braids with ribbons tied at the ends of them, you were wearing a tiny little baby pink tank top and black spandex shorts that barely covered her ass. You had combat boots on your feet that had little white ruffle socks sticking out of the top of them, but what was most shocking? You were holding a Glock in one of your small hands, and the collar of the man’s tank top was gathered in the other. You were standing on your tiptoes whilst also pulling the man down so he was face level with you, the Glock held to his head.

“I said, get on your fucking knees mother fucker, you got a hearing problem or some shit?” You growl at the man and it sends shivers down Rafe’s spine. You were beautiful. He watches as you shove the Glock into the man’s temple and ram your boot clad heel into his thigh causing him to fall to his knees with a grunt.

“Much better.” You smile as you tap his cheek with the gun before bringing it back to the side of his head. “Now, where the fuck is my fucking money?”

“I told you! I told you I don’t fucking have it right now I just need a little time!” The man’s voice is shaky now, his eyes traveling between you and the gun held to his head.

“Time? This isn’t a fucking loan service! Get me my money by tomorrow, or you’re fucked!” Your eyes are filled with fire and you let out a dry laugh.

“What’re you gonna do? Send Barry after me? Where is he at? He knows I always pay, just let me talk to hi-“ He’s cut off abruptly when you hit him across the cheek with the gun.

“SHUT UP!! You’re not fucking talking to Barry, you’re talking to me. If you don’t get my money you aren’t going to have to deal with him, you’re going to have to deal with me. Which I promise you don’t fucking want.” Rafe watches as you lean down into the guy's face, your eyes boring into his, a sinister smile paints your lips, and he isn’t even ashamed of the fact that he felt his cock stir in his pants at your display of dominance over this man twice your size. “Got it??”

“I don’t know how you expect me to get that amount by tomorrow I-“ The man grunts when you hit him in the face with the gun again, his face whipping to the side.

“I said, got it?” You hold the gun between his eyes, your smile never faltering.

“Yeah - yeah! I got it! I got it! Can I go now!?” The man holds his hands by his head in surrender, seemingly not wanting to argue with you further.

“I fucking mean it asshole, tomorrow, by sunset.” You glare at him momentarily before your smile returns, tapping his cheek with the gun again before turning to walk off.

“You aren’t gonna do shit bitch, you’re nothing without that little gun.”

Rafe’s blue eyes widen as he watches the man’s hand reach out and grab for your Glock. He subconsciously takes a step forward in your defense but soon realizes maybe you really don’t need help. Your body whips around, pulling the gun from the guy's reach and shooting him in the foot all in one motion. He screams out in pain, his hands grabbing onto his foot as he falls to the ground.

“Bring me my fucking money. Tomorrow. Or you’re going to be in a lot more pain than that.” You crouch down and spit in the guy's face before walking over him and into the house, letting the door slam shut behind you. Rafe stands there with his dick half hard and his jaw hanging open as he stares at the closed door you just disappeared behind.

“I told you she fuckin’ had it, and don’t even fuckin’ think about it, country club.” Barry’s voice snaps him out of his trance.

“Wha-? Think about what?”

“I see how you’re fuckin’ lookin at her dude, that’s like my sister in there. You stay your messy ass away from her, aight?”

“We should go check on her…” Rafe ignores Barry’s warning, walking towards the house despite his protests.

You let out an agitated groan as you flop down on the couch and toss your Glock on the cushion next to you. You grab a little clear baggy off the coffee table and sprinkle some of the powder onto the small mirror in front of you, using the random gift card you found in your wallet to push a portion of it into a straight line. You grab the rolled dollar bill sitting on the mirror and bring it up to your nose so fucking ready for this line after dealing with that shit head, but right when you bend over the front door slams open, causing you to jump back. Your foot hits the table and the movement makes a mess of your line. You let out a curse under your breath, your eyes rising to glare at your intruder.

You expect Barry, or maybe that fucking idiot really did want to lose a finger today. But instead of the brown eyes of your cousin, or the bloodshot hazel ones of your unreliable dealer, your eyes lock with piercing blue ones. You have to physically stop yourself from gasping at the sight of the man in front of you. He’s tall, really tall, and built, his chest and arms perfectly filling out the blue button up shirt he wore. His chestnut hair looked silky to the touch, his jaw looked perfect for biting, and his face was just all around beautiful. Especially those eyes, the look in them stern. There was something else there you couldn’t quite decipher, it almost seemed possessive.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Uh - yeah? Aside from the fact that you just scared the shit out of me and made me knock my line all over the table, I’m just peachy.” You scoff, throwing him a playful smirk and roll of your eyes.

“Country Club here seems to think you’re some kinda damsel in distress or some shit.” Barry walks through the door behind him, smacking his bicep with the back of his hand and laughing loudly.

“Damsel in distress, huh? I don’t think I’d mind if a pretty boy like you came to my rescue.” You bite your bottom lip, your eyes roaming his figure.

“Hell fuckin’ nah! Quit that shit out right now, Bunny. I mean it. I told him the same shit, I don’t want this.” He gestures between you and Rafe. “To be a thing. You two are a recipe for fuckin’ disaster. This is Rafe Cameron, the dude I was tellin’ you about.”

“What the fuck did you tell her about me man?” Rafe’s voice comes out almost panicked and you find yourself wanting to comfort him immediately. You jump up from your seat and walk around the table so you can stand in front of him. He’s even taller up close, you have to tilt your head all the way to meet his eyes and you stop yourself from clenching your thighs at the height difference.

“So this is the guy that killed the sheriff, huh? Pretty boy is a cop killer? I find that kind of sexy…” You twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers, your teeth subconsciously finding your bottom lip again as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Barry, what the hell man? You told her that shit?” He addresses the other man but his eyes don’t leave yours, the look in them changed from concern to defense, and maybe a little lust? He was honestly looking at you like he wanted to choke you to death and this time you really couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your thighs where you stood.

“Hey, I’m not going to rat you out or some shit. Barry gave me the low down on everyone on the island when I moved, if I’m going to work for him I need to know the ins and outs, ya know? He trusts me, if you trust him, you can trust me. I’m cool.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring, you aren’t sure why but you want him to trust you.

“Alright.” His eyes search your face, almost as if he’s trying to read your thoughts, to see if you really mean it.

“Alright, we good?” You extend your hand towards him and he takes it in his much larger one, shaking it.

“We’re good.” You go to pull your hand away but he tightens his grasp, keeping it held in his. “You didn’t tell me your name though, or should I just call you, what did Barry call you? Bunny?”

“Bunny is preferred, but you can call me my real name too, if you’d like.” You let your thumb run across the back of his hand as you tell him your name, your eyes never leaving his.

“AIGHT! That’s enough of alla that.” Barry pushes past you, plopping down on the couch he grabs the bong on the coffee table and starts to load it.

“Bare, stop acting like you’re in charge of who I flirt with. I'm a grown ass woman, you're being dramatic.” You scoff, sending him a death glare.

“Seriously man, you’re acting like you’re her dad or some shit.” He chuckles when your cousin flips him off. “I’m sorry about your line by the way, I really just came to check in on you after I saw you arguing with that asshole out there. Let me make it up to you.”

Rafe brings his hand up to your shoulder, running his thumb over the blade a few times before letting it graze down your arm as he walks towards the couch. You watch as he sits down next to Barry and picks up your gift card, expertly lining the fine power back into a nice row before patting the cushion next to him. A smile breaks across your lips as you take the empty seat. He doesn’t miss the way your tits bounce when your ass hits the couch and the smell of your sweet perfume makes his cock twitch.

“For you, pretty girl.” He holds the folded dollar bill up to you with a smirk and you happily take it from him.

“Thanks, cutie.” You wink at him. When you lean down Rafe notices your hair is in your way so like it’s the most casual thing in the world he brings his large hand up to your face and sweeps the straw pieces behind your ear. He pushes the rest of it behind your shoulder and his hand stays there while you inhale through your nostril. His touch doesn’t leave you, even when you lean back against the couch, he simply adjusts it so it’s around your shoulder.

“You gonna flirt with my cousin all goddamn night or are we gonna deal with your little pouge problem?”

“Pouge problem? What’s going on?” You raise your eyebrows, your eyes traveling between Barry and Rafe.

“You remember that little fucker John B I was telling you about? His ass is alive and back on the island.” Barry shakes his head and lets out a dry laugh.

“That’s the kid the cops think killed the sheriff, right? Damn. That’s not good for you, Rafe.” You make eye contact and bite your lip nervously. “Those kids know you actually killed her, don’t they?”

“Yeah, and my fucking sister is with them. Her and John B were there, they saw the whole goddamn thing.” Rafe groans, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “I can’t have them opening their fucking mouths. I just can’t.”

“Then you know what you have to do, right? Shut them the fuck up, once and for all.” Your eyes darken and it reminded him of the way they looked outside, when you were holding a gun to your dealer's head.

“Yeah, no shit dude, that’s why I said we were going to deal with it.” Barry scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

“Okay, I don’t know what the hell is up with you attitude Bare, but fucking ditch it.” You glare at him as you grab the couch pillow next to you and throw it at his face.

“Oh? You wanna fuckin’ go bruh?” Your cousin grins at you, gripping the pillow in his hand and swinging it over Rafe’s body, directly into your face with a cackle.

“Oh you mother fucker!” You let out a laugh, your hands go for the pillow but it’s ripped from your grasp.

“CUT IT THE FUCK OUT!!” Rafe takes the pillow in his large ringed hand and throws it across the room causing you to jump, your smile falling. “Barry, are you gonna help me or not man?”

“Hey.” Your eyes are soft again, you put your hand on his chest and rub soft circles onto his skin through his shirt with the pad of your thumb. “He’s going to help you, and I will too. We were just fucking around, everything’s alright. You’re probably under a lot of stress, huh? Poor thing.”

Rafe isn’t exactly sure how to react. No one has ever taken his anger and looked at it as more than just that, anger, yet here you are knowing him for all of ten minutes and the minute he loses his temper you see it for what it is, stress. Plus you’re kind of coddling him, and he’s never had anyone coddle him before. He almost feels speechless.

“I’m not gonna suck your dick about it like she is but I’m gonna help you man, fuckin’ relax. We doin’ this shit tonight?” Barry cracks his knuckles and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, earning an immediate glare from you. He scoffs, taking his feet off the table with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t know why you care so much if my feet are on the table dude, it’s my fuckin’ table anyways.”

“The drugs I put inside my nose are on this table, I don’t want your dirty ass shoes on it. It's common sense really.” He rolls his eyes and you flip him off, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Yeah man, tonight. I want to give this shit over with. I bet you anything they’re at John B’s. They’re stupid enough to go there.” Rafe’s hand is tapping on his already shaking leg and you can tell he’s anxious, you reach out and grab it, stopping his motions. He doesn’t look at you, but he intertwines your fingers, his hand squeezing yours. You squeeze his back and bring your other hand to his bicep so you can rub soothing circles on it. He lets out a sigh. “Once it’s dark, then they won’t see us coming.”

“Aight, let’s do this shit. Bunny, you in?” Barry raises a brow at you, his eyes lingering on the way you’re touching Rafe. “Also, I thought I said I didn’t want this to be a thing.”

“It could be dangerous, I don’t know if you should come, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.” Rafe answers before you can, his hand squeezing yours again in what you assume is supposed to be reassurance but it actually just pisses you off.

“Okay.” Your voice is stern, your hands leave him as you stand from the couch and he immediately misses your touch. “I wanna get something straight, right fucking now. I am not some weak little girl who sits at home while all the fun shit goes down. If that’s the kinda girl you’re into, you are not going to find that with me. I’m a ride or die type of bitch. If my man is in trouble, I’m helping him. So if you want this to be a ‘thing’ as Barry is calling it, then I suggest you accept that sooner rather than later.”

“And you, have no fucking say in who I do and don’t engage with sexually or romatically. Me and Rafe clearly have chemistry and I could tell that the moment I locked eyes with him, so you’re just going to have to get the fuck over it. Are we clear? Both of you?” You look between them, your hands on your hips and that fire Rafe is already becoming addicted to in your eyes.

“Whatever, your lil ass has always been fuckin’ impossible to control. If this blows up in your face I’m gonna say I told you so, cuz.” Barry snorts.

“Yeah baby, I got it.” Rafe cuts in, sending a shockwave through your body with the pet name. “I saw you out there with that guy, you might be tougher than Barry.”

This makes you smile, your eyes turning soft as you approach him on the couch. This time you don’t take the seat next to him, you sit across his lap, facing your cousin with a triumphant smile. Rafe's arm circles around your waist and you nestle in closer to him.

“Alright then. Glad we are all on the same page now. So what’s the plan?”

“FUCK!!!!” Rafe was pissed, he threw himself into the driver's seat of his truck, slamming his hands down on the wheel. “FUCKING BULLSHIT!! THEY HAD TO OF JUST BEEN FUCKING BEEN THERE! POUGE FOR LIFE SARAH?! HUH?! I SEE HOW IT FUCKING IS!!”

“Rafe…” You approach the open driver's door, gently resting your hand on top of one of his that was white knuckling the steering wheel. Completely unafraid, despite the fact that he’s still holding the gun Barry gave him in his other hand. “Let’s just calm down for a second, okay? We’re gonna work it out, they aren’t going to fuck with you.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS? I’M FUCKED! YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT! YOU DON’T KNOW MY FUCKING DAD! YOU DON’T KNOW MY FAMILY, IF IT COMES BETWEEN ME AND MY GODDAMN SISTER HE’S GONNA FUCKING CHOOSE HER!!!” His hands leave the wheel, weaving through his hair and tugging, the gun pressed up against the side of his face.

“Hey.” You put your hands over his, turning his face towards yours. “I might not know about all that shit, maybe not yet at least, but I know that when I say I’m going to do something I get it done. You aren’t alone in this, I’m going to help you, okay?”

Your voice is sweet, the look in your eyes is gentle and reassuring, and your hands? They’re so soft, and cool against his face, the feeling of them soothes him in a way he’s never felt before. He lets out a sigh, relaxing under your touch.

“We are going to deal with this, but for right now we need to get the fuck out of here. Those gunshots could’ve caught someone’s attention.” You run your thumbs over the top of his hands before grabbing onto the gun, pulling it from his grasp with a smile. You tuck it into your boot and lean up onto your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah, alright.” He nods, his hands smoothing through his hair.

You walk around the front of the truck so you can hop into the passenger seat, Barry already sat in the back anxiously bouncing his leg.

“Okay, let’s take Barry back to the house and then I think you and I should go somewhere together.” You buckle your seatbelt and turn to face him.

“Yeah? Where?” He shoves the keys in the ignition and puts the truck in drive, pulling away from the Châtea and into the night.

“Just trust me, I know a spot.” You kick your feet up on the dash, reaching into your purse for a cigarette and your lighter.

“Every instinct in my body is telling me to tell you to bring your ass home with me, but you’re not gonna listen to me for shit so I’m not gonna waste my breath. Gimme one of those fuckin’ cigarettes though.” Barry leans forward, snatching the entire pack and your lighter from your hands.

“Yeah, you’re better off not arguing with me Bare. Fucking give those back though, dick.” He rolls his eyes, lighting the cigarette he took from your pack before throwing it back to you.

“Yeah whatever, just fuckin’ take me home man.”

“Okay, take a left here and on your right you’re gonna see a little road that goes through these trees.” You point out the window, directing Rafe as he drives.

“Where the hell are you taking me, huh? You taking me out somewhere quiet to sacrifice me?” He chuckles, looking over at you with a smirk.

“Mmm, I bet you’d like that, huh? Preppy rich boys like you always like the fucked up alternative girls from the sticks.” You return his smirk with one of your own.

“Ha! I guess you’re right, I wouldn’t mind if you spilled a little bit of my blood, as long as I could spill yours too…” he reaches the end of the road, driving into a clearing in the trees, a patch of lone beach in front of you.

“Yeah? That’s hot. Stop here.” He obliges, putting the truck into park and taking off his seatbelt. You do the same, turning towards him with your legs tucked underneath you.

“What’re we really doing out here, vampire girl?” His eyes meet yours momentarily before the trail down your body, taking extra time to admire your tits in your top.

“Mmm, well, I know you’re really stressed and I just thought… maybe you could take some of your frustrations out on me?” You lock eyes with him, your tongue running over your bottom lip before you take it between your teeth.

“Yeah? You brought me out here so I would fuck the shit out of you?” He licks his lips, his large hand reaches out to rest on your thigh, squeezing the meat of it between his fingers.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t want to take me home after that shit you said about your family and Barry would probably either kill us both or have a stroke if you fucked me how I want you to fuck me at my place.” You said it oh so matter of fact, that smirk ever present on your lips.

“And how do you want me to fuck you? Huh, bunny?” His hand runs along the length of your thigh, stopping at the hem of your shorts. He grabs onto it, the tips of his thumb and his pinky just dipping under the fabric.

“I want you to fuck me like you hate me, take your frustrations out on me, Rafe. Use me.” Your voice comes out desperate and it makes him groan.

“I’ve barely even touched you yet and you’re already practically begging for me… you wanna be my little slut, that it?” His thumb runs down the seam of your shorts, stopping at your wet core. “You’re fucking dripping. I can feel it through your panties.”

“It’s all for you, want you, want to be your little slut so bad.”

“Fuck.” The hand not on your thigh reaches for your throat, squeezing it and cutting off your air supply in the most delicious way. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

He uses his grip on your throat to pull your face to his, smashing his lips against your own in a bruising kiss. You moan against his mouth and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips. You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers through his hair at the same time that his hand on your thigh pushes your shorts and panties to the side, burying two fingers in your wet cunt with little resistance. He begins pumping them in and out of you while his grip on your throat never falters. He pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes almost black with lust as they bore into your own. His thumb finds your clit and your back arches, a loud moan ripping through you.

“Open your fucking mouth.” You oblige, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. He leans over you and lets a string of spit drop onto your waiting tongue. You moan as you happily swallow it. “Good girl. Want you to cum for me.”

His fingers hook just right inside you, rubbing against your g-spot and his thumb circles your clit perfectly. You feel your high approaching fast, you push your tank top down, letting your braless tits fall free. You grab them in your hands, tweaking your nipples, it causes your eyes to roll back and you feel that coil in your stomach about to snap. Rafe’s hand leaves your throat and grips onto your jaw in one swift motion.

“Fucking look at me when I make you cum.” He squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger, causing your lips to pout. “I own this pussy now, that means I own your orgasms too, look at me while I take what’s mine.”

You open your eyes, and the minute they meet his your high crashes over you like a tidal wave. A broken moan leaves your throat and your walls clench around his large fingers as they continue to fuck you through your high. He pulls them from your pussy, holding them up to his face to examine them. They’re creamy white and glistening in the moonlight. You grab his wrist and take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them. He growls in response, shoving them further down your throat. You gag and he licks his lips, the sound going straight to his cock.

“Fuck, wanna feel you gagging around my dick. Get out of the truck and get on your knees, now.” He pulls his fingers from between your lips and takes them into his own mouth. The taste of your spit mixed with the remainder of your arousal sending his eyes to the back of his head. You follow his direction, hastily throwing the truck door open and getting out. You start to walk around the back and he stops you halfway, grabbing you by the hair so he can pull your head back, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m going to fuck this pretty little mouth while you kneel in the sand like the dirty slut you are. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

You nod as best as you can with the grip he has on your head, that sickeningly sweet smirk from when he first saw you earlier that day spread across your lips.

“Yeah, daddy, I want you to use my mouth like a fucking cock sleeve.” His eyes widen and a groan rips through him at the sound of that name leaving your lips.

“Fuck. Take this off.” He grabs the hem of your tank top and you lift your arms so he can pull it over your head. He takes your tits in his hands and squeezes them, the coolness of them sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core, your nipples hardening under his touch. “Fucking perfect tits. Knees. Now.”

You drop to your knees and eagerly reach for the button on his shorts undoing it and his zipper in one swift motion. His cock is straining against his black boxers and your mouth waters at the sight. You pull his shorts and boxers down and it springs free, thick and hard and leaking just for you. You knew he would be big, but goddamn his cock is huge.

“Mmm daddy, you’re so big, fuck.” You spit on your hand and bring it to his shaft, lightly stroking him. That bead of precum on his head is practically begging you to taste it so you lean forward and lick his slit with the tip of your tongue. You circle his tip before taking it in your mouth and sucking eagerly.

“Yeah, that’s right baby, suck daddy’s cock.” His hands grab onto your braids like makeshift handlebars and he uses his grip to push himself all the way down your throat, causing you to gag around him. He holds your head there for a few seconds before pulling you off with a pop. Your mouth subconsciously chases his taste. “Oh you’re such an eager little whore huh? You like that? You like gagging on my cock?”

You nod and his grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back so you’re looking up into his eyes.

“Fuckin’ answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“Yes - yes daddy, I fucking love it.”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirks down at you, shoving his cock back into your mouth and immediately thrusting into your throat. You gag and your eyes water, your mascara already starting to run down your cheeks. “God. Fucking look at you, I can see my cock in your throat baby.”

So much drool is dripping out of the sides of your mouth that it’s started to run down your chest and onto your tits. You swipe your fingers through it, wetting them before bringing them to his balls, caressing them in your lubed up hand.

“Oh fuck! Yeah, shiiiiit, play with my fucking balls, that’s so fucking good.” You look up at him and his head is thrown back, his neck on display, you can see all the veins in his biceps and the moans leaving him are feral. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight. Your hand travels between your legs and into your little spandex shorts, expertly finding your already slick clit and rubbing quick circles over it. Your moans increase in volume and it causes him to glance down at you, taking notice of your hand in your shorts.

“Hey, what the fuck did I say huh?” He pulls you off of him, bending at the waist so his face is hovering over yours. “I said that’s my fucking pussy, that means I’m the only one who gets to make you cum. Get up.”

He lets go of your hair, grabbing you underneath your arms and pulling you to your feet. He turns towards the truck and rips the bed open, grabbing onto your hips and roughly turning you. He pushes down on your back, and you take the hint, bending at the waist so your top half is against the truck bed. The plastic floor is cool and rough against your nipples and your lower half hangs off the truck, your feet not touching the ground. A harsh smack lands on your ass, causing you to help and jolt forward.

“You’re not so tough now, huh, vampire girl? Your pathetic dealers know you’re just a little slut who likes to get thrown around? Or is that just for me?” He grabs onto your shorts and panties, ripping them down to your ankles where they pool at the top of your boots. “Look at you, you’re so fucking wet.”

He drops to his knees, his tongue licking a stripe from your clit to your asshole and back again. He sucks your sensitive bud into his mouth and his hand comes down on your ass again. You feel like you’re going to cum embarrassingly soon. His fingers run through your slick lips before they’re sliding inside you, immediately hooking into your sweet spot. You cum suddenly and hard, your whole body shaking underneath him.

“Please fuck me now daddy, please, I want your cock so bad” you voice is whiney and you shake your ass from side to side, arching your back so it’s further on display for him.

“Quit begging, I’m gonna give you what you want, don’t be a greedy brat.” He stands, two harsh smacks landing on your ass. He takes his cock in his hand and runs the head through your slit, coating it in your wetness. He pushes into you in one swift motion, and immediately starts fucking you at a brutal pace.

“Yes! Fuck! You’re so big, feels so full.” Your voice is a breathy moan, his cock feels like it’s in your lungs and the door to the truck bed is digging into your hips but god it feels so good. His hands are grabbing your hips so roughly that you think his nails might be drawing blood, and god you hope they are. You want him to mark you as his, anywhere and everywhere.

“Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, gripping my cock so good. This pussy was fucking made for me. Say it.” He leans over you, practically crushing you, but his cock hits even deeper than before and his mouth latches onto your neck and it’s like he read your mind because he starts to roughly suck and bite into your skin. Definitely leaving marks behind. “Say it. Say this pussy was made for me.”

“This pussy was fucking made for you, daddy.” You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him the best you can with your limited movement, wanting to feel every ridge and vein of him as deep inside you as possible.

“Yeah it fucking was.” He leans back, his hand gripping onto your hair again so he can pull your back against his chest. The sting of the truck against your hips at an all time high. He releases your hair so he can grip onto your throat instead, his other hand coming down to rub your clit. The feelings of pain mixed with pleasure sending you closer and closer to another orgasm. “You gonna cum already? I can feel you tightening around my cock baby girl.”

“Yeah - yeah I’m - fuck - I’m gonna cum for you daddy, you just feel sofuckinggood.” You’re a drooling whimpering mess and the coil is seconds away from snapping when he stops his movements and pulls out of you, taking your orgasm with him. “Hey what-“

Before you can protest he grips onto your hips, flipping you over onto your back. He grabs your throat and pulls you into a sitting position, grabbing onto your thigh with his other hand so he can pull you to the edge of the truck.

“I told you, I want you to look at me when you cum. You owe me for that last one.” He slams his cock into you, continuing to fuck you like his life depends on it. His thumb finds your clit again and his mouth latches onto your neck, biting down so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a bruise in the shape of his teeth marks. You’d get it tattooed if he wanted. You already knew at that moment this man had ruined all other men for you. He had you.

“Fuck - fuck daddy, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum”

“Fucking cum for me, I’ll fill this little pussy up, paint your walls with my cum. Milk my cock, slut.”

His words send you over the edge, cumming harder than you have all night. Your walls convulse around him and your nails rake down his back, leaving red marks in their wake. But that’s not what does him in, it’s the fact that you never break eye contact with him for a second. Obeying him like the good girl you are.

“Fuck! Good fucking girl, best fucking pussy I’ve ever had. Never gonna leave you alone now. Never quitting this pussy.” He cums with a growl, shoving his cock deep inside you. He fucks you through his high, his thrusts never letting up, his face shoved into your neck. When he finally starts to come down he lets his softening cock slip out of you, his lips finding yours and kissing you with fever.

“Never quittting this pussy, huh, pretty boy? That’s a bold statement to make about a girl you just met.” You smirk at him, taking his face in his hands and caressing his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Don’t fucking care, I meant every word. You’re fucking mine now.” He turns his head to the side, placing a kiss on the inside of your palm.

“Does that mean you’re mine too? I don’t do one sided bullshit.”

“Yeah baby, that means I’m yours too. Come on, get your clothes on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips, grabbing your clothes off the sandy ground and shaking them out before handing them to you.

“You gonna take me home now? Barry is just gonna love all the hickies I know you left on my neck.” You smirk at him, pulling your shirt over your head.

“Nah, I’m bringing you home with me. Gonna fuck you all night long.” He cups your jaw in his hand, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

“What about your family?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Fuck em, you’re my girl now, they’re going to have to get used to it. Get your ass in the truck, I wanna fuck you in my shower.”

You giggle, running around to jump in the truck. You didn’t even see his family that night. But they definitely heard Rafe making good on his promise to fuck you all night long and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel bad. Not that night, and not the next morning when he introduced you to his dad and step mom while they had disgusted looks on their faces. You just smiled, happily shaking their hands like you weren’t calling their son daddy until the sun came up.

Tagging moots who might be interested: @chrrymunson @emsgoodthinkin @imyourdaninow 🖤

[milly1111]

Blindly trapped (prt 5)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Everything. (+18 only.) This one gets a lil wild. As we all know Beetlejuice is a perv..sex, swearing, domestic abuse, gore etc.

(NO minor should be on my tumblr anyways, sorry kids. Byeeeee.)

This is a longer one :) enjoy!

The moment his name left her lips for the third time, the atmosphere shifted instantly. A different kind of energy filled the room, cold and malicious. Lightning struck the house, followed by a deafening crack of thunder that shook the floorboards and walls around the hall where Josh stood. Lightning flashed through a small window in the hall, illuminating the entire space with a blinding white light. Josh, trembling, backed away from the closet, spinning around in confusion. He felt as if someone—or something—was lurking behind him. The silence was thick, broken only by his labored breathing and the sound of rain pounding on the roof and windows, whipped around by the wind as a storm rolled in. 

He felt something cold creeping around his shoulder, Beetlejuice appeared behind the shaken man leaning over to his ear and whispered, “Boo, ya dumb fuck.” 

Josh spun around quickly not seeing a soul near him, his breath caught in his throat as he slowly backed up his legs shaking so badly he started tripping over his own feet stumbling as he went. His eyes widening in fear as he heard cackling echoing throughout the house sending a chill down his spine. The sound of his own heartbeat pounded in his eardrums, nearly deafening him. Instinctively, he made a run for it, desperate to get the hell out of there. As he ran down the long hall, each light bulb above him flickered and burst one by one, sending shards of glass falling on his head sending him into darkness. He then slammed face-first into a wall, hearing his nose crack. Josh yelped, his hand immediately going to his nose as he felt hot liquid covering his fingers. Frozen and confused, he stood there, unable to move, as the wall seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, trapping him in place. 

He looked around the darkened hall, the temperature had plummeted and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His breath curled, dancing in the icy air in mist. Shadows stretched wrapping unnaturally along the walls of the halls and then zooming down on the floor racing towards Josh. The man barely had time to register what was happening before the floor beneath him erupted. Black, decayed hands shot out from the floorboards, grasping at his ankles, yanking him down. He let out a strangled, panicked scream, scrambling backward, but it was too late. The sound of skittering, insects crawling and climbing up through the cracks along the decayed hands up Josh’s body swarming him covering him from head to toe. The man frantically was trying to brush the bugs off of his body as they bit and pinched every inch of his skin. 

“Lydia!!! What is this?? Stop!” He screamed on the top of his lungs. Then… That awful smell of decay, sulfur, rot filled his nostrils. Josh twisted and kicked the decaying arms in panic, freeing one of his legs. Suddenly a swirling mass of smoke, the color of green, flooded the halls nearly blinding him, making his eyes sting as Beetlejuice appeared in front towering over him, his eyes darkening flames nearly coming out from his nostrils. His usual cocky smug attitude completely gone as his lips curled in some sick twisted way as he bared his sharp unnatural teeth. His entire body was shaking with anger as he held back from killing this fucker right then and there. Josh had fallen over, yanking his other leg away from the arm coming out from the broken floor boards.

“Wha—What the fuck?!?!” He scrambled up on his feet running right by him, if he thought he was getting away he’s mistaken. Beetlejuice watched this dumbass running for the opened door down the hall. 

"That’s what I wanna know, buddy." His voice was low, gravelly, but somehow it echoed—bouncing off the walls. "What the fuck do you think yer doin’ touchin’ her like that?" Just as Josh thought he was going to run through the door, it slammed shut. "Goin’ somewhere, asshole?" Beetlejuice sneered, stalking his prey as he walked down the hall, his boots scraping against the floor. "Y’know, I was havin’ a real shitty night, but you? Oh, ya just made it so much better." 

Josh panicked and reached for the door knob. He yanked and twisted it, even going as far as kicking at the wooden door. With a snap of the poltergeist’s fingers, the doorknob hissed morphing into a snake and slithered along the male’s hand before sinking its fangs straight into his arm. Josh screamed in pain, slamming the snake repeatedly against the wall until the creature finally released his arm and slithered away. Looking down the hall, Beetlejuice’s eyes glowing with anger approaching him. Thinking quickly on his feet, Josh lunged for a lamp on a side table, yanking it from the wall and hurling it at him—Beetlejuice didn’t even flinch. The lamp passed straight through him like smoke, shattering against the wall.

Josh froze. What the fuck was this…. This….. thing?!

Beetlejuice’s grin widened. "Ohh, I love when they figure it out."

Josh turned to run again—Beetlejuice grabbed him by the throat slamming him against the wall so hard a long crack ran up the wall hitting the edge of the ceiling. Josh let out a choked gasp, his legs kicking wildly trying to fight the poltergeist, but it did nothing but piss him off more as he then squeezed tighter, leaning in closer. "Ya think yer a big man, huh?" Beetlejuice sneered, his grip tightening completely cutting off his air supply. "Throwin’ around a girl half yer size? Bet that makes ya feel real tough. Comin’ from a lil prick like yer self.”

Josh wheezed, clawing at Beetlejuice’s wrist. "I—I—"

"Ah, ah, ah." Beetlejuice wagged his free finger at Josh grinning—but it was all teeth, sharp and hungry. "Lemme guess—she made you feel small, huh? So ya just had to put her in her place? That it?" He snarled his cold breath hitting the man’s face as Beetlejuice’s hands were now shaking in anger.

“Listen, putin’ ya disgustin’ fuckin’ hands on my wife is the last thing ya do!” He roared, his face twisted in anger. With unnatural strength, he hurled Josh across the room. His body slammed into the far wall with a sickening crack, knocking the breath from his lungs. His body tumbled landing onto the floor with a heavy thud. Beetlejuice was on him in an instant, crouching low and grabbing the collar of his shirt, dragging the man's limp, sore body while threatening him. "I could drag ya somewhere real fun, ya know. Somewhere where time don’t move right… where no one will ever hear ya scream. I’ll teach ya, feel the pain ya put MY Lydia through over and over again.. Then I’d fix ya up, real good. Just to do it again." 

Josh whimpered, blood trickling from his mouth. He curled up into a ball in fear. Seeing this man crumble at his feet wasn’t satisfying enough. Beetlejuice’s voice grows darker with each word, "Or… I could just rip ya apart right now. Y'know, piece by piece. ‘Cause personally? I fuckin’ love a mess." His voice growled viciously, booming throughout the empty, dark halls. His finger twitched, ready to continue tormenting this prick until he felt something. He focused on the sensation tugging at him energetically and sensed...

Lydia

"Not done with ya, dipshit," Beetlejuice growled, standing up straight. He started making his way down the hall and snapped his fingers just as Josh scrambled to his feet, trying to run again. A gust of wind blew down the halls, and the floor beneath Josh's body broke apart, sending him plummeting down. Josh reached for the edge of the wood, his sweaty fingertips slipping as he screamed and fell into the unknown. Beetlejuice snapped his fingers again, and the floor closed up as if it had never opened. Once he was sure the situation was handled, he teleported straight to Lydia.

Lydia hadn’t moved an inch. After calling for Beetlejuice, she felt the temperature drop, heard his loud, hysterical cackles, Josh’s screams, and then just the storm raging outside the house. Her head rested on her knees, her legs pulled into her chest, ignoring the cold chill of her clothes clinging to her petite form, covered in a mix of dry and fresh blood. She heard the closet door swing open but didn’t bother looking up. She knew it wasn’t Josh.

Beetlejuice’s breath hitched as he felt his stomach drop at the sight of Lydia. Even after everything, the fact that she had sent him away earlier was still raw. She had looked up at him with those damn eyes, made him feel like nothing, and then thrown him away. But she still called him back, and he couldn't stand her looking like this because of that asshole.

And this time—She needed him.

Without further hesitation he was on her in an instant. He kneeled down beside her, his fingers twitching as they hovered over her arms— not touching her yet. He was nervous if she would freak out and push him away or worse.. Send his ass straight back to the Neitherworld. 

"Shit, babes. What the hell did this motherfucker do to ya? I shoulda ripped his damn—" He paused, not wanting to go on another rambling splurge. He had the fucker now in the Neitherworld. And now he could do anything he wanted to him.

“I…I called you,” she mumbled. Then, to his surprise, her head fell onto his shoulder, causing his dead heart to ‘race’. He froze, taken on a mini emotional rollercoaster. He was shocked she wanted to be close to him, especially after sending him away earlier. She had made it very clear that she didn’t want him around..

His thoughts snapped back to reality as he felt her blood soaking through his suit, which made his stomach twist with panic. He was never a fan of blood, but for some reason, breather blood freaked him out even more. Worried as all hell he wanted to pull her closer, but something held him back. He didn't want to push her more than he already had. She clearly wasn't in a state to be making decisions. So for now he had a little bit of control… just a little.

“Yeah….Yeah— Ya did, I ain’t goin’ nowhere Lyds. Ya stuck with me.” Beetlejuice replied, meeting her eyes. Lydia looked guilty? Sad? He hated when she looked at him like that, it made him weak, soft even. This breather was the only soul in existence that was able to break him down.

“I’m sorry, Beej. I-I really shouldn’t have sent you away.. You were right.” She whispered the sadness and guilt he saw in her eyes now laced in her soft voice. Beetlejuice couldn't really focus on the apology. He was too hyper-focused on the fact that the love of his afterlife was sitting there, bleeding. Apparently Lydia was so out of it that she didn’t see him holding her head to try and slow the bleeding, the ghost with the most was kinda freaking the hell out when he pulled his hand back seeing it dripping with blood.

“Babes…We gotta do sumin’ yer bleeding—from ya head.. Don’t ya fuckin’ dare die on me.” His hands moved without even thinking—one curling in the back of her head and the other hooked under her knees. He scooped her up and pulled her against his chest. Fuck she needed help. He quickly teleported them into the bathroom to get her cleaned up. That way he could actually see where the bleeding was coming from, and figure if he's going to have to rush her to the hospital. Right now all he saw was blood.

Once they appeared in the bathroom, he gently lowered her down on the toilet seat to sit. Just then Lydia broke out in a giggling fit, before laughing so hard her head fell into his shoulder as her arms wrapped around herself to try and stop. Beetlejuice looked down at her like she had lost her damn mind, which in her case, it was valid by the blood loss..But it was rather unsettling.

“Oh my— Die?” She managed to get out between gasps, “Beej, I’m not going to die from this head injury. It’s completely normal.. Head injuries bleed a lot but it’s not always an emergency. It’ll stop. The worst I could have is a concussion.”

Beetlejuice stiffened like a board and just stared at her for a good few minutes. It was odd to him she had that reaction, and as much as he tried to hide it concern flashed upon his face. Lydia noticed this and swallowed, her laughter died down. She cleared her throat looking down, “..Sorry.”

“..Yeah..Yeah.. Ya already said that.” Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and a cloth appeared in his hand as he gently dabbed her head, still trying to find the spot she was bleeding from. She flinched and winced as he gently pressed down, finally noticing that the bleeding had already slowed.

“I think I'm going to shower–” Before Lydia could say anything else he pulled away standing up rolling his shoulders inhaling sharply. Lydia watched him closely as he pulled back the shower curtain twisting the knob as the bathroom filled with steam from the hot water. 

There's something off.. 

The way he looked at her, the cold shoulder he was giving her. Yeah he was helping her, but he wasn't looking at her the same as he usually does. Normally he'd be all over her, in her personal bubble, testing her boundaries with some flirty inappropriate comments. But there was none of that. 

Right now, he's distant..

Beetlejuice's hands twitched as he turned to look at her, he was fighting the urge to hold onto something.

To hold onto her.

“..Beej?” Her voice was far too soft in a near whisper. He almost missed it to the sound of the shower.

“What?” Beetlejuice's jaw tightened, his voice was strained. Almost forced. Just like she had forced him back.. After sending him away.

Lydia hesitated, but slowly rose from where she sat and made her way over to the ghoul. She gripped his jacket tugging on it, trying to get his full attention. Her eyes traced down noticing she had accidentally stained his jacket, not that it mattered. All he had to do was snap it away.. Her eyes trailed up to meet his. He was already staring down at her, with an expression she couldn't read. Her saddened eyes filled with guilt. “..You're mad at me.”

A bitter chuckle escaped him, “What gave it away?”

Lydia felt her fingers tighten around the thick fabric of his stripped jacket. Her throat tightened, “I didn't mean to—”

“Yeah.” He was quick to cut her off, his voice colder than he intended to but he was upset. “...I know Lyds. But you still sent me away.” He cleared his throat unable to snap out of it completely, “C’mon babes.. Let's get ya cleaned up. Ya kinda lookin’ like a horror show right now.” He tried to hide it again.

This rubbed Lydia the wrong way. She let go of his jacket, letting her hand fall down hitting her side. She felt heavy, confused. It's like a heavy weight added onto her chest. A lot has happened tonight, and she was definitely feeling it. Lydia didn't want to hurt Beetlejuice, but she still managed to. And that killed her knowing she did. His whole mask he was trying to put on was failing, that's just how much she hurt him. Yet, the ghost with the most still chose to stay here with her even after all that bullshit from earlier.

Lydia bit down hard on her lip, wearing her own mask. She made her way closer to the shower. Her hands trembled as she reached down for the hem of her blood soaked shirt, trying to peel it off, despite the sharp pain radiating from her body being thrown around like a rag doll. She tugged harder, but a searing pain shot through her side making her breath hitch. She winced, her vision swimming, hands shaking as she struggled to lift the fabric up and over her head.

“..Lyds.” His voice was softer now, it broke him to see her like this. He moved closer to her. She glanced up noticing he was watching her struggle.

She hated that.

Lydia stubbornly backed up slightly, “I got it.”

Beetlejuice looked at her dumbfounded, “Yeah? Ya don’t. Cuz’ where I'm standin’ looks like ya strugglin’. Now—Com'ere.” He wasn't leaving any room for her to protest. Lydia's stomach dropped, not because she was scared. But how different from how he normally was. No crass comments. No jokes. In fact it was far too quiet. It almost felt as if he wasn't even here.

He helped lift her shirt over her head, she rocked slightly unsteady on her feet. He reacted quick, his arm went around her back to steady her. Once she got her groundings he removed the shirt. He made quick work of the rest, his fingers lightly brushing over her soft skin without lingering, without taking advantage.

What shocked her the most he looked away.

He pulled the curtain back giving her the illusion of privacy, even though they both knew with her shaky fawn legs she could barely stand on her own. The second the hot water hit her beaten skin, she exhaled a shuddering breath. She then leaned against the wall for support.

Beetlejuice couldn't stop himself..Not even now, especially when he heard her pained gasp as her skin touched the water. His eyes flickered over to her and his body stiffened to her appearance. How she leaned up against the shower wall for support. She was so damn stubborn she wouldn't ask for help. His jaw clenched tightly as he rolled his jacket off his shoulders letting it fall to the bathroom floor. 

Lydia heard the fabric fall, causing her head to snap up seeing him kick off his boots, then rolling up his sleeves. Her breath caught as Beetlejuice stepped into the shower with her, fully clothed immediately drenching him. She watched the water seep into his clothing clinging to his body showing off his beer belly more. Then his arms she hadn't noticed how nice his arms were. His untamed hair flattened down slightly like a wet dog as water rolled down his face. He kneeled down in front of her ignoring the water hitting him reaching for the soap. Somehow keeping up his good behavior the entire time.

“B-Beej.. What on earth are you doing?? G-get up!” Lydia turned into a stuttering mess, her heart racing with her mind as emotions flooded her. It was such an overwhelming amount she somehow managed to almost forget she was covered in blood. 

The real reason why she was in the shower in the first place.

Ignoring her comment he moved his cold hands over her leg moving up in such a soft and gentle way. The blood mixed with soap rolling down her legs and now down the drain.

“You—You're getting wet.” She felt a strange sensation coursing through her body even though his touch wasn't sexual or at least he wasn't trying to be for once. 

He finally looked up at her with his lopsided grin as he met her eyes, “What, ya want me to strip too? ‘Cause, sweetheart, I don't think ya could handle that right now.” 

“That's not what I meant!”

“Uh-huh.” Beetlejuice's grin widening and she nearly felt relieved to see a bit of his normal behavior returning. His hands continued to move gently over her bruised skin leaving a trail of goosebumps over her flesh. He was being so gentle so careful and patient with her. She's never had anyone go out of their way to help her, especially not after pushing them away. For the first time, this felt real to her. If this was heaven, a dream, she never wanted to wake up.

Then it hit her.

She felt her nerves building and her throat was a little dry as she swallowed hard. How did she not see this before? She looked at him, seeing him in a different light. She was ashamed and beating herself up internally. How could she have doubted him? Why did she send him away, when in reality he was the only one that cared? She literally hurt him, broke his heart. Yet, look how he's in the shower with her, fully clothed, getting wet even though he hates water. All to take care of her.

“I knew you would come..” She whispered. “That's why I called you.” Beetlejuice paused, hands unmoving resting on her arm. 

He snorted, shaking his head, “Babes, save the sweet talkin’. Ya know I have no choice but to come when ya call.” He muttered his voice gruff but not unkind. He resumed brushing his hands up her arms about to stand.

That's when Lydia, before she could second guess it—reached out placing her trembling hand against his cheek. This made the poltergeist freeze, his eyes widening slightly to the gesture. He was not expecting that or ever to be touched like that willingly by anyone. When his hand dropped looking up at her, his shoulders sagged slightly. She took her other hand cupping his face like he was some lost wet puppy, brushing his cold wet cheek with her thumb, causing his breath to hitch. “..You're here now. Thank you Beej, For everything.”

If he had a beating heart, it would be soaring, racing for the damn stars. Lydia shocked him further pulling her hands away and then wincing from pain as she lowered herself, fully aware she was naked and bringing him into a hug. Her arms wrapped around his head drawing him closer, the water washing away the reminder of the soap from her skin. And for Beetlejuice any doubt he had on questioning whether Lydia reciprocated his feelings.

He held his hands up for a long moment unsure and shocked. Lydia was in a vulnerable state, and the last time he even looked at her body, she yelled at him. Seeing that she pulled his head practically into her breasts—Beetlejuice had ultimately decided he didn't care. He would behave himself, controlling where he placed his hands. His hands lowered gently wrapping around her waist, rising from his knees and taking her with him as he stood. She pressed her face into his soaked shirt breathing in his familiar earthy scent that she's grown attached to. 

Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, turning off the shower as he helped her out. Lydia was taken aback by his self-control at that moment. But maybe it was easier for him since he was so damn worried about her. She did catch his eyes roaming over her body as she dressed, but it felt different. It freaked her out because he was so hard to read right now. Usually, his facial expressions alone were enough to tell her what was going on in his mind.

Not to mention how quiet he is..

She walked out of the bathroom, and he followed after her, floating with his feet a couple of inches off the ground. Clearly deep in thought, because when she turned to go into her room, he slammed straight into the wall, sliding down to the ground with a grunt. Lydia turned the corner, seeing the poltergeist on the ground, puzzled, which in return made her chuckle. What the hell was going on with him? She rolled her eyes, shaking her head before heading back into her room.

As she entered her room, she couldn't help but think about how strange Beetlejuice's behavior had been since she called him back. She glanced back at the doorway, half-expecting him to float in with some snarky comment, but instead, she heard him muttering to himself from the hallway.

[tickle-bugs]

Cool Guy

Anon: Heya! If you're still doing them, could you make a tickle fic on Luke and Han but js Han getting Luke? I love the whole Luke being like Hans lil bro 😭 An idea being maybe Luke is embarrassing Han in front of Leia and Han gets him back, Leia maybe helping Han a bit? I like your fics a lot haha! It's alr if not ofc, js have a good day! :D &lt;3

Summary: Han is cool, suave, and absolutely irresistible. Luke vehemently disagrees.

Han knows logically that he cannot not squish the galaxy’s last hope like a bug. That would be unwise. There is, however, zero question of if he deserves it.

Luke is almost better at being a little shit than he is at being a Jedi.

“Princess!” Han leans against the wall. The Falcon’s internals hum behind it. Leia looks up at him blankly. 

“Pest.” She takes a bite of a sandwich. “What do you want?”

Nothing. Not a thing. He just loves the irritated curve of her eyebrow, the sharpness of her gaze, the curl of her lips--

“I’d love it if you’d stop taking what’s not yours.” He nods towards the sandwich. Leia regards it, then makes deep eye contact on her next bite. Han chuckles in something like disbelief, but he knows her. Knows how she likes to provoke. 

“Nice boys share their food.” She takes another bite.

“Well, I ain’t nice. Keep your thieving little hands to yourself.” Han considers wrapping up the sandwich, just to be petty, but he knows she hardly takes interest in his things unless she needs something. He could find something else to eat. 

“Or else what?” She plays with the crust of the bread. Eye contact. God, he loves this game of theirs. She leaves him breathless too often for his liking, though. As he flounders for a comeback, he hears a high-pitched noise from the other side of the room. 

Luke. Great. 

“What are you wearing?” Luke laughs incredulously. Han looks down at himself. He’d put on a fur vest today instead of his usual cargo one. It was something he’d snatched off some mook that’d tried to set him up with a dishonest deal. It’s old and it smells a little funny, but he likes it. It’s his now. 

“Wh—it’s a vest. It’s cold.” Han frowns. 

“You look like Chewie shed on you.” Luke leans his hip against the doorway as he settles in to mock. There’s a Wookiee outcry of indignation from the cockpit that goes unanswered.

“It’s a fashion statement.” Han adjusts his posture, gives them a new angle. Luke snorts. Han scowls.

“What exactly are you stating?” Leia rests her chin in her hands. She’s got a crumb on her cheek. He does not think about brushing it away. 

“You’re both terrible.” Han stomps off to change. 

“Right back atcha!” Leia calls after him. Her laughter is sweet, even at his expense. 

….

Run-ins with Empire patrols always put Han on a fine edge--he’s a well-oiled machine with Chewie at his back, but recent additions to the Falcon have proven…distracting. As he slams them into a hyperspace jump, the twins’ noise somehow drowns out the noise of the engine. Leia’s complaining that he took too many risks, Luke’s insisting he took too little, and Han’s half tempted to spin send the Falcon into a barrel roll just to hear a different sound.

Chewie won’t let him. The honorable bastard.

The moment they finish the jump, Han swivels out of his chair and goes…well, he’s not sure where he’s going, but he knows he needs to see and hear something besides Luke crunching angrily on crackers. 

Leia follows on Han’s heels, Luke follows on hers, and Han considers just ejecting himself from the airlock and being done with it. 

“If you want to die, be my guest, but don’t put us at risk for your ego.” Leia smacks his chest. Han can’t tell if he’s imagining the lingering touch of her fingers. 

“No, you’d miss me too much.” He fires back, pulling out of her grasp. He takes long strides, taking a petty sort of joy in hearing significantly shorter legs scramble after him. 

“Not a chance in hell,” Leia snarls, snatching the back of his vest. He whirls around. 

“Yes, you would, because things are boring without me. You like having me around.” He leans into her space. She stands her ground. 

“The fate of the galaxy is boring?” She conveniently ignores that last part. Han doesn’t miss it. 

“It is without me. Face it, princess. You’re attached.” He puts his hands on his hips. Leia’s face turns an interesting color.

“Ha! See? Attached!” Han points triumphantly. Leia smacks his hand away. 

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t need to. The truth’s all over your face.” He circles that pointer finger in her face. She smacks it hard enough to bruise this time. 

“The truth that I can’t stand you, more like. You’re arrogant, reckless, irresponsible—“

“And exactly your type.” Han grins. “You like having me around. Meanwhile, I’m cool, casual, and unattached.” Han clicks his tongue. Leia attempts to burn a hole through his forehead with her gaze. He worries for a moment that she might. 

“Really?” Luke crunches loudly. “I heard you telling Chewie that you like having us around. That you wouldn’t know what you’d do without us. Didn’t sound very cool and casual.” 

“I was drunk.” Han’s face burns. Leia snorts. Han scowls. 

“Drunk mind, sober thoughts.” Luke grins teasingly, waving a chip in his face. Han tries to snatch the bag, but Luke twirls effortlessly out of the way. Damn Jedi. 

“Sounds like you’re attached, laser brain.” Leia circles her finger in his face, and Han wonders if turning himself in to the Empire might be better for his ego.

…

Han’s not sure when his game with Leia stopped being a game and started being this, but he’s not complaining. He’s made out in worse storage rooms than the ones on the Falcon. They’d started with fetching a rations restock, devolved into bickering, and, well…their arguments usually end in violence or the threat of it, so Leia trying to climb him like a tree is a much-welcomed departure from form.

Normally Han’s great at keeping his emotions in a cold, dark little box where he never has to deal with them, but Leia looked so pretty yelling at him that he just…had to kiss her. He knew at that moment he’d die if he didn’t. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed and he hopes it won’t be the last, but each touch with Leia is like drifting closer to the beautiful terror of the sun. The best part, the overwhelming part, is that she wants him too. 

All of that would’ve been well and good, great even, if Luke hadn’t been standing in the doorway. 

Luke and Leia have some kind of stare-off that Han suspects involves their twinness--there’s lots of flustered, offended noises without words being uttered. Luke raises his eyebrow in a way that really seems to get to Leia, because she splutters, which she expressly does not do. 

“Don’t you start! I tolerate him!” She glares at Luke, her cheeks turning red. 

“Aww.” Han smirks. She elbows him in the ribs.

“With your mouth?” Luke’s near hysterical. 

“Among other things.” Han smirks wider. Luke’s face twists in sheer disgust. 

“Shut up,” Leia hisses, blushing and hitting him harder. He grins.

Luke levels a finger at Han, a habit he picked up from him in the first place, and then stalks off. 

“Chances he knifes me in my sleep?” 

“Lower than me doing it myself.” Leia swats his arm once more for good measure, but she’s still glowing, and Han thinks he might want to see that smile of hers for the rest of his life.

“I’ll take those odds.” 

The difference between Luke and his sister, in Han’s opinion, is that Luke’s noise goes inwards. Leia will scream at Han until she’s red in the face and then she’ll miraculously find more air. Luke gets quiet and vengeful, which is why Han starts to suspect foul play the third time he trips over thin air. 

Han really wants to fight back, but every time he opens his mouth, Leia’s lurking around some dark corner. 

On hour three of Luke’s temper tantrum, Han’s eye begins to twitch. He’s probably bruised every inch of his shins by now, he’s tired, and he thinks if he can close his eyes for an hour he might remember how to function. Just a sweet, Skywalkerless hour. 

Han drags his hand over his face as he walks off to his cabin. He finds Luke standing in the hall like an omen. He doesn’t move when Han approaches. The little furrow in his brow is probably meant to be intimidating, and maybe one day it will be, but Han can’t bring himself to care. 

The desire to lay down overcomes his rational thought, and he does to Luke what he often does to Leia: jams his hands under Luke’s arms and lifts him out of the way.

Except, unlike Leia, Luke doesn’t try to kick him. He lets out a giggle at a pitch Han didn’t know he was capable of. 

Han pauses, raising an eyebrow at the rapidly-reddening Jedi in his arms. He twitches his fingers. Luke chokes out a surprised laugh. 

Han’s suddenly not tired anymore. Funny, that. 

“Han, don’t you dare, c’mon--”

Han sets Luke down but doesn’t release him--he viciously wiggles his fingers where they’re trapped under Luke’s arms. He goes down like a sack of droid components, filling the Falcon with bright, bouncy laughter it so desperately needs. 

“You get a minute for every bruise, and my shins are looking mighty purple.” Han whistles lowly, pressing into the gaps between Luke’s ribs. Luke lets out a giggly hiccup and kicks his legs. 

“That’s not f-fair!” Luke clutches Han’s arms desperately. Han twitches his fingers and he curls up, shaking his head. Han distantly wonders when Luke last laughed like this. If he ever has. 

“Yeah? Tell me about it. Pick on someone your own size and maybe life will be fairer.” Han tries to keep his stare blank, but his mouth quirks up at the corners. Luke lets out an indignant gasp, but he quickly tumbles right back down into laughter.

“Let go,” Luke growls, his whole face scrunching around his smile. 

“Kid, I can’t let you go if you’ve got my hands.” Han gives a dramatic tug. He stops, raising his eyebrow expectantly. Luke pouts--pouts!--at him and lifts his arms at glacial pace. Han pulls away…

…and goes right for Luke’s exposed stomach. His shout of betrayal mixes beautifully with his laughter.

“Rookie mistake,” Leia tuts, snickering at Luke’s misfortune. Han jumps at her appearance--man, he should put a bell on these two--and Luke takes that as a signal to start wriggling away. Han reels him back in with a hearty laugh.

“Leia, fetch your--” Han cuts Luke off with a squeeze to the side before he can say anything embarrassing. 

“You gonna help, Your Worship? Or are you above getting your hands dirty?” Han casts a glance at Leia. 

“Never.” Leia smirks, kneeling beside Luke. They stare at each other for a long, tense while. Leia’s gaze drifts over him the same way she sifts through a plan for holes, until she stops at his knees. 

Luke’s eyes widen. Leia grins.

She latches on like a viper and Luke squeals, drumming his feet on the ground. He throws his head back and cackles himself into silence, flopping around uselessly. 

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Han chuckles, a little nervous.

“You’re notoriously bad at it,” she smirks. Han swears he feels the ghost of her fingers on his own legs. He shudders.

Luke’s surrender is less of a cry and more of a wheeze, but they let him go quickly all the same. He tosses his arm over his glowing face with a great, heaving sigh.

“You alright over there?” Han chuckles, nudging Luke’s boot. He lifts his arm to glare.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Han pats his ankle. Luke kicks him. Han squeezes his knee and he immediately blurts out a tired, giggly apology. 

“Stop being a little shit and trying to trip me up. It’s not gonna work. Too cool for that.” Han pats Luke’s stomach. 

Warm hands wrap around his waist and he leans back, scaring himself with how easily he fits into Leia’s arms. She hooks her chin over his shoulder.

“Are you ready?” She murmurs, brushing her fingers over the fabric of his shirt. 

“Ready for what?” His hand finds hers. He’s more than ready, if he’s reading this right. She’s rarely like this beyond closed doors, and it sends a thrill through him. Her lips brushing his ear drives him just a little crazy. He starts to stand, but she pulls him back down. 

“To be tripped up.” She smirks. He feels it. 

“Wh—“ 

Leia’s fingers dig in with deadly accuracy. Han crumples and his bravado goes with him. Loud, hearty laughter bursts from him as he slides to the floor, boneless in her arms.

“Aw, look at you cool guy.” Luke sidles up next to him with a shit eating grin. He tickles mockingly under Han’s chin and he, mortifyingly, giggles. Luke chases the sound, having way too much fun for Han’s liking. 

Han growls and tries to kick him. Leia’s fingers find his hips—cruel and unusual—and he’s toast. He resigns himself to die in her lap, which isn’t the overall worst way to go, and makes a mental note to write Luke out of his will. 

As long as Chewie thinks he’s cool, he supposes it’s still a net win. 

[pdpenpals]

hihi (again)! could i request a mystreet x gene that’s platonic with some romance/implied romance?

taking place in s2 (Love Love Paradise) where reader was invited by aphmau & the gang to go on vacation but gene (for obvious canonical reasons) wasn’t? (i think he shows up at some point in s2 but shh) so since he misses reader he decides to send them a letter? (i was thinking that gene has a crush on reader so he thought sending a letter would be lowkey romantic, and since reader is going to a resort he doesn’t want her to forget about him? so it’s being sent in a seemingly platonic way with romantic intentions)

tysm <33

hiii!! welcome back, haha.

we’re kicking off the requests i have yet to complete with yours. hoping the wait is at least a fraction of worth it! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

in your excitement, you’ve run out of things to do over the rest of your summer. and if your math was right, you’ve barely gotten to spend half of the time you were supposed to stay on the resort. left alone with your thoughts and the waves crashing against the shore, your mind drifts off to places it shouldn’t. while you and your friends have promised to not think about the world outside, everything about it starts taking up space in your head, and it starts spinning just thinking about it. with this whole trip being last minute, you’ve forgotten to let some people back home that you would be gone for a while. you found out the hard way.

a large pile of envelopes and postcards arrive at the villa’s doorstep, all addressed to you. your wish for something new to do was granted, yes, but you didn’t expect for it to turn out like this. 

what the hell, sure.

convincing your friends that you’ll be alright alone, you put your big girl pants on and sift through your mail. work…bills…real world stuff you promised not to think about…you didn’t know where to start. but then it catches your eye. 5 postcards that catch your eye, all with a return address you know far too well.

Where’d you go? Stopped by your place but no one was there. A neighbor told me you moved, but another said you were on vacation. One thing led to another, and I guess the post office knows how to reach you. Whether or not this will reach your new address will be something I’ll only find out days from now.

Are you even alive still? Write back.

— Gene

You haven’t forgotten me now, have you? It’s not like you to sulk at me for so long.

It’s gotten quiet at home, especially after work. Too quiet for my liking.

The mail tracker I was sent updated your address to that resort across the country. Good for you, but I wouldn’t be lying if I said I was jealous. Then again, you deserve this after how much overtime you’ve been taking up recently. I just wish you told me before you left.

Well, maybe the selfish part of me also just wants to share your fun with you.

�� Gene

I dropped by your neighborhood earlier, and all the lights (yes, the streetlamps too) were off. As if everyone left. You’re with your neighbors on vacation, right? It was creepy as hell at first, but then the weirdest thing happened. I felt at peace there in the middle of the road. And then, they appeared.

You’re missing out. I think the fireflies knew you guys would be gone and showed themselves to me. I caught one and thought to keep it to show it to you, but then I remembered and let the lil fella go. I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen them, so I guess it was nice.

Can’t you come home any earlier? We should watch them together.

— (You should know who this is by now.)

Dropped by the neighborhood again. The fireflies are gone now, but that’s thanks to the weird cars and trucks parked all over the street. The people pointing and talking didn’t catch me, but the whole thing felt off. Didn’t understand a thing they said, so I left immediately. 

I’m sure nothing weird will be going on, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I know I’ll keep watch just in case either way, but any more and that’ll count as unpaid labor I think you should at least compensate me for. If you still can't come home, at least write back.

— Gene

Hey.

I know tickets for this summer are all sold out but if I said I found a way onto LLP, what kind of face would you make?

JK, of course. Save your reaction for when we get to meet again, yeah?

[helpallthenamesaretaken]

EP 4 was just mostly talking and conversations, but there was so much depth THAT I MUST TALK ABOUT IT.

I could literally feel the anguish exuding out of Sally trying to teach Percy to swim

Ngl i was a lil skeptical about azrien’s acting but hearing that scream changed everything

“Hey, you still sleeping?” “Yes” she’s so relatable i love it

i thought we were going to wait until the zebra truck scene for the trauma bonding but we got some of it now which is cool and also makes me wonder whether they’re going to take it to a whole level in the zebra truck scene

I kinda like how annabeth knows so much about grover their dynamic in the show is just so chef’s kiss

I dont know if the whole “thalia made me earn it” thing is canon but its an interesting spin on their dynamic

Grover is such a mood pls shoutout to grover (this episode focused a lil more on percy and annabeth’s dynamic)

Its interesting how they changed frederick chase in the show. In the book frederick never wanted annabeth but in the show frederick loved annabeth. It makes more sense now that percy asks her to go back especially in the books, that was very controversial to have annabeth seem like she was overexaggerating about what she went through with them

i was waiting for them to introduce the searcher pan stuff i almost thought they’d erased it, thankfully they brought it up

ANNABETH’S FACE WHEN THE COP CALLED HER A “LITTLE GIRL” LEAH YOU’RE A ROCKSTAR

Medusa>>>>echidna in the show IM SORRY ECHIDNA WOULDN’T STOP TALKING

The architect in annabeth is coming out i hope she explicitly talks about it later on

I don’t think the writers knew what to do with grover when percy and annabeth were talking so they just made annabeth a little unnecessarily rude for some reason?? At least its better than the movies, where annabeth and grover just WALK AWAY from hermes and percy

i didnt expect the random posh voice it threw me off but it was so funny

OK but can someone help me with this? Percy in this scene says “i have a gift” to annabeth? Could someone pls explain? What gift?

Last episode i was cringing at the screen at percy for the “can’t we just call your mom?” This episode i was cringing at the screen for annabeth’s “you wanna say hi to your dad :))))” these kids have no sense of touchy subjects do they

you’ve done so much more to me in the past few days than poseidon has done in my whole life. If i have to stick with somebody, i—“ “be careful, you were about to call me a friend” THIS DIALOGUE IS SO PRECIOUS ITS WORTH A BILLION DOLLARS

Im suspicious about the percabething this series is doing so far, i feel like its too early, its giving me a feeling that there’s going to be some big angst thats going to happen later on to break the world

When Percy fell, i was genuinely thinking he was going to give annabeth a hug lol (“wow annabeth no you are my friend!!” Something like that)

alexa play jump and fall by ts

I love that they’re expanding the consequences that came with sending medusa’s head to olympus, and how it negatively impacted annabeth, which will probably turn angsty later on

Also, percy looks half dead

The plan to push annabeth into the stairs was executed so smoothly wow

i like they are exploring the very concerning side of percy too, the part of him thats like “im the useless one im ready to die no probs” ALSO THALIA PARALLELS THEY’RE DEF GONNA TOUCH ON THAT NEXT EPISODE

i like how the water grabbed percy like a little tunnel

Its so funny how the nereid says poseidon’s name and percy just starts struggling more like “HELL NO”

THE PARALLELS OF THE START OF THE EPISODE OF PERCY TELLING SALLY TO BREATHE AND THE END OF THE EPISODE OF NEREID TELLING PERCY TO BREATHE

What the heck is that throne thing? Why is percy turning golden? What is happening? HUGGGGGG!! (Too early, as i said), oh look ares—OMG ITS ARES!!

[stranger-stardustt]

hallo hallo! I am here to give you a writing request, because the only thing I love more than getting asks is sending them! I can’t remember if this was on the list of things you write for, but maybe some Stobin? Like them just being best friends and acting like an old married couple?

I know this isn’t really like…a lot to go off of, haha, sorry :)

i love stobin!!!! this is a lil short but i hope you enjoy the stobin scoops ahoy shenanigans with a little added Eddie because somehow he snuck in there for plot. i promise its mostly Stobin /p though!!! tysm for the ask <3

Steve’s least favorite thing about working at Scoops Ahoy was theme days. Every Saturday, arguably the busiest day of the week, there was a new sea-related theme, accompanied by a mascot and a specialty flavor or two.

That Saturday was pirate day, and Steve and Robin were in the backroom getting ready to open when they heard someone come through the employee entrance. Footsteps were joined by whistling as someone approached.

“Who do you think is our pirate?” Robin whispered, moving toward Steve. “I hope it’s a girl.”

Steve laughed. “You just want a girl so you can stare at her all shift,” he whispered back, and Robin shoved him gently.

“Not true!” Her voice was a little louder now. “I want a girl so I don’t have to deal with a bunch of gross, sweaty boys like you for hours.”

“I am not gross or sweaty!” Steve exclaimed, grabbing her by the waist. “Take it back!”

Robin giggled, squirming in his grasp. His arms were wrapped around his hips, lifting her a few inches off the ground. “Put me down, you heathen,” she hissed playfully, kicking her feet. “Come on, Steve, this isn’t fair!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” sang Steve, spinning her around. “You must now suffer the consequences of insulting the one and only Steve Harrington.”

Twisting around, Robin broke free from Steve’s embrace. She launched forward, crowding him against the counter and running her hands through his gelled-up hair. “Got you!” 

A cough pulled the two of them from their bickering. They turned, freezing as their eyes landed on a new yet oddly familiar face. “Uh, sorry for interrupting,” a man said, pushing his brown curls out of his face. “I’m Eddie? I’m the stupid mascot or whatever for today.” He glanced between the two of them, like he was sizing them up. “Do you want me to leave you two alone or something?”

Robin made a retching noise, bouncing away from Steve and toward Eddie. “Please, don’t leave me alone with him,” she cried dramatically, holding out a hand. “I’m Robin, that’s Steve. We’re nothing more than platonic. I gag just thinking about it, jeez.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Steve sighed, fixing his hair and walking toward Eddie. “I’ve seen you around at Hawkins High. You deal, don’t you?”

Smiling, Eddie nodded. “Yeah.” He looked at Steve with something in his eye that the other man couldn’t quite make out. “But Wayne said I needed a real gig, so I’m doing stuff like this until I find something permanent. Let me tell you, I do a hell of a pirate voice.”

“I’m sure you do,” Robin giggled. “Your outfit is in the leftmost locker, you can change in the bathroom.” 

Eddie gave a little thanks and a nod, heading out toward the bathroom to get ready. When he left, Robin elbowed Steve. 

“Ouch! What?”

“He was cute,” Robin said. 

Steve looked at her. “You’re a lesbian.”

“I didn’t mean for me,” she replied with an innocent whistle. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m looking at you like I usually look at you!” Steve exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. 

Robin grinned, teeth on display. “Exactly.” She raised a finger, pressing it gently to his nose before turning and skipping to the front. “Your face, it pains me.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

Groaning, Steve leaned against the counter. “I really do,” he said, no hostility in his words at all.

[appalachianapologies]

lil baby small fic (ficlet? is that where that word is appropriate?) of the restaurant mafia au thing. context? who is she

@anguishmacgyver pspspsps

Mac has a love-hate relationship with the brick wall outside of the restaurant. Outside of James’ restaurant.

On the one hand, it’s rough and textured and sometimes Mac runs his palms against it and grounds himself with it. On the other, it’s rough and sharp and James loves nothing more than to push him against it, giving a nasally laugh whenever Mac’s head bounces off of it. 

Today, though, he’s using it for the former reason. 

After stuttering out some excuse about how it’s his break, Mac pushes his way through the backdoor a few seconds ago, breathing hard in the nighttime air. Despite it being on the wrong half of 10 pm, the August air isn’t kind, and there’s still a hot and humid vice that’s held around Mac. It makes him sweat.

No other reason.

Pushing a gasping breath out, Mac moves a few feet away from the door, before pressing himself against the wall. It’s blessedly cool against the otherwise oppressive heat, and he’d stay here forever if he was allowed to. Nevermind go home- Mac would bunk out here.

Nice and cool, and more importantly, alone.

Mac lets himself slide to his knees, finally letting himself feel all the hatred and panic and loathing and even more panic that he’s been trying to keep in since the dinner rush started. Both his mind and rush hasn’t seemed to have an end in sight.

Too many orders that weren’t good enough.

James screaming at him, spit flying from his mouth. Warnings that Mac has to do good next time, or else.

Or else.

Mac has long since learned what James’ “or else” means.

The thought sends him into another tailspin, breaths coming faster.

Letting a low moan out, Mac reaches up for his hair, pulling at the roots. He still has hours left before he can reasonably leave, and the later the night gets, the worse the company. The walls of the kitchen won’t protect him from certain men who walk in the door.

Pressing the back of his head against the brick behind him, Mac relishes the way that the mortar presses into his scalp. Tries to use it to ground himself.

Does the stupid breathing that Bozer tried to teach him that Mac never quite got the hang of. 

Breathe in and out. In and out and maybe try to hold it for a few seconds if he can, but mostly just in and out. 

Just in. And out.

“Gonna rip your hair clean out if you keep up with that.”

Instantly pulling his hands away, Mac’s head jerks up at the voice. Without thinking, he jumps up off the ground, ignoring the dizzy spinning that his head rewards him with. “Who the hell are you?” 

If Mac didn’t know any better, he’d assume that it’s one of  James’ lackeys. The guy stands tall  in the mouth of the alleyway, clearly bulked up. He reminds Mac of the guys who would smash his head into the brick if told, no questions asked.

“Relax, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Mac snarls back. “Who are you with?”

“Who am I with?” The guy sounds confused. He takes a step forward, but as soon as Mac flinches, he stops in his tracks. “I mean, I work at the restaurant next door, but I ain’t ‘with’ them.”

Of course. It’s obvious, now that Mac thinks about it- he should’ve realized it earlier. “You’re a chef,” Mac dumbly replies.

“Through ’n through,” the guy confirms. “Are you? No offense, but you’re lookin’ kinda young.”

“It’s none of your business.”

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, the guy mutters, “Jeez, okay.” The two continue to stare at each other for a few more seconds, before he asks again, “You okay?”

“Fine,” Mac answers, wiping his hands on the edges of his apron. “And my break’s done.” It’s not, but James would hardly complain if Mac spent more time in the kitchen and cut his own personal time down. 

After a beat, the guy replies, “Alright. Well, see you around, kid.”

Mac scowls at him, hoping that he can see it through the darkness.

Before he can think better of it, Mac pulls open the back door to the kitchen, wincing at the noise and smells that assault him before he even steps a foot inside. He allows himself exactly one second in a poor attempt to calm himself, and then walks inside.

It isn’t until the door clicks shut behind him that Mac realizes he doesn’t even know the name of the stranger.

[gwendolynalbrecht]

A Little FNAF-Fanart and Lore AU Update~

I am working on some new FNAF fanart for my Micheal AU, progress is just slower because I have exams coming up and finals are also approaching. (Working on a degree qwq) But I did want to mention that when it comes to my understanding of the infamous lore of FNAF I dont consider the books or the movie (because I dont like either). I only use the agreed on names for characters like Henry or Charlie. I also dont care about the most pinpointed perfect time line. More so my rough idea of it. Mainly: -Single dad William is semi shit at being a single dad but generally cares about his kids

-William brings his kids to work occasionally and his youngest son is scared of the machines

-Mike is a lil shit and bullies his brother

-Mike accidentally kills his brother and William does not cope well with the loss. Trying to fix this somehow (he also blames Mike)

-William ends up killing Charlie for maybe revenge or just bitter spite

-He notices the puppet being strange and starts experiementing to maybe get his son "back"

-His experiement fails when Baby kills his daughter and William locks everything up and ignores it moving on to the MCI

-He decides to murder Mike (or get Elizabetz back) and sends him to Sister Location where Mike gets scooped and wisens up to his dad being a shithead deciding to hunt him down and stop him -Mike is the MC in all games except UCN (I dont count Security Breach as canon, more a funky spin off)

-Things end with Pizza Simulator and William goes to hell sponsored by Cassidy

[tacozrg00d]

Not long after their impromptu pick up, the villain-vigilante squad(because their is 4 of them, yep, four no more-..totally) pull up outside a very inconspicuous bakery.

“Okay, little ones, me and Seísmos will be in and out real quick. Just gotta pick up some sweets and then we’ll head over to-“

“We get it we get it, get on with your totally not villain stuff already. Me an’ Rei ‘ll be waitin’ don’ worry.”

The formally dressed villain looked over the two vigilantes with barely concealed anxiousness but sighed before putting his mask back on. “Alright, you two. Behave. Lock the doors. Do I need to open a window? Y’know what just leave the car on- oh and Bl- Seísmos can you-“

“Rika!” “Boss!” “Paprika!”

-

Rei kept his arms crossed, still pouting at the big fiasco his nemesis turned father caused at the training facility. Beside him Chara ‘Choco’ was playing on a red game boy advance sp (they had constant arguments on how to refer to the small device) cursing at accidentally drowning Link.

Rei, still pouty, tried to get a glance of his brothers screen, only for him to completely hand it over in frustration.

“I can’t figure out where hell I’m supposed to be going. I found the damn- castle but I’m not supposed to be there yet, and I think I’m supposed to go inside that little structure there because I fought something in one of those, I think”

Rei blinks at the screen and walks the character around in a circle. “How the heck did you get trapped here?”

“Doesn’t matter just solve it”

Chara then jumped up into the passenger seat and starts messing with the radio and air before sending the seat back. “Wake me up when you’re done.”

—

“Chara…?”

“Yeah…….??”

Chara looks up until Rei is just in their line of sight and grins.

“…You’re up to something aren’t you?”

Chara’s eyes look Rei over before they shrug and pretend to sleep again.

“You don’t sound particularly upset about that.”

“I’m not.” Rei huffs.

“And yet your eyes still hold displeasure.”

Silence fills the car in response.

“…You’re upset I didn’t include you, aren’t you?”

Rei glares at his brother before looking out the window again

“A little..”

Chara hums in response. “Don’ worry lil bro, you’ll find out soon. Rika holds some points about The Guard and you’ve just been kidnapped, soooo your gonna hafta wait.”

Rei snaps his head back to look at Chara incredulously. “Your not telling me because The Guard is training me-?!?”

The human only sighs before sitting up and fixing the seat. “No. I’m not telling you because your role with The Guard is important for my plan and I need the least amount of people to know. Trust me, bro, it isn’t anything big it��s just some pranking.”

“Last time you pranked someone we got adopted by a villain.”

Chara grinned. “Exactly-! I got you an ‘in’-! I know, I know, no need to thank me, just my job as the coolest *Dreemur(?) from Spin!”

Reí rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “As if.”

—

*Dreemur, I made a list for different spellings of Dreemur depending on the au but I lost it so I may edit this later

Person A: "...You're up to something aren't you?"

Person B: "You don't sound particularly upset about that."

Person A: "I'm not."

Person B: "...And yet your eyes still hold displeasure."

Person A: "..."

Person B: "...You're upset I didn't include you, aren't you?"

Person A: "...A little."

[versaceeevixen]

Seven Stages of... Ego Death (Part 1)

"I honestly don't understand why they're asking me again to explain what happened with the key." I said as I was picking through the gift wrap to use as wallpaper for my bulletin board.

"I don't understand why either." Richie said. "I'm sure you're fine, just go to the meeting on Thursday and see what they say."

I walked out of Dollar Tree with a bunch of stuff, I was so excited to decorate the board like always. Richie and I talked some more and said our goodbyes as I wished him a Happy Easter. The dining hall was closed as it was a holiday, so I scooped up something to eat from a drive thru.

"I really don't want to call her right now. I'll call her when I get back to the dorm." I said to myself, as I really did not feel like calling her.

I finally got back to campus, it felt peaceful, complete stillness. The weather finally decided it was going to be spring. The air felt so crisp, the atmosphere felt airy and light. I was looking forward to whatever the new season was bringing.

I finally got into my dorm, I sat down the grey Dollar Tree bag on the floor. Still holding my drink and food, I took a deep breath. I sat them on my desk, and pulled out my phone. I asked Siri to make a phone call to my Mom. I didn't have the heart to push the button myself.

The phone whirred until it finally picked up. "Happy Birth-"

My Mom went wailing like a siren, she would not stop! I rolled my eyes and I dug through the bag finding my McHeartClogger drenched in McSauce. As she kept yelling at me, I kept chewing ignoring everything that was happening. All I remember hearing from her was.

"My only son sent me an edible arrangement all the way from Atlanta! At least your sister had enough nerve to send me a card! You call me at 3 p.m. wishing me a Happy Birthday, do you even care about me?! I'm getting old you know, I'm going to be in the ground dead and you wouldn't even care! I'll be 60 in three years!"

Suddenly she stopped talking. Her yelling was giving me more of a feeling of a stroke than the high sodium sandwich, salt smothered fries, and high fructose corn syrup punch I was consuming.

"Did you even hear back from the NASA internship?" Mother spat.

"Yeah I got my friend Marc to look over my application and essay." I finally responded.

"Are you still going to help me move?" She asked.

My Mother was moving from a small South Jersey town to a bigger upper crust town named after a fruit still in South Jersey. I took most of my stuff with me to college, for some reason I didn't trust my Mom. I love driving but the commute to South Jersey from North Jersey was and still is hell. I would barely pack anything when I did visit because I was tired.

I was over the conversation, I replied dryly to everything. I told her that I needed to do some RA stuff like decorating the board, we said "Goodbye" and hung up.

I groaned and threw out the wrappers for my food. I swished in my slippers to the bathroom, I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

"Ugh, I need to get my fucking hair done."

I swished back to my room and pressed play on my turntable record player. Whatever was spinning, I didn't care, I needed to get my mind clear. I walked to my agenda book and put a reminder to make an appointment to get my hair done on Thursday.

Not making it click-baity, I don't want to have a wall of text. I'm writing all of the Ego Death parts tonight, it's a lot to read. Thank you to the people who read my lil blog, should I include my art so it's not so texty? What do y'all think? Should I include other things like my spiritual stuff like spells and astrology stuff too here?

[groovetrill]

It's a cold Sunday to complain

I hold it in until it rain

I fought demons after fame

I spent millions on terrain

I treat my bitch just like Diana

Pretty princess, hold the Fanta

2003 Dolce Gabbana jeans make her ass look fatter

We gon' catch him outside, he don't got no money for the backup

I ran thirty million in the ground, baby, now I'm back up

She a city girl, I'm the real reason that she act up (Mmh)

She talk back, I make her pack up, send her home on Spirit

Something in my spirit made me not believe I feared (Mmh)

I know bitches parrots so I'm watchin' how I'm speakin'

Single but I'm creepin', my main bitch don't need a headache (Ouu)

Half a mill on Maybach, tires flat, I never drive 'em (Mmh)

Pretty hoes need stylin', Balenci' shopping got 'em wildin'

Tweakin' out on Collins, in my veins, the molly throbbin' (Geekin')

Rich as hell, still robbin', ain't no love the way I'm rockin'

Bentley color gobblin, forest green, the lane I'm hoggin' (Spin)

Wrap the P like swallin', get it through yo' fuckin' noggin (Damn)

Money first, I'm always dialed in (Uh, Krrt)

Moneys first, I'm always dialed in, is that a problem? (Go)

I made m's off a TV like I work for Viacom

Doggy didn't stay for long, he left when the sirens rung

Flyest niggas with turnt bitches, BD's in the tightest diamonds

I could've put out wild fires, at the house behind barbed wire

Twenty-five but living like I'm fifty with three kids

All these bitches in my biz, five-hundred thousand on my bitch (Uh)

Fuck if you don't like me

I'ma still get faded more than likely, it's enticing

I'll die for my respect

(It's Us)

[hetr0ph0bic]

bestie

heyyy yall ! SEND ME REQS

2.5k+

summary : riri bestie come to wakanda and shuri is kinda selfish

its mature they not hunching frfr

 the fits if you need a visual/ want 

riri https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1a/d9/2f/1ad92f47b48b21361a2b6a77fd7c03ef.jpg

shuri https://i.pinimg.com/564x/2b/d2/2e/2bd22ea92a6aff5a0169d25c2cdaa8f4.jpg

ray https://www.instagram.com/p/CkSHQj3sAL3/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

and i posted 2 times this week stop play with me. also the bestie is bdtrelilbrother from tictok i love him down .i never tried anything like this fr, yall know this only my second fic so give tips in shit i neeeed it!!!!! also this can be a part to i think i got a couple ideas!

---------

riri looks up from the board she is writing on. in the lab, she’s making updates to shuri’s panther suit.

“hey baby” shuri peeks up at the call

“ remember my friend is coming into town for this week he’s staying for like 2 days. i’ve got a list of things planned for us. you can always join” she smiles turning back to the board.

“knowing you get clingy and jealous as hell” she mutters to herself

“what I do not, I’m not clingy! have fun with your little friend.” shuri tells the lie so smoothly. riri rolls her eyes at the tale

“ oh, you don’t? wanna bet? I think I had seen some shoes I wanted” shuri tutts her

“ you can scam them lil college students, but you can’t scam me” she ends with booping her nose.

days pass by rapidly

riri’s heals clack with the materials of the landing deck. she walks up to the landing shuttle. okoye pops out of the aircraft with her bestie ray trucking behind her.

“ ms. willams I’ve delivered your weird, talkative friend”

“fast and safely thankyou, thankyou, general”

black pants sagging, white tee, white air force 1’s and a shiny necklace on his neck. sticking out like a sore thumb. a classic african american in wakanda. in his left hand is his large suitcase.  

finally, they spot each other. ray drops in suitcase immediately, they run and capture each other in a warm embrace. holding each other tight with arms wrapped around each other. unaware to the two shuri is spying above, looking out from the lab window.

‘they don’t have to hug for that long’ shuri sneers out

“ bitchhh you look good” the two down below, began to catch up.

“ no, ray literally missed you so much them calls just wasn’t cutting it no more” riri wipes a dry tear from her clear eyes.

“i knowwww! okay so I look good now, where are we going” ray spins around showing off his outfit

“yeahh, head to show wakanda how we get’s down, yeahhh” a nasty giggle is delivered from the two.

“okay, wait. so first I’m hungry so food, and then after that we can come back change and go out to the club” on queue riri stomach marks a monstrous growl.

“oooooo you got it all planned out for lil ole me” ray is jumping at squealing.

“ but..” riri causes him to stop jumping

“ I did invite shuri with us, she is always cooped up in her lab and I want her to bond with you also.” she nervously says.

“oh girl you had me stressed! yeah I’m down with the queen for sure” “do she know how to party tho?” he whispers, with a nasty smirk riri nods her head.

“umm she can party forsure , hopefully she just has the strength to get out of the lab”

“girl you know what! keep them lil nasty thoughts for later you have to tell me  everything later about you and the fucking QUEEN”

they enter the palace, going to ray's guess room

“ oh my god, bitch , this my room?!?”

“ uhh yea something wrong”

“ nah it’s giving black luxury!!! giving i needa find me a lil wakandan man so I can settle down here” he drags out, causing a series of laughter to erupt from the room. they put away the items and head out for food.

“okay so I know you love your nigerian food but we just gonna go by the vibes tonight” riri states while playing with her gifted personal beads

“yeah, I’ll buss it down for sum greens, ANY TIME AND DAY! plus I don’t want to get anything I can get back at home.”  he speaks while looking over to what riri is playing with.

finally getting her beads to corporate “ hey baby me and raymonte finna head out for some dinner, after we eat we was thinking about coming back here and getting dressed to go out to the club. I’ll keep you updated if anything changes. also, if you're going let me know! bye, love you.”

pointing to the kimoyo beads, “friend why is you taking to yo bracelet”

“oh these my kimoyo beads i can do a whole bunch with them. video call, regular call, record, do the lil cpr thing with them” ray pokes the beads.

“ oh okay I knew you said wakanda has technological advancements but dang”

“ yeah just wait till you see the rest of the city”

they exit the palace heading to the maglev train.

“ ri where the fuck the rails at omg”

“ ray get on the fucking train please. even if I did explain how it works, you still gone be confused.”

“ I ain’t even mad, you know me so well, I missed you so bad.”

they finally reach the city floor, orange skies complemented the tall building and buzzing streets.

“ you know wakanda give new york but like… without all the bad shit.”

“what the hell is you talking about”

“ new york like the best state kinda right, everyone loves new york. but they got high ass rent, trash, bugs, terrible homes everything is so much for lackluster. wakanda is just like new york but make it no bad shit oh and african- girl why it’s a whole mexican pop up thingy” riri just listens as her friend talks rambles on and on.

“oh since shuri made an alliance with the man namor”

“ wait the the bitch who was tryna murk you??”

“ yeah him, the talokans really like wakanda so some of them bring their food over here so yeah, but wakanda ain’t completely cut off we got food from like every african country and even soul food”

“ oh snap so they still knew the world, but was hiding from it ??? crazy”

“uhhhh yeah and yeah kbbq”

“ohhh okay well ms international want to share a torta?”

“ they got a wakanda inspired one, this beans, meat, and cheese different”

they order the food, sharing the sandwich while exploring the golden city. they stop and see different neighborhoods and downtown and malls.

soon rays legs start hurting so the exploring is cut short.

“ girl, wait, pause, my feet thobbin i need lay down”

“oh look here go the train just in time” they hop onto the maglev making their way to the palace. stepping into the entrance ray goes to his room to rest up and to get dressed, riri goes up to check on shuri. trotting into the lab,she finds it empty, still thinking her lover could be in there, she enters even further.

“shuri you in here” silence greats her.

‘hmm, maybe she’s in her room’

quickly reaching the room, she greats the queen.

“hey baby I’ve been looking for you”

“oh I was up here I stopped working a little early, how was the food?” shuri kisses the small girls forehead pulling her into her lap on the bed.

“ good we shared a torta. sooo that means you coming out with us?”

“uhhh I don’t know all about your friend”

“what baby, you never even met him”

“I’m just saying he’s really close and touch with you” riri gives a look to shuri

“see! I want my money I knew you was gone do this” shuri rolles her eyes at her

“yeah whatever I'm not going” shuri pushes riri off her lap trying to get under the covers. riri goes into the closet pulling out a dress.

“oh baby calm down, that’s just how we are. you have literally nothing to worry about I promise. this is a person that means a lot to me. he’s closer than family.” riri finishes as she slips up the short dress, “can you zip me up”

“wha what your wearing … that” shuri stares at her blankly

“umm yeah? it just a dress you should get dressed” picking up her phone riri calls ray

“are you ready”

“ yeah i’m puting on my shoes right now.”

“okay let me see the fit.” ray turns the camera around towards the full body mirror.

“okay lil gangsta” rounds of high pitch yeahhhs are said.

“yeahhhh”

“yeahhhh! you look good real bad”

“oh ooo lemme see you” shuri is already on edge. riri props the phone up on a dresser and backs away giving a 360

“my GAWD you big booty bit-” shuri slams the phone down ending the call.

“shuri… for real? why you do that” riri says with big pout

“ really…” shuri rolls her eyes at riri’s confusion. shuri zips up her low rise jeans, ready to go.

“you're deadass giving him a 360, I need you, to be for real” riri sends a text message

‘meet me at the club, and go with one of the doras’ she then drops the location  

shortly riri and shuri are walking up to the club. shuri’s arm rest around riri’s waist as they walk in. the club atmosphere is surrounded with yellows and browns.

“want a drink love”

“yeah baby and can u get ray some shots of tequila” hesitating she agrees.

the scientist stalks around the club looking for the man, once she spots him she waved him over.

“girl let’s go dance”  ray damn near yanks riri out of her heals to her dance floor.

the club is loud, lights bright, speakers blasting music. songs switch fast, at first freak hoe by speaker knockers is blaring. ray naturally turns around to riri and dances on her. creating a small crowd to hype him up. shuri is on her way back to the spot she left riri originally. spotting all the commotion, she makes her way to the dance floor. people naturally parting ways once they look up and see its shuri that’s cutting through. before she reaches the two, ray is still dancing on riri. then the song changes again and city girls is playing, the two irrupt screams.

“do it baby stick it baby suck up on that” riri screams

“WHATTT” ray answers

“until that”

“WHATT”

“hickey baby” they both scream the lyrics in sync, adding their own twist to the song.

riri then begins to dance on ray, in return he catches her as she did to him. riri dress rides up a bit and ray goes to pull it down.

“hold up bookie your dress”

shuri then closes the remaining distance, stepping into riri’s front line of vision. the younger head shoots up at the touch.

“ oh hey baby, ray this is shuri, shuri this is ray”

“heeey miss queen” shuri’s eyebrows rise to the top of her forehead, she didn’t expect him

to be so nice, but she is still pissed.

‘maybe riri was right, well we will see’

“hello good to finally meet you ray, you know since you stole my girlfriend away from me” she passes all the drinks around.

“shuri stop” riri smacks her arm.

ray give a loud cackle, “ms shuri you could have joined us earlier when we went and got some food. i never wanna steal her away from you, even though she was and is my first.”

shuri tries to bite her tongue, but she can't hold back.

“yeah, that’s cute, but I’m who she belongs to, so now what.”

shuri snakes her arm around riri’s waist, causing her dress to ride up. sensing that she then places a hand on her ass giving it a squeeze.

“OOOOO you said she was pressure, BUT GOOD GAWD” ray and riri giggle and geek over shuris possessiveness.

they dance all night, the queen finally letting loose for real. the club is jumping, the room to move gets smaller and smaller. after a few rounds of drinks and shots riri starts to feel the effects. Rihanna’s work seeps into the loudspeakers. as work plays riri grinds her hips on shuri. she turns around placing her hands on her knees fully loosing any shame or decorum. they dance to the beat, as ray tells them he’s going to the bar. riri turns around to put her hands around the queen's shoulder. out the corner of her eye she spots ray. her best friend is seen talking to some tall guy with muscles the too leaning on the bar. she is pulled away from her nosy antics by shuri.

“your lucky i love you for real.”

“I know I’m very lucky, but what made you think that this time”

“your dance on your little friend”

“love it’s my body I can dance on whom I want” they still continue to dance despite the weight on the conversation. work fades in quickie by Miguel.

“I understand that, but it’s just like, why she can’t dance with me, I’m her girlfriend. I’m the one who can make you scream, nobody else can.” shuri tightens the hold on riri’s waist.

“you are mine love, you know I don't sharing what mine love.” the queen snakes her hands down to riri’s core, delivering light touches. she knows the little drivers her insane, continuing, she rubs her clothes clit in circles. riri leans her head back on shuri’s shoulder, releasing moans that the music hungrily swallows. shuri front to riri’s ass, she persists putting the girl through hell, riri can’t wait to rip off her tight dress. the night slowly comes to an end, the boy and the couple slowly walks back to the palace.

“girl wakanda party a lil too hard for lil ole me” the group cackled

“nahh, but I did see that man you was talking to at the bar”  

“you always been so noisy, stay otta grown folks business”

“but nah I never got his number, I don’t know if he forgot or that’s just wakanda’s customs”

“It's not”

“well damn, I guess that's it for that then”

they enter the train platform and ray bumps into someone “ooop sorry bookie.”

ray looks up and see it’s the guy from the bar from. feet away, the couple sees them exchange numbers and socials. shocked and amazing at the perfect timing.

walking back to the couple “yeah, yeah! better hind your mans raymonte outside y’all”

they ride the train, walking into the palace.

“oops sorry bookie” shuri repeats in her accent tears in her eyes.

the couple head up to their room. while stripping off her dress riri sparks the conversation back up again.

“but what makes you act that way, you know I love you”

“yeah, but it just doesn’t feel good being selfish. I know it's irrational, but I do try.”

“plus, I just met ray and I thought he was some straight man trying to steal you away!!”

“first of all good thing we both gay” riri laughs at shuri’s misunderstanding.  

“and also you really thought I’m gonna give up you! YOU! wakanda, the relationships I’ve built her for some man… ewww!” riri slips out of the dress heading to the shower, shuri in tow.

“even if I was into men, he can’t do nothing. somebody that can’t even cook noodles right ? somebody that calls me when he gets scared of spiders and shit.” riri pulls the nob for the hot water to turn on.

“wow that’s crazy but not too much on bookie okay!” they giggle as their bodies become clean with the soapy suds.