#BUT IT’S THE SOUTH AND THE NEAREST ONE TO ME IS OVER AN HOUR AWAY

[prans-micellar-water]

to knowis to be loved and to be known is to b eloved. I want transgender friends who will know me and love me in a way that cis people usually do not

[eat-limes-bitches]

Southern Cookin'

PAIRING: Female Reader x FATWS!Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: When Bucky and Sam get stranded in a Storm, they go to the nearest place they can, Bucky’s country home, but what happens when Walker shows up at the front door too?

WARNINGS: Fluff! Touch of angst, angry southern woman (this is a definite warning, if you've lived with one, you know."

Word Count: 1844

A/N: It's been storming its butt off here down south and as I was baking brownies this idea popped into my head and made me giggle, so I hope yall get a chuckle out of it too! Stay safe out there <3

Enjoy! <3

Dividers by Rookthorne

The mission was a disaster. Not only had they just got their asses kicked, but they also had to deal with the Bullshit from John Walker and then the country sky opened up with an early summer thunderstorm, drenching the two men with its torrential downpour.  

“We are hours away from the nearest safe house.” Sam sighed, looking at the database.

 Bucky looked over at his teammate, Sam was suppressing a shiver each time the wind blew. His split lip and bruised cheek getting more gnarly with each passing minute. He looked up at the sky, the dark swirling clouds showing no signs of letting up any time soon. Fearing for Sam's health and with no other option in sight, Bucky let out a sigh. 

“I know a place.” Sam raised a curious eyebrow but didn't ask any questions, the idea of a warm shelter too tempting to risk Bucky changing his mind. Bucky looked around for a moment, to Sam it almost seemed like he was calculating his location based on the landmarks before giving a little nod.

“Should be just on the other side of this field. 15-minute walk give or take.” Bucky concluded, making his way through the field, Sam not far behind him. 

Soon, the pair found themselves on the front porch of an old country farmhouse, the white porch swing swaying violently as the storm picked up. Bucky reached for the doorknob before pausing and looking over his shoulder at Sam, fixing him in his infamous glare before uttering a low warning. 

“Not a word of this to anyone. You hear me?”

Sam was used to Bucky’s gruffness at this point in their partnership but this was a new level of protectiveness that he hadn’t seen before. He raised his hands in a placating motion before agreeing.  The tension that seemed to be permanently engraved in Bucky’s form disappeared as soon as he stepped through the door. The sound of their entrance caused a woof to erupt from a room on the other side of the downstairs. Bucky toed off his boots, motioning for Sam to do the same when a rusty-colored dog came rushing into the room through a dog door barking his head off.  Bucky let out a chuckle, catching Sam by surprise, watching as Bucky then crouched down to greet the dog.

“Hey whiskey, it’s just me bubba.” Bucky cooed, scratching the pup behind his pointy ears.

“Where’s your momma little man?” Bucky asked the pup, removing his hand as the dog darted off back through the dog door before poking his head back through, watching the two men. 

Bucky stood, and followed after the dog, waving Sam along with him. The pair walked through a second door and they were both hit with a wave of warmth, causing Sam to let out a little sigh. The house smelled of cocoa and sugar, the sound of the storm outside blending into the calming atmosphere while a record played in the background. Just as Bucky was about to walk through a little hallway, Sam caught his shoulder, turning Bucky to look at him.

“Man, where the hell are we?” He asked, and then nearly fell out when he saw pink flush the ex assassins cheeks. 

“Uh, this is my home. I uh, I live here.” Bucky mumbled shyly refusing to look Sam in the face. Sam raised an eyebrow.

“You live here on your own?” He pressed a little further. Bucky shook his head.

“Nah, I live here with my girl.” 

A person appeared from around the hall corner as if on cue, the little red dog hot on her heels. She looked at the two men, her gaze fixing on Bucky. She smiled at him sweetly, brushing her hands off on her apron, leaving floury handprints in her wake. 

“Bucky! You’re home!” She waltzed over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, pulling back realizing how cold his skin was. 

“James you’re freezin’ and gettin’ water all over my hardwood floor.” She scolded him a country accent slipping out as she spoke. She then noticed Sam standing behind him and pursed her lips before fixing Bucky in a glare.

“You brought company over here in an even more sorry state than you and haven’t offered him anything to dry himself off or a fresh change of clothes!” She proceeded to chase the two men up the stairs giving strict instructions to change and dry off while she put a pot of coffee on. 

Sam let out a chuckle as the woman made her way back to where he presumed the kitchen was as the pair made their way upstairs. 

“She’s a spitfire huh?” Sam asked, taking the change of clothes from Bucky who just shrugged slightly, a soft smile decorating his features.

“Yeah, you could say that. 

Now in dry clothes, the two men wandered into the kitchen right as she pulled two batches of brownies out of the oven. She looked up after setting the brownies on the counter, giving a nod of approval seeing the men in a more presentable state. She wandered over to a cabinet throwing it open and reaching for the coffee cups on the top shelf, just out of her reach when Bucky appeared behind her, pulling them down from the shelf and placing them in her hands.

She smiled sweetly up at him before standing up on her toes and planting a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Thank you darlin’” She smiled softly.

“Of course doll.” Bucky smiled right back, stepping out of her way as she moved away to pour the coffee. 

“Sam? How do you want your coffee honey?”  She called out, pulling out the cream and sugar. 

“Uh, just black is fine. Thank you-” His words faded out, not knowing this woman's name. She handed him a mug with a chicken on it before handing another mug with a goat on it to Bucky before she spoke.

“Y/n.” She sent him a sweet smile before picking up her own mug and leaning into Bucky’s side who had lifted his arm to make room for her. 

Sam had a smirk on his face looking between Y/n and Bucky as he spoke, “I didn’t know Bucky had a girlfriend,” He drawled out the word girlfriend, watching Bucky’s cheeks get darker as he looked anywhere but at his partner as Y/n laughed. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t want to tell too many people. Somethin’ ‘bout worryin’ for my safety.” She shook her head as if the thought of Bucky trying to protect her made her laugh. 

Sam nodded in an understanding fashion. “Does anyone know about your little secret Buck?” Sam teased lightly. Bucky gave a soft smile with a faraway look in his eyes. 

“Steve did.” At the mention of the name, the room grew heavy with sadness. Y/n seemed to shift a little deeper into Bucky’s embrace before stepping away cutting the brownies and giving each man a piece. 

“So you knew Steve.” Sam started, looking at Y/n thoughtfully. 

“Yes, I did.” She started with a sad smile. “It was a bad storm like today, he and Bucky showed up at my door looking like two drowned rats, thinking it was one of the safe houses. Well, they were so pitiful lookin’ that I couldn’t just turn them away. So much like you two, I brought them inside, put them in dry clothes, and made them some coffee.” 

Just then there was a knock at the door. Bucky set down his coffee cup and went to investigate, leaving Sam and Y/n alone in the kitchen. Y/n reached over the counter and placed a hand over Sam’s.

“Look sugar, I understand why you did what you did.” She said softly. “Do I agree with it? No. Does Bucky agree with it? Of course not.” She let out a sigh before continuing. “But I understand it. But if there is one thing I know about Steve Rogers, is that he wouldn’t have just left anyone with that shield.” She concluded, patting his hand when Bucky let out a shout, causing the pair in the kitchen to dart to the front room.

When they arrived, there was a soaking-wet John Walker and Lamar Hoskins standing on the front porch. Y/n walked up to stand next to Bucky before looking at the two men.

“Can I help you two boys?” She asked, glancing from one to the other. John, seeming to puff up in the presence of a pretty lady, extended his hand out. 

“Good evening ma’am. John Walker, Captain America.” Y/n looked from his hand to his face, making no move to accept his handshake. 

“Your name very well may be John Walker, but you’re mistaken on the Captain America part sweetheart.” She gave him a once over before continuing, “You look more like a sorry excuse for a rodeo clown on the fourth of July than Captain America, but either way, that didn’t answer my question.”

She took a step up to Walker looking him dead in the eye. “Can I help you?” John seemed to deflate, stuttering over his words trying to make some sort of logical sense. Y/n raised her eyebrows waiting patiently for this worm of a man to get his act together and with no end to his incoherent mumblings in sight, she sighed. 

“Well, if you don’t need anything, I’ll have Hades show you out.” She said sweetly. Bucky chuckled lightly before backing up to stand next to Sam.

Sam leaned over to Bucky. “Who the hell is Hades?” Bucky just nodded towards the door as Y/n let out a loud whistle.

“Hades! We have some guests that need to be escorted out.” As soon as the word “out” left her mouth, a huge black Doberman appeared out of nowhere, growling and barking at the two men at the front door. With one loud bark, Walker went flying off the front step and back down the path to where their car was waiting, Lamar, hot on his heels as Hades bounded down the steps chasing them off with Whiskey following suit. 

The two dogs watched attentively as the car drove off and once they deemed the men to be far enough away, came bounding back into the house, tongue lolling out of their mouths, causing the trio to laugh until the dogs were inside making a mad dash for the living room.

“Boys! You get back here!” Y/n shouted, grabbing a towel off a nearby chair and chasing after the two soaking wet dogs. Bucky, still laughing, walked over to the door closing it before walking back over to Sam, who clapped him on the shoulder. 

“You’ve got yourself a good one,” Sam concluded. “Don’t let her get away.” Bucky smiled watching on in amusement as Whiskey ran by with the towel that Y/n had grabbed to dry him off, with her hot on his heels.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[toxicanonymity]

Good Morning precious, I hope you have a blessed Wednesday<3 could I possibly have a lil request of Dad's friend Joel miller X fem reader who's attracted to Joel but he's same age as her dad and feels queasy at the thought but couldn't help herself so one day when Joel was in her dad's house talking and her dad slipped out for a few hours she grabbed his belt by her finger and started to kiss him..🤭 thank you angel for blessing me with you blog every day!!💗😭ilysm!!😭💗

ohhhh yeaahh 🥵 love it!

Coming onto Joel when your Dad leaves

master list | CW: 18+ NSFW unsafe PIV sex, dubcon kiss?

When you pull up to your dad's house and see Joel's truck, you get butterflies. Joel is old, too old, but painfully hot. Your dad has to pick up some supplies across town. Joel stands at the front door, jeans as tight as always. He rolls up his sleeves as you walk up the driveway, then holds the door open, but not all the way – your skirt brushes up against him on your way in. You smell his aftershave and sweat, and the butterflies in your stomach migrate South. It feels weird if you think too much about him being your dad's age, but that fades entirely when he says your name as he greets you good morning. There’s something intimate about how he says it.

As soon as he closes the door behind you, something comes over you. You've never needed anyone so bad. You drop your bag on the floor and turn to face him, getting just a few inches away. He looks back and forth between your eyes and his brow furrows. The air is electric between you. You slip your finger into his brown leather belt and pull him into you.

"Whoa, sugar" he says, and swallows. "What are you-"

You cut him off with a kiss. He's minty. His salt and pepper beard pleasantly prickles your chin. It takes him a second to reciprocate, but when he does, that kiss is spring-loaded with need, even before your tongues meet. He moans, “mmmm," into your lips. His tongue invades your mouth and he sucks the air out of you. You breathe through your nose. Your hand slides down to massage the front of his jeans and a bulge hardens into your fingers. You unbuckle his belt, frantically unzip him and plunge your hand into his jeans. He grunts into the side of your mouth as his hard package swells into your hand.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asks between heavy breaths. He kisses your neck and gropes your ass.

“Nothing yet, that's your job," you say as his large hands slip under your skirt to knead your naked cheeks clad only in a thong.

Joel groans and pulls your body closer against his. A surge of arousal floods you when you feel his hard cock through your skirt. Keeping your body close against his, he walks you into the nearest room and pushes aside all the home renovation plans he and your dad were looking at. He pins you up against the table and hikes up your skirt. His hand travels down your crack and hooks under your body, finding your crotch from behind. Two fingers slip under your moist thong.

His breath deepens as he grinds his arousal into you from the front and rubs your warm wet folds from the back. Your clit is pounding and your body is begging to be filled with his. You wedge your hand between your bodies and free his cock. It’s thick, rock-hard, and weeping.

"Fuck," he breathes. He forcefully turns you around and bends you over the table, pressing the small of your back with one hand and holding his raging erection in the other.

You tilt your hips, spread your legs, and your thong is pushed out of the way as he nestles the tip at your entrance. You can hardly stand to wait another second. The head nudges inside you and the gentle stretch makes you gasp. You push back onto him at the same time he plunges inside you. Your mouth falls open with a moan.

“God damn,” he says. He stays there for a moment and you twitch around him before he retreats and plunges into you once more.

He buries his length in you again and again, and you push back, sheathing his cock with your tight warmth. He gropes your breasts and his breath is littered with moans as he continues to fuck you. He says your name, and the tension in your core begins to release.

“Joel, I’m–” your words devolve into a groan as you come. He fucks you hard through your climax. Your walls clench around him with every wave, then you feel him pulse inside you. He sighs loudly in relief as he pumps you full of his cum.

-

-

Megan, you have some of the best asks 🖤 I'm honored to receive them. Have a great day!

[mcondance]

southern fantasy

— this is indulgently a self-ship. | reader is explicitly and beautifully Black southern (specifically from louisiana). this is literally the definition of “i wrote this for myself, but you can read it too.” | no smut 😱 | hotch got me writing fluff yall do you know how out of character this is for me? | inspired by @murdrdocs’s persisting southern enthusiasm with her characters | story is non-linear mostly, just snapshots if you wanna call it that

1.2k words of fluff and southern fantasy, ft hotch. a love letter to my state, and to hotch.

in the car, hotch’s finger taps in time against the steering wheel, sliding gracefully into the rhythm of the song rumbling out of the stereo. the sun is setting, casting a glow over his face, outlining his prominent nose and cheeks, lighting up the smile on his face.

southern skies are beautiful when you’ve got hotch to see them with.

the south is your home, your territory, your space. hotch, on the other hand, is new. he was fresh, but he’s fit in so well. the difference in birthplaces was stark, at the start, hotch’s eyes gaining a youthful glow every time you showed him a green bayou or took him to a gas station in the middle of nowhere with chicken and meat pies so hot he laughed through the burn.

he still sees everything like it’s new, eyes surveying the small towns you take him through, telling him you have family from here or there, about how your dad knows someone from here and your mom’s childhood friend lives here now. but he’s experienced, has a thing for the nights when it’s quiet out, when even in your bed he can hear the crickets chirping just outside the window.

he likes the drives, the rolling roads and graveled streets and towns that pop up here and there. the breaks in trees that reveal a church, the yellow, faded Dollar General signs and the pastures with cows and horses grazing away.

the towns are his favorite, though. small and cozy, one store for everyone, a mom & pop shop, a church.

lousiana summers are hot, bright and burning and, with the proper precautions, he can enjoy you in the sunshine. under the shade of pecan trees, a distance away from the playground, you sit across him on a checkered blanket, and it looks the image of a picnic date, your dress loose and flowing.

the nights are his favorite, too. you’d both picked a house on the edge of town, half an hour away from the nearest big store, where it’s more practical to hit a market or a gas station than drive to Walmart.

so at night, when it gets dark, it gets dark. he’s never seen the stars so clear until he met you. you and your southern wit entranced him and are still entrancing him now. he likes the subtle differences, the different ways you go about things.

and if he’s being honest, your drawl makes his head spin. he hangs on your words, on the elongated syllables and sour twang and how your accent grows deeper when you’re angry about something, or when you’re so excited your words twist and curl around themselves.

he can’t help but poke fun at you for it sometimes, when you’re speaking normally and a word comes out a little more flavored than the others.

he repeats it to you in his own voice, laughing as you scold him, saying he knew you were country when he met you.

“i did,” he concedes, and it’s like a gut-punch every time he speaks with such fondness about anything related to the relationship you two have shared.

you showed him a different kind of southern, one that isn’t horses and cowboy boots, but parties with familiar songs and a city where everyone knows everyone, nights with fireflies, and foxes you just barely catch glimpses of, rap groups proclaiming their pride in their southern heritage and experiences you only know if you’ve been here.

he’s learned some party songs, and you’ve taught him the dances. he’s so comfortable with them now that he can do them with his arms draped over your shoulders, leaning into the groove as the family you welcomed him into enjoys themselves around him.

he’s a dream at the backyard parties. he lets the kids bounce him on the trampoline, and hang off his shoulders, and pretends like he doesn't see your little cousins sneaking up on him with water guns that look more like water bazookas.

“you know, if that thing isn’t registered, i could confiscate it,” he jokes, dripping with water and too entertained to even fein professionalism.

your cousins shriek with delight, running off to no doubt refill their guns and attack him again.

he’s got rhythm, for a white guy, still awkward but endearing and he’s got enough to make the line dances fun. he claims his favorite is a toss up between “cupid shuffle” and “candy,” but it’s obvious what he leans toward more. he hears the bassline of “candy” and he’s rising out of his chair with a beer in his hand and turning to pull you up too, dancing you backwards into the mass of your family.

your love for him grows with every party you attend, with every dramatic slap he delivers to the ground.

he watches you run and play with your siblings, grown but morphing into the children in the pictures hanging on the walls of the house, your dress soft and purple and flowing and he falls further in love when he hears you scream “stop, i’m not playin’ with you,” all country and playful and beautiful.

inside, squeezed up beside you on a chair, the darkness of night falling over the party and moving everyone inside, his heart is light. he goes back for more plates than he’s proud of, pretending like he doesn’t hear a cousin or aunt giggling at you as he walks away with the promise of bringing you more lemonade.

he’s grown accustomed to the hour long goodbyes, where he’s still talking to your dad or brother about something or the other with his keys dangling in his hand and you talking to your aunt as she plates and wraps up another bowl of her banana pudding.

and the drives. god, the drives. he traded his big truck in for a lowrider at your request, an old car from the 70s that’ll fall apart before it needs to hit the shop. he’s navigated this road more times than he can count, knows what gas station is where and when to look out for the nasty bends and twists that are so prevalent back here.

there’s a CD labeled with yours and hotch’s name in the player, fashioned with hearts all around and a plus between the two names. the sunset flows in through the window, eclipsing hotch’s face and molding him so perfectly with the sky you swear he belongs there.

high and happy, the gas station stop is silly, you fill the small space up with your laughs and chopped up words and hotch laughs with you, finding humor in the smallest things with you.

there’s soft conversation and snacking and feeding him food, him trying and holding his own on a particularly difficult song. he slows the car down, at times, cruises way under the limit cause he just wants to look at you, wants to indulge in the sight of you while he listens to you speak in that tone he can’t get enough of.

he really can’t get over your accent. he gets wrapped up in the push and pull of it, the lows and the highs and the way you sometimes sound like a southern belle, sweet-talking him into staying in bed another hour or hitting the store nearest your house for a drink.

his ears perk up when he hears the subtle (and sometimes, not so subtle) inflection, the way you say “baby,” how his name sounds different from your mouth. he’s wrapped up in a southern girl, in the life he’s grateful to have been given.

southern nights with hotch, through the window of a car or in a closed-in porch on a house in the middle of nowhere, are a dream. a fantasy.

[sharkinthetoilet]

The main 4(south park) spending time with their s/o (gn), and they just rly randomly smack them with a pillow not hard just playfully! How would they react?

the main 4 getting smacked by a pillow

Gender: neutral

Warnings: none!

☆-Stan:

You guys were probably sitting on stans bed, on your phones

not because theres nothing to do, but simply because you enjoy silently being in each others presence

But you grew bored, so you take one of the thousand pillows laying around stans bed and smack him

My man would be dumbfounded and offended

He would sit there, mouth dramatically agape

But before you could react he starts tickling you

He's not a fair player!! Although you attacking him out of nowhere also isn't fair

Soon you guys would be running around the house. Him trying to tickle you and you trying to keep him away from you

The whole house would be a huge mess

At one point you guys would finally stop and when he gets the chance he takes the pillow from you and smack it against the back of you head (of course not hard, just like you did)

With that he would declare himself the winner

Later you two would need to clean up the mess, but it was totally worth it

☆-Cartman:

I literally have no idea how to correctly write cartman, forgive me

Probably you were just chilling at his house, watching him play video games

actually not video games, video game. One singular game, for like 2 hours already

Man you were bored, so you just took a pillow and smacked the controller out of his hand

Remember how I said stan was offended, yeah no cartman would be even way more offended

He will probably not forgive you for the next 2 days

But he does take 2 pillows and sandwich you inbetween

Don't try more

Seriously.

☆-Kyle:

I'd assume you two would have a study date

Not that you don't appreciate kyle repeating the topics with you

But god repeating physics over and over again gets tiring

Probably you'd sprawled out over the bed, answering kyles questions

There you had the smartes idea ever atleast in your over exhausted head

Promptly you smack the nearest pillow over kyles head

He'd probably be confused, but also sympathetic. After all you two had been working for quiet some time

Would initiate a pillow fight, if you agree to go with the rules he sets

Is very careful tho, would use softer pillows and weaker hits to not hurt you

Yeah no, you don't go back to learning that day

That would probably become an insider

Whenever you guys are studying for a long time he will initiate a "pillow fight break"

Most of the time you don't actually have pillow fights, he just likes calling it that

☆-kenny:

You guys were just chilling in his room, watching something on your laptop

Then you just impulsively pull the pillow from under his head and smack it on his face

Please ignore the porn magazines under that, thanks

He definitely would start laughing

then he would snatch that pillow and smack you over and over again

my man doesn't have a second pillow in his room, so no pillow fight

he's also not fair

wouldn't let you get that pillow back

if he's taller than you, he will hold it over your head and tease you about it

extra points if you get embarrassed or whiny

when he's done relentlessly bullying you, he would cuddle you

and he won't let go.

yeah you won't finish whatever you were watching

[ghostssimp]

Can’t Kill A Ghost

Ugh, this sucks, but I'll leave it here. My motivation to write is at zero. There's none of it. Also I'm thinking about writing for other fandoms too, so I can take a little break from COD, because I have no motivation for it.

The mission you went on, got south, so you and Ghost had to run. Terrorists got the information of the two of you being there and you barely got your heads out. You got shot in your shoulder in the action. The two of you got to the nearest safehouse, which was an hour and a half distant away. Good thing Ghost found a motorbike and the two of you rushed away. The pain in your shoulder didn’t help, but you had to hold onto the muscular man, to be close to him as you escaped.

Soon, the two of you reached the safe house. It took a good 40 minutes, but you managed it. When Ghost got off the motorbike, his eyes met yours in a hint of worry. The pain in your shoulder made you feel weak as adrenaline wore out and you felt the pain more and more flowing through you.

He helped you down and, to your surprise, he took you in his arms. Here's the deal, you like your Lieutenant, you like him a lot and moments like this are fatal to you, because you think that there are just seconds away for you to blow up. There were a few times that he looked at you he showed something to you, a little feeling in his eyes that wanted to betray him and show emotion, but he always found an excuse and turned away. You're glad for that. You can't bond. You're not allowed. You can't lose anyone else in your life.

Ghost put you down on a couch and rushed to find first aid. You grimace at the pain and lean a little on your good shoulder. "You know Lt., I can walk. I'm shot in my shoulder, not my leg." He walked back getting everything he needed. "Shut up and take your shirt off." His eyes looked at the wound. "Don't. You can't lift up your arm. I'll cut the fabric." You look at him through your lashes.

"And what will I wear around?" He grumbles under his breath something that you didn't catch and already rips the shirt from your sleeve to your shoulder with, scissors.

"You'll walk around naked." His eyes didn't even look up at you, but were fixed on your wound. The good thing is that, because you didn't know how to react. There were a few minutes of silence as he started to patch you up and you hissed when he put alcohol on your wound.

"I don't think that's appropriate, Lieutenant." He was silent for some time. His breathing was steady and deep, making you concentrate on it instead of the pain and the needle that is now going through your skin. 

He finished and started to bandage you up. "Why do you never call me Ghost?" It took you by surprise, and you flinched at the question. "I uh, I'm keeping it professional." Lame excuse.

"Banshee, give me a proper answer." You glance at him. "Well, this is also a proper one." Your heart is beating. You never called him Ghost. You know his name is Simon Riley. You never said it out loud. It was always Lieutenant or Sir. He was finished and, finally, the two of you locked your eyes. "Thank you Sir." He's staring down at you. He leans over to you, just inches from your ear.

"Banshee. Y/N. Say my name, just once. I want to hear it." Your breath hitched. You've never seen him like this. You've never heard him talk like this. You didn't know how to react.

"I just... I can't sir."

"Tell me why then."

You pull back to look at him. His eyes looked ready for anything that you would say to him. It is full of emotions that you can't read. His hands dipped the couch beneath you as you sat between them. He dominated over you. It made you want to tell him everything. For a second there, you were hesitating.

"Soap is always bugging me. Why did I get called Banshee? Banshee is a mythological being that brings death. Lt. It screams and you know that death is coming. Everytime in my lifetime I sad the nane of a loved one person, they end up dead. I bring death anywhere I go, I am fucking death." His eyes shifted over you. You felt your heart pounding faster with each second you were this close to him.

I died a long time ago, baby. Say my name." his hand found place on your tight, gripping it and giving it a squeeze. Your stomach flipped and heat started to wash over you. His fingers sneaked around and found a way in your trousers. They pushed away panties and he dipped in.

"Say it. Y/N. Say it." a moan escaped your lips as he worked you over. "I can't sir."

He stopped and leaned over your ear, his mask touching your cheek as his raspy voice ringed over.

"You can't kill a ghost."

[mouschiwrites]

Hey love your content ❤️could u please write a Kyle x y/n so basically they have a crush on each other and y/n cousin is Stan and Stan knows that they both have a crush for each other and he sets them up like the Lloyd soty but with Kyle and Stan 🥺

I would love that 💕💕

Yep! I stuck with the arcade date idea for this one! :)

Word count: 1k

South Park - Stan Sets You Up With Kyle

“But I want donuts!” You whined.

“And I want french fries.”

You were arguing about what food to get now that school was over. You’d have to decide soon; you were almost to the exit, and the donut shop was down the street to the left, while the nearest french fry joint was down the street to the right.

Suddenly Stan spotted a tall head of red hair among the sea of students. Grabbing your wrist, he dragged you along to confront Kyle.

“Kyle!”

He turned around. His eyes went wide for half a second when he noticed you, and you saw his shoulders tense ever so subtly. You didn’t make note of it, though, as you were occupied with tensing your own shoulders. You made sure to stand behind Stan, keeping your gaze low to stay inconspicuous.

“I want fries and Y/n wants donuts. Tell them that fries are clearly the superior option.”

Kyle glanced at you. “Donuts are great. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You felt your heart skip a beat when you heard that. He agreed with you! A small victory, but a victory indeed.

Though your face was partially downturned, Kyle could see the subtle brightness flash in your eyes. His heart squeezed. He had made you happy by supporting your side! Internally he pumped his fist, though externally he remained still as a statue.

As you started to walk away, Stan gave Kyle a dirty look. “Kiss-ass,” he growled.

“Sore loser,” Kyle fired back. Much like you, he was doing a pretty good job of hiding his thoughts.

But Stan could see through you both. As your cousin, and as Kyle’s best friend, he knew you like the backs of his two hands. Frankly, it was just painful and awkward to watch you both pine after the other, completely oblivious and never making the slightest of moves.

Stan sighed as he bit into his glazed donut. If he couldn’t have the snack he wanted, he’d have to find another way to enjoy himself.

At first he thought of pranking you, but with a slow shake of his head he decided he didn’t want to be mean. Not too mean, at least.

Then it hit him. With a devious smirk, he fell into a long lapse of silence while you ranted about who-knows-what (though he thinks he heard you say “Kyle” once or twice). He wasn’t paying attention, though. His mind was quite in another place—he was plotting.

Your house came up first on the walk home. You split off to walk up your driveway, waving goodbye to your cousin.

“Y/n,” he called suddenly, prompting you to whip around right before you went inside.

“Arcade. Tomorrow.”

You grinned. “Already looking forward to it.”

The door closed. Stan immediately whipped out his phone and called Kyle.

The next day, you walked down to the arcade with Stan as the autumn sun began its early descent. It was hardly 5 PM and golden hour was upon you.

As you approached the arcade, your heart fell to your stomach. A tall lanky figure with curly red hair was waiting outside. Stan noticed the way both of your faces, flushed from the cold air, immediately went white.

“Hey, Kyle!”

“Stan,” Kyle greeted, sounding a little strained.

You leaned in to whisper in his ear: “You didn’t tell me you invited K—…anyone else.”

Ignoring you, Stan smacked the side of his head theatrically. “Oh, no,” he groaned. “I totally forgot I have history homework that’s due Monday. No way I can finish it tomorrow,” he shook his head remorsefully. “I gotta start tonight. You guys should have fun without me though.”

Before either of you could say anything, he had turned on his heels and jogged away. You both watched him go, silently fuming with both anger and embarrassment.

“Since when does Stan care about homework?” You heard Kyle grumble under his breath.

“I don’t think we even have history homework.”

You saw Kyle’s brow get lower. “I think you’re right.”

You both narrowed your eyes a little. He totally planned this. That little—

Someone stepped out of the arcade, and the warm gush of air that blew out enticed you both inside.

“Hey, look! New game!” You automatically pointed to a new machine, forgetting your humility in your excitement. You dashed over, quarter already in hand.

It was a two-player game; in a second you sensed Kyle’s presence beside you, though he wasn’t close enough to actually play.

You cocked your brow. “You gonna play or not?”

Kyle moved half an inch, then hesitated. In a moment, you realized why; the machine was rather small, so players were squished together. Your shoulders were pressed to each other, and the proximity was making you both blush. More than that, it was making you positively wretched at the game.

When you inevitably lost, the game asked if you wanted to play again. At the same time you both reached for the “end game” button, and you ended up with your hands stacked atop it.

You looked at each other, then just as quickly looked away and stepped back from the machine.

“I’m not usually that bad at games,” you said loudly, desperate to distract from the incident.

“Me neither. Let’s play something else.”

The next game you tried proved to be much better. You weren’t as close, so you weren’t distracted. You were able to get into a proper competitive mindset, which lasted for the next few hours while you bounced from game to game together, laughing and talking more comfortably with each round.

A buzz in Kyle’s pocket finally broke your gaming stupor.

“I’ve gotta go home,” Kyle said regretfully.

You checked the time. “Oh. Me too.”

You walked very slowly to the exit, prolonging your conversation for as long as possible. But eventually you were out on the street, and you had to part.

“See you at school on Monday,” you mumbled sadly. You hated to end the night like this.

“Yeah. Or you could give me your number.”

You told yourself the pink on his cheeks was from the cold. He told himself the same thing about the pinkness on your own cheeks.

The second you got home, you sent a “goodnight” text to Kyle. In a few seconds he responded:

Same to you. Tonight was fun :)

You sent a smiley face back. Then, miles apart, you both hugged your phones to your chests, gazing at the ceiling dumbly with massive grins on your faces.

Thank you for your request! And thanks for reading! Take care duckies <33

(divider by saradika)

[slut-4sasuke]

Day Dream (short)

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x Reader

Warning: SMUT!! teasing, light dom, finger play (i guess), f reader

Summary: Kakashi gets side tracked during a misson

Word Count: 579

A//N: Hiiiii!!! I’m excited for you guys to read it! I’m not 100% confident in my writing, but i do hope you enjoy.

Watching her squat on the tree branch in front of me, was of course my favorite view on any mission. Her pants were tight, but stretched perfectly around her figure. They clung to her ass and legs beautifully.

My hand massaging her ass as it sticks out perfectly in that stance. I stand right behind her admiring her body. I use my fingers to graze over her covered pussy. It was already damp and I could imagine her dripping wet folds, where my shaft should be, sliding through them coating my cock with all her juices. My fingers tease her clit while I let a deep groan, getting lost in my thoughts. She must have liked my sound because a soft moan then leaves her lips as she tries to keep balance. I move my hand back up her ass.

I wanna hear my name slip through her lips making me hum in pleasure. She can't have it, not yet. I want her to beg, beg for all she desires. She stays stuck, wishing she could have more. Squatting next to her I whisper, “stand up for me.” I stand after my own command waiting for her to follow. She stood in front of me, still facing away from me.

My hands moving up her beautiful body, admiring all of her. Her hips curved so nicely already and with her vest on, it only tightened her body creating such a beautiful hourglass figure. My hands come closer together as I go up her abdomen, feeling her figure. She acts like she doesn't want it, but her body tells me otherwise.

She didn't have to turn around for me to see her bust. It's at the point where her vest is tighter at the top from the fill. Moving my hands up to her chest, cupping her breasts and pulling her into my chest. My cock bulges out, tightening my pants, pressing onto her. I rest my head on her shoulder and whisper, “tell me (Y/N), if I wanted to push you against the nearest tree and fuck you senseless from behind, would you let me?” Her breath hitched in her throat and she gulped. “N-not h-here Kakashi,” she grabs my hands, pushing them closer to her. She lied and not very well. “If you want it you’re gonna have to ask.” My mask presses to hers as I whisper to her. Her head tilts back and she moans softly. I chuckle and take a deep breath, breathing her in.

Her desire to be pleasured was visible and sensible, but I want her begging me to please her. I slide one hand down her vest and into her pants. Both thighs were slick of wetness and her panties had a pool of sweet neediness. I push her panties to feel on her. I slide my finger over her clit and down her folds.

“Kakashi!” A loud whisper in my left ear. I jump and see she is no longer in my view, but next to me. I turn my head to face her kitsune ANBU mask. The slim features of the mask compliment her. “Yes (Y/N)?” I rest one hand under my mask on my chin. “I think we should move farther south, there hasn’t been activity in almost an hour.” “Patience is a virtue, love.” It just slipped out, but it had an effect on her. Her head tilted down and a small chuckle left her lips.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Hard to Forget - Willard Hewitt x Reader

A/N: I wanted to branch out the list of characters I'd write for and since Willard is a fave of mine (I have a soft spot for dumb pretty country boys oops), I figured I'd roll with it.

Inspired by I Bet You Think About Me and Betty by Taylor Swift;

“But now that we're done and it's over, I bet you couldn't believe when you realized I'm harder to forget than I was to leave”

“But if I just showed up at your party, - Would you tell me to go fuck myself, - I’m only 17, I don’t know anything.” “Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?”

pairing: Willard Hewitt (Footloose 2011) x f!reader

content/warnings: swearing, angst, Willard being a dummy, some pining, fluffy ending.

word count: 3k

“Willard, you can’t just go around kissin’ other girls and then telling me you love me, that’s not how this works!” 

“Well, maybe I dunno how any of this works, did’ya ever think that? Jeez, you’re puttin’ more rules on me than coach does for a football game, babe. Maybe I don’t wanna be in a relationship like this? I’m young, you know, I’m 19, I wanna be free and have fun while I still can. I’m gonna graduate soon and I wanna enjoy life before I get stuck workin’ a 9 to 5 somewhere. I know I’m not playin’ football when I get out, but I’m not plannin’ to be like everyone else back home and have a wife and kids and a dog before I turn 30.”

“Well then, maybe we should break up, Willard. Apparently according to you we were never anything to begin with, so it shouldn’t be too hard to call this off.” 

“Yeah, maybe we should.”

Willard’s words were like venom, stinging you as you walked away, hot tears threatening to overflow your eyes and stream down your face. You headed off to your dorm, trying your damnest to not let Willard’s indifference towards you get under your skin. You were determined to not let some country boy from a small town in Georgia break your heart, you were better than that. Before you left, you spun around on your heel and looked at him.

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Willard?” 

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Five years later, and you had long moved on from the cute Southern country boy who’d tried to break your heart. You’d completed your university degree in Education, worked your ass off, determined to be happy with or without your ex boyfriend. You and Willard never crossed paths again at university, and you were sure you’d never see him again. That was, until you had to return home for the weekend. Your younger sister had just turned 16, and your presence was requested, causing you to make the four and a half hour one way trip down to Athens to be there for her party. You’d moved to South Carolina after graduation, landing a job with a school district in Charleston where you were hired on as a first grade teacher. Once you arrived back home in Athens, the memories of Willard and your years at university all came flooding back. Complicating these, was when your tire blew on your car. You had to have it towed to the nearest mechanic.

When you hopped out of the tow truck, you lifted your sunglasses up from your eyes, resting them atop your head, squinting as you walked into the garage. A tall man with dark hair and a deep Southern accent with his back turned to you as he wiped his hands off called out to you. There was a sense of familiarity as he spoke, an uncomfortable feeling brewed in you as he turned around. You saw his face, and nothing about him had changed - the same hazel eyes, dark brown curls, the faint scars on his cheek and his chin now almost unnoticeable. His breath audibly hitched as he saw you. 

“Well...hi,” Willard chuckled awkwardly as he saw you, taking a moment to register everything that had changed since you’d left him.

“Hi,” You responded coldly, your arms folded across your chest as you looked at him, “My tire blew, I just need one replaced. No I didn’t have a spare, just charge it to my credit card when you’re done, ok?” 

“Well now, is that anyway to talk to your ex boyfriend?” Willard smirked playfully, that same godforsaken twinkle in his hazel eyes that always won you over before still clearly present.

“Ex for a reason, Willard.”

“Not a good one,” He admitted as he nodded his head slowly, “I-uh-I’ve been thinking.”

“After 5 years? Seems a little late.”

“Listen, darlin’, I was a stupid kid,” he began, nodding slowly, “I never wanted to hurt ya.”

“Well, you just did a damn good job of that without even trying, didn’t you?” You rebuffed his attempt to discuss further and handed him your credit card so he could put the tire repair on file with your card. 

“I’m sorry, ok?” He said softly, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke. 

“I’m not.”

“I probably deserve that, I’ll admit,” Willard sighs and shakes his head, “Let me make it up to ya, ok? Maybe I could take you for dinner some time? How long are ya here for? I can’t cook for shit still, but I remember you always loved going out to that place near the campus, I could take you there if ya’d like?”

“Thanks, but I have plans.”

“I haven’t even told you when it is yet.”

“Well I’m only home for a weekend. It’s my sister’s sweet 16.”

Willard’s face fell as he nodded slowly. He sighed softly and handed you your card back, furrowing his brow as he spoke.

“S’pose I can’t convince you then, can I?” 

“What could you possibly say to fix it after five years, Willard?

He frowned again before gazing up at the clock on the wall. He nodded slowly and turned his attention back to you before speaking again.

“I’m off in 10 minutes, if you wait for me, I’ll explain everything. If you say my explanation and apology aren’t good enough, I’ll back off and you can pretend you never even met me. I’ll even fix that tire for free first before you go back home.”

You weighed your options as Willard looked at you hopefully, almost as if he was pleading you to agree. You sighed and shook your head before pointing a finger at him.

“Don’t disappoint me, ok?

“I’ll do my damnest not to, darlin’”

After 10 short minutes, you observed as Willard punched out his time card and trodded off to the change room to discard of his dirty, grease laden clothes. He smiled as he walked out to you, wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt, his beat up old baseball cap from when you’d first met him now adorning his head. He laughed softly before turning to you once again and grinning.

“I’m impressed you waited for me,” Willard explained. 

As the two of you headed outside, you spotted his infamous beat up old pickup truck, looking as rough as ever parked outside. Willard grinned at you and laughed, “You used to love this truck, you know.”

“Yeah, when I was 19, I also loved country boys in cowboy hats who wiillingly broke my heart by kissing other girls while I thought we were dating exclusively,” You hissed at him.

If there was one thing you knew about Willard, it was that he didn’t give a single fuck if anyone didn’t like his truck. That truck was the only thing he loved more than his own mama, and Willard would spend every last dime he had to fix that awful thing just so he could continue cherishing it. He’d always been very set in his ways about everything. It was the reason why you’d split in the first place. He was so determined to “live freely” and “live his life” that he gave up anything he figured might have stopped him, including you.

“Listen, I’m sorry for what I did, yeah?” 

“So you’ve said.” 

“Just hear me out, ok? I was a stupid kid. I was 19, I didn’t know shit. I still don’t know shit at 24, but you know what I do know?” 

“How to count past 10 without taking your shoes off?” You retorted dryly.

“Hey now, I’m trying to be serious!” Willard laughed softly, “I know now that you never would have stopped me from doing whatever I had my heart set on. You would have encouraged me to just be happy. I appreciate that. I was just too stupid to pick up on that. I’m sorry I broke your heart. I also learned that you were so much harder to forget than you were to leave. Watching you walk away and hearing you tell me to go fuck myself gave me quite the ego check. And, I really did think you were the sweetest lil’ Georgia peach I’d ever met.”

You rolled your eyes as you tried to maintain your icy exterior towards him. On the inside though, you could feel your heart melt ever so slightly as he called you a Georgia peach - that had always been his saying when he thought you did something cute. He’d pat your cheek with his big hand, calloused from a combination of playing football and his studying to be a mechanical engineer, and grin at you as his thick as molasses Southern accent gushed at you. “Well ain’t you just as sweet as a Georgia Peach?” he’d always say. Half the time you figured he said it purely to make you blush. 

Willard took a step closer to you, his hazel eyes meeting with yours the way they had when you two had dated all those years ago. He sighed softly, almost happily as he saw you weren’t rejecting him this time around. His hand reached for yours slowly, his touch gentle and delicate, as if he was trying purposefully not to scare you away. He smiled softly as you allowed him to hold your hand, your lack of resistance giving him a glimmer of hope that you might have somehow found a way to forgive him. You would feel yourself wearing down against him, your cold, frozen exterior towards him melting away as he gently held your hand.

“Willard,” you frowned slightly as you looked down at his hand holding yours, trying to ignore the fact that your hand fit perfectly in his.

“Darlin’ I’m willing to do anything to prove to you that I’m not going to break your heart again if you give me the chance. I’ve spent the last five years realizing that those big dreams and aspirations I had in college weren’t going to come true without you. I never did make it out of college football, I never ended up travelling or leaving Georgia like I said I would, but, I mean, I do decently well for myself. When you left I realized you were what made me happy though - not travelling or football, or workin’ on cars. You. And when I didn’t have you to do all these things I’d dreamed of with, well, none of them seemed worth doin’ anymore.”

 You sighed softly as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. You looked up at him, meeting those gorgeous hazel eyes you’d always loved, tears welling up in your own as you gave an understanding nod of your head. 

“Now, there’s my sweet lil’ Georgia peach,” he smirked as he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. 

A rush of memories and a sense of familiarity came rushing over you as he spoke, calling you by the pet name that always made you weak in the knees years ago. You shook your head quickly as you tried to shake the feeling of nostalgia that was overtaking you.

“I should get going.” Your voice was soft-spoken, partially feeling guilty as you spoke.

Willard swallowed hard and nodded his head, trying to not sound defeated. He gestured his hand outward, pointing towards the street, forcing a hearty laugh and a big smile as he spoke.

“Yeah, might not wanna be late, your mama’d be so mad. Bet your sister wouldn’t be none too pleased either tho, would she?”

“No, I don’t suppose they would be. My sister’s party is supposed to start in,” You frowned as you looked at your watch and shook your head, “!5 minutes. Christ, I better start walking.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll just drive you over. Sure your mama doesn’t want you wanderin’ your way around town to get home.”

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly closed it again. You knew he had a fair point, and you’d never make it there in 15 minutes by walking. Smiling, Willard opened the door of his truck for you, gesturing to the front seat for you to hop inside. You jumped up into the seat and nodded slowly as Willard took your bag out of your temporarily non-functioning car for you, placing it in the back. He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key over, the engine making its unique sputtering sound as it roared to life, the old engine sounding like it was clinging to life by a thread. 

“You know, I could fix ‘er, but I just…I dunno, the sound is sort of nostalgic for me, ya know? It’s comforting,” He chuckled.

You rolled your eyes and laughed as he drove towards your parents house. You directed him along the way, but once he found himself in the familiar neighbourhoods he used to drive through to pick you up all those years ago, he didn’t need your navigation skills anymore. He smirked as he pulled up out front of your parents’ home, watching as you hopped out of the truck. He raised an eyebrow as the crowd of your family members that was congregating outside of your garage. Willard waved politely to them, recognizing a few of their faces from family functions he’d accompanied you to years ago. He parked his truck and hopped out, smiling as he looked over to you.

“I take it you never did tell your mama the truth about why we broke up, did ya?” He whispered to you as your mom waved to him from the garage.

“No, I didn’t want to her to go sharpen her pitchfork to come after you with,” You smirked at him and shrugged your shoulders, “You’re welcome.”

As you came up closer to your family, you felt Willard put his hand gently on your back. Turning to you, he smiled softly and whispered in your ear gently.

“Sorry, just trying to make it seem like we didn’t quite break up as badly as we did,” he nodded as he let out a soft chuckle.

You nodded slowly in agreement and smiled at your family members as Willard joined you. He laughed as your dad wrapped an arm Willard’s shoulders, pulling him in to talk for a moment, as he would have with an old friend. Willard gave you an apologetic smile as he shrugged, not realizing that your family would have missed his presence so much. 

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A few hours later, Willard was still hanging out at the party, unable to make a quick getaway as your family members wanted to hear about all the things he’d done over the last five years. In a way, you were glad they were so welcoming towards him once again, happy to see that he was still considered family by your loved ones. You couldn’t help but notice the butterflies you got every time you saw him smile or laugh while he spoke, like he was genuinely enjoying himself, it showed to you that what he had said earlier about missing you had been completely heartfelt. 

As everyone started to head out, you met Willard on your parents front porch, smiling softly as he held your hand again under the warm glow of the porchlight beside the door. You could feel the gaze of your family members peering through the curtains at you, all secretly and silently hoping that one of you would give a sign that you were rekindling what you’d once had together. 

“Thanks for letting me stick around, I missed seeing everyone, I missed how nice your folks are,” Willard nodded, smiling brightly at you, his cheeks turning pink as he spoke.

“I don’t think they would have given me the option to send you home without staying, to be fair.”

There was an awkward silence in the air between you two as Willard’s eyes met yours. He bit his lip softly and laughed, shaking his head, his dark brown curls becoming perfectly tossed, his discarded baseball cap shoved into his back pocket from when he sat down for dinner earlier. 

“You know, I really wanna kiss you right ‘bout now.”

“Strangely enough, you’re kinda making me wanna kiss you right ‘bout now too,” you teased.

With that, Willard put his hands on your waist, pulling you in close for a kiss. His lips were soft, with a sense of hunger and passion added to the chemistry between you. You could tell just by how his lips met with yours that he’d been craving this for the last five years. That he’d wanted nothing more than to hold you close and kiss you under the porchlight like had so many times before. And if you were being honest, you’d craved it too all these years, as much as you hated to admit it.

“So, where does this leave us then?” You raised an eyebrow at him, “‘Suppose I can’t hate you anymore if I’m letting you kiss me like that, now can I?”

“Don’t suppose you can, sweetheart. Looks like you may have to agree to datin’ me again?”

“Is that so?”

“Now come on, my lil’ Georgia peach, don’t make me get on my knees and beg you to take me back in front of your folks. You know I will.”

You laughed softly and pressed your lips to his again, murmuring into the kiss as your lips touched. 

“Come ‘ere, country boy,  you’re mine now.”

[sleepyfan-blog]

Craft

Author’s Note:  this is the second part of mer-Deimos fic!  Previous. Next

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @gallifreyanrose

Warnings: lying, manipulation

Summary: Deimos makes contact with a pod of young Blood Angels, integrating in with them to fish for information.

Deimos hums softly to himself as he swims over to where the nearest pod of Blood Angels were hunting. He keeps to the shadows of the kelp forest, listening in on their playful vox-chatter, to ascertain that the Blood Angel whose identity he’d taken was not currently within this pod - as otherwise he’d need to lure the Astartes’ whose face he’d taken away for his brothers to hold in place while he assessed the potential threat that this particular pod of Blood Angels posed to the plans that the Alpha Legion had in mind for this region.

Once he was relatively sure that “his” presence would be welcomed, he made his way out of the kelp forest and re-joined the “brothers” who were chasing after a large school of fish. There was a gap in the circle that they’d made which was allowing more of their prey to escape than they wanted, so he slid into place with a faux-cheerful greeting “Good afternoon, brothers! Lovely day for a hunt.” 

The rest of the Blood Angel pod chirped friendly greetings -and by the markings on their armor, they seemed to be younger Blood Angels. They were each full battle brothers, but hadn’t been for long. It did not take long with his assistance for everyone to each be able to gorge himself on as much live prey as each wanted to feast upon. 

“Brothers Sergeant Plethas, I didn’t realize you were in the area. I thought you were visiting with your bonded?” One of the younger Astartes asks, dark red eyes peering up at him curiously.

Plethas hummed before playfully reaching out and scruffing the nosy little brother “I just wanted to check in on how you all were doing. Good thing too, as otherwise the hole in your hunting circle would have meant that you all would have had to chase after the reforming school of prey for hours if not days longer.”

The younger cousin he’d scruffed pouted up at him, squirming a little “We… We were working on it! Besides, we wouldn’t have gone too much further south. Not with the recent breakdowns in negotiations between some of the larger chaos pods and our older brothers… Not that I’d have to remind you about that. You know more about it than any of us do. Do you know when the negotiations are going to continue? Or have the Chaos Bastards swum off in a huff again?”

… Negotiations? Deimos hadn’t heard any kind of chatter about negotiations between Chaos and Loyalist pods. He really hoped it was because of the long-term mission he’d recently come back from. He’ll need to update his captain immediately about this, as soon as he got all relevant information. He reaches out and ruffles the younger cousin’s gilded hair “You know full well that I can’’t tell you any more about how things are going until I get the go-ahead from the chapter master.”

The little cousin in his grip whined and huffed before leaning into his touch, a soft purr rumbling in his chest. His eyes were filled with affection and trust “Yes big brother…  I’m sleepy…” He was soon surrounded on all sides with sleepy and trusting younger cousins.

A small smile appeared on his face as he reaches out with careful, gentle hands, patting each of them on the head or shoulder. “Come now, we can’t sleep out in the open waters. Lead me to where you’re denning, then you may rest while I take first watch. Come on, youngsters.”

This prompted a round of grumbling from the younger cousins, but they obeyed his orders with some reluctance. There was an adorably amusing chorus of “Yes big brother.” They led him to where they were denning.

It was a decently sized underwater cave, with a mouth just large enough for a single astartes to pass through without trouble. There was enough room inside the main chamber of the cave for the small pod of Dark Angels to sleep together in a nested pile, and Deimos noted that there was evidence that they had contact with baseline humans - water-resistant blankets, brightly colored strings of beads, other easily carried knick-knacks that decorated the main area of the cave. There were side-chambers and tunnels that lead upwards, and another point of entry into this cave system.

All in all, it was entirely unsatisfactory for an Alpha legion nest, but most loyalist chapters were not so careful in choosing dens, especially temporary spaces such as this. Which was foolish of them, but useful for Deimos and his brothers. After all, they hadn’t once seriously questioned why he was here.

Deimos smiled again as the young battle brothers settled into a pile of limbs and tails, pulling him into the center of it with sleepy purrs. He hummed to them a common loyalist lullaby, helping them to fall asleep faster, his lilting voice and a touch of warp-craft encouraging them to sleep deeply. 

Once Deimos was sure that they were all fully asleep, he put his helmet back on and sent a brief, encoded message with what he had learned to his captain, before resuming his watch, awaiting further orders. 

[flownwrong]

expectations (a due south fic)

F/K, 1.5k words, additional tags: first kiss, stupid phone conversations, drama over a duffel bag

I'll tell you what I told ao3:

"My writing hit a wall a while back. To deal with it, I decided I'd write the only way I can now—short fic I can seat-of-my-pants in one day. A piece for each ship/fandom/idea where I have wips or thoughts that I can't make into actual works. This is the first one.

Thanks to @nigeltde-fic for dragging me down with this ship, and generally being a champion. <3”"

Maybe it really is a damn Groundhog Day type situation. Only twice as boring and nobody gets the girl, like, ever.

One thing he never pictured when he thought of the after-fraser-life, which he didn’t do very often, or, well, maybe he did, but he didn’t like doing it, point being—one thing he didn’t imagine was that it would be the same. As in, poof, never happened, must have daydreamed it, off you go, Stanley, play well with the boys.

And, well, it isn’t really a never-happened kinda deal, because Fraser, he just lives in a pocket in Ray’s head now, twenty-four-literal-seven, like friends do, you know, or something close. And what with Vecchio and Stella fucking off to Florida and Frannie doing her thing all while they were still doing the big adventure stuff, between all that it’s hard to not notice the change. But other than that—it’s the same job, the same desk (his desk, The Kowalski Desk), the same bottle in the cabinet above the sink and the same—the inside of his head is the same, too, giving him trouble like always.

more under the cut or on ao3

The way they left things—if that’s even what happened, left things, huh—it’s not what he feared. Not what he expected, either—and it took him many, many frozen-through adrenaline-drunk days to put a finger on it, that there was an expectation. And now back here, it’s like one of those tip-of-the-tongue moments he’s so familiar with, only with that expectation; it circles him all predatory with every lonely shuffle around his dance-apartment-floor and every stupid late night reruns session and every finger of drink he takes with that, and then it wafts away on the wind, leaving him feeling like he missed a step and twisted his ankle. Which is kinda stupid, when you come to think of it, since it looks like all his worst-case scenarios solved themselves and left him with a cushy little offering while he was playing explorer, and wasn’t that what it was all about.

And maybe it wasn’t, because Fraser calls, like he does, which floors Ray a little every single time for reasons he can’t even begin to articulate, he calls on a Friday and brings him up to speed on Dief’s aversion to the nearest Tim Hortons (nearest being a few hours’ trip to Yellowknife) because quote he says it’s cheating and Chicago ones tasted better and frankly it’s insulting end quote and how you pay and pay and pay and how he fixed up the cabin now and the second bed is new and really much better than the one Ray had to deal with up there, he made sure of that (felled the best tree he could find, Ray wagers), and Ray finds himself nodding and humming and gripping the stupid station handset, knuckles gone white, biting his cheek, hell if he knows why, not like his smile could do any damage at this point. “There isn’t a waiting list for that bed, is there?” he says, no reservations worth stopping for. And, “no,” says Fraser, and there’s that expectation, clarion as you please, ten-four, roger that. “Greatness,” Ray says, and hangs up, and does a little shimmy he’s not even ashamed of.

And then Fraser doesn’t call for three weeks, in which Ray is very productive, managing to vent drunkenly at Turtle who looks so unimpressed Ray thinks he actually hears him sigh, pack the bag, unpack the bag, consider terminating the lease, call in with Welsh then come in anyway, chase the latest case into almost three whole days awake and get sent away by Welsh anyway once the Bonnie and Clyde of small-time food truck GTA are locked up, pick up the phone roughly thirty-seven times, put it down thirty-six, and that last time, Fraser picks up and calls out for him softly and he’s too much of a chicken to do it back. Where exactly they tripped in a dance Ray felt resonate in his bones, he can’t guess.

Week four, Fraser calls, only it’s Ray’s doorbell that rings this time, and he picks himself up faster than he would the phone.

“Fraser,” he says first, then swings the door open, “Frase,” gripping his wrists way too tight, “what in god’s name was that—scratch that, don’t say, one thing it was is not buddies.”

“I don’t see what you mean, Ray,” Fraser says, and it’s supposed to make him angry, this far in, only this time Fraser is wrapped up in a soft green-gray flannel instead of the red walking coffin and he has his beat-up bag and the stupid hat on, so even Ray can see through the reflex of it. Fraser tugs gently at him. “Ah, Ray, if you could just let me put my bag down—thank you kindly.’

“You do, Frase, I know you do.” He lets Fraser’s wrists go for half a second it takes for the bag to thud onto the floor—other side of the threshold, damn it—and not a moment longer. “Did you come to stand outside my home and bullshit me?”

“Yes. I mean, not for that, no, but yes, I forgot about—oh, darn,” he says and tugs one hand free to take his stetson off, which is how you know, if you’re Ray, things are afoot. Big things. Momentary events in history. So when Fraser steps one foot in and leans back against the doorjamb and pulls him near—with hands snaking under his arms to land just below his shoulder blades, one half of a hug not yet given, a freakish way only Fraser would go with, which fires Ray up instantly, heat flooding his face like a punch he has to close his eyes against—when that’s done, Ray can find his mouth blind he’s so ready.

“You’re off,” he mumbles, because Fraser is the one with eyes open and he still landed somewhere around where Ray’s lips turn into his cheek, and then only corrected half an inch down, catching the corner of his open-eager mouth.

Fraser presses a kiss there, with intent. “Not,” he says, and then, then he hits the bullseye, fucking A, bingo, job done, you get a sticker—or a mouthful of tongue, because that’s faster where they stand.

“Momentous,” Fraser says into Ray’s hair, some breathless minutes later, and Ray says, “wha—’ and Fraser says, “you said, or rather mouthed, something about momentary events, if my memory serves—well, it must, it’s only been three minutes. I suppose you meant momentous, given the context.”

“Jesus, Shakespeare, come the fuck in, what do I have to offer to get you both feet inside.”

Fraser straightens but doesn’t move an inch to displace Ray where he’s giving him the second half of a hug. “Well, Ray, I didn’t mean to stay, per se.”

Ray disentangles them and tugs at the lapels of Fraser’s really very soft shirt, whenever he’s grabbed those, huh. He blinks once, twice, and thinks about how many bottles he will have to get for that cabinet now, because fucking hell. The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to rub at his eyebrow, so to him it all makes sense somehow. He looks down and frowns.

“What’s with the bag?”

When he looks back up, Fraser smiles, an honest to god I’m-back-in-ten-foot-snow-and-alive-again grin, eyes kind of superglued to Ray’s face. “Promised Dief to get some of those Chicago donuts, which are, apparently ‘the right kind’.”

Ray steps back, shoves at Fraser’s chest, no way-like, and folds in two with laughter. Fraser looks at him all affectionate, and the absurdity is so familiar it gives Ray a headrush. Or maybe that’s all the wheezing he's doing.

“A bag? A whole bag of donuts?”

Fraser gets this look where his eyes get all liquid and light, and now that Ray’s got the manual he knows that translates to scared and hopeful in downright unhealthy measures. “I didn’t count on being back to Chicago soon.”

Ray can feel he’s doing the superglue thing now, too.

Fraser clears his throat. “Oh dear. Unless—I didn’t mean to presume, it’s only that on the phone—”

Ray cuts him off in a voice that’s too rough to seize the reins of, so it will probably break in there somewhere but it’s all a-okay now, isn’t it—says, “You’ll have to get in here, Frase. I think I’ll want some pants with my donuts, and I’m now in the bag-unpacked phase—uh, anyway.”

He heads inside and hears Fraser shut the door and toe off his boots. 

So maybe there was no tripping after all. Just Fraser and his insane moves Ray always learns, dancing skills be damned. Good thing he isn’t Bill Murray—would be awkward to explain this to the girl.

[y0uareheaven]

Ohohohoh....how about...Wolfgang, Ulysses and Mark having an S/O who's the Ultimate Unlucky Student, they have luck so impressively bad that even breaking their legs are a normal day for them

A/N: thanks for the request! the scenarios take place in the regular world since there's more to work with. hope you enjoy!

The Ultimate Unlucky Student

Ulysses Wilhelm

You burst into your boyfriend's office with a wide grin plastered on your face. It was about time he took a break from his neverending work, anyway. The main motive was your craving for attention and you knew the perfect way to spend time together: visiting Ulysses' favorite history museum!

Upon noticing his eyebags, you move behind him to massage his shoulders. "Is the project coming together?"

"More or less..." He narrows his eyes at the papers in front of him. You could sense Ulysses' stress and it made you even more determined to put the plan into action.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" he spins his chair, now facing you fully. "Don't worry about it, a little bump to the head is nothing." "And what about the leg you broke...." he stops mid sentence, scanning the notes in his notebook, "...last Thursday?" "That's old news already! Plus, today is not about me. I want to take you out on a date so you can clear your mind."

Ulysses thinks deeply about your idea, before giving in. At the slight signal, you grab his hand and make your way to the planned location.

Everything was going well. The historian seemed to enjoy seeing the (already known) displays, especially the ones about Ancient Greece and Rome. But your luck will always be the same.

While pointing excitedly at a vase, you stumble upon your own feet, making you lose your balance. Moments away from collapsing right on it and smashing it in pieces, two hands hold you back by your waist. "Let's be more careful with that... it's irreplaceable."

Wolfgang Akire

Busy with tending to your plants, you hear a loud noise, followed by the vibration of your phone. You pick it up and answer the call, seeing that it's from your boyfriend.

"Y/N? Are you home right now?" his voice came out rushed and slightly muffled, probably by his hands. "Yes, did something happen?".

You knew he had a court hearing today, around this time. So, why was he calling? Shouldn't he still be preparing? "I forgot a file in the top drawer of my desk. Could you bring it over until my break, please?"

Those words shocked you, he never forgets things. Your voice comes out as a soft chuckle, "That's a surprise, but worry not. Your knight in shining armor will come to the rescue!" As you end the call, you hurry into his office and follow his instructions. He forgot to specify which file, since the drawer had a pile of papers. You grab the first one, hoping for the best.

When you reach the court, the break had already started. Wolfgang was striding along the room, waiting for your arrival. Upon noticing the doors opening, he rushes to your side.

"Here it is!" you hand him the document, and he eyes it thoroughly. "Y/N... This is the wrong one..." Your eyes widen as your shoulders slump slightly "I should've expected this to happen..."

You lower your head, but Wolfgang rises it back by the chin. You can't help but stare into his eyes, amazed by the calmness he was showing. "It's not your fault, and don't worry. The file you brought me will do too."

Mark Berskii

It was one of the few days in which Mark left the house. You thought it would be a good time to surprise him by cleaning his studio. Everything went south when the headphones fell to the ground, breaking apart. The mess you made was making you feel horrible: they were his favorites. You had to fix it... somehow.

The nearest store didn't have any in stock, just your luck. The website was down for some hours now, and when it came back on, you ordered a pair at the speed of light.

Just to be safe, you also tried taping and gluing the headphones (obviously, to no success). The rollercoaster of emotions you were going through was taking its toll on you. Annoyance, and embarrassment, they were all infuriating. But most importantly, you felt pity and sadness for yourself.

The sound of the door opening makes you instantly turn your head. Mark was tired already as it is, how can you break the news to him? He notices your loss of words and cocks his head to the side questioningly.

"I... wanted to clean your studio a bit, but then I accidentally broke your headphones... And..." you cover your face, on the verge of tears. Mark hurries to loosely embrace you, giving you the space to turn away if you wanted to.

"I can get a better pair..." he strokes your back gently. "Well, about that..." you bite your lower lip, thinking about all the events of today. "I already ordered the same kind."

Luckily, your package didn't get lost, and even arrived later that day. The only issue was that instead of a green accent color, you got pink.

[ashcal99]

Certain Things : Leah Clearwater I

Chapter One

"Something about you, It's like an addiction, Hit me with your best shot honey, I've got no reason to doubt you, 'Cause certain things hurt, And you're my only virtue"

Summary: Conner Swan moves to Forks Washington in hopes to help his sister Bella through her breakup with Edward. In hopes to find happiness again. He finds much more.

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, loss, antidepressants, general angst, slow burn

Words: 3.5k

A/N: Comment if I missed any warning or anything plz thnx.

Soundtrack

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

!!!There is a prologue linked above if you're interested. You don't need to read it, but it does explain a lot of what's written later on.!!!

——————

December 18th, 2005

Traveling to Forks all the way from Phoenix was a long and boring trip. One that Conner had never driven before as he typically flew when traveling to visit his father. Unfortunately, seeing as he had about 20 moving boxes crammed in and strapped down under a tarp in the bed of his truck, he couldn’t exactly travel by those means this time. He supposed could’ve shipped his belongings and truck up the country, but he didn’t even want to think about how much money that would have cost. Being an accountant didn’t exactly support a lavish lifestyle by any means. Moving was never fun, especially when it was almost 1,600 miles away. But he knew that when he agreed to his father’s request to relocate north.

The twenty-one year old had been driving for about nineteen hours now, so doing a quick calculation in his head, he figured he had about four and a half hours left of the drive. He had refused to stop and pay for a hotel that he couldn’t afford and tiredness had long started to eat away at his mind. Looking at the small fluorescent numbers on his dashboard, he saw it had reached dinner time. In almost comical timing, his stomach growled out a borderline demonic sound, demanding to be fed. Giving into hunger, he pulled the old dull blue chevy truck to the nearest exit, deciding he would stop at the first restaurant he drove past. Much to his dismay, the only signs of life were an old gas station that looked like it was straight out of the 1950’s and a diner to match. Sure, 50’s diners had their appeal, but let’s just say, this one seemed a bit too authentic. He could get back on the interstate and drive further to see if there was anything else, but he knew for a fact that there wouldn’t be another exit for miles and he wasn’t about to backtrack south. He would just have to hope and pray that the food tasted better than the place looked. 

Driving up to the almost empty parking lot, he pulled the transmission into park and un-clicked his seatbelt. Pausing for a moment he glanced again to the dirty windows and rusting railing of the building and grimaced. Did he really need food this bad? His stomach answered almost immediately with a low gurgling groan. Okay, that would be a yes then. Throwing his door open, he stepped out, stretching his long limbs for what felt like the first time in years. Reluctantly, he stepped back from the pick-up, manually locking the vehicle with the key, and began trudging stiffly to the dull chrome rimmed door. Once inside, his hopes for a decent meal demolished to ash as the odor of grease and burnt toast hit his sinuses. His nose wrinkled in disgust, as he choked out a cough in protest, earning the attention of a middle aged woman wearing a stained white apron who was sat directly in front of the doors, at the diner’s bar. Looking almost shocked to see a customer, she slid off the stool to her feet. Stepping over to greet Conner at the “wait to be seated” sign. 

“Well hello, how can I help you?” She asked confused, the crease between her brows deepening. This couldn’t be a good sign, right? Surly it was bad that she was questioning why he would step into a diner around dinner time.

Taking a quick breath, trying not to breath through his nose too much, he answered. “Um yeah, table for one?” He needed food and a break from driving to wake up, he told himself. He could muster through this and get back to driving soon. 

Quirking an eyebrow at the young man, the woman answered. “Are you sure about that? The only people we ever really serve are the farmers around here, and they clearly have incredibly low standards when it comes to the definition of food.” 

He grimaced as another strong wiff of something burning hit his nostrils, seeming to singe the hairs. “Yeah, I can see that, well… smell it I guess.” He stated, wincing from the stench. “Unfortunately though, yes, I am afraid I do need to have something to eat as soon as possible or I think my stomach may start eating itself. Which I’m starting to wonder if that is the better of the two options here.” He half joked, earning a small slanted grin from the waitress.

“Right this way sweetie.” She said, ushering him to follow her to the furthest booth from the open kitchen. She slid into the booth quickly, reaching forward to unlatch the ancient window. She swiftly pulled the metal frame upwards, it groaning in protest. “Sorry about the smell sweet pea, our cook Earl gets a bit overzealous with the toaster.” She apologized, sliding against the old creaky booth to stand upright.

Conner smiled slightly, leaning down to sit on the cracked worn leather. “No worries, I just need something to eat to get me by for the rest of my drive.” He stated, pausing a moment to get a nice breath of fresh air from the now open window. “What would you recommend that’s least likely to give me food poisoning, a heart attack, or a stomach ulcer?” He half joked, a lop sided grin forming on his mouth. 

The woman let out a bark of laughter, throwing her hand to her chest. “Honey, I wouldn’t touch any food here with a ten foot pole myself, but if you’re that desperate, I would recommend a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup considering the soup comes from a can-“ she paused, taking in a breath from her nose, and continued. “But, on second thought, maybe just some soup would be best.” She smiled apologetically. 

Agreeing to the soup with a glass of water to drink, Conner leaned back into the creaking booth, stretching his legs as much as the space below the short table would allow. Running his fingers through his hair, he let out a deep sigh, as his thoughts began to wander. 

He didn’t know what to expect when seeing his sister again after almost a year with little to no contact. The last time he had seen her had been after her accident and she had been too drugged up on pain meds to really hold much of a conversation. As far as he knew, she had no idea he was moving up, as him and Charlie decided it would be best kept a surprise. 

Conner wasn’t too sure how she would react considering she had willingly stopped her daily conversations with him. He did know that after starting his antidepressants he had gotten a bit better with handling his trauma, and he could only hope that he was less of a burden to her because of it. Because, that’s what he was, right? Clearly there was a reason she had stopped talking to him after years of having a tight knit relationship with each other. 

Really, he didn’t blame her, not too much anyway. He didn’t want her to feel trapped into comforting him through his depression, no matter how much it hurt him to be pushed away. She was the younger sibling and he had made the promise to protect her, not the other way around. He couldn’t expect to be coddled by her. None the less, the thought made his chest ache.

He slumped forwards, elbows resting on the table, dropping his head into his hands. The dull ache in his forehead grew. His thoughts continued grow more and more dismal, the ache turning into a pulsing behind his brow. He let his eyes shut as he kneaded his thumbs on his temples, trying to relieve some of the pain. 

Before he knew it, he was jolting awake to a small shake of his shoulder. Looking around frantically, it took him a moment to remember where he was. The diner’s fluorescent lights burned his sleepy eyes as tried blinking them to attention. Turning to the waitress that still had her hand on his shoulder he asked, slightly panicked. “What time is it? How long was I asleep?” 

She gave him a soft smile and replied. “Don’t worry sweetheart, you were only out a few minutes.” She paused, setting the bowl of steaming soup she had been holding down on the table, completely unbothered by the obvious heat of the ceramic bowl. “I am, however a bit concerned about your state of alertness and getting back on the road.” She continued.

He let out a small awkward laugh in reply, brushing his fingers through his hair once again, it being a bit of a nervous habit of his to do so. “Yeah-“ He said, letting out a deep yawn. “I guess I needed a bit of a power nap. I should probably get a cup of coffee to go and hope my stomach doesn’t put up too much of a fight at the food and drink combination.” He laughed. 

She chuckled in reply, resting her hands inside the stained apron pockets. “Well, I’ll go ahead and start brewing that for you then.” She said smiling, turning, and walking behind the bar.

——————

Conner sipped on the coffee that had long lost its’ warmth, trying to keep himself alert. It had been a while since he had been in cold like Washington during December, and of course, he had forgotten that his truck’s heating had gone out. It was just his luck that this happened. He hadn’t exactly forgotten, but he had been so used to driving around phoenix, no matter the time of year, with his window rolled down to compensate for the fact that the heating and ac had stopped working. Arizona didn’t exactly come with the issue of trying to stay warm over half of the year. So, of course, when the sun had set just as he crossed over the Washington state line, he instantly regretted not fixing the truck previously. He knew he would have to find a mechanic to fix it asap, but for now, he was screwed.

So there her was, bundled in as many layers as he could fit on his body, sipping on cold coffee, shivering while his teeth chattered in his mouth. His cheeks had to have been bright red, he was sure. He was almost there though. In fact, hd was even starting to recognize familiar buildings on his way into town, and he knew he was only a few minutes away. Sure enough, he rounded the corner and instantly spotted the old police cruiser out front.

 Not much had changed with the house since he had last seen it. The same old trees out front. Same chipped white paint. The only difference was a clunky ancient looking orange truck that now occupied half of the cracked driveway. This, he knew to be Bella’s. She had gotten it on her first day in town, back when she was still speaking to her brother. 

Putting the truck in park for its’ final time of the night, he sighed, pulling the key from the ignition. Grabbing a few things, his keys, cell phone, and backpack full of overnight items, he slid out of the cab of the truck into the cold air. He closed the car door softly, trying not to make too much noise in hopes to not wake Bella, assuming she would be sleeping by now. He knew she had been having trouble sleeping and didn’t want to interfere with what little sleep she did get.

Walking up to the front door, he knocked softly. As he stood there, blowing on his hands, trying to warm them the best he could, the door swung open. And there stood Charlie. Not a thing had changed, minus maybe a new wrinkle here or there. Still the same warn out flannel shirt, bushy mustache, and warm brown eyes. "Conner!" His father whisper-shouted. Grabbing his son and wrapping him in his arms. God, he missed his dad’s hugs. Sure, the man was socially awkward as hell, but damn, did he hug with his whole heart. “I missed you so much, Son.” He said, the words muffled by Conner’s shoulder. His son had gotten taller since he had last seen him, that was for sure.

“I missed you too, Dad” He said, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come to visit sooner.” He felt his eyes begin to water, trying to push back the building emotion behind his voice.

The older man pulled away, keeping his hands on his son’s shoulders, looking deep into the blues of his eyes. “Stop that. You don’t have to explain yourself or apologize. You’ve been through hell and back, Con. I understand, and I just hope that I can be there for you when you need me.” He said, tears filling his eyes as well. “You and Bells are the most important things in my life and that’s never going to change, okay?” He asked. 

As Conner looked into the deep brown of his father’s eyes, the tightness in his chest that had been there for over year, slightly loosened its’ grip. He felt the comfort of home embrace the shards of his broken heart for the first time since Mia had left him. A small smile graced his lips as he nodded lightly, excepting his father’s love. 

Charlie let out a deep sigh, letting his hands drop from his son’s shoulders, ushering him inside the warmth of the home. Closing the door and locking it, he turned to Conner. “I put sheets on your bed upstairs. I’m sorry, I only had your old sheets that fit, so you may want to get new ones once you get settled.” He said, giving his son a small smile.

“Thanks, Dad. I’m sure they’re fine. I’m just ready to knock out for ten hours straight.” He said, laughing lightly. 

Charlie smiled. ”Okay, I'm going to go to sleep now, have to get up early in the morning. I assume you’ll still be asleep when I leave for work, but I’ll be home around seven, if you want to wait up and have dinner with me?” He asked hopefully. 

"Will do, goodnight dad.” Conner replied, smiling softly. 

"Night, Con. Glad you're here." Charlie took one more glance at his son before walking down the hall and into his bedroom.

He knew his aching limbs and head would have to wait until tomorrow to unpack the bed of his truck, so he didn’t bother waiting any longer before he trudged up the narrow stairs to his childhood bedroom. Trying to open the old creaky door quietly, he reached in, flipping the light on. 

Warm light flooded the room revealing a small dresser, and an old mattress lying on the floor. It wasn’t the best set up, seeing as he was six foot two and would probably find some difficulty getting out of bed from so low, but this was how it was set up when he was a kid. Charlie hadn’t had time to change much of anything with such short notice and that was made clear by the power ranger posters that littered the wood paneling of the walls and the sheets that were stretched tightly across the mattress that were covered in looney tunes characters. 

He sighed, knowing he would need to purchase a bed frame eventually, as he left his old one back in Phoenix, not exactly having the room for it in the bed of his truck. But that was okay, he had at least packed his sheets, and they were tucked away somewhere with the rest of his things. He would worry about that tomorrow though. For now, he just wanted a warm shower and a good night’s rest. 

Setting his keys and phone down on the dresser, he turned, making his way to the small shared bathroom down the hall. Turning the water on, he dug through his bag, finding his soap and shampoo, and setting them on the edge of the tub. Peeling layer by layer off, he tossed them into the laundry hamper that occupied the far left corner. Finally, he discarded his last piece of clothing, the cool air hitting his bare skin. 

Goosebumps rose on his arms as he stepped over the edge of the tub, letting the steady stream of water run over his rigid frame. He took in a deep breath, feeling the steam enter his lungs. Slowly letting the air back out, he felt his body relax under the warmth of the water. His body ached in protest of his day’s journey, the heat gradually easing the tense muscles. His mind blurred through the motions of his shower routine, wanting to finish quickly, so that he could enjoy the warmth for a bit longer. Finishing, he leaned his head back, letting the water droplets run freely down his face.  

It was then that he allowed his thoughts to overcome him. It had been an overwhelming day to say the least, and after over twenty-four hours of distracting himself with music or books on tape, he was finally alone with his mind. He didn’t know what to expect from the move. It had been so long since he had set foot in the small town, and suddenly he was picking up and moving here? Sure, he had always missed his father and was happy to be around people he loved once again, but everything had progressed so quickly, he hadn’t been given time to process anything. He had gone over a year after the accident going by a strict schedule he had set in place in order to distract himself from the agonizing pain in his heart. 

Now, he had been ripped away from his job, from his apartment, and from the life he was used to living day by day, and suddenly it was hard to breath. He felt his chest begin to raise quickly, up and down as he tried to catch is bearings. The sound of the water beating down on the porcelain tub began to drown out, the pounding in his ears numbing everything but the panic building in his chest. 

Was he screaming? Maybe? Surely not. No, definitely not. Snapping out of his thoughts, he quickly shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, he rushed to dry himself and wrap the cloth around his waist. Pushing the door open, cool air rushed down his spine, bringing the goosebumps back to his skin. Following the screams, he found himself lead to what he remembered to be his sister’s room. 

Sure enough, there she was. The light of the hallway pouried in through the doorway, illuminating her thrashing body. He rushed to her side, shaking her urgently, trying to wake her from her nightmare. With a sudden gasp of air, she shot awake. Squinting through the light at the hazy silhouette before her, she blinked rapidly. Her voice cracked. “C-Conner?” She asked confused. Was she still dreaming? She couldn’t be. Her dreams hadn’t consisted of anything as pleasant as seeing her brother for a while now. 

But her heart sunk as realization hit her. She had deliberately avoided him for over a year. Of course she had a good reason to do so in the beginning, but eventually it just turned into her not knowing how to come back and fix the mess that she had made of their relationship. And now he was here to taunt her in her dreams? This had to be a nightmare. 

Panic began to fill her chest once again. Conner saw this in the brown of her eyes, and he quickly laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Bells, it’s okay. It’s me, I’m here.” He said reassuringly. 

The space between her eyebrows creased as she finally got a good glimpse at him. Water dripped from his tousled hair onto the soft lavender of her sheets, darkening the shade slightly. She blinked. It was really him. She wasn’t too sure if that was much better than him being a part of her nightmare. “H-How?” She breathed out.

Conner sighed, “It’s late Bells, and I’ve been driving all day. I’ll explain in the morning, I promise. But, for now, you and I both need sleep. Okay?” He asked. After receiving a nod in repose, he stood, assuring his towel was secure around his waist, and walked forward to leave the room.

“Con?” Bella croaked. Turning his head back to the girl, he hummed in question. “I love you.” She answered softly, her voice trailing off slightly towards the end of her sentence.

The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly upward. “I love you too, Bells. Goodnight.” He said, not waiting for a response as he walking into the hallway, shutting her bedroom door behind himself.

After going back to the bathroom and grabbing his backpack, he sauntered back to his room. Dressing quickly in black sweatpants and a plain grey t-shirt, he climbed down into bed silently. Wrapping himself in the warmth and comfort of his childhood bed, he let himself succumb to sleep.

Next Chapter

[blubushie]

whats the worst thing youve ever done?

I've been staring at this question for just under an hour now.

There's a few things. No one here (or anyone, even) will ever hear a word of them. They're between me and my conscience.

But a story I will tell you...

This is a dingo. Notice his body shape. The long muzzle, the small eyes that are built for the desert sun, the straight back, the slim head, the wide ears, the white tail tip and white toes that hint of a purebred. I shoot these.

This is not a dingo. Don't mind the pelt--there's black dingos too, especially further south. No, look at his body shape. His muzzle is too short, his eyes are too big, his skull is too wide, he has a dip in his back. This isn't a dingo, but it's not a dog either. This is a hybrid. I shoot these.

This is a dog. Not at dingo at all. Through-and-through, a domestic dog. Not a hint of wild ancenstry.

I shoot those too.

I don't like it, but money is money, and meat is meat, and I can't have favourites.

This was about an hour’s drive from the nearest town. All of these animals got out here over generations of domestic breeds mating with the dingos. These are wild animals at this point, not pets. A pet would never get this far from town on his own.

I spoke to a stationhand and he’d said he’d seen cars out here, on rare occasions, and that he thinks someone was dumping dogs. I figured it was bullshit, figured no one would be that big of an arsehole to leave a dog out there to die, but I decided that I’d test that theory. I didn’t do any long-range shooting that day. I’d spot a dog, get as close as I could, and I’d whistle. Most stopped, looked at me with confusion, and I’d shoot them. Wild animals.

But the last hour of light in the day, I see this dog in the distance, and this one didn’t look like a dingo. Thick tail like Misty’s, flopped ears, some kinda bitzer but definitely a dog. For those of you that don’t know: erect ears is a dominant trait in dogs. Floppy ears is recessive. That means both parents have to have the gene. That means it’s almost a certainty this dog didn’t have dingo blood.

Which means this dog didn’t have wild ancestors. He wasn’t feral, and there’s only one way he could’ve gotten all the way out here.

I got this sick feeling in my stomach and repeated what I’d been doing. I whistle. His head shoots up, tail raised, and my stomach plummets when he wags his tail. I whistle again, he looks at me, and I raise my rifle the second he comes running toward me. Just in case.

He was a sweetheart. Rushing to me, head lowered and tail wagging, whining like I was some angel sent from the heavens to deliver him from this hellish place. He licked my boots, he didn’t jump up. Well-behaved. I lay my rifle against the rocks and he starts licking my hands, my arms, whining all the while, wheezing and sneezing and I’ve never seen a dog so happy except when I brought Misty back to Australia and picked her up after she spent ten days alone in a M*lbourne quarantine facility.

He rolls over. Neutered male. “Good boy,” I praised, and I rubbed his stomach. He never stopped wagging. “Good boy.”

I grab my rifle, shoulder it, and make the walk back to Matilda. The dog follows me all the while. We finally get back after maybe a half-hour of walking, and I go about making dinner. I’ve got some pork. I cook it for us, we have dinner outside, I let him lick my plate. I figure I’ve just got myself a new pet. I call him Bitz, because us Aussies aren’t very creative, and he’s a bitzer. I bring out my swag, I lie down for bed, and the dog lies next to me.

The next morning I wake up to a pain in my left foot, and there’s Bitz with a fire in his eyes, currently trying to eat my foot. I don’t mean this in a funny “haha nibble” way, I mean he had his jaws locked around my ankle, he’s thrashing and snarling, and he’s trying to maul me. I kick him away with my right foot, he stares at me for a second, bares his teeth, and then he lunges at me. We’re wrestling in the dirt, he’s biting my legs and if I weren’t wearing jeans his teeth would’ve ripped right through. I’m yelling at him to stop, he’s not stopping, and finally I kick him with the heel of my boot and he jumps back and starts whimpering.

We both catch our breath.

When he approaches me again, I’ve got my knife ready. This time he doesn’t bite. He keeps his head low, ears back, haunches dropped and tail thumping, and he licks my arms. His behaviour says he’s sorry, that he doesn’t know what got into him, that the bush changed him the same way it changed me.

It hits me like a brick.

Someone loved this dog, once. At one point in his life, this dog knew the touch of his person. He knew the flavour of good food he didn’t have to fight for, he knew the comfort of his human stroking his ears. He might’ve played fetch, or tug of war, and someone loved him enough to teach him how to walk at my side, keeping pace with me, and not leave it. His lead manners were better than Misty’s.

Someone loved this dog once, and then one day they just… didn’t.

So they brought him out here, to the middle of fucking nowhere, and condemned him to death. Snakebite, or disease, or the elements, or starvation, or dogger’s bullet. They brought him here, and took off his collar, and they left him somewhere on the track, and they got back in their car, and they drove off and never looked back. Did he chase the car? Pursue it until his paws bled? Did he just stand there and watch, certain that they’d return for him? How long did he sit on the track and wait for them to come back? How long did it take him to realise they never would?

And here he was now, walking at my side as if he hadn’t just attacked me and tried to rip my foot off. Tongue out, tail wagging, looking at me like I’m the one what raises the sun. But he’d bitten me, and I can’t trust him not to do it again. I can’t trust him not to attack me in my sleep. If he attacks someone else, they’ll kill him. And they probably won’t be as merciful about it as I would.

So I led him over to a tree, and I sat down on the log, and he sat next to me. I put my rifle down, and when the tears came he licked them away because that’s just what dogs do. They’re always so fucking trusting. You can leave them to die in the middle of the bush, and they’ll trust the first person they see because dogs have too much love in their hearts to hold grudges.

I stopped crying, and he laid back down, facing away from me because he trusted me, more than I trusted him. We watched the sunrise together, and his ears swivelled to me when he heard me load my rifle, but he didn’t turn to look at me. He leant his weight on my foot, and he laid down, and he closed his eyes, and I stroked his ears because he’s a good boy.

The worst thing I ever did was put a bullet in a dog that trusted me.

[sungiesbabygirl]

Come Kiss me and bite me!

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Genre: Horror

Pairings: Vampire!heeseung x reader

Warnings: Kissing, biting, gore (poor wonnie), Throwing up, saliva?

P.s this is my first time writing, I’m sorry if it’s bad!

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It was cold tonight, nothing I had ever felt before. There was something strange about this place, something I couldn’t exactly put my finger on. It wasn’t like anywhere I had ever been, it didn’t feel safe for a woman like myself to walk around. I never imagined it could be more than meets the eye.

I had been walking around for a few hours now, in a small town in South Korea. It was around 1am when I had left my house to go and find a fast food place that was open 24 hours a day. It was now around 2:30am, I look down at my phone trying to type in directions to the nearest convenience store only for my phone to die, “of course this would happen to me.” I mumble as I shove my phone into my small bag that sit on my shoulder perfectly. I grip onto my jacket tighter the winter air hitting at my skin as I try to look for a sign that could tell me where I was.

It didn’t seem like a very good place to be early in the morning it seemed to be deserted, abandoned.. melancholy. The winds had started to get rougher as the dark clouds began to rumble, before I knew it the rain had started to pour down. I pull my hood over my head, squinting my eyes as I look around shivering at the coldness and the feeling of being watched. I see a house in the distance large steel gates surrounding the entrance that seemed to be a little destroyed, I let out a sigh looking around one last time before walking into this place I’d call shelter until the storm died down.

I knock on the door waiting for someone, anyone to answer only to find the door inching open before my very eyes. My eyebrows furrow in confusion wondering how in the hell that happened, ‘was it the wind?’, ‘did I accidentally lean on the door’. I couldn’t give myself answers to the questions I didn’t know so I decided to walk in. Closing the door behind me I notice the warmth of the house, the feeling of someone watching me slowly crept up my back like tingles. I walk further into the house calling out, “hello? Is anyone here? I’m sorry for intruding, I had to get out of the storm.” Once again I was left in silence. No answer. No sign of the living. Just me.

I slowly walk around making my way into a living room, my eyes panning to the fire that was sizzling in the fireplace. My eyes widen as I realize I had just intruded in someone’s house and that they could still be here, i feel a cold breeze of air hit me, my heart pounding as I quickly turn around. My face clashing with a toned chest, I let out a gasp stepping back as I look up at the person standing before me a small smirk on his face. The first thing I had noticed about him was his siren eyes, the way they pierced my soul as he looked at me. His chiseled jaw that could give you a paper cut if you touched it, his nose that looked perfect and i couldn’t figure out why.

He looks me up and down before stepping forward towards me, making me step back again. “I-um I’m sorry for just walking in like this.. a storm started and I don’t know where I am.” My voice comes out in a hushed whisper his gaze intimidating me a little. “Mmh, your lost? Where are you from?”, his voice made my heart skip a beat, it was a little raspy but not the morning type. “I’m from xxx street. In the town of Gangnam-gu.”, I look down at my clothes which were now soaked, a sigh leaving my lips when I realized I had no spare ones. It was silent for a few minutes before he spoke up, “you’re 2 hours away from Gangnam-gu you do realize that right?”

My eyes widen a little as I quickly look up at him, almost getting whip lashed. “What? No- no I can’t be 2 hours away, I was only trying to find a fast food place.” He lets out a chuckle, the smirk on his face widening as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry to tell you, well I’m not, but you did walk 2 hours away from where you live. Which is why you’re here now.” A lump forms in my throat as I take in how alluring his voice was, my heart jumping out of my chest. “I need to get home.. I need to feed my cat wonnie-“ I get cut off as the man infront of me clears his throat. “Excuse me? You can’t go home, there’s a storm. You needed shelter until it stopped didn’t you? I can give you that.. and so much more.” His voice becomes hushed as he says his last few words. My eyebrows furrowing as I couldn’t understand. “Huh? What did you say?”, He shakes his head putting a fake smile on his face, “I didn’t say anything, princess.”

I try to resist the urge of looking at him knowing full well there’s a blush evident on my cheeks, gathering the courage I speak up, “My name.. my name is Y/N. Not princess.” He lets out a scoff type of laugh, looking down at me, “Well Y/N I’m Heeseung, Lee Heeseung. It’s a pleasure to meet you in these circumstances.” I nod my head, letting out a breath of relief knowing he probably wasn’t going to kill me, considering he told me his name. “You’re an overthinker. If I wanted to kill you I would have done it when I saw you outside.” My eyes widen for the 6th time my heart thumping wildly against my chest as my head tells me to run, run far and fast. “W-what, that was you? I felt someone staring at me and it was you?” He nods his head, his eyes closing for a second before he opens them again.

“Come with me. I need to get you out those wet clothes before you get hypothermia.” A small chuckle leaves his mouth at his own words, his hand, which was fairly big, grabbing onto my more petite one. He guides me through the big house, slowly walking up the stairs beside me. My legs slow from the amount of walking I was doing prior. As we make it up the staircase, he takes a sharp right the light being blocked from my eye view as he towers over me. “This is the room you’ll be staying in, I guarantee the storm will last all night so you’re more than welcome to sleep. There’s clothes in the closet, they are all my old ones that don’t fit me anymore. I suggest you make yourself comfortable while I go and make you something to eat.” He lets out a sinister laugh that I pay no attention too, his voice as soft as cats fur as he walks out the bedroom and closes the door.

I put my bag on the bed looking around at the room I’m in, a small wooden desk with a chair to the right of me, a big queen sized bed with what seemed to be red covers over it in the middle of the room and a huge closet at the end of the beds view. A shiver runs through my body, thinking back to ‘the haunting of hill house’ when the children are young and there beds are infront of there closets. I push those thoughts out my head, opening the closet a nice smell wafting through the room. I let out a satisfied hum, peeling of the clothes that had began to sick to my body. I throw them down the side of the bed, putting on a black t shirt that came down to my thighs and some joggers that fit perfectly. I grab some new socks in the drawer and slip them onto my feet before I hear a shout, “Y/N come down, dinner is ready.” I nod my head, although Heeseung couldn’t see me.

I walk down the grand staircase and into the dining room where I see some meat and roasted potatoes on two plates one at each end of the table. I could feel my mouth watering, the scent of cooked food wafting towards me before Heeseung started to talk. “Sit down and eat before it gets cold.” His smirk still plastered on his face made me want to gouge my own eyeballs out, but there was this part of me that felt attractive to this mysterious man who lives in an abandoned town. I make my way to sit down, looking up at him for approval to eat. As soon as I see the nod of his head I dig in, trying the meat and letting out as soft moan? Of delight. “Oh god that’s amazing, i haven’t had food like this in a long time.” I see him chuckle, shaking his head as he looks away before turning back towards me. “What kind of meat is this?” I swallow what’s in my mouth as he comes towards me, his eyes now dark with no emotion held in them. “Cat.”

I could feel my soul leave my body, a gag making it’s way up my throat. “What.. no it isn’t, stop lying.” I couldn’t feel anything but fear, my body frozen on the chair as I look up at him. “Your eating cat. To be specific, it’s your cat. What’s his name again? Oh yeah, wonnie.” The gag that was just making its way up my throat formed into vomit. I lean over the side of the chair, letting all the meat I just ate leave my system. The smell was pungent, hitting my nose with no hesitation.. I look up at Heeseung my eyes locking with him. This feeling of desire and attraction took over my whole body, feeling like I was possessed I had stood up face to face with heeseung. He looks down at me a blank expression on his face before he grabs my jaw pulling my head towards his.

I blank out for a moment feeling myself get lost in a void of darkness before a soft but eager pair of lips landed on mine. I move closer towards him, my arms wrapping around his neck as his hands keep a firm grip on my waist. I feel him bite on my lip, making me let out a gasp before he slips his tongue into my mouth, our teeth clashing together as saliva drips down our chins. I’m the first to pull away the feeling of hatred and disgust making me come back to my senses, he wipes the saliva from his chin before leaning his lips down near my neck. “You’ll always be mine.. I’m making sure of that now.” Before I can say anything I feel him bite down on my neck, a pained gasp leaving my mouth as I feel my soul slipping away. The last thing I can remember him saying before I went into a wave of darkness was, “I’ve waited so long for this moment Y/N.”

The end!

[slaasherslut]

The Final Girl

Summary: When Ava Walker's truck crapped out on a stretch of Louisiana highway, a smitten Lester comes to her rescue.

Warnings: Not a reader insert like my usual work. This fic uses my OC Ava, very mildly suggestive language, fluff, Lester being so fucking cute

3.3k words

Ava sank back into the driver's seat as her fingers continued to drum on the steering wheel. The dreamy voice of James Hetfield sang loudly over her trucks stereo as she mouthed along to his words

Die by my hand,

I creep across the land,

Killing first born man,

Die by my hand,

I creep across the land,

Killing first born man .

A growl in Ava's stomach wasn't heard over the music but it was definitely felt. It was almost midday and she had barely eaten anything except a granola bar from the glove compartment since she got back on the road roughly five hours earlier. She unlocked her phone which was mounted to the dash of her truck and pulled up her phone's GPS, eyes quickly darting back and forth between the road and the screen. From the map she could tell she was making decent time to her temporary destination, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She would stop there for a few days before heading further south to New Orleans. 30 more miles and she would be stopping for a couple days to restock on supplies for the road and stretch her weary fishnet covered legs.

As Ava was scrolling through a list of surrounding fast food joints, a loud sputtering sent her body to jolt forward in her seat. She immediately looked up to the road and a series of small sputters coming from under the hood got her attention. She could see small trails of smoke escaping the front of the hood.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me. You couldn't have died when we got there!?"

Ava groaned as she turned onto the nearest off ramp. The road she had turned down looked to be one of those Louisiana back roads lined with nothing but deep woods following a narrow strip of dirt and rock. She went as far down the road as she could before her truck seemed to get worse. Cursing, she carefully pulled to the side of the narrow road, making sure her trailer was out of the middle of any other motorists way. She let out a huff before shutting off her truck, the music died along with her truck and the quiet took its place. She sat there for a moment in the deafening silence before snatching her phone out of its stand before attempting to call a tow truck. Her stomach dropped, no bars.

"Great." She thought sarcastically. "This is exactly what I needed right now."

She swung the door open and pushed herself out onto the rough terrain. She looked back the way she came, it led to the highway but all she could see were trees. The sounds of distant cars were little to none. The way she was headed was a mystery. A little ways away was a bend in the road almost completely hidden with more trees. She was really dreading having to leave her truck and all her belongings on the side of the road and have to walk to god knows where. The GPS didn't even show anything at the end of the road, like a road that leads to absolutely nowhere. In a last-ditch effort to call for help, she climbed on top of the truck's hood hoping to get a phone signal if she were just a bit higher. Her fishnet stockings caught on a piece of upturned metal and tore a larger hole in them. In the mix of smaller holes, there was now one the size of a baseball on her thigh. She ground her teeth in frustration before stepping up the windshield and standing on the roof. With her phone raised high she squinted to find no change, still no signal.

"Shit!" She cursed. "I guess i'm gonna have to take a walk."

As she dropped her arm in defeat, the sound of dirt and rock under slow tires caught in her ears. She looked ahead to see a dirty blue pickup truck round the bend down the road. This both terrified her and gave her a sense of relief.

Relief in the fact that she was not alone out here and terrified at the fact that she was not alone out in the middle of nowhere. The only other person for miles and she had no idea of this person's intentions. The truck with its mystery driver pulled across the road to park hood to hood with her. She gave the inside of her left combat boot a tap with her other boot. The feeling of hitting something hard in her boot helped calm her down a tiny bit. The knife that was always slipped into her boot was still in its place. She felt the clip still in place over the top of her boot. The mystery truck's driver side door was open and a dishevelled man stepped out, placing an arm over the roof of the truck and the other over the open door.

"You okay out 'ere? Yah look like you could use a little help." A thick country drawl echoed over to her, a voice that hit her right in the gut.

Ava sighed, looking down at the man whos eyes were intently on her. "My truck just went and died on me. Shes old but I was hoping she'd last a bit longer."

"Yeah I get that." Lester pat the roof of his truck. "Old girls like tha' can be pretty high maintenance." Lester exclaimed with a grin. Ava chuckled before sitting down and sliding herself down the windshield, resting on the hood. Now that she was closer she got a better look at him. He looked to be just a bit taller and a bit older than she was, with a green cap covering his what looked to be brown hair. He wore a dirty wife beater, once looked white now stained with dirt and sweat. Atop that was a brown button up that she could tell something was filling the breast pocket. Her eyes trailed to a necklace that hung around his neck. From here she couldn't make out exactly what it was. He was just a straight up filthy looking man.

She stayed on the hood staring back at him, one leg dangling off the side and the other bent at the knee, bringing it up to her chest. Her oversized tee riding up a little bit exposing the jean shorts she wore underneath that were previously hidden from view. Lester couldn't help but feel his breath hitch as he tried to get a view of them from between her legs. They were quite short and had ridden up fairly high from her slide down the truck. He felt his body heat up from a mixture of the attractive girl in front of him and how he felt her eyes moving up and down to examine him. It wasn't too often girls looking like that come through these parts, and when they did they definitely never came alone.

Ava could feel the man's gaze trailing over her. It wasn't the first time a man looked at her like that, and it wouldn't be the last. If she was being honest with herself whenever it happened it was quite the ego boost, she quite liked the attention. Plus, this guy was kinda cute. You know, in a dirty country hick kinda way. Not her usual type but then again she wasn't in her usual element either. His eyes trailed back up her body before stopping at her eyes, which were intently staring back into his. A wave of embarrassment and heat washed over his whole body. He looked away to avoid her intense stare, he looked back at her as he continued.

"Bo can fix ya right up though, he's a mechanic in the closest town to 'ere, just a ways up the road. He'll have ya back on the road real quick, I can give ya a lift if you'd like." He shuffled his feet as he asked if she wanted a ride from him. Ava weighed her options; either she doesn't take the ride and has to walk god knows how long to a mechanic, or she takes the ride and risks being murdered. She thought about it for a moment, she was armed. If things turned sour at least she could defend herself. He did seem awfully nice too.

"Could you please? You'd be saving my ass right now." She slid off the truck and shoved her phone in her back pocket.

"Of course, hop in and we'll get goin'." Lester gave the hood of his truck a small celebratory smack before sitting back in the driver's seat. Ava felt the dirt shift under her boots as she made her way over to the passenger side door, throwing it open and jumping in. As she got in she told herself to stay on guard and be careful. This was a stranger and she didn't want to end up like a kid on a milk carton. Lester did a three point turn before heading up the road and around the bend, her truck and everything she owned disappearing behind the thick trees.

"The names Lester, by the way." He gave her a quick glance as he drove.

"Avana." She responded with a small smile as she played with the new hole in her tights.

"Avana? I like tha', different, real pretty." Lester put his elbow on the truck's door to put his hand over the lower half of his face, trying to hide his small smile and growing blush. He had no idea why he said what he said, he had never talked to a tourist like this before. He looked over at her again to see her looking down at her legs, hair hiding a majority of her face from his view. Although he couldn't see much of her face, the red cheeks stood out from the black of her hair.

Her stomach did a flip at his compliment. This stranger was making her feel both nervous and excited at the same time. She honestly felt like throwing up at how her stomach was making her feel. She looked over at him with a small smile.

"Thank you, Lester." The truck fell silent for a moment before she spoke again.

"How long is the drive?" She asked while turning to look at him again.

"Not too long, only twenty minutes or so." Ava nodded at his response.

"What's a girl like you drivin all alone for anyway?" He gave her a questioning look. It was something he usually asked most people that he drove to Ambrose.

"I was on my way to Baton Rouge for a few days before heading down to New Orleans." She bit her lip and gave a nod, accepting her own answer.

"Sounds like fun." Lester gave her a small glance. "Whatchu heading down there for?" He asked.

"Not really anything in particular, I was hoping I'd get to play a bit of music though." She explained truthfully. It felt nice to talk to someone that wasn't making her food or giving her directions.

"Music?" Lester's ears perked up in interest. "You some sort of musician?"

Ava chuckled. "Yeah! Guitar and a bit of singing here and there. Nothing big though. I've been jumping from metal band to metal band since I was a teenager and nothing really stuck. After the last one I wanted to start new and decided hitting the road would be an interesting idea."

"Metal huh? That's pretty badass. But I shoulda guessed that from lookin' atcha." Lester smirked at what he felt was a very smooth response. Ava once again began to feel hot at his words.

She took the time to look around Lester's truck. It was quite dirty. Behind her were some odds and ends from different animals hanging in the back window. She could see some things like tails, bones, and feet but some she couldn't really identify. Lester looked over at her, a bit nervous.

"You a hunter?" She asked, she lent forward across from Lester to nudge a couple bones that were hanging from some string by his head near the windshield. They made a satisfying clattering sound. She nudged them again. Lester could feel how close she was, so close he could smell her. She smelled of vanilla and some sort of shampoo and her breath of mint that cascaded over his face. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"S-somethin' like that, yeah. Mostly just clearin' roads of whatever critters decided to drop. Gotta clear em up before they rot or the sun just bakes em, real nasty stuff." He felt he said more than he needed to for some reason.

"That's pretty cool!" A smile tugged at her lips as she sat back in her seat, he was already missing the closeness of her body.

He chuckled. "That ain't usually the reaction I get but thank ya. It ain't much but it pays the bills."

"Well someones gotta do it, right?" She said as she looked out the passenger side window at her surroundings. They were still driving on the same dirt road only the trees seemed to get more dense as they drove. She played with the hem of her long shirt. Absentmindedly pulling it down and up her thighs. Lester's eyes glanced at the movement as she played with the material. His hungry eyes traveled up from the clunky boots on her feet and up her pale legs, stopping at her chubby thighs. Lester felt that those tights looked real good on those cute legs of hers. They suited her. It took every ounce of his willpower to not reach over and give one of them a tight squeeze.

Ava's eyes moved to scan through the windshield and then to the man next to her. She could tell he was obviously looking at her cause he quickly turned his attention back to the road ahead. A shine by his waist caught her attention as the sun shone through the window. The light was bouncing off of the handle of what looked to be a large hunting knife strapped to his belt. This made her a little nervous. Lester could sense her staring and looked to see where she was looking, it was his knife.

"Oh you like that?" He pulled the knife out of the sheath and flicked it around in his fingers. The blade was rusted and dirty. Specks of what she hoped was animal blood littered the large blade. She couldn't tell what his intentions were with pulling out his knife like that. Was he not aware that a strange man pulling out a knife when a car with a young lady might be seen as absolutely terrifying? Ava was a bit freaked out. Was he trying to intimidate her? She quickly thought on her feet. She reached down into her boot and pulled out her own trusty blade. It was a black handled locking folding blade with a silver clip and a 5 inch silver blade with a hole near the middle for opening.

She flicked the blade open and thrusted it out towards Lester.

"I have one too!" The excitement in her voice was partially fake, trying to assert some dominance over the situation. She also did feel a bit excited to show someone one of her prized possessions, and to someone who would probably understand no less.

Lester was a bit dumbfounded, sliding his own knife back in its sleeve. Never in his years of driving people into Ambrose did he ever have a pretty girl pull out a knife like this. The way her hands wrapped around the handle meant she knew how to use it. The spotless metal of the blade reflected the sunlight like a clear lake in the summertime. He could also tell it was recently sharpened and polished from the shine on the edge.

Lester looked back and forth from the knife, to Ava, and the road. "Well ain't that a pretty thing ya got there. Boyfriend get that for ya?"

Ava scoffed. "No way, I bought this for myself a few years back to replace my old one."

Lester felt himself grinning from ear to ear. He was really starting to like this girl. "Well, it's a real nice piece." He smiled at her which she responded with a smile of her own. The fear she felt earlier had dissipated as she closed the knife and slid it back in her boot. The man felt genuine, like he didn't want to scare her but maybe just didn't understand some social cues super well. She kind of wanted to spend more time with Lester, the man with the handsome southern accent.

Sadly her time with him was up and Lester pulled up to the end of the road, which was partially blocked by trees.

"Here we are." Lester put the truck in park and got out of the truck, Ava following his actions. He stood leaning over the open door.

"You're gonna have t'walk the rest of the way. The entrance is washed out here. It aint much farther though, 'bout 5 minute walk from here." He pointed towards the section of road that wasn't blocked with trees. "Through there and to the right, keep walkin' till ya see "Bo's Garage", can't miss it."

Ava walked out in front of the truck and turned back towards him.

"Thank you so much for the ride, Lester. I'm sorry there isn't anything I can give you in return." Lester waved his hands at her.

"No trouble on my part, hun. Just get yourself goin'." Lester cursed himself for what he had just called her. He had only known her for just short of a half hour and he called her that. Ava's smirk told a different story.

"Well if you insist." She did a small bow in appreciation and waved. "Thank you again!" She turned around to walk off in the direction of town where his brother lay in wait. He watched parts of her intently as she walked through the entrance and made a right turn. When she was out of his view he grabbed a handheld radio from his truck door and pressed the button to talk.

"Bo, you there?" Lester asked.

"Yeah, whatchu want?" The voice of Bo the mechanic came through the radio.

"Just dropped off a young lady, she's walkin' into town now."

"She alone?"

"Yeah…" Lester's voice trailed off. He was a bit disappointed that by the end of the night she would be stuck in Ambrose forever. She wouldn't be looking nearly as good as she did right now. Vincent would strip her of her clothes and cover her already smooth skin in not as smooth wax. Her tattoos would be covered up and he would never get to trace his fingers along them like he wanted or run his hands over her thighs.

"Lester you fuckin' dolt you still there!?" Bo's angry voice came through the radio, he seemed to have spaced out a bit.

"Don't hurt her." He said shyly.

"What?" Bo was beyond confused. "Are you fuckin' serious?" Lester hesitated before speaking again.

"Yes I'm serious, you don't hurt that girl." Bo chuckled.

"And why is that?" Lester was unsure of what to say, he was confused when Bo laughed. What he said next made his face burn.

"Now I see why you little fuckin' pervert."

☾ notes: im finally putting out my first fic with my OC! This takes place in the same universe as rottent33th's OC Ellie and the-pinstriped-hood's OC Percy.

☾ tag list: @rottent33th @cries-in-latino @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @the-pinstriped-hood @allthingsblood

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