#I’ve never had to put a book down before in horror | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

celiastjamesoscar · 1 year

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Wildest Dreams

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: you are helplessly head over heels for Sam, even though she despises you. But your relationship with her changes when you get in a lightly physical altercation with her.

Warnings: light sweating, reader accidentally walks in on Sam changing, small violence

My Masterlist

AN: if you have the time, I highly recommend reading ‘The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo’ and watching ‘Carol’ <3

Word count: 6.3K

For the first time in what seemed a millennium, you finally had the house to yourself. Anika was out with Mindy for a date, and your other roommate, Luke, was doing god knows what, probably out fornicating with one of his many boyfriends, but you didn’t care. You only cared about relaxing on the couch and rewatching your comfort show, Game of Thrones.

You grabbed your phone and a bowl of popcorn and went to the couch. You curled up with the blanket hanging over the back of the sofa as you turned on your show.

Tarantula: you up? ;)

The ‘ding’ from the text pulled you away from the tv, and you smiled when you read the text from your best friend, Tara. The two of you had met on campus in the library and instantly became friends. You two bonded over your love for books and shared a passion for horror movies, even though your opinions drastically differ.

Sam lover: maybe, it depends on who’s asking

Tarantula: you’re best friend in the entire world?? Who else?

Sam lover: mhmmm, okay. What are we doing?

Tarantula: movie night, obviously

Sam lover: sure, I’ll be over in ten

Tarantula: just a heads up, you’ll have to come in through my window

You raised your eyebrows at Tara’s message, ‘Why would I have to do that? I’ve been over before,’ you thought to yourself.

Sam lover: why?

Tarantula: because Sam is watching a movie in the living room, and we are hanging out in my room

Sam lover: fuck, okay. why does she still hate me?

Tarantula: I don’t know, but don’t make any noise when you come over. Sam can’t know and don’t try and hit on her if you see her

To say that you and Sam were acquaintances would be an understatement; Sam despised you, while the woman completely enchanted you. Sam was so tall and handsome as hell. She’s bad for you, but she does it so well; you could see the end as it begins. You admired her strength, both physically and mentally, and you loved the way she cared so much about her sister. And that was also your downfall; Sam believed that you were no good for Tara, as every time Tara did something stupid, you were always at the scene of the crime. Of course, Sam didn’t know that you were always there because you tried your best to stop Tara out of respect for Sam (and a shitty attempt at winning her heart), but she never listened when you tried to explain yourself.

You scoffed at your best friend’s words. She knew of your infatuation with Sam and loved to tease you about it. At first, however, she thought it was a bit weird as you were her best friend and thought you were using her to get close to Sam, but after she saw you turn down an invite to go with Sam and Mindy to the movies just to stay at home and play Mario Kart with her, she knew that you were the real deal.

Tara found it a bit sad, though, because every time you would talk to Sam, you would either get silence, a death stare, or a one-word reply, but she would rather die than tell you that she felt pity for your shitty attempts to talk to her sister.

Sam lover: I will not be held responsible for my actions when I am around a beautiful woman with big brown eyes

Tarantula: yeah, yeah, whatever. just get over here soon and climb in through my window; I’ll leave it open

Sam lover: sounds good. I’m omw

With that, you shut your phone off, grabbed your backpack and put a spare change of clothes along with a cable to charge your phone in it, and went towards Tara’s apartment. You enjoyed walking by yourself as it allowed you to be with your thoughts, and you couldn’t help it when you started to think of Sam. The gravitational pull you felt towards the older woman was something you couldn’t explain even if you had to; you just knew that you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt. You longed to get lost in those dark eyes and don’t even get started on those muscular arms; to you, Sam was perfect, and you would count all the stars in the sky if you could call her yours for a moment.

When you reached the street Tara lived on, you sent Tara a quick message asking her which side her window would be on, and she responded with ‘the one that’s close to creepy ass alley,’ which was all of New York in your eyes.

Sam lover: that’s all of NY, Tarantula

Tarantula: It’s across from the McDonald’s, five stories up. And stop calling me ‘Tarantula.’ It’s offensive.

You laughed at your friend’s reply before sending back a quick ‘huh uh.’ You walked around the apartment until you saw the McDonald’s and then the creepy ass alleyway and looked up five stories. And true to her word, Tara had her window open for you. You climbed onto the fire escape and slowly made your way to Tara’s window before sending her a quick text telling her you were here, only you didn’t see the message she sent back telling you you weren’t at her window.

When you pushed Tara’s window the rest of the way and climbed halfway in, you nearly died; Sam was standing in a towel with her back facing you as she grabbed some clothes from her dresser. When she dropped her towel, your heart exploded, and it felt like you were in your wildest dream. You admired her perfect curves, and then the leg that you had in Sam’s room gave out, causing you to fall into Sam’s room with a loud thud.

Sam turned around with a shocked expression before she quickly turned back to her dresser and grabbed a knife. You could not seem to pry your eyes away from Sam’s chest, and you swore you could feel drool fall down your chin. You were too busy trying to engrave Sam’s naked figure into your brain that you didn’t feel the blade fly into your left thigh.

“Sam, I am so sorry,” you said as you tried to stand up on your legs, but one gave out and screamed in pain. The only thing on your mind was Sam’s breasts that you swore looked like the softest pillows ever.

“What the fuck is going-Oh my god! What happened to your leg?” Tara exclaimed after bursting into the room, disregarding her sister, who finally covered herself with a towel. At the mention of something wrong with your leg, you finally felt the sharp pain shoot through your entire leg as you stared at the blade in your thigh.

“You’re weird friend just broke into my room and stared at me while I was changing!” Sam stated as she grabbed her clothes and stormed off to the bathroom, clearly not caring about your wound. Tara quickly ran to your side and knelt beside you, “I am so sorry about this, Y/N. I didn’t know that she also had her window open.”

You shrugged off Tara’s comment as you tried to move, but the pain was too much. You watched as your crimson-red blood steeped onto the room’s flooring and stained your clothing. “Come on, we have to get you to a hospital,” Tara stated, pulling you up to the floor and leaning your weight onto her. By the time Tara had entered the living room and to the door, Sam was dressed and had her phone and keys in hand. “I’ll take you to the hospital; let’s go,” Sam stated as she moved Tara off you and took her place. It was pitiful how your face heated up when you felt Sam pull your left arm over her shoulders and hold it while her right arm was wrapped around your waist, allowing you to lean your weight onto her.

When you reached Sam’s car, Tara opened up the back row door and helped Sam lay you down on the seats before she got into the passenger door. “Do not die in my car, Y/N. I don’t need you to haunt my car,” Sam dryly stated as she closed the door and got in the driver’s side. You don’t remember much of the car ride to the hospital; the only thing on your mind was seeing Sam naked, and no matter how hard you tried, you would never be about to erase that beautiful image from your mind.

One moment you were daydreaming about the beautiful goddess that had just stabbed you, and then the next, you were in a hospital bed with stitches in your thigh. For the life of you, you couldn’t recall what had happened, just that you saw Sam naked, and then she stabbed you. You saw yourself, in hindsight, tangled up with her all night in your wildest dreams. Someday when your mind leaves you, you bet that the memory of Sam will follow you around.

“Oh, thank god, I thought I was going to have to murder Sam,” Tara said as she moved from the chair in the corner of the room and approached your bed. She sat on the edge of the bed and gently grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “What happened? The last thing I remember was being in the back of Sam’s car,” you recalled as you looked around the room and saw Sam, who was standing creepily in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“You passed out on the drive here. You should have seen Sam, though; she was terrified you had actually died,” Tara said with a small laugh as she remembered her sister’s frantic attempts to make sure you were still alive, and she also wanted to let you know that Sam slightly cared about you.

Sam scoffed at her sister’s words as she uncrossed her arms and walked toward you. “I was worried you were going to ruin my seats and then haunt my car,” Sam stated coldly, but her eyes betrayed her icy stature. You could see the way her eyes darted across your body, subtly checking to see if you were actually okay, and how she had her hands shoved into the pockets on her bomber jacket, slightly ashamed that she had hurt you.

Within the first encounters you had with Sam, you noticed how she always hid her hands when she was ashamed of something, and right now, all you wanted to do was reach out and comfort the woman. “Eh, I’m fine,” you shrugged briefly.

You talked to Tara while Sam stood around the room, looking out of place as she watched you with her sister. When the doctor came in, she gave you painkillers and told you could leave in the morning. “Could one of us stay here with her?” Sam asked the doctor worriedly when she was close to the door. “The hospital rules say we can’t allow non-family members to stay overnight, but I’ll let you stay with your girlfriend,” the doctor replied with a smile as she looked between you and Sam, clearly reading into some tension in the air.

Sam didn’t even have time to deny the doctor’s words before she left the room and shut the door, so Sam turned around with a scoff and was met with your drugged-out smile and Tara’s knowing one. “Well, Sammy, I will leave you here with your ‘girlfriend,’” Tara joked as she stood from the bed and grabbed her things.

“No. Tara, there is no way you are leaving here this late at night,” Sam replied as she followed her sister to the doorway. “Well, I’m certainly not staying here; I hate hospitals. And besides, Mindy is here to pick me up,” Tara replied with a smile.

She hated to admit it, but Sam was at a crossroads. She didn’t want Tara to stay here after the last time her sister was left alone in a hospital, and she also didn’t want you to stay here alone. She worried about you for Tara’s sake and definitely not because she felt terrible for being the reason you were here.

With a defeated sigh, Sam nodded and spoke, “Alright. Just let me walk you out.”

You watched the two sisters open the door and smiled when Sam stopped and looked back at you, “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“Okay, girlfriend,” you replied with a dopey smile, clearly enjoying the effects of the painkillers.

When Sam returned, she said nothing as she brought two chairs together and made herself an awkward bed. “You know, you can join me,” you suggested as you scooted over to the side, allowing Sam some room if she chose to sleep with you.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Sam replied as she got out a blanket and a pillow from the wardrobe and got comfortable on the chairs.

“Why not? I’ve already seen you naked.”

Sam rolled her eyes and laid her head on the pillow, and covered up with the blanket, “Do not mention that ever again.”

“Okay. I want to let you know you have a beautiful body, Sam. Your boobs are perfect! I mean, my god, the things I would do-”

“Please stop talking,” Sam interrupted you as she tried her best to fight off the fluttering feeling in her stomach at your words. She knew the painkillers were talking, but she couldn’t help but believe there was some truth to your comments. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Sam said after a few awkward moments of silence.

“Goodnight, girlfriend,” you teased as you got as comfortable as you could you a hospital bed before sleep consumed you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, you were discharged from the hospital but had to walk around with crutches for a while. And to put it short, you hated it. Yes, having to walk around with them constantly clanking every time you walked got annoying, and how your armpits ached at the end of each day. But the worst part was that you couldn’t impress Sam with them.

Naturally, you were angry at Sam for throwing a knife in your leg, but you also shouldn’t have been staring at her while she was changing.

“Who even changes with their window open anyways?” Mindy asked one night while over at Tara’s apartment for dinner. You and Mindy had been invited over for a girl dinner with the Carpenters as you four sat around the dining table. The table had a dish of lasagna along with a salad bowl prepared, and you could not wait to eat the delicious food Sam had prepared.

“My room was hot, and I was letting in fresh air; I didn’t think someone would try and break in,” Sam stated as she made herself a bowl of salad with her lasagna.

“I did not break in. Tara invited me over and told me to go through her open window,” you said once you finished a bite of your food, “so technically, it’s her fault.”

Tara scoffed at your words while throwing a crouton at you, earning herself a scolding look from Sam. “Do not try and blame this on me; I texted you and told you that wasn’t my room, but you didn’t see it,” Tara replied.

“Why did you even tell her to climb through your window?” Sam asked with a puzzled look.

“Because, Sam, you would have told her to leave or probably stabbed her, but you already did that,” Tara dryly said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sam rolled her eyes at her sister's statement before focusing on her food.

“I was lightly stabbed, so it’s not that big of a deal,” you said.

“You were still stabbed, Y/N,” Tara replied annoyedly. She knew that you were weirdly happy about Sam stabbing you, but she tried her best to ignore it.

“Lightly stabbed.”

Mindy chuckled while looking at you, “Whatever. I still can’t believe she threw a knife at you; me personally, I would not let that slide.”

“It’s whatever; I didn’t even notice it until Tara came barging into the room,” you said while looking at Sam, who picked her food with her fork and refused to meet your gaze.

Mindy just laughed at your response before returning her attention to her food. The rest of dinner was filled with laughs and idle conversations, but you couldn’t help but notice how Sam didn’t participate in any of the conversations. You had tried to get her engaged, but she would either respond with a nod, a laugh, or a single word.

Sam felt bad for reacting the way she did, and she wanted to apologize to you, but she didn’t know how without bringing up the fact you slightly deserved it. So, when dinner was finished, and the rest of the group moved into the living room to watch a movie, Sam pulled you aside.

“What’s up?” You asked with a smile as you leaned on a crutch. It had been a couple of weeks since you were discharged from the hospital, so now you only walked around with one crutch.

That smile you gave her, Sam couldn’t find the correct words to describe it. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and she wanted to kiss it off your lips. “Just so you know, you’re insufferable and intolerable. And I hate you.”

“Oh, okay,” you said with that same smile, fully knowing Sam was lying. Sam, on the other hand, desperately needed to get away from you, or she might do something she would regret. “Is there anything else you need?” You asked.

With a sigh, Sam asked, “Yes, actually. What are some books I could read? I’ve been trying to get into reading because of Tara, and I wanted to discuss them with her, and I need to have a few books under my belt before I do that.”

Your smile grew ten times bigger at Sam’s question, and the older woman wanted to murder you for it. “I have been waiting for ages for you to ask me that. I actually have a copy of my favorite book with me if you want to give it a try?” You asked as you made your way over to your backpack.

Sam followed behind you and watched as you moved around your sleeping clothes and pulled out a weathered book. It had different colored sticky notes hanging from the pages, and the edges around the book looked like they had their share of bumps and drops.

Sam grabbed the book and read the cover with a scoff. “Look, Y/N; I’m not reading a book about a woman who had seven different husbands. That’s just absurd,” the Latina said with a dry tone.

“No,” you replied as you placed your hand on Sam’s wrist, holding the book, “trust me, Sam. Just try it; it’s not what you think it is.”

“Alright, fine. If this book is better than it sounds,” Sam said as she looked around the room with a huff, “I guess I’ll treat you with respect or something.”

Sam didn’t even have time to react before she felt the hand on her wrist pull away and pinch her cheek. “I know you’ll love it,” you said with a cheeky grin as Sam slapped your hand away from her face. “Do not ever do that again,” she warned as she pointed a finger in your face.

“Yes, ma’am,” you responded with a salute before walking back toward the living room, “is there anything else you need?”

‘I want to take you on a date and then put your head on a stick,’ Sam wanted to say but said, “I’ll let you know what I think of it.”

You gave Sam a soft smile as you returned to the living room. Sam didn’t know what she was feeling toward you, but she eventually sauntered off to her room after realizing she cared about you more than friends do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on, Tara; The Babadook is easily one of the worst horror movies ever made!” You exclaimed with your hands as you stared down at the more petite girl. You had finally gotten your stitches out and were no longer walking around with a crutch, so that meant a celebration night over at the Carpenter’s apartment.

“No, it’s not! You just hate it so much because it scares you!” Tara retorted as she hit the leg closest to her, which happened to be the one Sam lightly stabbed.

You moved your legs up onto the loveseat you were sitting on after she hit you, “Yeah, and also because it scares me so much! And don’t hit me, you little shit.” Tara scoffed at your words and stood up and grabbed one of her shoes, and was getting ready to launch it at you when the door to the apartment opened. She quickly dropped the shoe and stood facing the door with her hands clasped behind her back and an innocent smile, as if she wasn’t just getting ready to throw a shoe as hard as she could at your face. “What’s going on?” Sam asked when she saw Tara standing with a creepy smile and your shocked expression.

“Tara was-”

“I was getting up to order some pizza!” Tara interrupted you and sent you a death glare when Sam turned her back to hang up her purse. Sam turned around and looked between you two and ignored the shoe she saw by Tara’s feet; whatever her sister was getting ready to do to you, you probably deserved it.

“Okay,” Sam replied as she exaggerated the word before walking to her room, but not before sending you a glare. “Nice to see you, Sam!” you said with a smile while Sam huffed before slamming her door. “You are such a charmer,” Tara joked as she shoved your legs off the couch so she could sit next to you.

You scoffed at Tara’s words while you reached for the remote and pushed Tara off you when she tried to take it from you. “No! Down girl, down!” You said when you finally pushed Tara off of you. She scoffed as you turned on the tv before leaning back on the couch and putting her feet in your lap. You pulled her feet more into your lap and let your hand rest on her leg while you looked for something to watch. Naturally, Tara made it hard for you to pick something out because she refused to watch anything you wanted to spite you, but eventually, you settled on watching ‘Carol.’ You loved this movie more than anything, even though you cried every time you watched it.

For some unknown reason, Tara pulled her feet from your lap and left the couch roughly ten minutes into the movie. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she walked toward her room with her phone in hand. “Do you want me to pause it for you?” You asked as you reached for the remote but stopped when Tara told you not to wait up on her. You missed the devilish smirk she wore on her lips as she disappeared into her room.

You continued to watch the movie by yourself when you heard a door open up. “Finally! I was starting to think that you were leaving me here to hang out with Sam,” you said with a smile as you paused the movie and finally turned around to face Tara, but your smile faded once you saw Sam. “Oh, I’m sorry; I thought you were Tara,” you said with an embarrassed tone as your eyes refused to meet Sam’s piercing gaze.

The older woman huffed at your words before she went to the couch and sat at the opposite end while unlocking her phone, trying to keep as much space as possible between you two. “Tara texted me and told me that she felt sick and she didn’t want you to leave because it’s late at night and doesn’t want anything to happen to you, so she wants me to keep you company,” Sam read aloud her text messages between her and Tara before she closed her phone and set it on the coffee table in front of you guys.

“You don’t have to; I’m fine staying in here by myself,” you said with a polite smile while looking at Sam. The woman turned her head and looked at you before giving you the fakest smile you have ever seen while she lied through her teeth, “That’s alright, I’m good to stay in here with you.” The tension was so thick you could practically taste it on your tongue, but you held your breath and muttered a quiet ‘okay’ as you restarted the movie.

It’s not that she hated being around you after the incident; the only thing she wanted to do was kiss you and call you hers, but she was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same. Especially after she lightly stabbed you.

“Wait, why are you restarting it?” Sam questioned as she looked between you and the tv.

“Because you missed the opening scene, which is arguably one of the best scenes in the movie, and you also need to watch it to understand the ending better,” you reasoned with an honest smile while your gentle eyes danced across Sam’s face.

She didn’t know why, but after listening to your explanation of why the opening scene was essential and listening to your voice that was full of only love and admiration for this movie, Sam decided that she would actually pay attention to it, rather than send you hateful glances every once in a while.

So when the tv finally stopped the introduction, and it was Carol and Therese sitting together at a dinner table in a fancy restaurant, Sam picked up on the tension-riddled scene and couldn’t help but glance over at you. She noticed how your eyebrows furrowed, and your eyes danced between Carol and Therese as if you were getting ready to jump through the tv and become a part of the movie. Her eyes finally drifted down to your lips, and she noticed how your tongue was barely sticking out between your lips as you studied the screen, as if there was going to be something small in the background, and if you blinked, you would miss it.

“Are you even watching?” You questioned when you felt eyes burning into the side of your skull, but your own eyes never left the screen.

Sam awkwardly cleared her throat before speaking, “Sorry; you just seem really invested in this movie, and I thought it was funny.” You felt heat creep up the back of your neck at Sam’s words but shook it off as her being cautious of you. “It’s a great film, Sam. I think you’ll like it,” you replied with a gentle smile as you pried your eyes away from the screen to look at Sam before returning your attention to the tv.

When you said that she might like it, Sam took her eyes away from you and actually paid attention to the movie. When the sex scene came up, the air in the room became tense, as if both of you were holding your breath and holding back from one another. Sam tried her best to fight back the blush she felt, and she looked to you for help. You had your mouth agape, no matter how often you watched this scene, you were always enchanted by it, and you whispered, “I wish that were me.” Even though she tried to, Sam couldn’t come up with a retort for your comment; she also wishes she could do that with Cate Blanchett, but she also wishes that was her with you.

Sam then turned her attention back to the screen and had to fight any urges that she might have been feeling toward you. Her eyes never left the screen until the very end; only when she had to blink back the eyes that threatened to escape as she looked up at the ceiling. When the end credits rolled, you cleared your throat, tension still left over from the sex scene, “So, what did you think of it?”

“It was certainly something. It was a lot better than I expected, just based on your taste in things,” Sam joked as she subtly wiped the tears away in her eyes. You chuckled at her words, ‘if you only you knew,’ you thought as she stared at her with hearty eyes.

You quickly snapped out of your daze when you noticed Sam shuffling uncomfortably on the couch, “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. And just so you know,” you said as you stood up from the couch, “I have an exceptional taste in things.”

Sam laughed at your words before standing up, “I highly doubt that.” You smiled at the older woman before making your way to Tara’s room; you had plans to murder the little shit for leaving you alone with Sam. “Goodnight, Sam,” you said with a smile as you opened Tara’s door slightly. Sam gave you a genuine smile as she went to her room, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

This was the first time you had had a direct conversation with Sam since she pulled you aside and asked for a book recommendation, and you wished you could have more conversations with the woman. She was smarter than she gave herself credit for, and the way she expressed herself through body language while talking was something you found attractive, to put it lightly.

When you entered Tara’s room, you saw the girl lying toward the foot of her bed with her laptop open, and you could faintly hear Toni Collette giving her ‘I am your mother’ speech. “So, how did it go with Samantha?” Tara questioned with a smug grin as you sat on the bed with your back propped against the headboard. You threw your legs up onto the bed and dug the heel of your right foot into Tara’s back, causing the girl to let out a small yelp before shoving your leg off of her and scolding you.

“Whatever, you deserved it,” you said as you crossed your ankles and left them next to Tara, who was still facing the foot of the bed. “And for your information, it was fine. She didn’t try and kill me again,” you joked.

“A win is a win,” Tara replied as she moved to sit next to you and put the laptop on your lap while she cuddled up next to you. You put your arm around her waist and placed a platonic kiss on her head right when Sam walked in.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back later,” Sam said as she looked down at the floor and turned her back to you two, embarrassed that she had just walked in on an intimate moment between you and her sister and ignored the pain she felt in her heart. “No, it’s okay, Sam,” Tara said while pulling away from you and silently encouraging you to go after Sam even though she was still in the doorway.

“I thought you were sick?” Sam asked with her back still facing you two. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one without unveiling my grand scheme of things plan,” Tara said while getting up from her bed and turning Sam to face her, “I’m serious, Sam. Nothing is going on between me and Y/N.”

Sam looked away from her sister and saw you sitting on Tara’s bed, smiling as you sent her a small wave. The woman scoffed at your actions before returning to her room.

Once Sam was gone, Tara closed the door, walked over to you, and hit you in the stomach. “The fuck was that, Y/N?” She whisper-shouted at you, “I basically admitted to having a plan of forcing you and Sam together, and you fucking wave at her?”

“I didn’t know what you wanted me to do!” You defended.

Tara sighed at your statement; she had laid the groundwork, and then just like clockwork, the dominos were supposed to cascade in a line because she’s a mastermind, but your dumbass messed it up. “Go talk to Sam. Right. Now. Or so help me God, I will violently murder you to death,” Tara commanded as she pulled you from her bed and pushed you toward the door. “And do not come back until you have talked to her,” and with that, Tara shut the door in your face and locked it.

You sighed before walking toward the living room. You thought about sleeping on the couch, but you knew Tara would probably draw a penis on your face while you slept, so you sucked in a deep breath before walking toward Sam’s door.

Sam heard a gentle knock of three intervals at her door, pulling her away from her note. “Just a minute,” she said as she finished her writing and slipped it into a preselected page in the book.

“What’s up?” She asked once when she opened her door and saw you.

“I just wanted to ask you about the book,” you replied with a smile that Sam wanted to kiss off your lips.

Instead of doing what she desired, she left her door open while grabbing the book and handed it back to you. “This is the saddest book I have ever read. Who would come up with such a thing?”

You chuckled at her words and accepted the book, “I know. I take it; you finished it?”

“Barely. But I finished it in one sitting,” Sam said while staring into your love-struck eyes. Sam swore she could feel herself getting lost in them, and she never wanted to leave your eyes.

“So, what did you think of it?” You asked.

“It was alright. Some pages were hard to read because of the tear-stained pages.”

You lightly laughed at Sam’s words, and the older woman felt her heart might explode if she heard that soft laugh again. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. This book really gets to me, you know?” You said while your eyes quickly glanced down at Sam’s lips, wondering if they tasted as good as they looked.

Sam cleared her throat, and you knew you had been busted. “So, I guess I’ll have to treat you with respect now,” she admitted through a tightened jaw.

“Or whatever,” you said with a smile, hoping Sam picked up the double meaning, and she did.

“Yeah, or whatever.”

“Just so you know, nothing is going on between me and Tara,” you clarified after a few seconds, and you set the book down on the couch behind you.

Sam knew that there wasn’t anything between you and her sister, but hearing those words leave your lips gave Sam a feeling of comfort she didn’t know she needed. “I know, Y/N.”

“Okay. I just wanted to clarify that before I did this,” Sam didn’t even have time to react before she felt your hands grip her neck and pull her into a passionate kiss. The way your lips felt like they had been made for her lips amazed Sam, and she finally felt her heart explode when she matched your intensity.

Your lips danced together as Sam deepened the kiss and pulled you by your waist closer to her. You felt her tongue push past your lips, and an involuntary moan slipped out, causing Sam to laugh against your lips. When you felt Sam’s hands drift toward the bottom of your shirt, you lifted your arms, and Sam got halfway into taking it off before you two heard a voice behind you, “Goddamnit, Y/N! I told you to apologize, not swap spit with her!”

You pulled away from Sam and turned to face Tara, who smiled knowingly. “Sorry,” you mumbled while fixing your shirt.

An awkward beat of silence passed while Tara looked between you and her sister with a sly smirk on her lips before she finally said, “I’ll leave you two to it,” and walked away.

“I’m sorry about that,” Sam said once Tara was gone. You turned to look at Sam, and you smiled at her swollen lips and blown pupils. You said nothing as you placed a final kiss on Sam’s lips that the older woman happily reciprocated.

“I should probably leave,” you mumbled against Sam’s lips, and she kissed you once more before pulling away. “Don’t forget your book,” Sam said while grabbing it for you.

“Thank you,” you replied with a tint of blush on your cheeks. Sam walked you to the door with her hand on the lower of your back, and you only wanted to run back into her room and throw Sam on her bed, but you doubted Tara would appreciate that.

When you reached the door, you placed a chaste kiss on Sam’s lips before opening up the door. “I’ll see you around?” You asked, afraid that this was a one-time thing.

Sam leaned against the doorframe, and she couldn’t contain the smile that pulled at her cheeks. “Of course, Y/N.”

You smiled at her and began walking down the hallway when Sam called out, “It's me and you, true blue.”

You placed a kiss on your pointer and middle finger before holding them toward Sam with a smile on your face. The woman laughed at your action and pretended to catch the fake kiss and her fist to her heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At home, you fall onto your couch and struggled to get your shoes off. Once they were off, you relaxed and pulled out the book and started reading it. When you ran your fingers over the pages, a small note fell out from the middle of the book and you moved to that page.

In the center of the page was a headline from Sub Rosa titled, ‘Evelyn Hugo and Celia St. James Slumber Parties,’ and you couldn’t help but laugh at the page.

When you opened up the note, written in the most beautiful penmanship said,

‘Want to go grab a milkshake with me sometime? I doubt we’ll find a place as good as Schwab’s, but we can try. We can also have ‘slumber parties’ of our own when Tara is away. ;)

All my love,

Samantha

Sam’

#sam carpenter #scream #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x female reader

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static-radio-ao3 · 1 month

Text

hit me with your best shot

romance writer regulus & hitman james - 4.4k, referenced sexual content + deeply unserious but hopefully fun!

for @arsonfaerie <3 happy birthday, maggie!

Regulus Black loves romance. He loves reading it and he loves writing it and he would probably love experiencing it too. Unfortunately, that last one hasn't happened yet, but for now he's happy just imagining.

He likes the escape romance books provide. To retreat, even for a few hours, somewhere warm and safe. To provide that for other people.

Except, some people don't seem to appreciate his approach. He scrolls through Goodreads reviews with mounting horror and a sinking feeling. Dorcas, his literary agent, always tells him to pay it no mind, but Regulus can't help it. He minds a great deal.

He taps on a one-star review. Most reviews rate the book quite high, but the low ratings still sting.

"Stop that," Barty says, waving a fry in front of Regulus' face to get his attention.

"Stop what," Regulus replies flatly, eyes trained on the words unrealistic and unimaginative. A reviewer by the name of magswrite claims that "Regulus Black wouldn't know romance if it hit him in the face. And at this point, I think it should hit him in the face for the great disservice he does to the genre at large."

There's more, but before Regulus has the chance to read it and weep, Barty snatches his phone out of his hands. "Enough," he says, leaving no room for argument.

"Give it back." Regulus swipes for his phone but Barty manages to hold it out of reach, dropping it next to him on the red vinyl booth.

"Not until you get a fucking grip."

"They say I don't know a thing about romance," Regulus whines petulantly. He slumps in his seat and snatches a fry from Barty's plate, munching on it with a pout. "Just because I'm not the most experienced, doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about."

He grabs another fry, somewhat aggressive dipping it in the mayonnaise. He bites it in half and hovers the fry over the sauce again. "Can I double dip?" he asks.

Barty shoots him a dry look. "Regulus, I've licked your asshole. Yes, you can double dip in the fucking mayonnaise."

"So crass," Regulus sighs as he covers the rest of the fry in mayonnaise.

Regulus has never dated, but he's not completely inexperienced. Barty was happy to be his first and second and third and, well, they kind of lost count at some point. But they decided early on it wouldn't be more. Couldn't be more.

That's fine with Regulus. He's never been particularly interested in dating. That's not to say he's not interested in a relationship, but it's just that the prerequisite steps to get into one never quite worked out for him.

People don't like Regulus. He's too uptight, too closed off, and too hard to read. Never mind the fact that he writes books for a living.

Regulus is somewhat of a fortress. Except, there are no walls to be scaled or broken down. The only way to get inside, to get to know Regulus, is to be patient enough to be handed a key.

Only a few people have one of those keys. Barty, for one. Dorcas, his literary agent and friend, has another. His brother had one, but he left. Took the key with him. Regulus went to great lengths to change the locks.

"Hey." Barty nudges his foot under the table. He studies Regulus for a moment, always a little too observant for his own good. As if reading his mind, he says, "Maybe it's worth another try. Just put yourself out there, you'd be surprised what you'll find."

LOOKING FOR SOMEONE TO TAKE ME OUT

>> jfp_: Hey, I saw you’re looking for someone to take you out?

>> jfp_: I’m James, by the way.

>> rab_: Hi James! Yes! I just think it would be good for me…

>> jfp_: How do you want to go?

>>rab_: Do you mean where?

>>jfp_: Sure, that too.

>>rab_: I think dinner seems like a good place to start.

>>rab_: But if we want to be a little adventurous, I’ve always wanted to go skydiving…

>> jfp_: I can work with that. Friday, 7PM?

>>rab_: It’s a date!

He'd called Barty in a panic because what does one wear to a first date?

Sure, Regulus has written plenty of dates but he's never thought about what his characters are wearing. Which features they want to accentuate or hide. Which colors match their eyes and which ones wash them out.

Hess on his third outfit of the day and poses awkwardly in front of Barty, who simply shakes his head and sends him back to his closet to change.

"And where did you say you found this guy?" Barty asks as he sucks noisily on a lollipop.

"I didn't say.” Regulus’ voice is muffled as he rummages through his closet. He has an emerald green silk button-down, but he's worried that might be a bit much for a first date. He pops his head out to tell Barty, “Craigslist."

Barty's head whips towards Regulus so fast he worries he pulled something in his neck. "I'm sorry, what?" Barty manages, voice strained.

"I put up an ad on Craigslist."

"Why on God's green earth would you look for a date on Craigslist?"

"Why are you saying it like that?"

"Because it's Craigslist! Oh my God.” Barty squeezes his eyes shut like he's suddenly plagued with torturous visions. “He's probably a pervert. Or a serial killer."

"Well, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Use a dating app! Ask your friends to set you up! Go to a Barnes & Noble and look confused in the History section! Ask the barista out! Literally anything but putting up an ad on Craigslist!"

Regulus genuinely doesn't know how none of these things occurred to him. He's a romance writer, he can write a meet-cute in his sleep.

He's aware of the existence of dating apps, he's aware of the fact that his barista always doodles a little heart next to his name when he orders a drink to go, and he's probably not even above looking confused in a bookstore in the hopes that someone will approach him.

But still, knowing things in theory and doing them in practice are wildly different. It's the main reason he's even going on a date in the first place.

"How was I supposed to know?" He cries out, head in his hands.

"Common sense!”

Regulus whirls toward Barty, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. "Don't talk to me about common sense, Mr. Public Indecency Charges!"

"Those are actually more common than you'd think."

"Barty! What do I do?"

Barty heaves a deep, long-suffering sigh and pushes himself out of Regulus' desk chair. He takes a few steps towards Regulus, who thinks he might get an encouraging speech, something touching and inspiring and world changing.

But it's Barty, so he says, "Bring pepperspray," as he flops down on Regulus' bed. Regulus wrinkles his nose.

"Get off my bed. You're in your outside clothes."

"Why does that matter? It's not like you minded when Rosie and I fucked on your bed."

"You did what?” Regulus asks, incredulous. “When? Why? Is this some sort of psycho-sexual thing?"

"No, of course not,” Barty says like it's obvious, which it isn't. “It was just for Rosie's back. The couch was giving him trouble."

Every sentence out of Barty's mouth is worse than the last. Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You and Evan fucked on the couch? Wait, more importantly, did you wash the sheets after?"

"Of course not, it'd be weird to do laundry at someone else's place."

And maybe calling Barty for help wasn't such a bad idea after all. This date no longer feels like the worst thing that could possibly happen to him.

Really, how bad could it be?

Regulus is chronically early. He'll show up anywhere with several minutes to spare, usually the first person to arrive. So when he spots James Potter across the room as soon as he enters the restaurant, a pleasant little thrill runs through him.

He makes his way to the table, tucked away in the corner, a little secluded and offering the illusion of privacy in the bustling restaurant.

“You must be Regulus,” the man says when Regulus stops in front of his table. Their table. His voice is pleasant. Low and smooth.

"You're... handsome," Regulus says. Not at all the first thing one should say to a perfect stranger on a date, but well, James is handsome.

He has the messiest head of hair Regulus has ever seen, but it doesn't make him look disheveled. Instead, he looks charming and inviting.

His glasses would make anyone else look severe, but on James, they just draw attention to his beautiful eyes. Dark and deep.

When he stands to greet Regulus, Regulus notices that he’s wearing a black turtleneck tucked in smart black trousers and shiny black loafers.

"Why do you sound surprised?" He asks, head tilted to the side as he sizes Regulus up. He fidgets under James' gaze, hoping that nervous sweats won't show through the green silk shirt he's wearing.

"My friend thought you'd be a pervert. Or a serial killer,” Regulus offers with a shrug. The comment makes the corner of James' mouth quirk up in a not-quite-smile.

James has a nice mouth, Regulus decides. In the back of his mind, he runs through descriptions he might use in his books. Like he's on the verge of telling a joke, already enjoying the laughter he'll incite. Like he's got a secret tucked away and is just about to confide you in.

"Oh, I'd never be a serial killer,” James jokes as he pulls out Regulus' chair for him. “I'm a hitman."

It startles a laugh out of Regulus. He covers his mouth with his hand, as if to keep the sound from escaping but it spills out anyway. James smiles a milimeter wider at the sound, and it feels like a personal victory to Regulus.

He drops down into his chair and glances at James when he moves to sit again. At the way his trousers tighten around his thighs with the movement.

"Mh, a much more honorable profession,” he replies, eyes shifting back up to James' face.

James winks at him. "My thoughts exactly.”

“I wanted to say thank you,” Regulus starts. He shifts in his seat, suddenly nervous. “I know it was rather… unconventional to post an ad like that on Craigslist. I honestly don't know what I was thinking, I just kind of panicked.”

James waves his hand, as if physically batting the comment away.

“Don’t even worry about it. Stranger things have happened. I've actually never taken anyone out like this before.”

The statement makes something flutter in Regulus' stomach. For a moment he thinks it's hunger, but then he realizes it's the ripple of butterfly wings.

“Oh?” He asks, trying for casual. He's not sure he succeeds.

“Yeah, it's usually not as fancy. Less pomp, you know?”

“Well, I feel honored.” And he does. A flush crawls up his throat and settles on his cheeks. He hopes James can't see it in the low light of the restaurant, but Regulus suspects that James is a very observant person.

They order and chat and drink and Regulus, to his own surprise, is having a great time. James makes him laugh and asks questions, but also doesn't push.

When the food arrives, Regulus takes a quick second to send a text in the group chat he has with his friends.

>> reg: So far, so good! Very handsome and NOT a serial killer👍

He sees that a few of them read the message right away and the three dots that pop up indicate that someone is typing, but he tucks his phone away again before he can see who or what, attention on James again.

He smiles as he looks at the food, but the white powder sprinkled on top makes him frown.

He glances at James, who looks at him expectantly, as if eager to see Regulus take that first bite. He must really love the food here, Regulus thinks.

With another quick smile at James, he turns in his seat so he can flag down a waiter. “Hi, I'm so sorry but this seems to have… parmesan on it? I'm lactose intolerant…”

“Oh, I see! Terribly sorry about that, sir. I'll get you a new one right away.”

“Whew,” he tells James, “crisis averted.”

James hums, but he seems a little confused.

“I'm lactose intolerant,” Regulus clarifies. “It's very not-sexy so I won't go into detail, but nothing good happens when I eat cheese and such.”

“Ah,” James says.

“Please eat!” Regulus says with a gesture towards James' own plate. “I wouldn't want your food to get cold.”

“Nonsense, I'll wait.” And the simple gesture makes butterfly wings flutter even quicker. He takes a sip of wine in an attempt to drown them.

The rest of the meal passes smoothly, no more food-related incidents. Regulus keeps a a watchful eye on all the food he eats, not wanting to have to cut the date short because of a stomach emergency.

James insists on dessert, so they split a lemon sherbet between them, one of the few lactose-free options on the menu. James seems vaguely disappointed that they don't get the tiramisu, but the sherbet is so good, Regulus doubts James minds for long.

“I have a surprise,” James says once they've paid.

Regulus wasn't sure what the proper first-date-bill-etiquette was, but before he could worry about it, James had slipped the waiter his card and took care of it.

The butterflies returned with a vengeance.

“Oh?” Regulus asks, interested piqued. “Do tell.”

James' laugh is warm and easy. “Well it wouldn't be much of a surprise then, would it?” The flickering lamp on the parking lot casts James in a warm yellow glow, accentuating his nose and his jaw. He looks like an angel in disguise.

James drives them to the city center, he'd even opened the car door for Regulus. He thought that was just a romance trope, not an actual thing people did. He's pleased to be proven wrong.

He watches the city lights flash by as they get closer to their destination. Their destination that is still a mystery to Regulus, by the way. He recognizes some places they pass but James' doesn't slow. Not until they're at the big, blocky building that has an arcade, a cinema, a laser tag arena, and an adventure park, whatever that is.

“Couldn't take you skydiving at 10 p.m.,” James starts as he helps Regulus out of the car, “but I figured ziplining might also do the trick.”

Regulus gasps, touched.

Apparently, you can zipline off the roof of this particular building and land on the next one where they have a beautiful rooftop bar.

The two of them pay for the harness and the gear, listen carefully to the instructions provided by the slightly bored attendant. Her blonde hair is choppily cut, the edges dyed pink as if she did it over her own bathroom sink.

James and Regulus take turns helping the other suit up. James' hands are warm and big, holding onto Regulus' waist to stabilize him as he steps into the harness. James fiddles with the back clasps for a second before declaring that Regulus is all set.

Regulus then does the same for James, securing the clasps and making sure all the straps are pulled taut and tight. And maybe he steals a look or two at James' ass, but the harness does wonderful things for him and Regulus is a simple man.

They talk easily as they wait for their turn, the to girls in front of them jittery and nervous. It occurs to Regulus that he should probably also feel jittery and nervous right now, but James makes him feel so at ease.

He's about to tell James as much when the attendant calls out, “WAIT!”

The urgency in her voice startles Regulus away from the ledge. She hurries over, tugging on her lip piercing in a worried fashion as she unclips Regulus' harness. “Oh my God,” she breathes. “The wire is fraying!”

“What does that mean?” Regulus asks, eyebrows pinching together in concern.

“That means this thing could've ended really badly, holy shit. I'm so glad I caught it. I'm sorry sir, I have no idea how this harness made it through our inspection. I assure you that we prioritize out clientele’s safety above all else. If you want to cancel your reservation for tonight, I absolutely understand. You'll get a refund of course—”

“Oh, well, I don't think that'll be necessary! Maybe we can still do the zipline. That is, if you still want to?” He turns to face James, directing his question at him.

James has his arms crossed in front of his chest, an impressive frown on his face as he looks at the faulty harness.

Regulus steps in closer to him, lowering his voice. “Hey, it's not your fault. She caught it in time and I'm completely fine. I'd still really like to do this, but if you're uncomfortable…”

James snaps out of his annoyance when Regulus touches his hand to James' chest. “No, let's do it,” he says, that easy smile returning. As long as James is with him, Regulus thinks he's as safe as can be.

The zipline is exhilarating. A thrill shoots through Regulus as he flies through the night sky, city lights blurring around him in a neon dream. James is flying next to him, arms stretched wide.

Regulus copies him and for a brief moments their fingertips touch, sending a fresh thrill down Regulus’ spine.

They land on the rooftop bar windswept and energized, a restless hum under his skin. He understands thrill-seekers now. That rush of adrenaline is unlike anything he's felt before. Although he wonders if the feeling is caused by the zipline or by James.

And he understand, now, what that reviewer meant about Regulus not knowing romance. He never knew it could feel like this. So thrilling and exhilarating yet comfortable and safe. James awakens in him emotions he didn't think he had and he is suddenly grateful to Goodreads reviewer magswrite for forcing him out of his books and into the real world.

He giggles helplessly into James' shoulder, the turtleneck soft under his cheek and the scent of fresh laundry filling his nostrils.

“That was…” but he doesn't finish his sentence, simply gazes up at James. He leans in, just the slightest bit, breath coming a little quicker. His eyes flutter shut and he hears the way James’ breath stutters.

Before their lips can connect, James jerks away. “Sorry!” He says loudly, not quite a yell but a near thing.

Regulus tries to ignore the sting. It's not weird to not kiss on the first date, he reasons. Maybe James needs more time.

Regulus takes a step back, removing himself from James' personal space. He tries to muster a reassuring smile, but it feels watery and thin, like he could burst into tears at any moment.

It's fine, he tells himself. Don't be a baby.

He feels a little unsteady now that he has removed himself from James' orbit and he mutters an excuse about needing to use the bathroom.

He calls Barty, who picks up on the second ring. “What?” He asks, breathless.

“Barty? Why are you out of breath?”

“Busy,” is all he says in return.

“Yeah, sorry, I… My date is going well but I tried to kiss him and he—”

A loud moan cuts him off mid-sentence.

“Are you having sex right now?” Regulus cries out. He ignores the pointed cough coming from one of the stalls.

Barty grunts in affirmation.

“Oh my God!” Regulus closes his eyes and is met with the mental image of Barty and Evan. He immediately opens them again. “Why did you pick up?”

“Case of emergency.”

Regulus can’t even find it in himself to feel touched at the sentiment. While it is kind of sweet, it is also deeply unhelpful right now. “I swear to all that is holy, if you are in my bed…”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Barty pants as if a few hours ago he didn't admit to having done that exact thing.

Regulus doesn't bother with a response. He simply hangs up the phone and shoves it into his pocket with perhaps a bit more gusto than strictly necessary.

He glances at himself in the mirror, taking a quick second to fix his hair. The windswept and messy look works for James, but Regulus feels like it makes him look more boyish and disorganized than charming and ruffled.

He makes his way back to James, who has managed to secure them a table on the edge of the crowd. It’s nice, being a little secluded from the rest. This way they can talk properly, something that Regulus usually dreads about dates but actually really liked when it comes to James.

“You strike me as an Old Fashioned guy,” James says when Regulus is in earshot. He gestures at the drink on the table. He's holding a drink of his own, a Martini.

“Very James Bond of you,” he remarks. James lifts his glass in salute. “And you're not wrong, I am an Old Fashioned guy." Regulus shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a sudden spike of nerves in his gut. "But I think I've had enough excitement for tonight… I should probably stick with water.”

On the one hand, Regulus really does think he’s had enough excitement for the time being, a faint buzz under his skin still from the zipline and from the almost-kiss. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to risk crossing the line between pleasantly tipsy and embarrassingly tipsy. He doesn’t think he can bear making a fool of himself in front of James. Again.

His lips tingle with the phantom feeling of James’ on them.

Regulus winces at the open disappointment on James' face. It kind of feels like a capital crime to upset James, his eyes wide and earnest behind his glasses.

“I'm sorry—” Regulus starts, but James interrupts him with a bright, “Don't be!”

Relief courses through Regulus’ veins, reassured by James’ smile. With a warm hand at the small of his back, they make their way towards the bar, where Regulus orders some water. The bartender looks a little confused to see James back again so soon, but hands Regulus his water before hurrying off to the other side to the bar and serve the people there.

They linger at the bar, not in any rush to get back to their table, to separate. Regulus leans in close so he can talk to James without having to shout over the music that’s playing.

“Have you been here before?” He asks. He tries not to inhale James’ laundry-clean scent, worried it’ll completely shatter his inhibitions. He feels more drunk off of James’ presence than he could from any drink.

James tilts his head to speak directly into Regulus’ ear. Regulus shivers when James’ lips brush against his skin. “No, this was a first. I don’t like going places with familiar people. It makes this whole thing more complicated.”

“That’s fair,” Regulus acquiesces. He can’t imagine being on a date and running into people he knows. He figures it worsens the inherent awkwardness of a first date.

He's glad he didn't have to share James with anyone else just yet, happy to remain in their bubble a while longer.

They pass time at the bar, venturing back to their table eventually to enjoy the view. It really is rather beautiful, but Regulus finds that his eyes wander to James more often than not. To the way his hair falls over his forehead and the way his muscles strain in his shirt and the way his Adam’s apple shifts when he takes a sip of his Martini.

No amount of water can drown the butterflies that flutter wildly in his stomach.

James offers to drive Regulus home. The car ride is nice, spent talking idly as music spills from the radio. When they arrive at Regulus’ apartment building, James hesitates.

“I'm sorry tonight was a bit of a bust,” he says eventually.

Regulus isn’t sure what James means. Yeah, maybe the cheese on his pasta was a bit of a bummer and the fact that he nearly went on the zipline with a faulty harness and then there was also the double rejection of James not wanting a kiss and Regulus not wanting a drink, but if he overlooks all those things, the date was… Pretty perfect.

And Regulus thinks it’s a good sign that he enjoyed himself as much as he did despite the minor issues they ran into. He’s quick to reassure James, turning in his seat so he can face him.

“Not at all! I had such a good time, James.” He leans over so he can touch his hand to James’, as if to physically convey his sincerity. “I promise.”

James clenches his jaw, a tension in his shoulders that Regulus desperately wants to work away. His hand shifts to fully grab James’. He intertwines their fingers.

“Still… I'll do better next time.” James cuts him a glance. “If you'll let me, that is.”

And Regulus has no choice but to kiss him for it. He doesn’t try to kiss him on the lips, he’s more than happy to let James indicate when he’s ready for that, if at all. Instead, he leans in slowly, giving James ample time to move away. He doesn’t. Regulus places a gentle kiss on James’ cheek. When he pulls away, he sees a faint dusting of pink there. A rosy blush.

He exits the car as gracefully as possible, which is a tall order considering the fact that James drives a Jeep, but the promise of next time carries him all the way to his front door as though on a cloud.

Regulus opens his front door with a flush on his cheeks and toes off his shoes with a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. He boots up his laptop, the blank document staring back at him.

He thinks of James, with his messy hair and his warm smile and his big hands.

He takes a deep breath. And he starts typing: Dominic Coin loves romance. He loves reading it and he loves writing it and he would probably love experiencing it too. Unfortunately, that last one hasn't happened yet, but for now he's happy just imagining. That is until…

#this is supposed to be silly!!#as for all the barty content.... i was going through something ok #everyone say happy birthday maggie!!!#i hope you like it <33 #it's been so tough keeping this to myself for a month but i wanted it to be a surprise #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #jegulus au #jegulus fic #mil's writing

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s0urw00lf · 4 months

Note

Hii I love your writing so much❤❤ and wanted to ask you for something with finnick. Like remember how Gale got whipped by the peacekeepers in the second book and Katniss saved him? Something like that with finnick and d4 reader.

I want to say I looove your writing again and to and to never give up, hope ur ok💕

Anything for you

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

Summary: you’d never had expected to have to put your life on the line for the love of your life

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: blood, whipping, guns, violence, death threats… i think that’s it

An: First off, thank you so much anon, it means the world to me that you actually like what i write especially because I’ve never been all that good at writing. Secondly i hope this is all you hoped for, i think this was the easiest for me to have ever written the words just poured out onto the screen.

Coriolanus snow was not a force to be reckoned with, that’s why you weren’t surprised to see new peacekeepers were assigned to every district. After all of the protesting and riots, you’d almost expected it. When you’d seen them arrive you hadn’t put much thought into it until four peacekeepers barged into your home, ransacking anything they could. “What the hell!” You shouted in confusion, you’d tried to stop them but before you could even touch one another grabbed you and punched you in your stomach, and continued. You doubled over in pain, trying to keep the fish that you’d eaten earlier that day down. You limped out of your home and watched as Photos, paintings, clothing, almost anything you could think of was taken outside to the streets and burned.

Tears began to fill your eyes, you weren’t quite sure if it was from the smoke that filled the streets of District Four, or the anger and sadness you felt as you watched memories you cherished be reduced to ashes. You looked around and watched your neighbors be met with the same fate.

The peacekeepers were dragging families from their homes and putting them in groups, some even going as far as hitting them into obedience. Your worry boiled over as you thought about Sadie, she was a little girl who had taken a liking to you and Finnick after she lost her only living parent to a peacekeeper four years ago. You’d begun hurrying through the streets in search of the little curly-headed girl. “Sadie!” You shouted over all of the commotion. You tried looking over the crowd of people, down every alley you could in search of her. “Sadie! Sadie, can you hear me?!” You shouted the worry you felt now showing in your voice. Just then you saw her head of curls running towards you and sighed in relief.

The feeling was short-lived when you’d seen the look of complete and utter horror on her face. “What!? What’s wrong what happened?” You asked bending down on your knees to be face to face with her. Tears ran down her face like raindrops on a train window as her breathing was all over the place. “Baby tell me what's wrong, are you hurt?” You pleaded, anxiety creeping into your throat. She shook her head and swallowed, “Finnick” she said through her breaths. You nodded “Okay, what's wrong with Finnick” you asked quickly. Her chin began to tremble as she spoke, “They’re- they’re beating him with a whip, he's bleeding”.

You’re sure your heart dropped out of your body when she said that, “Where?” You asked, squeezing her shoulder. “In the square, hurry!” She shouted, pushing you in the direction of the town square. You bolted in the direction of the square, sure that that was the fastest you’d ever run. Dodging people and burning piles of who knows what on your way. From where you were you could hear his screams echoing off the buildings and through alleyways

When you reached the square there was a crowd but they were completely silent, or you think because you couldn’t hear anything over the sounds of his screams and the whip hitting his skin. You forcefully pushed through the tight crowd and made your way to the front. Horror overtook you when you’d seen just how bad it was. Blood trained all down his back from the marks the whip made, hues of blues, purples, and red covered his skin.

“No, no, no, STOP!” You shouted as you ran forward to cover him from the next blow. The whip tricked your face sending you straight down to the sandy pavement, but you barely felt it too overtaken by adrenaline. You were right back on your feet in no time.

“Move,” said the peacekeeper. You shook your head muttering a “no” holding out your arms to completely block Finnick from his view. He held the whip up “You want another one?” He asked. you shrugged “Go right ahead-“ “Y/n please, just go” you heard Finnick's voice croak out. “No, I won't. Hit me as much as you want, but that whip is not gonna touch him not one more time” you stated. The peacekeeper walked towards you “Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure?” He asked as he pulled out a gun. your hard expression didn’t falter, “you don’t wanna shoot me” you gritted out. “I'll shoot both of you right here.” He challenged, “But you won't know why? Snow will have your head,” you said, his expression faltered but was quickly covered by the same hard look you wore.

Before you could utter another word Annie was in front of you with her hands raised to show that she meant no harm. “These are two of the best victors there are, very loved around Panem. Especially by snow, you kill them you’re next.” She stated, looking at the man with a pleading look. The man lowered his gun, “she interfered with a peacekeeper” he spoke voice just about as rough as he looked. Annie shook her head, “I never said she was smart. Look you already got a couple of lashes in, let's just call it a day” she pleaded. “That’s not good enough, she’s an agitator!” The commander shouted raising his gun again

You couldn’t handle the man's attitude any longer “Look we’ve got events coming up, how disappointing would it be for our pretty faces to not be alive to attend, bad enough you’ve bruised us up on the eve of such an important wedding.” You said over Annie’s shoulder. You heard finnick quiet cries from behind you and tried your best not to let the tears you’d been holding backdrop. “Just drop it, forget about it and we will too,” you said. Silence took over the square as the commander weighed out his options. He lowered his gun “Okay, okay” he said, taking a few steps toward you and Annie. “But next time, it's the firing squad,” he said. Your glare hardened, but you’d seen Annie nodding her head, letting out a relieved sigh.

The man then shouted for the square to be cleared and set a curfew before turning back to the three victors. “Get him outta here,” he said in a low tone. You quickly unbound his hands that had been trapped by some sort of cuffs built into the pole. Annie went around to the other side of Finnick as you both tried your hardest to lift him without causing even more pain, which you both knew was inevitable but it would help you sleep at night.

When you got Finnick to your place you and Annie cleared off the counter, not caring for anything that broke, as you struggled to lift him onto the counter. When you were sure he wasn’t gonna fall off you rushed to your healing cabinet with herbs and whatnot to find something that would ease his pain, you’d found an ointment that you were sure would do the job, “Can you grab that huge thing of ice from my freezer” you asked the redhead without sparing her a glance as you opened the jar of ointment, you saw out of the peripheral of your eye that she nodded and rushed to get it.

You focused on the oozing wounds on his back as you tried to spread the ointment as softly as possible. Finnick fell asleep, you weren’t sure if it was because of the pain or exhaustion, probably both. But you were happy that he wasn’t feeling it as bad anymore. You’d never been so glad to have pounds and pounds of ice at your service. Annie came back with the ice and you both got to work pouring the ice onto a pile on his back not caring of the water mess it’d make when it all melted.

When you were done you both sat in silence for a while before you spoke “Thank you” you said in a croaky voice. She didn’t say anything, but she nodded. After a while, it began to get dark. “You should be home before sundown,” you said. she looked at you from the book she'd been glancing over “You sure? I can stay if you need”. You nodded “It's okay, I'll watch over him” you assured. She hesitated but then decided you were right and made her way to the exit of the home with a tired goodnight.

As the night progressed you tried anything to stay awake, from tea to running laps around your kitchen, but in the end, the exhaust took over and your eyes closed. You weren’t sure how long you slept but you woke up at the sound of finnick groaning. “Finn?” You muttered sleep still fresh in your throat. Half the ic on his back had melted, but there was still enough to where it didn’t need to be replaced just yet. “Why aren’t you in bed?” He asked in a quiet voice. You let out a small laugh “You were beaten almost half to death today and you're worried about me?” You teased with a sad smile.

Finnick mustered up the best smile he could. “How are you feeling?” You asked softly. He pondered for a second “Numb” he said. You nodded happily; he wasn’t in any more pain and the ice was serving its purpose. “good.” You stated. Tomorrow I'll wrap up your back with some more ointment before we leave for the wedding. In two days you should be as good as new, but I'm not sure the scars will go away.” She said, frowning at the last part. He nodded, and the two of you sat in silence. “Thank you,” he said, “for risking your life for me and taking care of me.” He said, with eyes so full of love and adoration it could make your heart explode. You shook your head “You don’t have to thank me for that Finnick, I would die for you without question.” You stated. He smiled even bigger “And I, you”.

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bloatedandalone04 · 5 months

Text

Bets & Bargains - Part 6

Series Masterlist

➪in which you and bradley reach a new point in your...‘relationship’ after your fourth date takes an unexpected turn, and it leaves both of you aching for more.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 6k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You were going into your second hour of class when Bradley texted you, and while you would usually remind yourself to get back to him later and focus on taking notes, you put your pen down and pick up your phone instead, hiding it behind your book as you read the text.

Fratley: What are you doing later tonight?

You glance up at your teacher, and once you were sure he wouldn’t catch onto what you were doing, you quickly text him back.

Nothing, why?

Fratley: There’s a new horror movie out. For some reason I have a weird feeling that you’re into those kinds of movies.

You laugh to yourself, making sure Mr. Clarke wasn’t paying attention before replying to him.

I have no idea how you knew I like horror movies, but I’m down. What time?

Fratley: It starts at 7:20. I can pick you up for 7?

Sounds good.

You were giddy throughout the rest of the class and had barely paid any attention to what Clarke was saying by the time the class ended.

You got home at around 6, and quickly had a shower before Bradley would be here. The fact that you and he haven’t gone more than a day without seeing each other since you met was making you feel all sorts of things, and all of them were good. You couldn’t believe how much you liked him in such little time. It was almost concerning.

Sam was still a bit pissed off with you since you officially ended things with her brother, but you knew she would come around sooner or later. You didn’t need to marry Luke to be able to consider her your sister. In all honesty, you never saw yourself marrying Luke in the first place. You were still so young, why were you even thinking about marriage right now?

You push away those thoughts and get ready for the movie, opting to dress in black leggings and a cropped tee. You grabbed your UVA hoodie and draped it over your arm as you ran your fingers through your still damp hair. It would dry on the drive to the movies, and you were lucky enough to be one of those people whose hair didn’t get overly frizzy if you didn’t blow dry it.

Fratley: I’m here early. I couldn’t help it.

You smile at your phone and leave your room. Just as you were making your way to the door, your fingers typing out a reply to Bradley, Sam leaves her room and blocks your path. “Jesus,” you laugh as you abruptly stop walking. “I didn’t know you were home.”

Sam crosses her arms and tilts her head. “Where are you going? On another date with your rebound?”

You furrow your brows and put your phone in your pocket. “My rebound?”

“Yeah, that guy you’ve been seeing pretty much every day since that party,” she replied, squinting her eyes at you afterwards. “You know, the party I took you to.”

She was acting hostile again, and you weren’t sure why. This couldn’t be because you and Luke were done and that you were moving on, right? She wasn’t that petty, right? “Oh right,” you play along, crossing your own arms. “The party you ditched me at.”

Sam straightened up at that and her scowl deepened. “I already said I was sorry for that,” she muttered.

“I know, and I’ve already forgiven you, so I’m not sure why you’re bringing it up again,” you huff, annoyed that she was still going on about this when you could be with Bradley right now.

“Because,” she rolled her eyes. “If you never went to that party, you would’ve never met that Bradshaw guy and you would’ve never broken up with Luke.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Are you serious?” You ask, and when her expression doesn’t change, you stand up straighter. “Well maybe I would’ve met him on campus. We ran into each other the day after out of pure coincidence, I could’ve met him for the first time then. And Luke and I have been broken up. For a while now. I’ve moved on, and so should the both of you.”

Sam opened her mouth to respond, but you were fed up. You pushed past her and grabbed your keys from off the coffee table, glancing back at her as you shoved them into your bag.

“And for the record, Bradley is not a rebound,” was the last thing you said before opening the door and closing it behind you. You were a bit heated as you stepped outside, but the sight of Bradley leaning against the passenger side door of his Jeep calmed you down a bit. You were a bit breathless as you walked swiftly down the steps and reached him, lifting your hand and setting it on his shoulder. “Hi.”

He smiled down at you, his hands wrapping around your middle and pulling your body right up against his. “Hi,” he said back before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss caught you off guard since it was only the second one you’ve shared with him, but the surprise quickly wore off as you deepened it. Bradley kept his face close to yours when he pulled away and murmured, “I saw that you read my text but you didn’t come out for a while. I got worried.”

His confession had you feeling warm for a completely different reason and you smiled up at him, sliding your hand down and gripping his bicep. “Yeah, sorry,” you trail off, your head a bit fuzzy from the kiss. “I was going to text you back, but Sam, my roommate, decided to start something with me just as I was about to leave.”

“Ah, the roommate,” he teased, reaching up to run his knuckles along your jaw. “Do I get to meet her soon?”

You laugh and shake your head, glancing behind you at the closed door before turning back to him. “Probably not. She’s my ex’s sister, and she’s a bit more than pissed that her brother and I are done,” you say and Bradley presses his lips together to stifle a laugh. “Might not be the best idea to formally introduce her to my ‘rebound’.” You complete the sentence by lifting your hand and finger quoting ‘rebound’, making Bradley let out a loud laugh as he leans further back against the Jeep.

“Rebound, huh?” He grunted. “That hurts, babe, it really does.”

You blush and shrug, meeting him halfway when he starts to lean back in for a second time. He kisses you quickly before pushing away from the Jeep and opening the door for you. “Thanks,” you mumble and sit in the passenger seat. “You kept it running?”

“Had to make sure your seat warmer was on,” he simply answered and your blush deepened, but he thankfully closed the door before he could see it. The darkening sky also helped hide it. “Ready to go?” He asked once he was in the driver’s seat, looking over at you with his annoyingly pretty brown eyes.

“Yeah,” you whisper and put your seatbelt on as he pulls away from the curb. “So what’s this movie about?”

“I don’t know, I think maybe it’s about a nun getting pregnant or something like that,” he answered and you nod with a quiet laugh.

“Nice choice,” you tease and he glances over at you.

“Hey, it’s supposed to be one of those scary convent movies. I thought you’d be into that kinda thing,” he smirked and you had to physically restrain yourself from kissing him again. How was he so effortlessly hot?

“Oh, I’m into it,” you hum and take his hand when he holds it out to you. He kept his left one on the steering wheel as you lace your fingers with his, and you tried not to think about just how big his hands are.

Seriously, Y/n, get a grip here. He’s cute, but he’s just a guy. A very cute guy. A kind guy. A stupidly attractive guy.

And that’s how you found yourself feeling completely screwed for a second time this week.

Even though it had only been a day, Bradley somehow found himself missing you.

It was crazy, because he shouldn’t be missing you so soon, but he couldn’t help it. He also couldn’t help the way he kissed you against his Jeep when he picked you up, and he was a bit nervous that you were going to react negatively since you and he weren’t actually official.

But you kissed him back and he was given the reassurance he needed to go on with this date.

Is this a date? Is this his third date with you? Or maybe fourth if you counted the brief movie night at his place, which he does.

Four dates in and he hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend. He’s seen you almost every day this week, and things were going great in his opinion, so why hasn’t he put a label on this yet?

He never took Bri out as often as three times a week in the eleven months he was with her, so maybe she was right about him not putting enough effort in with her, but that clearly changed with you. He didn’t want to be stuck inside anymore when he could instead be somewhere with you.

Bradley was still feeling a little guilty about allowing her to come over the other night, and that might have partly played into why he kissed you. He knew now that he wanted you, and knew he was going to stop wasting his time pining over a girl who only wanted him for his body and dick.

You were so different from her.

Bradley parked in the underground parking lot, and the whole drive here he had to pretend he didn’t notice the way you hadn’t pulled your hand out of his the entire time. Backing up with one hand was hard, but he didn’t want to be the first one to pull away. Maybe you were a sucker for physical touch like he was.

God, he hoped so.

You argued with him about buying your ticket, then dropped the attitude when he suggested that you pay for the drinks and popcorn. “This actually works out perfectly,” you hum as you take your drink and the tall bag of popcorn. “I paid for the garden, you paid for dinner, and now we’re equally paying for this.”

“I wouldn’t count me paying for dinner as anything,” he laughed as he tossed a bag of candy onto the counter after you had already paid for the drinks and popcorn. “Five Guys is so cheap.”

But you ignored his words as you glared at him, watching with squinted eyes as he pulled out his wallet. “Hey, I was supposed to pay for the snacks,”

Bradley just smirked and grabbed the bag of skittles. “I can’t have you paying for your own candy,” he said simply then laughed when you raised one brow. “Fine, we’ll share it.”

“I’ll pay you back,” you offered but he just shook his head and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, careful not to spill his drink on you.

“It’s like, four dollars worth of skittles,” he brushed off your words and guided you over to the ticket person, handing the guy both yours and his tickets. “I don’t think it’ll break me.”

“I just feel guilty when people pay for things for me all the time,” you say quietly as the guy pointed in the direction of the theater.

“Don’t,” he said just as quietly, pulling you along with him. “I don’t mind paying for things, babes. I have enough money to get me by for quite a while.” He didn’t want to go into too much detail of why he had a fair amount of money as he felt like bringing up the whole dead parents thing was a bit of a weird thing to announce before watching a movie that may include people getting brutally murdered.

You glanced up at him in a way that made you look so innocent, he wanted to kiss you right in the middle of the hall. “I like when you call me that,” you confess and he grins down at you, deciding to actually go for it now.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and he was still smiling when he pulled away. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep calling you it,” he stated, watching as you blushed before ducking into the theater and booking it to your seat, leaving him to laugh as he followed after you.

Bradley had picked seats that were in the back row since you had told him that you preferred to not have anyone directly behind you, claiming that you’ve had your seat kicked one too many times now.

The more he found out about you, the more he wanted to know. You had all these cute characteristics and were so incredibly attractive to him, he was sure he would rather spend his time just talking with you than doing anything productive.

When he sat down next to you, he draped his arm over the back of your chair and leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. He had a feeling that it would make you blush again, and he was right.

Even in the dark room that was only lit up by the previews on the screen, he could see the way your face tinted with a blush, and the way you squirmed a bit. “You’re driving me crazy,” you whispered as someone came in and sat down a few seats away from you.

Bradley laughed and dropped the bag of skittles onto your lap, making you jump slightly. He would be lying if he said he didn’t love the way he was able to make you feel all flustered just by doing the smallest of things, like kissing your cheek. “Trust me,” he murmured. “The feeling is mutual.”

When the movie started, Bradley really couldn’t be blamed for not being able to pay much attention to it. He had, what could simply be described as his dream girl, right next to him and he had made you a blushing mess.

He was a bit annoyed that he hadn’t met you sooner, and he wondered how he had never seen you around campus before until this week. Surely he would’ve remembered you. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the time he spent with Bri felt like a waste now that he knows he could’ve possibly been spending it with you.

Not even twenty minutes had passed since the movie began and Bradley had already lost interest. It seemed like you might have, too, since you had been not so subtly glancing over at him every now and then for the past five minutes.

The hand of his arm that was draped over your shoulder moved closer to your neck, and soon he was tangling his fingers in your hair. You shifted in your seat slightly, and the next time you looked over at him, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and kissing you.

You kiss him back almost instantly, as if you had been craving to do it as much as he was. Usually Bradley wasn’t into excessive displays of affection in public, but to be fair it was pretty dark in the theater, and the movie itself took place in a dark convent, so it’s not like anyone could see what you and he were doing.

And he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself right now. He’s been so into you since that night at the party, he didn’t know what to do with himself. You were giving him the impression that you were into him, too, and that was enough for now, but he knew it was only a matter of time until he wanted more.

He wanted you.

Bradley reached over with his free hand and gently gripped your jaw, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss that was quickly becoming too heated to be deemed acceptable in a public setting.

He wanted to take you out of here and back to his house, but he also didn’t want to rush things with you. He wanted to take his time.

Then you grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on your thigh before sliding it upwards, and he was prepared to ignore all of that.

You grab onto his shoulders then slide your hands up until they are tugging at his hair, and he swore he had never felt anything better than that. When you started biting down on his bottom lip, he knew he had to either pull away and keep his hands to himself, or take you right out of this theater before something happened. “Y/n,” he rasped when he pulled back, only able to get out the one word before you were kissing him again. He held onto your forearms and pulled away again after a few more seconds. “Let me take you out of here, baby.”

The look you gave him had him not even caring how desperate he sounded as you bit down on your lip and tugged at his sleeve. “Call me that again,”

Bradley was smirking now as he leaned over until he was well into your personal space. “Come on, baby,” he whispered right next to your ear, “Let’s get out of here.”

The moan you let out after that had his cock twitching with want, and you stood up quickly, grabbing your drink as you made a beeline towards the stairs. Bradley grabbed his own drink and the half eaten bag of popcorn, rolling the edges of it until it was closed, then he was practically running after you.

When he made it out into the hall, you were already halfway down it, but he was able to quickly catch up to you. He wrapped his arm around your middle and turned your body, leaving a chaste kiss to your mouth before he was guiding you back towards the stairwell that leads to the parking garage. “Should we wait for the elevator?” You asked as he pushed you up against the wall beside it, glancing up to see that the elevator was on the seventh floor.

You began placing kisses to his neck and jaw, and when you poke your tongue out and ran it along the scar on his throat, he huffed through a moan, “No, let’s take the stairs,”

Then he was pulling the door open and tugging you down the three floors with him, neither of you caring at all about the looks everyone gave you as you finally made it to the garage. Damn near everyone in that movie theater were given a free show of you and him not being able to take your hands off one another, as were the people in the lobby, and it just excited him more because he had never felt this worked up before. And he was just kissing you when it happened.

“Why did you have to park so far away?” You whined as you tried to keep up with him. “I’m dying here.”

Bradley let out a deep laugh before stopping abruptly. He turned around and picked you up before you could accidentally run into him, and you squealed when he threw you over his shoulder. “Problem solved,” he grunted as he resumed his fast pace towards the back of the garage.

“Bradley,” you laughed as you clung onto the back of his shirt.

“What? You were going too slow,” he smirked as he tightened his grip on the backs of your thighs. He finally made it to his Jeep not long after that, and he set you down and held your body close to his with one hand while he unlocked it with the other.

It was considered a miracle that he was somehow able to not spill his drink on you with just how handsy he was being. He tossed the bag of popcorn onto the passenger seat next to your hoodie then grabbed your drink and set both yours and his safely in the cupholders, turning to you with a smirk now that his hands were free.

Bradley grabbed hold of your waist and pulled your body close to his, connecting your lips in a deep kiss as he pressed you against the back door. His tongue slipped into your mouth and brushed against yours, and the strained moan you released had him bucking his hips. A string of saliva connected the two of you when he pulled away and murmured, “Come on,”

He got up onto the driver’s seat and pushed it all the way back before holding his hand out to you. He helps you up and slams the door once you are settled on his lap, then his lips are against yours again. Your hands tangle in his hair as his grip your waist, tugging your body so your chest is right up against his.

“The things you do to me,” he mumbled when you pulled away and began placing open mouthed kisses to his jaw and neck, focusing on the spot where the hickey Bri gave him was beginning to fade. “It’s not right, the way you make me feel.”

Your laugh against his neck had him grinning as he closed his eyes and leaned back. “How do I make you feel?” You asked, removing one hand from his hair and tracing the tip of your index finger along the scars on his cheek. “Do I make you feel excited? Overwhelmed? Maybe a bit nervous but in the best way? Because that’s how you make me feel, all the time.”

You whispered those last three words directly into his ear and Bradley groaned loudly. “Yeah,” he breathed out, guiding your body into a slow roll against his. “That’s exactly it.”

“Oh, God,” you moaned and it was probably the prettiest sound Bradley had ever heard in his life. Your hands find his shoulders again and twist his shirt as you take it upon yourself to grind your hips against his, tilting your head back and exposing your neck to him.

Bradley’s eyes dropped down to your throat, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and pressing his lips to your soft skin. The feeling of your covered core rubbing against him was surreal and he felt himself getting more worked up. He wasn’t even properly feeling you, wasn’t even inside you and he still felt so fucking good.

When he pulled away from your neck, his eyes darkened at the hickey he left that surely would be hard to cover up later, but luckily it was the weekend. Though he didn’t really care much. He secretly wanted the other guys on campus to see it.

Each drag of your core had you moaning louder and louder, and Bradley wanted to make you feel like this all the time. “Feel good, baby?” He asked in a teasing tone, smirking at the whine you let out as you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “Maybe it’s a good thing that you parked far away.”

A blush took over your face and it sounded like you were forcing yourself to be quieter, and Bradley didn’t like that. “I don’t care if someone hears us,” he rasped, bending one of his knees and grasping your hips tightly. You moan at his words, then moan even louder when he takes full control and bucks up against you.

“Fuck,” you gasped, clinging onto his shoulders.

Bradley had never done anything like this in public before, but he knew he couldn’t wait until he got you back home. He also didn’t want your first time together to be in the front seat of his Jeep as he thought you deserved something a bit more romantic than that, so it was kind of good that this was an on top of the clothes type of thing.

“You’re so pretty,” he groaned as you met his thrusts halfway. “Way too fucking pretty for me.”

You grip his jaw and press a searing kiss to his mouth, the back of his throat silencing your cries of pleasure as you get yourself off on top of him. “Bradley,” you moaned his name and he had to physically hold back a surprise release at just how hot you sounded. “I like you so much, it’s almost pathetic.”

How sweet you sounded when you were insulting yourself. “I like you, too,” he said back, kissing up the side of your neck until his lips met the skin below your ear. “Ever since that night at the party. I thought you looked so fucking good standing in my dining room.”

You bite your lip and dig your nails into his shoulders. “You saved me from being by myself that night,” you struggled to say as you quickened the grind of your hips. “I was ditched just minutes before you came up to me.”

Bradley still had no clue why Sam ditched you, then he remembered that she is related to your piece of shit ex, and it suddenly made sense. He thought back to that awful text Luke sent you when you had fallen asleep during your movie night, and he was appalled that he had the nerve to talk to you like that.

But he could get annoyed with your ex another time, not when you were currently rocking your hips into his and kissing along his nearly healed scars. “You’re gonna make me come,” you warned in a tone that should not have sounded so innocent given the circumstances.

“Yeah?” He grunted, also feeling himself get close. “You’re going to make me come, too.”

You grin down at him and kiss his lips as you give a few more rolls of your hips before you tense up against him and release a string of loud, whiny moans. “Fuck,” you stuttered above him, twisting his hair in between your fingers as you came.

As you were coming down, you never stopped rubbing yourself against him, and not long after Bradley was coming, too. He dropped his head onto your shoulder as he let out deep and breathy groans, feeling his release coat himself in his boxers and jeans. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered as you finally stopped and let out a small laugh.

Your hands trailed through his hair as you both tried to regain control over your breathing. “Did you..” you trailed off as if you were embarrassed to ask him if he came or not.

It was almost comical since you had just given him what he thinks was the best orgasm of his life, and he never once penetrated you. All his past times with Bri felt like a bit of a joke now that he knew how good you felt, even fully clothed. “Yeah,” he answered, watching as a proud smile formed on your lips. Bradley leaned in and pressed a much more gentle kiss to your mouth, his hands coming up to smooth out your hair. “Sorry we didn’t get to watch much of the movie.”

Then it dawned on him that you and he left not even halfway through a movie about nuns and celibacy to go hook up in his car, and he had to hold back a laugh of disbelief.

You huffed as you shook your head, laughing afterwards. “It’s okay. I wasn’t really paying much attention to it anyway,”

“Me either,” he replied and you laughed again, hesitantly moving off him and crawling over to the passenger seat.

Bradley watched your every move, and when your eyes trailed down to his lap, you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry,” you gasp, making him furrow his brows in confusion before he looked down and noticed the wet spot on his thigh.

“Don’t be sorry,” he waved you off, not caring a single bit at the dampness on his jeans, but you seemed to be mortified.

“I’m embarrassed now,” you murmur and cover your face.

“Don’t be,” he said again, reaching over and taking your wrist in his hand. “I mean it. That was so fucking hot, and I already couldn’t stop thinking about you before. This definitely won’t help.”

That seemed to make you feel a little better as you slumped against the seat and gazed over at him. “I don’t want this night to end yet,” you confessed quietly.

Bradley slid his hand along your arm until his fingers were laced with yours. “I don’t, either,” he mumbled. “It’s still early. Why don’t we just sit here and talk?” His offer reminded him of the conversation he had with you that night Bri came over and nearly ruined his whole day. Then you called him and made things better, and he found out just how much he likes talking to you - though it was pretty obvious before.

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling over at him as you got into a more comfortable position, still keeping your hand locked with his. “Let’s play that question game again.”

“Okay,” he laughed, leaning back as well. “What’s your favorite holiday?”

“I love Christmas,” you answer. “It’s like the one time my family actually puts in an effort to spend time together.”

Funnily enough, that was one of the reasons Bradley didn’t like Christmas. He didn’t have a whole lot of family left, and the one person who was a constant in his life wasn’t a big fan of the holiday either. “You guys aren’t close?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Not really. My parents and I are close, but my sister and I haven’t really talked much since I came here,” you shrug and look over at him. “What about you? Does your family go all out for Christmas? Or is it a once a year type thing like mine?”

Bradley smiled and looked down at your joined hands. “I don’t really celebrate Christmas that much anymore,” he murmured, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “I loved it as a kid, but now it just feels like a memory.”

Your face scrunches up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Oh, God, was he really about to willingly have the dead parents conversation right now? Right after you and he just got each other off in a fucking parking garage? “Um,” he trailed off, looking at the various cars around. “Well…I don’t really have anyone to celebrate it with.”

He looked back over at you when you sat up and gave him your full attention, and he knew there really was no reason why he couldn’t just get this topic over with.

“My dad, he…died when I was really young, so I don’t really remember much of him,” he mumbled, feeling the way your grip on his hand tightened just slightly. He brought it up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles before continuing, “And my mom died when I was still in high school, so the only person I really have is my uncle, and even he is hardly around anymore.”

There it was. His depressing as fuck backstory.

“Bradley,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shook his head and gave you a small smile, reaching over with his free hand and running his fingers along your jaw. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,”

You frown and press the back of his hand against your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you whisper and he shakes his head again.

“It’s okay, really,” he brushed off your words. “I can talk about this stuff more now without getting too upset. I mean, there’s nothing I can do about it, so that kinda makes it easier to talk about it.”

You nod and kiss along his knuckles. “Hey, I never did ask about what you wanted to do once you graduate,”

“Join the Navy,” he answered as if it was the easiest question he’d ever been asked. “Like my old man.”

“The Navy?” You echoed and sat up. “What, like, the Marines?”

“No, the Air Force,”

Your eyes widened at that, “You want to fly planes? Like, aviation?”

“Well, fighter jets,” he corrected with a laugh. “But yeah, I wanna fly planes.”

“Wow,” you trailed off, looking out the front window for a few seconds before glancing at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “What do you want your call sign to be, flyboy?”

He grinned and shrugged. “I don’t really know. Maybe some kind of bird like my dad,”

“What was your dad called?”

For some reason you were super interested in his life, and he actually appreciated it more than he thought he would. “His call sign was Goose,”

“Goose,” you repeated the name with a small smile. “You should be…Duck. Your call sign should be Duck.”

“Duck?” He laughed and shook his head. “No, absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, that’s a good one,” you laughed, too, somehow able to effortlessly turn a dark and depressing conversation into a much lighter one. “Fine. How ‘bout…Rooster.”

That one actually didn’t sound too bad, and it had the double ‘o’ like Goose. “Rooster,” he tried it out for himself. “Okay, that’s not terrible.”

“It’s settled then,” you state and lean back. “Your call sign will be Rooster.”

Bradley watched as you kissed the back of his hand before pulling yours out of it in order to open the popcorn bag. He was glad you knew about his parents now, as he wasn’t sure how awkward it would be to bring up later.

“What is your favorite holiday?” You asked as you dug around in the bag.

“Um, Halloween,” he replied and opened his mouth when you held a few pieces of popcorn up to his lips. “What was one subject in school that you just…fucking hated?”

You laugh and set the bag in between the two of you. “I was really bad at science subjects,” you mumble. “Like, really bad. I passed Chemistry with a 52.”

Bradley tried to hold back a laugh and brought his drink up to his mouth. “Well, Chemistry is pretty hard,” he offered, then couldn’t help but say, “But yeah, a 52 is pretty bad.”

You glare over at him but the smile on your lips told him that he didn’t offend you. “I’m aware,”

When Bradley was forced to drive you back to your place a little while later, he kept his hand on your thigh the whole time. He wasn’t kidding. He couldn’t stop thinking about you before he got you off in his front seat, and it would only be harder to after this.

“You know, we need to stop having so much fun every time we see each other,” you mumbled once he parked outside your dorm. “Sooner or later I’ll start expecting it.”

“What, having fun with me?” He teased, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Trust me, babes, you’ll have fun all the time as long as you’re with me.”

You grin over at him, “I’ll hold you to that,”

Then you were leaning over the center console and pressing a deep kiss to his mouth. One that had him shamelessly groaning and wishing that you would invite him in with you, but he was also trying to remind himself that he wanted to take his time with you and not rush into things. “Have a good weekend,” he muttered when he pulled away. “I’ll be thinking about you nonstop, I’m sure.”

You blush and reach for the door handle. “The feeling is mutual,” you whisper, then get out of the car and make your way inside, leaving Bradley to wait until he felt like he had enough control over himself to be able to drive back to his place.

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safarigirlsp · 19 days

Text

Never Whistle in the Woods

Flip Zimmerman x OC

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Horror. Violence. Monster Action. Cryptids. Creepy things that happen in the woods. Backcountry flavor. Just a nice getaway with Flip. Those never go according to plan. I’m willing to continue this and write more if people like it!

Note: Going forward, I'm going to write characters from now on instead of Readers just because it's really annoying trying to switch back and forth for the non-fic writing I do. However, the female characters will be totally physically vague aside from having a name, so they can still easily be read as an insert by anyone who chooses to insert themselves.

Based on two requests I combined then butchered from @rynwritesstuff and @lumberjack00fantasies

AO3 Link

One of Flip’s favorite things was spending a secluded weekend out at his cabin, nestled in the forested mountains, away from the noise and mayhem of town. And away from people. Nothing cured a man’s love of humanity better than working with them. He enjoyed having a beer and a burger with his friends after work and he enjoyed taking his girl out to dinner. But he liked it a helluva lot more to take her with him into the mountains and not see or hear from another person for a couple days. Actually, it had become his favorite thing.

Knowing this, his girl, Kate, had booked him a nice getaway right up his alley. A solid week squirreled away in a truly remote cabin about as far away from humanity as he could get. It had taken a little online spelunking for her to land on the small town of Kitwanga, British Columbia, but its selling points of having a population of less than five-hundred, being a prime location for hunting and fishing, and being a true gateway to the wilderness with scarcely an outpost North between the little town and the Yukon, had sealed the deal. Besides, for the shrewd outdoorsman who wanted a less touristy experience with a friendlier populace for about a third of the money, British Columbia was a superior option to Alaska with all the same appeal.

Over-the-counter hunting licenses were available for all sorts of game that required a lottery draw or exorbitant fee in the States. Flip laughed when he read in the game regulations that it was strictly prohibited to shoot Bigfoot and that, should a sportsman encounter him, he was to be considered a protected species.

“How many big, hairy Canadians do you reckon had to get shot in the ass before they added that regulation?” He grinned at Kate, sitting with her legs curled under her on the seat of his rented truck as they bounced down the terrible excuse for a dirt road, sloshing in the mud and hitting potholes by the hundreds. Flip had twice hit his head on the bolt of the rifle secured in the headache rack above his head on the ceiling of the truck’s cab. He would have left the rifle inside their cabin, but they had been stringently warned not to take a step outside without it. Bears were a real threat and the animals here had little experience with humans, which meant little fear of them.

“Sounds like you better watch your own ass if you’re out wandering around in low light,” she teased back. “You’re big and lumbering enough to be mistaken for Bigfoot.”

“Yeah, but I’m a lot better lookin,’” he winked at her as he pulled into the only gas station in the tiny town. He filled up every day on their return in case the owner decided to take a day off. Electric pumps were a novelty that hadn’t reached this far north, it seemed. He was in a teasing mood, returning from a day of hiking and, as he put it, takin’ pictures of every goddamn thing in Canada.

“Depends on who you ask,” Kate laughed warmly. “I’ve waged a losing battle for quite a while trying to convince my friends you’re handsome. They tell me I’m blind or brainwashed.”

Five businesses in the tiny town were booming, frequented by most if not all of its citizens on a regular basis: the grocery store, post office, church, bar, and the gas station. Actually, Kitwanga boasted two bars. Flip figured this was a good insight as to the favorite pastime of the locals, especially since it doubled the churchgoers. There were no restaurants, but the bars had all the haute cuisine a man could want, so long as what he wanted was a cheeseburger or a sandwich or some chicken fried steak. However, one bar generously offered to cook anything a person brought in, provided the thing was somewhere between alive and kicking and starting to turn, and provided that gastronome paid in cash. Flip had already taken the owner and bartender up on this offer and handed over several trout he had caught that day to the owner’s wife and cook to fry for dinner. He had to admit it was some of the best fried fish he had ever had, and it paired wonderfully with the potent Moose Knuckle stout beer on tap.

The sign at the gas station read, Headed north? Need gas? It’s now or never. Two lonely gas pumps sat on a rectangle of cement on the otherwise muddy ground – the kind of pumps a person usually only saw on postcards from the fifties, with the rounded tops and numbers for cost and gallons that ticked by on a dial like an old one-armed-bandit style slot machine. A hand-scrawled sign in the window listed the hours vaguely as open from dawn ‘til dusk. An uninformed observer could easily mistake the business for being abandoned, or even condemned, a relic lingering in a ghost town. But for the metropolis of Kitwanga, it was a thriving business. There was even another vehicle at the pumps, a ’79 Ford truck with a lift and a winch on its bumper and a fat man in overalls leaning against the bed, pumping gas.

Flip stepped out of his truck and lifted the nozzle of the gas pump with a rusty squeal. He admired the view of his girl as she trotted into the gas station to forage for supplies. A brisk wind rustled his hair, tinged with chilled moisture. Above, low clouds in a grayscale palette churned in the sky. The snowy tops of the mountains were hidden inside the clouds and rain slashed across their facades in a grey haze. The rain hadn’t yet reached the foothills where the town and Flip’s rented cabin were nestled, but fog was creeping in from the base of the mountains and off a nearby river. Between the thunderclouds and the fog, it was as if the world was slowly closing in, like the vignette on a Bogart movie narrowing in on the dramatic eyes of a starlet.

Tilting his face up into the chilly air, Flip smiled. He loved rain and thunderstorms, and found peace in their chaos. Mainly, he loved holding his girl while a storm raged outside, or having a drink with her while they sat on the porch and felt the electricity in the air, and making love to her and feeling her shudder thunderously beneath him. His smile widened as he anticipated the evening ahead.

“Storm’s comin,’” the man at the pump said to Flip as he spat a string of brown tobacco into the mud. “You here for huntin’ or fishin?’”

“I’m mostly just here to take a break from everyday bullshit,” Flip replied in a friendly tone. “But I have tags for fishing and tags for bear and moose in case one happens to wander in front of me.”

“Storms are bad for fishin,’” the man said, nodding knowingly. “But they can be good for huntin.’ Storms bring the animals down from the big mountains. Moose especially like the mist and bears like to hunt in the rain when their prey can’t hear and see ‘em as good.”

“Good to know.” Flip smiled as he replaced the nozzle and turned to go inside and pay his tab.

“That your girl?” the man asked with a suggestive nod toward the gas station.

“That she is.” Flip turned to face the man, wondering if he’d end up getting in a fist fight while on vacation.

Not taking the hint, the man whistled appreciatively.

Flip decided the rube meant it as a compliment, so he simply agreed with a “Yup,” and went into the gas station. Kate had been suspiciously long inside anyway, something that nagged at the part of his mind that was always an officer on duty.

Inside the dingy little gas station, Flip saw his girl leaning against the counter engaged in an affable conversation with the attendant behind the counter, a squat older man with a heavily lined face and long silver hair in a braid hanging over his shoulder down to his gut. Flip wandered through the store, grabbing a few items that struck his fancy, some beef jerky, chips, candy bars, and other assorted junk food. At the back of the store, a menagerie of terrible taxidermy watched him with glassy eyes. Above the beverage coolers that lined the wall hung several deer and caribou and two enormous moose. A life-size grizzly bear stood on its hind feet in a corner, frozen mid-snarl, its head a solid three feet above Flip’s. He looked at its paws that were larger than his head and vicious curling claws, longer and thicker than his fingers. Facing such a beast, the gun he had in his truck now seemed very feeble. He grabbed a six-pack of stout beer bottles and an over-sized bottle of cheap wine and took his loot to the counter to pile it alongside Kate’s items.

“Have you heard about the wendigo?” Kate asked Flip when he joined her at the counter. The lilt in her voice told him she was highly amused. “My new friend was just telling me about it.”

“Yeah, wasn’t that the name of that stripper I arrested last year for blackmailing the mayor?” Flip smirked. “Wendy-Go?”

“He’s an idiot, I’m sorry,” Kate apologized to the man behind the counter, simultaneously elbowing Flip in the ribs. “Please ignore him and continue.”

The attendant gave Flip a sideways look and continued talking to Kate in a slow, backcountry drawl, “It is said the wendigo were people once, but now they are cursed. A wendigo is born during times of famine or in the harshest winter. When men are starving to death in the cold. When a man is weak, and he chooses the black path of cannibalism over death, butchering his fellows to save himself. When a man eats the flesh of another, he takes a curse upon himself. The wendigo lives in constant starvation, its body emaciated and rotting, only growing hungrier the more it eats. Its hunger can never be sated and it becomes a crazed beast with an insatiable bloodlust.”

“Is this insatiable bloodlust specific to tourists?” Flip asked sarcastically.

“Sometimes,” the man shrugged, unbothered. “It looks to punish those with greed in their hearts. Or, depending on which stories you believe, it seeks people who are like-minded to itself to build its own tribe.” He eyed Flip narrowly. “So, if a tourist is out greedily mining or wantonly slaughtering game, then yes, the wendigo will come for him.”

“Slaughtering is one of the few things I never do wantonly,” Flip deadpanned and slapped some cash down on the counter.

“You should be careful, son,” the old man told Flip seriously. “There are many ways a man can be greedy. He can be greedy for his woman and covetous of her.” Then he shrugged again. “But these are nothing more than old tales.”

“So, you don’t believe in the wendigo?” Kate asked.

“Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind he’s real. I’ve seen a wendigo twice. He has antlers taller than a caribou and wider than a moose, teeth like a wolf, and only skull sockets for eyes. But they glow. It’s the glow I remember most,” the man said genuinely as he counted out change. “I just don’t know if he was once a man, or something that was never human at all. Maybe the people who first came here created a myth to explain the monster rather than created a mythical monster themselves.”

“Maybe it’s a convenient way to scare pretty, gullible girls.” Flip smirked at Kate. Then he returned his attention to the cashier. “Let me guess, there’s something that wards off the wendigo? A silver crucifix or whatever? I bet we can buy it right here.”

“Nothing wards off the wendigo,” the man scoffed. “And he is far older than your crucifix. Why would a forest god bow to a stranger on a cross? Fire can stall him, maybe even frighten him, but it can only buy you time.” He looked outside the window at the building storm. “Not good weather for making a fire if you need it.”

“Damn shame.” Flip shook his head and began collecting their provisions in his arms. There were no courtesy bags.

“We do have flares,” the man suggested innocently. “They burn in any kind of weather, even underwater. All the bush pilots carry them.”

“Probably inside their emergency monster-hunting kit alongside the stakes for vampires and silver bullets for werewolves,” Flip laughed. “Go ahead. Load us up with some flares. Consider it a tip for a good campfire story.”

“It’s always smart to be prepared,” the man agreed as he placed two bundles of six red flares apiece on the counter and rang them up. They looked like bundles of dynamite.

Kate took the flares because Flip’s arms were already overfilled. She thanked the attendant and turned to leave.

The old man grabbed her by the elbow, stopping her and causing Flip’s hackles to rise. He spoke seriously, “Don’t whistle when you’re out in the woods. Whistling will summon the wendigo. Sometimes people hear whistling too, before it comes for them.”

“And these people who hear the whistling before it gets them,” Flip said as he edged his body between Kate and the counter and nudged her toward the exit. “They walk out of the woods to tell their story, huh?”

*******************************************************************************************

Their log cabin for the week was almost an hour’s drive from the gas station. It wasn’t that far as the crow flies, but the road was serpentine with switchbacks as it climbed the foot of the mountains and made even slower by soupy mud. It was set deep in the forest, surrounded by old-growth trees with trunks as thick as the truck’s bed. The sun set on their drive back. As it dipped below the mountainous horizon, the landscape glowed a shade of hazy purple only seen in the alpine. The clouds were the color of gunpowder and the rainy vapor was periwinkle. The spruce turned into an army of nearly black silhouettes with a light mist writhing among them as moisture rose from the damp ground as well as drizzled gently from the sky. The drifting mist made everything look as though it were moving. It gave the illusion of eldritch shapes in the trees creeping along the edges of vision and tree limbs grasping like clawed fingers as they swayed in the breeze.

Flip hit the brakes suddenly, slamming Kate forward in her seat and knocking her out of the reverie the gloaming forest had cast over her. A black shape froze in the muddy road a few yards ahead of them. Its eyes sparked cold white in the headlights and the fur on its back was raised aggressively.

“A wolf!” Flip said excitedly. “I’ve never seen one this close.”

The huge animal was coal black, its amber eyes reflecting white in the headlights in the way wolves eyes do. It stood frozen, staring down the vehicle, acting like the truck was a new creature intruding into the wolf’s territory. Something was wrong with its silhouette. Something with its mouth. It took several seconds for Kate to realize what it was. The wolf turned its head uncertainly, deciding whether it should continue on its way across the road or turn around from the metal beast with offense headlights. A dead rabbit dangled from its jaws, its legs swinging lifelessly and ears flopping limply. Its lifeless eyes glinted a dull red.

The simple reminder of nature’s brutality unnerved Kate unexpectedly and her hands felt suddenly cold. She gripped Flip’s hand, digging her nails into his palm with irrational harshness.

“Nature, red in tooth and claw,” he teased and grinned at her, but he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Some redneck at the gas station told me that predators liked to hunt in the rain. Guess he was right.”

Night had veiled the forest with its velvety black cloak by the time they parked next to the porch of their cabin. It was silent enough to hear all the noises of the forest, from the chattering birds to the subtle rustling of deer browsing in the brush to moisture pattering lightly on the ground. A great horned owl as large as a man’s torso sat perched in a tree branch hanging near the roof of the cabin, its yellow eyes glittering like moonlight as it hooted an eerie cadence. It followed them with its yellow eyes as they unloaded the truck and carried their loot inside, its head turned almost fully backward like a creature possessed.

There was no light pollution and on a clear night, the moon and stars lit the forest bright enough to see easily. On a rainy night, moisture in the air brought out all the smells of the forest, the crisp spruce, the earthy soil, the embers in the fireplace. The cabin had no electric lines and was powered by a temperamental generator and a wood stove. A woodpile was stacked against the back of the cabin, complete with a large timber axe embedded in a nearby stump. Cell service was laughable. Flip loved everything about all of that. He was pleased it had running water, however, mainly because it would have greatly impacted his sex life if it didn’t.

Flip grilled steaks outside that night before the rain hit and they had dinner on the porch, counting lightning bolts. Then they tangled around each other in front of the fireplace, making love as the flames crackled and danced and the thunder rolled. Between dinner and fooling around several times, they finished the bottle of wine and opened another. Night fell early this far north in the autumn and the nights were long. The cabin was equipped with a tv, but it was one of those terrible old boxy things with a tiny screen and antennas. The antennas were only for show since there was no service. Instead, there was a vcr and a selection of campy nineties movies and some even campier porn. It seemed to defeat the purpose of being there to even bother with the tv. They hadn’t turned it on once.

“I’m wide awake,” Kate mused, propped up on Flip’s bare chest, looking down at him. “Let’s do something.”

“I have plenty of ideas,” Flip said huskily. “They’re all sure to wear you out.”

“We’ve tried your ideas. Several times. And I’m still far from worn out.” She smiled. “We’re here in a cabin, basically having a sleepover. Let’s play some sleepover games, the kind you play as idiot teenagers or in sororities in college.”

“I think girls have a lot wilder sleepovers than boys. And my experience with sororities is limited to sneaking in and out of them, so you’ll have to be more specific.” He ran his fingertips along her spine and kissed her throat, doing his best to interest her in another round.

“Later, you animal,” she laughed and shoved his face away while pushing herself up and off him. “You know what I mean. Sleepover games. Like Bloody Mary, or playing a Ouija Board, or the Midnight Game.”

“Packed a Ouija Board, did you?” he teased. “That would explain why your suitcase weighs fifty fuckin’ pounds.”

“I don’t think ghosts care whether or not you use a name brand.” She pinched his chest, making him flinch.

“What ghosts are you gonna find out here?” He squinted as he rubbed his chest. “The Donner Party?”

“Don’t you think they’d be fun to talk to? We can try Bloody Mary. I don’t think she has a centralized location,” she teased and pulled on her discarded pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. She threw Flip’s grey sweatpants at him. “Put that thing away or it might scare off the ghosts.”

Flip grumbled more protests under his breath, but he dressed in his sweats and a thermal henley. “How about we each stand in front of the bathroom mirror with the lights off. I’ll ask for Candyman. You ask for Bloody Mary. And we’ll have a Celebrity Death Match between vengeful ghosts?”

“You know the ghosts always get the cynics and the cocky shitheads first, right?” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest in a faux reprimand.

“Is that a rule?” Flip grinned. “I think the ghosts go for the morally corrupt woman who can’t keep her legs closed first. You’re in trouble, sugar.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said with finality.

“How about we play a fun game, like spin the bottle or truth or dare?” He winked at her. “I always pick dare. Do your worst.”

“I can’t imagine where a game of truth or dare with you would lead.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically.

Flip puffed his chest and stepped closer to her until their bodies were almost touching. “I have a better idea. You have some pretty big balls for a pretty little girl. Let’s see how big they really are.”

“Oh my god, Flip, if this is another ploy to explore that region further…” she laughed.

“Everything I do is some kinda means to that end.” He smirked. “But we’ll get to that later. Now, let’s go outside and whistle at the wendigo. There should be some of those sonsabitches around these parts.”

Flip went to the door and stepped into his muddy boots. He leaned against the doorframe, casually cocky, and raised an eyebrow at her in a challenge. “How ‘bout it, hot stuff?”

“I think we’d be better off trying to summon Bloody Mary than a wendigo,” Kate said hesitantly. “Plus, it will be cold out there.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” he teased. “How do you figure that trying to summon a ghost through our bathroom mirror would be safer than trying to call in a wendigo? At least a wendigo will stay outside. Besides, I know how psycho you’d get if I let another woman into our bedroom. Dead or alive. Don’t try to set me up, sweetheart.”

Rolling her eyes again, Kate pulled her coat on and slipped her phone into its pocket, feeling the bundle of flares she had absently pocketed at the gas station. There was no service, but its flashlight might come in handy outside. Grinning, Flip picked up the rifle that was leaning against the doorframe and slung it over his shoulder. Cocky though he was, he took the advice serious about the threat of bears and always having a gun on him out here in the wilderness. He held the door open for Kate and ushered her outside.

The air was thick with humidity but the rain had stopped for the moment, leaving the moisture on the air to chill their skin and turn their breath into ghostly thick fog. The porch was covered in slushy frost as bright as diamonds. Their boot prints left skeletal black outlines on the otherwise pristine frosty canvas as they descended the steps and walked into the forest that awaited them only yards away.

Flip offered Kate his arm and led her into the trees. The old growth forest felt like being inside a fairytale, surrounded by enormous tree trunks and relatively open ground at their bases. The roots of those great trees were so thirsty, they leeched most of the nutrients and left little for brush and scrub to encroach. After the rain, the ground was muddy and slick, with frost growing denser by the minute as the temperature dropped through the night.

Filling his lungs, Flip began whistling a terribly off-key tune as he walked through the woods. His casual swagger was the same as if he were taking his girl out for a stroll in the park. Kate winced when he struck a particularly loathsome note, and squinted her eyes at him, “What in the hell are you whistling?”

“Season of the Witch,” he replied, acting offended. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“I like the song, I don’t appreciate what you’re doing to it,” she laughed. “We’re not going to find any wendigo if you scare them all off with that horrendous noise.”

“I don’t hear you doing any better,” he scoffed.

Mainly in an attempt to save her ears from his screeching, Kate started whistling. She teased Flip first with her best wolf whistle. Smells were heightened in the damp air but sounds were muffled. In the silence of the forest, the whistle sounded unnaturally loud. Now that Flip wasn’t making noise himself, he found himself focusing more on his surroundings. He didn’t feel right, something he couldn’t put his finger on tugged at the back of his mind. It wasn’t just that noises were muffled by the dampness in the air, but something else that he found indefinable in that moment. He told himself it was just the product of being in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar vegetation that he found unsettling. The size of trees still seemed monstrous to him, and the smell of spruce instead of the familiar smell of pine must have been unsettling to his subconscious. And it probably didn’t help that he had cultivated a little buzz drinking wine for the past few hours.

A light gust of wind blew into his face and all of his senses sparked with alarm. He froze in place, seizing Kate’s arm to silence her whistling. The unmistakable scent of a wet animal hit his nose with the force of a slap in the face. Quickly evaluating his surroundings, he unslung the rifle from his shoulder and held it across his chest in high port. It would take him less than a second to aim and fire. But the forest was close around them, visibility limited to fifteen feet or so in any direction. If the animal was a predator, a bear or a mountain lion, it could cover that distance in less than a heartbeat if it wanted. He could still see the faint glow of the cabin’s lights. They hadn’t gone far, but there was no chance of outrunning an animal back to safety.

A heavy footfall sounded inside the trees ahead of them, muffled on the wet ground but distinctive. Straining his ears, Flip thought he heard a branch being brushed aside by something passing by it. Whatever it was, it was very close ahead of them. Flip’s thoughts raced, less cohesive and more a rush of images of nightmare scenarios that he weighed in an instant. He could hide himself and Kate behind one of the huge tree trunks and hope the animal passed them by. But whatever it was had to already know of their presence. If his feeble senses could hear and smell the animal, it had no doubt smelled and heard him much sooner. In that case, he decided it was best to hold his ground and meet whatever it was head on, straight down the barrel of his rifle. That would give them the best chance. Flip would have to make his shot count, and he’d probably only get one, but it was a decent chance.

Stepping in front of Kate, Flip raised his rifle to his shoulder. He kept both eyes open, not limiting his focus to only what was past the end of his barrel, but trying to expand his senses to the full spectrum of forest in front of him. He heard a heavy breath, something panting. Closer now. Flip clicked off the safety and tightened his finger on the trigger. The hardest skill for a hunter to learn, especially when hunting game that hunted him back, is to wait long enough for a good shot but not so long as to let it get him. He wouldn’t waste his shot until he saw his target clearly and could be sure of putting the bullet where it would matter most. His hold on the gun was rock steady, his breath stalled, his eyes unblinking.

The panting grew in volume until it seemed to drum in his ears. Odd for a stalking predator. Before Flip could reconcile that, a bear burst from the trees only feet in front of him. A huge grizzly bear lumbering toward him on all fours, the top of its humped shoulders taller than Flip’s head. His finger tensed, less than a millimeter of movement was required to fire. But something was off with the bear. It was panting heavily, saliva dripping from its open mouth and fog snorting in bursts from its wet nose. The bear stopped short at the sight of the man with a gun right in front of it, clearly surprised, very unlike a predator who had been stalking the man. Flip hesitated. If he didn’t kill the bear immediately with one shot – drop it right in its tracks – it would maul them both before it died. If the bear wasn’t hunting him, it was a foolish risk to take. Grizzlies were not commonly hunting predators; they were scavengers and fishers. Most people who were mauled by grizzlies had either gotten between a mother and her cubs or a bear and its food, or they had startled it like waking a grumpy old man.

Sniffing the air, the bear looked at Flip. He was so close he could see the small particles of moisture the bear blew out of its nose along with steam when it snorted. The bear’s little round ears flicked, one turning backward to listen behind it. The bear’s eyes were wide, showing white, in a nervous gesture that was common to both man and beast. The bear looked back over its shoulder and then broke into a gallop. Flip’s rational mind told him to shoot, but his instinct prevented him. The bear altered course enough to avoid running straight into Flip. It paid him no further mind at all, instead running right by him. Flip followed it with the barrel of his rifle as it passed by him so close that a string of white saliva landed on the rifle’s blue-black barrel.

Turning around about face, Flip followed the bear with his sights until it was well past them and showed no signs of turning back around. He looked back toward the place the bear had come from, still holding the rifle to his shoulder. He didn’t look at Kate when he told her, “Walk back to the cabin. Don’t run, but go now.”

“You want me to follow the bear?” she hissed. “He ran toward the cabin. I don’t want to get near him again.”

“Follow the bear,” Flip gritted. “If a bear’s runnin’ from something, we’d best do the same. He didn’t care about us anyway. Now, move.”

Uncertainly, Kate turned and retreated toward the cabin. They hadn’t gone that far, after all. Flip backed after her, keeping his rifle aimed into the black forest from which the bear had run. A shrill scream splintered the silence, starker than a bolt of lightning. Kate shuddered and Flip ducked, hunching his shoulders like he had taken a punch. The scream shrilled for several seconds, wavering on a blood-curdling note before trailing away. It echoed around them, seeming to float on the mist.

“That’s just an elk bugling,” Flip said, trying to calm Kate. Maybe it was in fact an elk, a sickly, ravenous elk. “Keep moving, slowly.”

“I’ve never heard an elk that sounded like that.” Kate shivered against more than the chilled air. “This is starting to scare the hell out of me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take your mind off of it when we get back,” Flip tried to joke but he couldn’t muster the required lewdness, his mouth was too dry.

The howling scream burst again through the forest. It was something like an elk bugle, but more howling and rasping, with a sort of growling mingled in at the end as it trailed away. It was closer now. Flip felt as much as heard it reverberate inside his skull.

“Whatever that is, it’s not an elk.” Kate had her arms wrapped around her body, trying to prevent herself from being overtaken by tremors.

“Sure, it is,” Flip lied. “They probably just grow ‘em bigger up here.”

Kate blew out a shuddering breath, fighting to keep her steps slow and steady.

“Pick up the pace a little, darlin,’” Flip rasped.

“You said not to run,” Kate hissed.

“I didn’t say to crawl either!” Flip gritted. “This is one hell of a time for you to start listening to me.”

Instead of moving faster, Kate stopped short. So suddenly, Flip bumped into her as he walked backward. A branch snapped somewhere inside the forest. It was strangely loud. Flip realized then that the snap only sounded harsh because the forest had gone utterly silent. The hundreds of small noises from birds and insects were gone. Even the drops of water falling from tree branches seemed to have stopped. The forest felt like a living thing around them, possessed of a presence all its own. Now that presence was altered into something darker and ominous.

“What the hell are you doing?” Flip’s voice had dropped to a whisper without his conscious approval. “I said keep moving. We’re not far from the cabin.”

“Turn around.” Kate’s voice trembled.

Dropping the rifle for a moment, Flip looked back over his shoulder. His nerves must be playing tricks on his eyes. He turned fully around, holding the rifle at high port across his chest. The view of the forest that met him was foreign. It wasn’t the same forest they had walked through only minutes before. The trees were more skeletal, their grasping branches more cloying. Moss hung from the branches like the lank hair of a corpse, and the ground was spongy underfoot, as if the forest was rotting around them. Even the air smelled stale and moldy. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning illuminated the forest in patches like a stop-motion movie. Most unsettling of all, the comforting glow of the cabin lights that could be seen through the trees had vanished or been snuffed out.

“What the fuck…” Flip’s voice trailed away as he took in the strangeness of their surroundings. A burst of lightning brought the forest into focus for a gleaming second. Bizarre shapes hung in the trees like a macabre abomination of Christmas tree ornaments, figures made from twigs lashed together with sinew to form pentagrams and humanoid shapes and horned beings. Flip swallowed thickly and ignored them. “We couldn’t have gotten turned around so fast.”

“We didn’t.” Kate looked around frantically. “I could see the cabin lights, then I heard that horrible bugle and looked around for it. And then the lights were gone. They couldn’t have all gone out, not all at once.”

“Lightning must have struck the cabin,” Flip lied again. Nothing about the forest looked familiar to him now and everything about it felt wrong. “Must have shorted out the lights.” There was no reason to scare Kate more than she already was. “It’s alright, we don’t need lights for what I have in mind when we get back.”

The scent of wet dog hit Flip again on a gust of wind, yanking his attention in the direction of the odor. He saw a heap of dark fur, glistening from the spotty rain and aimed his rifle at the creature. It didn’t move. Steam rose from the furry mass. Flip noted another smell on the air, something with a coppery aftertaste that coated the roof of his mouth. He edged forward, looking at the steaming animal down the barrel of his rifle, his finger resting on the trigger, ready to fire. He recognized the beast when another bolt of lightning revealed the horror to him.

“Don’t look,” he said to Kate, but it was too late. She clasped a hand over her mouth to keep her scream from escaping.

The huge grizzly bear they had encountered minutes before lay on its side in a broken heap of matted fur. Steam spiraled into the air from its torn-open belly, its entrails protruding from the mangled tissue like uncooked sausage. The gaping wound was only minutes old. The bear’s body temperature would plummet rapidly in the frigid air and it was still warm now. Even as they stared, the steam began to abate. Hanging in the branches of the tree nearest the bear carcass were several more bizarre figures crafted from twigs.

The screeching growling bugle erupted again, very close this time. Flip nudged Kate ahead, keeping his rifle at the ready, but not knowing where to aim it.

“Which way do we go?” Her breath came in shuddering puffs of fog.

“I don’t know,” Flip admitted. “Away from here.”

Amid a stand of spruce to his side, bare tree branches swayed in the wind, their spiky fingers waving ominously. Flip hadn’t noticed the wind pick up. Looking at the oddly swaying branches, he realized there was no wind. The air had gone as still as the inside of a crypt. The strange branches were bare, glistening wet and pointed upward, still swaying.

A flash of lightning illuminated the creature and Flip flinched so hard he almost fired accidentally.

What he had taken for bare branches was a set of enormous antlers, shaped somewhere between a moose and a caribou and as large as an Irish elk, with wide paddles and long spiked tines spurting out non-typically like broken fingers. It had a dark mane like an elk with a tawny, painfully emaciated body. Flat tines of several spinal processes protruded through the hide at the top of its high withers and one hip bone showed through the skin. But its head was the most terrible of all. Its face was in an advanced stage of rot, dregs of sagging flesh barely clinging to the skull. White skull bone gleamed in exposed patches, and its sharp, lupine teeth were long in the exposed jawbone and ragged. Its nasal cavity was bare, the fleshy nose rotten away, leaving only the pointed bones and a black hollow. It had no eyes that Flip could see, but there was an evil gleam inside its sockets, like embers inside a pile of ash. The monster shook its head, slinging water from its great spiked antlers. Then it leveled its head like a bull about to charge and fixed its glowing eyes on Flip.

“Shoot it,” Kate whispered, her eyes wide with terror.

“I don’t think it’ll do any good.” Flip looked down the barrel at the rotting flesh covering the walking skeleton and white bone peeking from beneath. The monster’s glowing eyes were not something found among the living. Without lowering his rifle, he looked at Kate and met her eyes. “It’ll come for me first. I’ll make sure of that, and I’ll stall it as much as I can. Get to the truck, darlin.’ The keys are in it. Run like hell.”

“I’m not leaving you!” she said vehemently, her voice losing some fervor when the creature took an ominous step closer, its enormous antlers swaying with its gait.

She felt for her phone, hoping there might be service. Not that another human could even reach them in less than an hour, making any idea of help hopeless. Her hand closed around the lumpy bundle of flares. With an excited breath, she freed a flare from the bundle and fumbled with lighting it.

The monster bugled angrily, a sound so shrill it felt like it grated along their spines. It rushed toward them through the trees, its teeth bared and eyes aflame. Flip fired, sending a bullet right between those glowing eyes. He even saw the bullet strike and tear away more rotting flesh, leaving a pearly white hole in the skull. It didn’t slow the monster or even make it flinch. He bolted another round into the chamber on instinct, staring down the barrel at the demonic eyes that were fixed upon him.

Kate popped the cap off the flare. The cap had an abrasive tip like a matchhead and she struck it to the end of the flare, holding it high as it burst to life. With their eyes accustomed to the darkness, the flare seemed as bright as sunlight, searing black pulsing spots into their vision. The monster squealed again, shaking its head with pain or irritation. Its antlers caught in the tree branches, stalling its advance. The flare burned and popped, hot on Kate’s face even at arm’s length and blindingly bright.

The landscape around them crackled and wavered, like a tv signal trying to come in through static. The trees looked less skeletal and more normal, like they had been before, and the strange twig figures vanished. The cabin lights glowed through the trees, yellow and warm, not far from them.

“It’s in our heads!” Kate shouted. “It’s making us hallucinate, but I can see the cabin and the truck now.”

“The light bothers it,” Flip said as he reached into her coat pocket, grabbing three flares and leaving her the remaining two. The monster wrenched its antlers free of the branches where it was tangled and lurched toward them in a shambling gait.

Shouldering his rifle that was of no more use than a club against the monster, Flip bit the cap off a flare with his teeth and struck the head. He rammed the end into the muddy ground at his feet, leaving the tip burning. The beast reared, shrieking with rage and clawing the air with its cloven hooves as Flip backed away. He could see the glow of the cabin lights now too. It was hard to resist the urge to run to the light.

Flip lit the next flare. Kate was a few yards ahead of him, gaining ground toward the truck. It would take whoever reached it first a minute to start it. Flip had a good throwing arm and even better aim. The monster lunged at him, rage overriding whatever else had been driving it to pursue them so far. Flip drew back his arm, took a second to aim at the gaping black jaws, and threw the lit flare as hard as he could. The flaming tip cartwheeled through the air like a throwing knife before the fiery head struck the monster right where its nose should have been. But it had no nose, its nasal cavity was exposed in its partially skeletal head. Robin Hood could not have struck a finer bullseye. The flaming tip sank deep into the nasal cavity, embedding itself there.

Screaming terribly, the wendigo shook its head and stomped its hooves, rearing and bucking like a horse that had stepped on a hornet’s nest. It couldn’t shake the flare free from its skull. The flames spread, shooting out through holes in the rancid flesh of its cheeks and jaws. It looked as though it breathed fire when it screeched, belching flare fumes and flames out of its hacking mouth.

“We’re not gonna get a better chance than this!” Flip roared at Kate as he burst into a run toward her. She had a few paces head start on him and sprinted ahead toward the truck.

Kate reached the truck first, yanking the driver’s door open and jumping inside. Flip could bitch about her driving all he wanted, but she dared not spare the extra second or two for him to take the wheel. Not with the eldritch monster galloping toward them, bugling terribly, flames bellowing from its mouth and nose. Flip had his one remaining flare in hand when he reached the truck. The engine roared to life.

Instead of joining Kate inside the cab, Flip vaulted into the truck bed and shouted for her to drive. Kate slammed the truck into gear, throwing Flip against the side of the bed. Regaining his balance, he dropped to his knees and planted his back against the rear window, making himself as steady as he could. Kate was speeding as fast as she dared down the muddy, winding road, and it wasn’t fast enough. The wendigo pursued them, galloping after the truck and gaining ground. Striking the tip of his flare, Flip held the flaming tip aloft, casting the entire truck in a halo of searing red fire. The wendigo allowed more distance between them, smart enough to keep outside of throwing range of another flare.

Kate took a slippery curve too fast, the truck fishtailing as she recovered control, slinging Flip from one side of the bed to the other. The flare was nearly whipped from his hand, but he clenched his fist tight to keep his hold. Gritting his teeth, he composed himself, using all his strength to keep his balance and keep his arm held high. He couldn’t afford to lose a flare. They only had three flares left, and it was going to take every last burning second of each one to reach town.

*******************************************************************************************

Tagging some buddies!

@babbushka @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather @mrs-gucci @mrszimmerman24 @iamburdened @gabesprincess @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @reyloaddict55 @reylokisses @heartlight-starlight @richbrittstein @thepalaceofmelanie @reveluving @vedavan @queen-of-elves @srorgana1 @kyloremus @lumberjack00fantasies

#best #fic #halloween #my stuff!#my writing #flip #adventurer #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you

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slytherinsrule89 · 5 months

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Hmmm what about a dark riddle brothers x reader non con ? Something like the reader is their enemy . Maybe you can put reader as Harry's gf or sister and they both get enraged by you so they "form a plan" to show you your place and also weaken Harry 🤭🤭

Okay I went a little off closer to the end I think but hopefully it’s still good :)

This does contain smut and other sensitive things so please be aware and don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable

Riddle brothers x reader

Word count: 1639

You had been an enemy of the Riddles for as long as you could remember. They were cruel and disgusting and you despised every inch of the two brothers. The feeling was mutual as well, they hated you just as much as you hated them.

Being a Potter was pretty much the main reason they detested you. Along with you pissing them off about anything and everything because you knew that they hated you and could use it to your advantage.

You had been on your way to class, almost running there because you were late. Going to be even later when you accidently ran into two people, causing you to fall straight down a groan leaving your lips.

“Merlin’s sake wha-oh of course it’s you two.” You rolled your eyes in disgust, grabbing your books and picking yourself up as the Riddles practically towered over you. “God Potter, can you be any more pathetic?” Mattheo scoffed, shoving you aside.

Tom hadn’t said anything yet but with the look he was giving you, you’d be surprised that you aren't dead yet.

“Right like you two could say anything, you’re the most pathetic of them all.” Mattheo only laughed. The insults went back and forth between you and Mattheo before Tom stepped in which startled you a bit.

Tom didn’t often get into these little bickering’s and most of the time watched with distaste, so when he did it was better to make a run for it.

But being the ever so proud Gryffindor you took a step closer, now standing right in front of Tom. A gutsy move proven by the way Tom had raised a brow at you, almost daring you to make another move.

You could sense the latent hostility between all three of you. It was a matter of who would strike first. Of course that person was Mattheo, considering he could never keep his mouth shut in situations like this with a lot of tension.

“Oh please Potter, you’re absolutely worthless. The only reason people actually talk to you is because your brother’s popular. Get it through your head that you are nothing.”

His words were ruthless and meant to hurt you deeply. Instead of getting upset though you looked him dead in the eyes and spoke.

“I’ve been called far worse by much better men. So I’d think again about who really is the worthless one here Riddle.” You walked off right after that sentence. Not really because you were scared but because the professor was going to kill you for being this late.

It hadn’t occurred to you how much that sentence would infuriate the Riddle brothers though and you continued on your day like nothing had even happened that morning.

The problem was that the brothers were anything but calm. They were hatching a plan at that very moment to get back at you. And if it was punishment from them that you’d be expecting, don’t think mercy will be given.

You had gone to bed early that night after such a long day. First being late, then being later from the encounter with the Riddles, your Professor hounding you about it as well because it wasn’t the first time you’ve been late.

So really you were exhausted and fell asleep quite quickly.

After what felt like the longest sleep of your life, you move to get out of bed. Only to realize…you weren’t even in a bed. Your eyes shot open after what felt like a small caress on your cheek. And there meeting your eyes, Tom Riddle.

He was crouched down looking at you with interest while you stared back in horror. What the hell had happened last night? How did you end up here?

All these questions had swarmed your mind, riddling your body with anxiety and trepidation. Tom had noticed this and only smirked at you an eerie feeling sinking in your stomach.

“Hello little dove” His voice was smooth and calm. A voice so solely his that you could never mistake it for another’s.

You had begun to look around much later than you should have but something in Tom’s eyes made it so alluring not to look away. The things you noticed were blood curdling.

You saw chains wrapped around your ankles and wrists. Curtains were open but only darkness could be seen, making you wonder what was really out there. And from how cold it was you could make a guess that you were in the dungeons of Hogwarts.

But it certainly didn’t seem like the slytherin dorms were anywhere near here which only unsettled you more. Just then the door made a creaking noise and in entered Mattheo with that cocky smile of his.

“Poor little Potter doesn’t look like she has much to say now does she?” He was right unfortunately but you don’t think you’ll ever admit to that.

It was suddenly that Tom had gripped your jaw in his hand and turned you back to him making that fear come back in a sudden pulse.

“Listen here little dove. The words that came out of your little mouth this morning is something you are going to regret for a long long time. And we are going to make sure of it.”

I was sure I was going to pass out right then. Their menacing eyes hadn’t looked away from mine at all and I only wished I’d known when to shut up and move on instead of running my mouth like I did. Especially with these two.

Tom's grip got tighter making me want to cry. Apparently Mattheo was good at reading expressions because he picked up on that quickly and crouched down beside his brother.

“You gonna cry pretty?” His tone was teasing. He knew exactly what he was doing. It was working too.

Though when I was least expecting it I felt Tom’s other hand glide against my leg before gripping my thigh roughly. He’d definitely have me pinned down if it wasn’t for the chains already there.

“Here’s the deal.” Tom began. “We are going to punish you how we see fit and you…little dove are going to take whatever we give you. If you try to deny us, it will only get worse.”

Like any human being you started freaking out and trying to refuse barely registering that you were ignoring what he just said about things getting worse. Boy was that stupid.

The second the words went to leave your mouth Tom had moved the hand gripping your jaw and shoved two fingers into your mouth making you gag hard around his fingers.

“Absolutely pathetic. Can’t even listen to a word I say.” Tom kept his fingers in your mouth and removed the one from your thigh only for Mattheo to swoop in. He took his brother's spot while Tom moved to your side.

Mattheo quickly removed the chains and relief rushed through you. That was until you felt his rough hands begin to grope at your thighs being sure that there will be bruises by tomorrow.

Without hesitation Mattheo had ripped off your sleep shorts without a care as you gasped in shock. Though that only encouraged Tom’s fingers to go deeper in your throat as you tried desperately not to gag.

You felt more and more of Mattheos' hands as they grew more daring. Playing with the soft lace outline of your panties almost teasing you as if to say “guess my next move.”

If you didn’t know what feeling nervous felt like before you definitely knew it now. Not knowing their next move was probably the worst of it.

And that was about the only thing your mind was saying when Mattheo pushed a finger into your hole, panties pushed to the side, and a shocked expression on your face. Both of the boys were smirking at you as he continued to swiftly move his finger in and out quickly before adding a second.

You bit down on your lip ruthlessly when Tom had pulled his fingers out of your mouth so that you could conceal your moans and not give them the satisfaction of it.

As Mattheos fingers continued their assault to your pussy Tom had untied the chains on your wrists as well with you hardly knowing it. He sat behind you now pulling up your shirt and tossing it to the side. Almost groaning at the sight of your braless tits.

His hands were quick to play with your nipples, relishing in how soft and warm they were. Your mind was a buzz to say the least. Mattheo’s fingers pumping in and out of you, Tom’s fingers against your bare chest, as well as his mouth creating dark spots around your neck.

The rest was a blur and just like that you sandwiched between the two with both of them fucking you relentlessly. Mattheo had been lying on his on his back fucking up into your pussy as he had you straddling his waist.

While Tom on the other hand had been above you, his cock hitting from behind, moving their bodies in sink, making you just want to melt into them.

“G-Gonna..mhphhh.” You sputtered out. The pleasure to overwhelming for your mind to come up with a proper sentence. However Tom had helped you out. “Gonna cum for us little dove, gonna cum because of the people you hate?”

You nodded quickly as your moans increased. Your orgasm hit you like a truck as you practically screamed out against Mattheo’s shoulder. He was the next to cum, spilling it all in your sweet cunt. Tom following suit.

Just as you were finally beginning to relax they had both pulled out of you and flipped you on your back.

“Not so fast. We aren’t even close to finishing your punishment.”

Hope you enjoy 😊

#slytherin boys #slytherin #:) <33 #tom riddle #smut #mattheo riddle #non con #riddle brothers #smuttyyy

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baejax-the-great · 3 months

Text

One Last Drink

“Well, here we are old friend.”

Varric takes one cup out of his pack, then another. He plonks each down on the creepy green stone he supposes he’ll be seeing a lot more of in the coming days and pours in some brandy from his flask.

He raises his cup aloft and says, “I always wanted to have one last drink with you.”

This is a lie. But then Varric is a liar. Hawke would forgive him for it.

He didn’t want to have one last drink with Hawke—he wanted a hundred more drinks with Hawke, a thousand. He wanted to sit around with her in their old age with creaky knees and white hair drinking mead and shouting over the table because their ears were both shot. He wanted to slide into old age listening to her sass all those heroes that have followed in her footsteps. He wanted to see her wielding a cane in a bar fight.

But this—this is what he has.

He taps the rim of his cup to Hawke's. The brandy goes down burning.

“You know, I somehow doubt drinking in the Fade will make it any better,” he says. “Seems like the place you’d probably want to be sober for.”

His ears strain. Was that a whisper somewhere? The Fade is weird. Maybe he’ll get a response. What would Hawke say, anyway?

Isn’t the end of the world a good enough occasion for you?

Something like that. Light tone of voice, half twisted smile at the end, she’d clink her cup to his and take a swig, maybe point out that if the Fade is now leaking into everywhere, then anywhere is as good a place to sit and drink with a friend.

“This new generation,” he says, “They’re something. They grew up hungry for a fight. Fearless. They saw the sky explode as kids. They’ve known something was wrong their entire lives. But then, I guess you also were forged in the crucible of apocalyptic disaster.”

Lothering wasn’t that bad.

This she’d say with an artful quirk of her eyebrow before letting her smile take over her face.

Varric fills his cup again. He’s played this game before, become the author of who Hawke would be if she was still anyone. He can hear her voice in his head so clearly, but for years he’s had that creeping doubt that her voice is actually just his. It’s been ten years after all.

He doesn’t know why he thought the Fade might do something nice for once. Solas always talked about those friendly spirits, but it looks like one can’t be assed to channel Hawke for Varric.

“These Veil Jumpers—out of their minds. You know they come here on purpose? Reminds me of you and all those damn caves you dragged us into, except the caves didn’t shift around while we weren’t paying attention. Similar number of demons, though.”

Not by the time I got done with them.

“They told me that right here, right where we are? That’s a fixed point. A landmark.”

“Creepy, isn’t it?” Bellara had said when Varric stopped in his tracks on seeing the statue. “She always seems to be pointed toward an exit, though, so we’re always on the lookout for her. We call her Macabre Martha.”

I’ve been called worse and you know it. You wrote all those names down in your book—you know them better than I do. Not to mention the atrocious name my own mother gave me.

Varric pats the foot of the statue next to him.

“Should I tell them who you are?”

That question he has not been able to answer for her. He looks up the silent statue, Hawke, caught in the moment a spider’s claw pierced her chest, her mouth open, her eyes wide in horror, both woman and spider leg petrified together.

He somehow thought in this place, in this warped reality, if he summoned her up in his mind, maybe she’d still be here. Maybe she’d speak to him. Maybe he could get her to look less scared.

This isn't how she'd want anyone to remember her.

“Never thought I’d see a statue of you worse than the one we put down by the docks.”

Varric pushes himself to his feet. He puts a hand on her arm as if to comfort her in the last frozen moment of her life. He thinks maybe this time the stone will crumble under his hands and reveal her, still fighting, still able to be saved, still ready with a joke.

This? Minor flesh wound. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been impaled.

It’s just stone under his hand. Stone, and half his heart stuck in this awful place for the rest of time.

He picks up Hawke’s cup and drinks that, too. He places the half-full flask at her feet in case she ever gets thirsty.

“So long, old friend.” He gives her one last squeeze on the arm, then shuffles off in the direction of her terrified expression. The next generation of adventurers awaits, and Varric isn’t so quick these days.

The susurrations of the Fade are all that answers him, but he still calls her voice to mind. So long, Varric.

#dragon age #da fanfic #varric #hawke #varric & hawke #dragon age fanfic #tumblr can have my one shots again why not

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glow-worms-are-believers · 1 year

Text

Meet your Death (dp x dc)

Danny remembers the day he died in patches.

He can’t remember what day of the week it was, but he can recall with perfect accuracy the feeling of the rubber jumpsuit on his skin. Sam and Tucker’s voices in his ears as he unlocks the front door are crystal-clear but what Sam had actually said when she’d dared him to go in the portal is buried deep in his brain. Jazz says it’s normal. She says memory can get weird when trauma is involved. Her books write that it’s good to talk about it but Jazz must see something in his face when she relays the information because her voice softens as she tells him it’s ok to let it be forgotten too. Then, she hugs him and Danny melts into it: his sister gives the best hugs.

So yeah, Danny doesn’t remember the day he died very well.

That’s why he doesn’t really understand why he remembers the woman so perfectly.

He’s not sure if she was real or a product of his electrocuted brain but she appeared like magic, just as he let out his death wail.

“Oh, damn. That’s not a fun way to go,” she’d said with a grimace.

And all of a sudden Danny had been out of his twitching, painful body, seeing it from the side. “What happened?” he asked, terrified.

He had felt her put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry kid,” she said, and she sounded sincere. “You’ve just died.”

“What? No,” Danny had babbled. “No, I can’t. I’m going to be an astronaut.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” the woman repeated, squeezing his shoulder.

“But-” he tried as he caught sight of her kind expression and it calmed him slightly. “I’ve never even been kissed!” Danny had continued nonsensically.

The woman had let out a laugh. “Personally, I think it’s overrated,” she shared like a secret, good-humouredly.

“I still would’ve liked to try,” he’d pouted which had her ruffling his hair fondly and something settled in his chest at the gesture. Elsewhere, something clicked into place and most of the fight left him, his protests dying on his lips.

“Come on, honey,” she’d told him before putting her hands on his shoulders to steer him away from the portal. “Time to go.” So, Danny had let himself be directed after one last glance at his body.

He hadn’t even taken one step before a terrible pain shook his whole body and he fell to his knees.

“Danny!” The woman exclaimed, but her voice sounded faint to his ears.

The boy’s hands flew to his chest as he curled on himself, as the pain burned through his limbs before he once again let out a blood-curling scream. And all of the sudden he was back in his body with Sam and Tucker looking down at him, their faces full of horror.

“Danny!” Tucker had exclaimed and Danny had seen what looked like tears in his best friend’s eyes, meanwhile, Sam had looked him all over frantically to find an injury. Danny had tried to tell them he was ok, but his mouth had felt like cotton and his eyes had felt so heavy.

Just before his eyelids had slid closed, he’d thought he’d seen the woman from before peering at him confusedly over Sam’s shoulder.

#Danny starts seeing the woman around #Death is a bit confused about this boy who died and immediately came back #Just read a few issues of The Sandman so yeah that’s the vibe!#(goddamn but this Mr. Gaiman can really write)#death of the endless #father time is clockwork #dp x dc #dc x dp #roxpox #roxpoxwrote

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acourtofquietdreamers · 5 months

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I’ve seen some discourse lately claiming Elain is jealous of her sisters and she’ll never be close with them or fit in. I personally believe the Archeron sisters have a relationship that is worth mending and I hope to see it grow stronger in Elain’s book. Here’s some lovely quotes showcasing Elain’s love for her sisters 😌

“You should come with me,” Elain went on. “Nesta won’t go, because she says she doesn’t want to risk the sea crossing, but you and I…Oh, we’d have fun, wouldn’t we?”

Elain, to my surprise, had a horse, a satchel of food, and supplies ready when I hurried down the stairs. My father was nowhere in sight. But Elain threw her arms around me, and, holding tightly, said, “I remember—I remember all of it now.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes. “I would have liked to see the continent with you, Feyre.”

She put a hand on Nesta’s knee, the purple of my sister’s gown nearly swallowing up the ivory hand. “Feyre gave and gave—for years. Let us now help her. Help…others.”

Elain sat a little higher as she said to Cassian, “And as for Feyre’s hunting during those years, it was not Nesta’s neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us.”

“Did you know,” I said over the sound of my sawing, “that one summer, when I was seventeen, Elain bought me some paint? We’d had just enough to spend on extra things, and she bought me and Nesta presents. She didn’t have enough for a full set, but bought me red and blue and yellow.”

Before I could turn back, Elain threw her arms around me. I did not remember when I began to cry as I felt those slender arms hold me, tight as steel.

But I did remember lying down on the bearskin rug once it was done. How I felt Elain’s slim body settle next to mine and curl into my side, careful not to touch the bandaged wound in my shoulder. I had not realized how cold I was until her warmth seeped into me. A moment later, another warm body nestled on my left. Nesta’s scent drifted over me, fire and steel and unbending will.

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

A gift for Nesta, she’d said. She was looking for a gift for our sister, regardless of whether Nesta deigned to join us tomorrow.

“I asked Nuala to do it in that order,” Elain said as the others gathered round. “Because you’re the foundation, the one who lifts us. You always have been.”

From the edge of my vision, purple and gold flashed—Elain. “You’ll fall ill if you just stand there in the cold,” she tutted to Nesta, smiling broadly. “Come sit with me by the fire.”

“Their dancing was that good; she was that beautiful. And when it ended…I knew she was an artist then. The same way Feyre is. But what Feyre does with paint, that’s what Nesta did with music and dance.”

Elain nodded, folding her hands in her lap. “So I’m very pleased to hear of this Valkyrie business. I’m happy that Nesta finds interest in something again. And might channel all of…that into it.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Nesta snapped, and then choked. Elain blinked. Nesta blinked back, horror lurching through her. And then Elain burst out laughing. Howling, half-sobbing laughs that sent her bending over at the waist, gasping for breath. Nesta just stared, torn between questions and wanting to throw herself into the icy Sidra. “I—I’m so sorry—” Elain held up a hand, wiping her eyes with the other. “You’ve never said such a thing to me!” She laughed again. “I think that’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

A hand slid into Nesta’s, and she found Elain there, shaking and wide-eyed. Nesta squeezed her sister’s fingers. Together, they approached the other side of the bed. And when Elain began praying to the Fae’s foreign gods, to their Mother, Nesta bowed her head, too.

Cassian looked across the bed, to where Elain was holding Feyre’s other hand, and Nesta held Elain’s.

She found Feyre and Elain waiting halfway down the hill, Nyx now dozing peacefully in Elain’s arms. Her sisters beamed, beckoning her to join.

#pro elain #pro archeron sisters #elain archeron #Elain rambles #pro Elriel

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captainkirkk · 1 year

Text

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC (Batfamily)

Birdwatch11 by smilebackwards

Tim hadn’t actually meant to start a popular Batwatch blog.

He hadn’t meant to start a blog at all honestly but by the time he turned eleven he’d accumulated hundreds of pictures of Batman and Robin on his Nikon DSLR and it had just seemed inefficient to go through the trouble of printing them and storing them in a box under his bed when BlogSphere had a perfectly adequate platform.

lost treasure by adelfie

"Dad, I don’t want to do this.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want. This is why we brought you here,” Jack hisses. “So we can get paid.”

Or: When a cozy night out with his parents turns into a night of captivity and torture, Tim is forced to seek protection from his worst nightmare - the Red Hood.

Hey There Demons by hitthedeck

Treating magical threats lightly is never an option, especially when that threat tears holes in realities. To combat this danger, a good hero must remain vigilant and in peak physical condition at all times.

Too bad Red Robin never got that message.

Or, in which even demons can't comprehend why Tim Drake is Like That.

Stranger Things

Tell Me "Don't", So I Can Crawl Back In by KiaraMGrey

When Steve finds himself alone and without friends, following his breakup with Nancy, he decides what he needs is a distraction. Maybe some new friends who don't remind him of the bullshit life he gave up. When he literally runs into Eddie Munson, school drug dealer and self proclaimed freak, an idea begins to form. Who better to show him what life outside popularity can be like, than someone who doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks?

And Eddie? Well, Eddie is just bracing for impact.

Everybody's Friend by AmethystUnarmed

"Hey Harrington,” Eddie calls, as Steve books it to the Beamer.

Steve stops, and is only the slightest bit nervous when he says, “Yeah?”

It almost makes Eddie feel bad.

Almost.

“How’s the character creation going?”

The absolute dread on Steve’s face confirms Eddie's worst fears.

“I... I'm not going to be able to play Thursday.”

God. Dammit.

~~~

Steve's budding friendship with the Hellfire Club hits a few snags and Eddie wonders if all of this was even worth it.

Clone Wars

Standards of Professionality by Trixree

"Are we going to pretend I didn’t just find you fucking your General, vod?” Rex hisses over private-comm.

Cody doesn’t even turn his head to look at him. Rex can hear the smile in Cody’s voice when he replies, “No, because I am not fucking my General, Rex’ika. I am fucking Obi-Wan. We are professionals.”

5 times Cody and Obi-Wan struggled to maintain plausible deniability regarding their affections for one another + 1 time they decidedly Did Not

Shadowhunters

prosper matrimonium by smilebackwards

"Gorgeous, sweet, community-oriented,” Magnus ticks off the positive attributes on his fingers. And he’s sure he’ll find plenty more to like about Alexander Lightwood. “I imagine suitors are beating down his door. Please tell me he’s not actually dating Lorenzo.”

Cat hesitates. “Well, if you’re really interested in Alec, you have interesting timing to say the least.”

“How do you mean?” Magnus asks.

“Alec just put his name in for the prosper matrimonium.”

Or: The disaster with the Circle swings the Clave a little more progressive. And if Magnus wants Alec’s heart, he’s going to have to compete for it

The Umbrella Academy

To Be Where You Are (So Very Far) by bobee

He'd thought he'd seen it all.

Forty-Five years in a wasteland and two weeks saving the world, only to be taken for a year by a man guided by his own self-interest. He'd seen the horrors of what this life has to offer. It's all he's ever seen.

He just hadn't known that there was one out there meant for him.

(or, Number Five, the end of the end of the world, and the start of a new one.)

On My Terms by CivilBores

"I did what you asked,” he tells her. “Now, the briefcase.”

Her eyebrows raise in mock-surprise, red lips curling up her face in a sadistic smile.

“You didn’t think that was all, did you?” she asks.

AU: The Handler gives Five a slightly different deal.

#happy wednesday everyone #weekly fic round up #my posts #fic recs #dc recs #stranger things recs #tua recs #sw recs #shadowhunter recs

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starsomens · 1 year

Note

Can you perhaps write a Noah one shot where it involves person A fell first but person B fell harder

Note: ooo cute! I made Noah person A and Y/N person B. I feel like this isn't my best work but I also think it's really cute, I hope it's okay

*ring ring* the small bell of your cafe rung. You turn and smile to the person who walks in

"ah, look who it is! My best and favorite customer" you say coming to lean on the counter of your front desk. You owned a very small and secluded, but popular cafe and bookstore.

"And it's my favorite cafe bookstore owner. How have you been?" Noah asked as he leaned on the counter. Noah had often passed your small place whenever he was back home in LA, but never went in. He then saw a sign posted outside that read "2 books for 1 coffee" So he had decided to go in and see what it was about.

"So, do I have to buy 2 books to get a coffee?" he asked

"No, not at all. All I ask is for some book donations in place for coffee. The books are then put out for sale or donated sometimes. So, just passing on a book to the next person kind of thing." you smiled at him. It was that smile. That’s what started it all and kept him coming back every time he could.

“So how did the tour go?” You ask him fixing him a cup of coffee. He’s come back so often you know how he likes his cup

“Really tiring but it was amazing.” He admitted “how have the books I’ve brought you been?” He returned the question

“Well, I did read through them and I surprisingly really liked the crime and horror one you gave in! I read through it so fast it was over before I knew it!” You usually read the books he brought before putting them on the floor to give.

Truth was you kinda had a feeling he had a thing for you. More because people kept on telling you and you had finally pieced one and one together. You had finally realized you had some feeling for him when he had gone on tour the first time and you missed him deeply.

You kept telling yourself that it was just a Silly crush that cousins work because of his career. Someone like him couldn’t have had feelings for you! Could he?…

“That’s really good. What about the extra one I threw in there?” He asked

“The romance caught me off guard because you usually don’t bring stuff like that. I haven’t finished it just yet though. ” you inform “I’m nearing the end!”

“Huh. How about we sit down while you finish it?” He asked grabbing the cup of coffee, motioning told his usual spot.

“That sounds really nice” you smile at him grabbing the book and coming around the counter “so why did you pick romance this time around if I could ask?” You ask pulling the chair out and taking a seat

“Oh you’ll see” he giggled.

If he was honest. He was so SO nervous! There was a purpose for this specific book! He never read romance, not until he met you that was. So before he left for tour he left a couple of books in hopes you’d make it to the romance novel in time.

“You know i really did miss you coming around” you admit as you look out of the window. Watching as the clouds began to form, raining was soon to come.

“Awh how sweet” he said slightly sarcastically as he sipped the arm drink “don’t worry I missed coming here too”

“Whenever the bell rang I kinda hoped it was you when I turned” you chuckle “instead it’ll be a group of girls, or my best friend or even that weird guy from the video game store” you said with a slight cringe. He knew exactly who you were speaking about. There was a video game store employee who’s come in nearly every day at the same time to order something complicated just to speak to you longer. Most of the time he would hit on you and it had gotten very annoying even after saying ‘no’.

Some days Noah was there and was able to have the conversation cut short. But since he’s been on tour it’s been tough.

“He’s still trying? Even after 100 rejections?” He asked shocked and you just nod

“I don’t know how else to tell him” you shrug as you open the book only having 3 pages left to read "Kinda feel bad at the same time."

“I could tell him for you” he thought to himself

"You know this is really nice," you said flipping the page "just sitting here with you and coffee you know?"

"Yeah I know....Y/N you know when I was on tour. I did have a lot to think about" he said sticking his hand in the pocket of his hoodie. His hands fidgeting with something

"I can only imagine. Even with all of shows you had to prepare for?" you ask

"Yeah, you can say it's pretty important if it's got my attention during tour" his leg began to bounce "and I just thought that once I got back I should tell you in person instead of just a text"

"Awh how thought- wait. Noah," your eyebrows scrunch together as you examine the book "The book is missing a page! It's the end where he finally confesses! Did you buy it this way?" you ask shocked

"No, no you're right it is where he confesses I just." he pulls out a folded page "have the end with me. Liked it so much I had to take it with me."

You look at him puzzled. What could he have possibly liked about it so much that he ripped the page out.

“Noah, you’re acting weird. More than usual that is” you poke at him

“Oh I’m weird?” He shoots back “why don’t you read what I underlined for me?”

“Okay…” you look to the page and see some words and letters are underlined. “____” your name spelled out “will….you…please….let me…call you….mine?” You were completely lost and once it came to you, you’re entire face burned up! You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. Your eyes dart between the page and the mischievous smile on Noah’s face , he had this planed all along?!

“Look ever since I came here I thought. I thought….so many things about you. You were so nice and really cool and had great conversations with me.” He admits “then I started noticing how you’d make my heart race. How everyday felt better after seeing or hearing form you. You’re gorgeous, you’re generous, you’re just….so amazing. I knew that I felt something for you…but then I had to go on tour.” He said with a guilty tone

You thought you had feelings before but now it was on a different level. You could feel your heart taking leaps in your chest. Your hands flaky, your mind racing. How could you have fallen so hard and so easily?!

“I….I…” you didn’t know what to say you were just star struck!

“Well?” He chuckled nervously “I-I know it’s kinda corny but you know. You have the book store thing going on and thought it might be cute to-“

“Yes.”

“What?”

“YES- ahem. I mean” you take a breath “I’d, love to go out on a date with you” you smile softly. You test the waters and reach over for his hand that laid on the table. His tattooed hand taking your own and wrapping it in warmth.

“So I’ll take that as you liked the lil plan?” He asked

“I loved it. I didn’t take you for such a romantic Mr.Sebastian” you tease him getting up from your seat and he stood with you

“Well, you could say the thing I was thinking about on tour, or rather the person, was important enough to make me romantic” he smiled pulling you in for a hug

“Good to know”

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @cncohshit @vir-tual @tdopomymind @concretenoah @noah-seb-omens

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens #noahsebastian #badomens #bad omens cult #bad omens band #bad omens fanfiction

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daisynik7 · 10 months

Text

The Apple of His Eye

Chapter 3: The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: celebration of Christmas Eve (no religion mentioned), fluff, established relationship, implied sex

Summary: You and Nanami celebrate your first Christmas Eve together.

Author's Notes: This is the third and last fluffy side story for A Bento For Kento! Thanks for all the love and support throughout this series. Appreciate you all and happy holidays! Divider credit to @/saradika.

Previous Chapter | The Apple of His Eye Masterlist

It’s the day before Christmas Eve. Ren navigates through Netflix on your TV as you sit on the floor, wrapping presents. “Shall we do a classic Christmas movie, like Home Alone? Or should we do a horror holiday movie, like Krampus? Honestly, I could go either way,” Ren suggests, clicking on the remote to scroll through the different options.

Distracted, you respond, “I’m down for whatever.” You finish wrapping Nanami’s gifts. With a smile, you pick them up and place it on your kitchen counter, ready to be exchanged tomorrow. Your boyfriend has been out of town since yesterday for a mission. Tomorrow, you’ll be reunited to spend Christmas Eve together, arguably the most romantic day of the year. It’s taken all your willpower to not spoil the presents you got for him. You’ve always been horrible at keeping secrets.

“Krampus it is, then!” Ren exclaims, grabbing the bowl of popcorn off the coffee table. “Ready?”

“Yes! I finished wrapping his gifts.” You sit next to your brother on the couch, grabbing a handful to toss into your mouth.

“I wish I could see his reaction when you give him the apron. I bet he’s not used to silly, prank gifts. Then again, I’m sure Gojo has tortured him plenty of times with pranks.” Your brother starts the movie and adds, “So, you think he’ll propose tomorrow?”

You whip around to face him with a shocked expression. “Ren! Of course not, we’ve only been dating for five months!”

He smirks. “So? Nanami is head over heels for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a ring already and is just waiting for the appropriate time.”

“Don’t put ideas in my head.” As if you weren’t already thinking it.

To be honest, you love Nanami. Absolutely love him. Head over heels, smitten, match made in heaven, every cliché expression in the book you can think of, you feel that way about him. It’s been five months of paradise together, and not the kind that feels too good to be true. It’s natural, as if you’ve known each other for years, with the excitement of still learning more. You never thought you’d be the type of person who could fall in love so fast, but here you are, imagining the rest of your life with this man that you are completely infatuated with.

Marriage has crossed your mind. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t. You can’t help but picture Nanami as a doting husband, the two of you starting a family, going on more vacations, growing old together. It’s a dream that is slowly looking like a reality the more time you spend with each other.

Ren’s voice is soft as he says, “Remember what I told you, right before you two got together? I said you deserve the universe. He’s proven time and time again that he can give that to you, that he wants to give that to you. Whatever you and Nanami have is special. It’s the kind of love that I want to experience. The kind that Mom and Dad have for each other, the kind that people write movies and novels about. I know you think it’s too soon, but when you know, you know. Right?”

You stare at him, a little dumbfounded at the wisdom he just casually bestowed upon you. When you don’t speak, he just grins. “Yeah, I know stuff!”

You scooch over to him to give him a big hug. “Booger! When did you become such a romance expert?”

He tries to escape your grasp as he scoffs, “I blame it on the K-dramas I’ve been watching with my friends from school. But seriously, not that it matters or anything, but you have my approval. That is, if Nanami has the balls to actually propose tomorrow.”

“I highly doubt he’ll propose tomorrow. We haven’t even talked about marriage with each other yet. We’re just taking it one step at a time. We’re in no rush.” Before you let go of him, you add, “And for the record, it does matter. Your support means more to me than you know. I love you, booger.”

With a smooch on his head, you finally release him. He rubs the spot where you kissed him, smiling. “Love you too, sis.”

As the two of you sit back to watch the movie, you let your mind wander. You mean it when you say you’re in no rush. You’re just enjoying your time together without expectations or a timeline. The only thing you know for certain is that you love Nanami and Nanami loves you. That’s all that matters right now.

~~~

Nanami sits on the train next to Gojo. It’s the morning of Christmas Eve. They’re heading back to Tokyo after being away for a mission the last two days. He shakes his leg anxiously, excited and nervous for the night to come.

Tonight, Nanami is going to ask his girlfriend a very important question.

He’s going to ask her to move in together.

It makes sense to move on to this next stage in their relationship. They spend nearly every day together, either at his place or hers, mostly at hers. He dreads the few hours they are apart, whenever he needs to go to his apartment to make sure things are still running or to pick up extra clothes. Frankly, he doesn’t care much for his place; it’s always felt empty and lonely. It reminds him of his time as a bachelor. He pays rent for it every month without having any attachment to it whatsoever.

But when he’s in her home, he’s comfortable and cozy. He loves snuggling up next to her in bed, taking naps on the couch in front of the TV, cooking dinner in her kitchen. He adores the little splashes of her personality scattered throughout her house, from her solar powered Lucky Cat constantly waving at him from the windowsill to the Hello Kitty figurine displayed next to her Nintendo Switch. He’s started leaving traces of himself, like his toothbrush, clothes, an extra pair of shoes.

He can’t get enough of her. And that’s why he wants to live with her.

Gojo nudges him. “Relax, buddy. She’s going to agree to it.”

Nanami tries to stop his leg from shaking but ends up moving his other instead. “I don’t know. She may still want her space.”

“I don’t blame her if she does, you can be so overbearing sometimes, Nanamin!” When Gojo’s joke is not received well, he reiterates, “She’ll say yes, don’t worry. She absolutely adores you.”

They love each other. Nanami knows that for sure. But he still can’t help but feel nervous. What if she’s not ready? What if she still needs time? What if she still really wants her own space?

He sighs, unable to shake the nerves that are getting the best of him. Thankfully, Gojo takes the hint and leaves him alone for the rest of the train ride. When they get off the train to part ways, his friend says, “Merry Christmas, Nanamin. Tomorrow is going to go great. Also, please tell her thank you again for the gift. I already texted her, but I want you to tell her again. I love it.” They gave Gojo a new pair of sunglasses, that he is currently donning as they speak. “See you guys on New Year’s!”

Nanami walks the rest of the way to her house, luggage in hand and heart beating a tiny bit faster. He’ll pop the question tonight, after dinner, when they are exchanging gifts. They plan to order takeout from their favorite sushi restaurant and celebrate at home.

He unlocks the door, to which he already has his own set of keys for, and enters the house. The familiar scent fills his nostrils and gives him a sense of warmth and happiness. When he doesn’t see her in the kitchen or the living room, he yells out her name.

“Kento? Hold on! I’m changing!” he hears her shout from the hallway.

He removes his shoes and places them next to his other pair by the door. He hangs his coat on the rack, right on top of another jacket of his. Everywhere he looks, there is something of his right next to something of hers. He sees the newspaper that she started subscribing to for him, on the table, next to her empty coffee mug. The bottle of wine they opened a few nights ago sitting on the countertop, next to the Hello Kitty bento box that hasn’t been packed since he left. A pair of his slippers that he wears around the house right by the couch, where he last left them.

He wants to call this place his home. This is the realization he comes to.

When he sees her, his jaw almost drops. She walks out from the bathroom in one of his dress shirts and boxers with a bright smile on her face. “Baby! I missed you! Welcome home!” Her arms wrap around his neck as she presses her lips to his.

He kisses her back eagerly, linking his arms around her waist tightly. She looks so good in his clothes. He can’t hold back. “Why are you wearing this?”

She giggles, pulling away from him to answer, “I wanted to surprise you. It’s part one of my Christmas present to you.”

He chuckles. “This certainly is a wonderful treat.” He pulls her back towards him to scatter kisses on her neck, reaching his hands over her butt to give it a nice squeeze. “I missed you so much, sweetie. Can I unwrap my beautiful gift now?” he whispers into her ear, fingers sliding to the waistband of the boxers, tugging them down slightly.

She smiles, unbuttoning the dress shirt from the top. They both stagger into the bedroom, Nanami leaving his luggage by the front door, forgotten and abandoned as they start their Christmas Eve celebration making love in bed.

Two hours later, after some post-coital cuddling, napping, and showering, they sit on the couch, looking through the menu of their favorite sushi restaurant. Nanami has his arm wrapped around her as they scroll through her phone, selecting a variety of dishes to order for dinner. She’s still wearing his dress shirt, but with sweatpants this time.

As they wait for their food to arrive, she asks him, “Can I give you part two now?”

“Why did you get me so many things?”

“These are small! Please don’t feel bad.” She gets up to walk to the kitchen counter and returns with a small gift bag in hand. “Open it.”

It’s a dark blue tie with little foxes as the pattern. He grins. “A fox tie?”

“Yes. Because you’re foxy.”

He sputters a laugh. How can she be so cheesy and adorable all at once? He leans in to kiss her cheek.

“Do you hate it? It’s just a little gag, you don’t have to actually wear it.”

“A gag?”

“Yeah, a gag gift. Like a prank. A joke. I honestly think it’s rather stylish.”

“Ahhh, a prank. I thought you meant…Never mind.”

“Kento Nanami, what are you thinking?” she looks at him with a raised brow and a slightly amused smile.

“No. I shouldn’t say. It’s naughty.”

“Kento!”

“I love it. I promise I’ll wear it. You’re right, it is rather stylish. We’ll just have to use one of my other ties as a gag next time. I mean, a gag gift.”

“Nanami!” she responds, using his surname for emphasis, shoving his bicep playfully, chortling over his racy joke.

“Seriously. I love it. It’s from you, so naturally, it holds a very special place in my heart.”

She beams at him, cheeks round and cute with joy. He’ll never get tired of making her smile. Never. He takes a mental snapshot each time, memorizing all the different reasons and ways he’s managed to make her happy, to make her laugh. He takes her hand in his and raises it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss inside her wrist. “Do you want yours now?”

“Not yet! I have one more small one I want you to open. We can do our big gifts after dinner.” She walks over to the countertop again to retrieve another bag. How did he get so lucky to meet such a kind and generous woman? He constantly thanks the universe for this serendipity.

Giggling, she hands him the bag. He eyes her suspiciously with an amused grin and comments, “You’re making me nervous. What’s in here?”

“Just open it!” More giggling. He loves her so much.

Inside is a folded black apron. As he unravels it, he turns it over to the front to see the cause of her impish behavior. “Mr. Good Lookin’ is Cookin’…?” he reads out loud, warmth creeping to his cheeks, unable to contain his smile.

“Please put it on! I want to take a picture for Ren.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

Pouting, she whines, “Why not?!”

“Because knowing your brother, that picture will end up in Gojo’s hands. And he will harass me about it well into the new year.” Even as he explains himself, he pulls the apron over his head and ties it around his waist.

“What can Gojo even say to you? You are good looking! And you do cook! There’s nothing wrong with that statement! Please, baby? For me?”

Ahhh, his weakness. How can he deny her when those words come out of her sweet lips? The magic words that turn him into putty right into her hands? Chuckling, he relents. “Fine. Take the picture. If Gojo says something at the New Year’s party, you owe me.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” she smirks, taking the photo.

In all honestly, he loves the presents so far. Knowing she put thought into each one, no matter how silly it is, makes his heart swell with affection. He should have known that the same charm she exudes in her everyday life, the charm he fell in love with and continues to love each passing moment, would translate well into her gifts.

They cuddle and chat on the couch for a few more minutes until the doorbell rings, signaling that their dinner has been delivered. Nanami gets up to fetch the food and starts opening the bags to set on the table.

“Honey! Change of plans. I actually want to give you your last gift now, before we start eating. Is that okay?”

Confused, he replies, “Sure.”

“I just realized how perfect of an opportunity this is. You’ll understand as soon as you open it.” With a mischievous grin, she disappears into her bedroom. “Oh! And let’s eat on the couch! You can set the food up on the coffee table,” she yells through the closed door.

At her suggestion, he moves the setup over to the coffee table and starts playing a random holiday movie on the TV as he waits for her big reveal. After a few minutes, she comes out wearing her set of wasabi green sushi pajamas, a medium-sized wrapped box in her hands.

He loves these pajamas. They hold a special place in his heart. During their summer lessons, Ren showed Nanami a picture of her holding up giant meatballs with the brightest smile on her face. These were the pajamas she was wearing. It was the second thing that caught his attention, after her beautiful smile. It captivated him so much in that moment, he even imagined a scenario where she stood in front of him in those pajamas, with an offering of a bento box and a smile. The world is a better place with you in it. Always remember that. I love you, Nanami.

She walks up to him, smiling, holding the box out to him. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” A scene almost exact to what he conjured in his head months ago, before they even met. But it’s better this time; it’s real.

He unwraps the box carefully, sliding his finger under the folds and creases, savoring each second of this wonderful gift. There’s no inkling in his head as to what it could be, but regardless, he’s going to love it. Almost instantly, he notices the wasabi green color poking through the tissue paper as he opens the box. It’s a matching set of sushi pajamas in his size.

He’s speechless as he marvels at the fabric, taking it all in. There’s a familiar tightness in his chest, similar to the first time they said “I love you” to each other. He’s not exactly sure why he is so emotional from this. It’ll silly how flustered he’s getting. Maybe it’s because this is the first time in a long time that he received a gift that had so much thought put into it. So much love behind it.

They are officially the kind of couple that has matching pajamas. Nanami never thought he’d be in a relationship like this. He’s thrilled.

She breaks the silence first. “Do you like it? You always say how cute these pajamas are on me, so I wanted us to be cute together. And sushi is our favorite food to eat. I thought this would be fitting.”

Gulping loudly, trying to keep his composure, he responds, “I love it.” He lets out a small laugh. “I absolutely love it.” He drops the clothes on the couch to wrap his arms around her. Kissing the top of her head as he rubs her back, he whispers, “I love you so much.”

Nanami never thought a pair of wasabi green sushi pajamas could bring him to the verge of tears, but here he is, nearly in shambles in front of her. He thinks back on his life before this. If he knew then what the future had in store for him, he wouldn’t have wasted so much time brooding. Having her in his life has been well worth the wait. And if he had to, he’d wait decades more to have this kind of happiness in his life, to have her in his life.

They continue hugging for a while longer until he finally releases her, feeling calm again. He picks up the pajamas and says, “Let me go get changed and we can start eating.”

She claps her hands giddily. “You read my mind!”

A few minutes later, they sit beside each other on the couch, filling their plates with different sashimi and nigiri, all while wearing their matching sushi pajamas. The TV is on, volume low but enough to hear the buzz of whatever classic movie is playing.

Domestic bliss with the person he loves the most. It’s everything he’s ever hoped. After years of working endlessly, living through monotony, he’s finally made it. All because of her.

~~~

After dinner, the two you digest on the couch, watching the remainder of the movie in peace. You’re snuggled next to each other under a fleece blanket, wearing the matching pajamas. His hand rests on your thigh as you lay your head on his shoulder. Every so often, he’ll turn his to give you a soft peck on the cheek.

When the film is over, you sigh. “What should we watch now?”

Turning off the TV, Nanami gets up from the couch. “I want to give you your present now.”

“Oh yeah! Okay. Let’s do it.”

He walks over to his luggage by the front door and rummages through his belongings. When he comes back, he takes his spot next to you on the couch and hands you a bag. “Merry Christmas, sweetie.”

Excited, you dig through and the first thing you find are two lacey slip dresses, one in a forest green color, the other in maroon. These look very similar to one he bought you not that long ago, during your first vacation together at the hot springs resort. The steamy memories from that weekend come rushing back as you smirk at him. “Are you sure this is a gift for me? Or more of a gift for you?”

He chuckles. “Okay, I’ll admit it. It’s a treat for the both of us. I’m sure we’ll make use of it tonight.” He leans in to kiss you, his hand sliding up your thigh suggestively.

You push him away, laughing. “From sushi pajamas to lingerie. We have quite the range, don’t we, Mr. Good Lookin’?” Setting the dresses aside, you search through the gift bag to make sure you didn’t miss anything. There’s a small box at the bottom that you notice. When you open it, you find a dainty gold chain bracelet inside. You let out a small gasp, taken aback by the beauty of it. “Kento, I love it. I love it so much.”

“Good. I know how much you like this style of jewelry, but I wasn’t sure if you had something like this yet.”

“I absolutely do love this kind of jewelry and I definitely don’t have something like this yet. Thank you, baby. It’s so pretty,” you muse as he helps you clasp it around your wrist.

When it’s on, instead of pulling away, he holds your hand in between his. “There’s one more thing.” The look in his eyes is serious as he clears his throat. He always clears his throat when he’s nervous about something. “I love you. So much. More than you’ll ever know. More than I’m able to express to you in words or actions or gifts. And I want to move forward to the next step in our relationship.” He pauses, gauging your reaction so far. Your eyes are wide, full of anticipation for what he’s going to say next.

“I want us to move in together. I want to live here with you.”

Fireworks, butterflies, confetti. Every cliché reaction to happiness bursts through your body. Kento Nanami, you’re very handsome, extremely sweet and thoughtful amazing boyfriend wants to live with you! You fling yourself on him, laughing. “Kento! Yes! Let’s move in together!” Grabbing his face in your hands, you pepper his cheek with kisses, smiling and giggling, unable to contain your emotions.

“You mean it?” His voice is soft and precious.

“Yes!” You kiss him full on the lips now, sitting in his lap. “I’m so happy. I’m so, so happy. I’d love to live you. I love you.”

“You’re okay with me moving in here? In your home?”

“I’m more than okay. And our home. It’s our home now, Kento.”

Honestly, it’s felt like home for the both of you for a while now. Nanami is everywhere around the house, blending in seamlessly with you. His coats hanging next to yours on the rack. His toothbrush set next to yours in the bathroom. His clothes next to yours in the closet. Everyone you are, he’s right there, by your side. And as much as you like visiting his apartment with his king-sized bed, something about being here at home with him is comforting. As if this is where the two of you are meant to be together.

~~~

Our home. It’s our home now, Kento.

Nanami can’t stop replaying the words in his head as he continues to kiss her passionately, unable to hold back any longer. They celebrate with another round of love making, this time on the couch, with his gorgeous girlfriend wearing the maroon dress and the golden bracelet around her wrist. In their home. Not his, not hers. But theirs.

Home is wherever she is. He’s finally home.

Taglist: @moonmalice @bloombb @strawberry1042

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #a bento for kento #the apple of his eye series

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tgmsunmontue · 1 month

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Life is too short to waste time matching socks... (4/5)

Hangster and Bob/Javy/Nat - set post mission with the Dagger Squad having been made a permanent squad.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

“It says two to six people. You could have brought Phoenix and Javy as well,” Jake says, looking at the description for the room and turning to look at Bob.

“Why would I want to bring them?”

Jake exchanges a look with Rooster, because they know that Bob has slept with both Javy and Nat, but if the man wants to keep that on the downlow then Jake will respect that. Except the Dagger Squad are quickly becoming a squad where it’s impossible to keep secrets.

“Just stating it as fact. Mean nothing by it. You guys just seem pretty tight these days. I approve,” Jake states, slapping Bob on the back and stepping past him to pay his entry fee, letting his hip rest against Rooster’s as they exchange an eyeroll, because it was pretty foolish of them to think that maybe Bob would be the weakest link in whatever Trace, Javy and Bob have going on.

It’s a horror themed escape room, apparently their tour bus has broken down, they’ve sought refuge at a nearby house and are now trapped in this house by the local serial killer who will be coming back to kill them in an hour unless they escape. Delightful. They enter the room and it’s dark, bookcase, chair, desk, a fake plant… He’s never done an escape room before but Bob had assured him he’d like it. Which in hindsight maybe wasn’t a thing to take on trust. He’s aware they’re trying to force him into situations with Rooster, they’re not subtle. But he also doesn’t think they’re completely innocent either and he’s starting to think that maybe they’re right and Rooster might be more into him than he thought.

“I’m just going to go and use the bathroom and make a quick call.”

Jake doesn’t even try and hide the eyeroll this time, goes to exchange another look with Rooster, who has one of the books in his hand and is running it over the side of the bookcase, and then a drawer on the desk pops open.

“What the fuck?”

“Magnets and wires. First time?” Rooster asks, smirking and god, Jake wants to kiss him just as much as he wants to shove him. Instead he pulls the drawer out and empties the contents onto the desk, holds up a key which is clearly for the door leading further in, rather than the door the entered through, and which Bob left by. Fine. He doesn’t mind spending time with Rooster at all. He puts the key in and turns it, hears something click behind him and then there’s the sound of several somethings falling to the floor. Rooster is screaming and he turns to find him standing there looking pale, surrounded by fake, covered-in-blood, severed body parts.

… … …

�� Bradley is pretty sure he’s going to draw blood with how hard his nails are digging into his palms.

“You don’t like a little horror there Rooster?”

“No I fucking don’t. Get enough scary shit happening to me at work. Why couldn’t we be rescuing a kitten or something?”

“Because Bob chose this. And don’t worry. You’re okay. I’ll save you. I’ve had practice remember?”

“God you’re an ass.”

“Maybe, but you’re not scared anymore are you?”

“I wasn’t scared!”

“Not anymore…” Jake insists.

The kiss Jake gives him is brief, just a dry press of lips and it’s over so quickly he thinks he might have imagined it, except Hangman is squeezing his waist and then letting go and he immediately misses the warmth, wants to press back into it. He’s starting to think that maybe it was Hangman that gave him the socks. It seems like his way of flirting, little bit silly, but also something he can completely deny if he gets asked and he thinks he isn’t going to get the answer he wants. Bradley wants to give him the answer he wants.

“Thanks for the socks,” Bradley says, and he can’t really tell if Hangman is blushing or not in the poor lighting of the room, but Jake hip checks him and reaches for the door that has opened after the fake body parts had tumbled to the floor.

“You’re welcome. Now come on Bradshaw, I want to get on the leaderboard for this room and then take you out where we can do more of that.”

“Yeah. Okay. And if we don’t make the leaderboard?” Bradley asks, because he’s hopefully about this answer too.

“I’ll take you out anyway.”

“Deal.”

… … …

Natasha pushes the chair out with her foot and gives Bob a smile as he grins and settles into the seat; Javy slides his hot chocolate across and she takes a sip of her own drink that Javy bought for her. She doesn’t miss the fact that Javy stretches his legs out so his ankle rests against Bob’s, all while his arm rests on the back of her chair. Hmm. Maybe Bradley was onto something.

“I’m a genius. They’re both super competitive. An escape room forces them to work together and communicate, and it’s an enclosed space.”

“So you’re saying we’ve forced them together in a small space in which they’ll likely rile each other up. kill each other and that it already looks like a murder scene?”

“Uh…”

“Pretty sure any bodily fluids coming out won’t be blood…” Javy says dryly and Natasha pulls a face.

“I don’t want to think about them…” she says, and she looks between Javy and Bob contemplatively. “However I did have some thoughts.”

PART FIVE

#Hangster #Sereshaw #Life is too short to waste time matching socks...#Top Gun fanfiction #BobNixJavy

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lavampira · 4 months

Text

book recommendations

tysm @winedark and @rosenfey for the tag <:

passing it along to @hythlodaes @scionshtola @coldshrugs @likeabirdinflight @lesbianalicent @veeples @narrativefoiltrope @kirnet @disequilibria @jennystahl @elvves @queenofthieves @weird-ecologies @erielake @verbose-vespertine @solarisrenbeth @onceinabluemoony @queerbrujas @oldblood but ofc no pressure!!

1. the last book I read:

GOTH WESTERN by LIVALI WYLE — well. technically, it’s an indie graphic novel. but it’s a western meets magical realism about necromancy, revenge, and the power of love. and lesbians. I burned through it in a couple hours sitting because I was so gripped by it tbh.

2. a book I recommend:

THE HACIENDA by ISABEL CAÑAS — an absolute all time fave book in my heart; I would say one doesn’t even need to necessarily love horror to get invested in this one, since it also involves very interesting critique of spanish colonialism, religion, and class struggles in post-independence mexico only using hauntings as the lens to view it.

3. a book that I couldn’t put down:

THE PRIORY OF THE ORANGE TREE by SAMANTHA SHANNON — I was glued to this book for a solid two weeks despite its length. I have a lot that I would change about the pacing and certain events or qualities of some characters’ outcomes, but it was such a fun fantasy read, and I had a difficult time even moving on from the setting and protagonists once I was done.

4. a book I’ve read twice (or more):

THE SONG OF ACHILLES by MADELINE MILLER — my first time reading this myth retelling was my freshman year of college, so I reread it again ten years later to see if it would still hold up for how much I loved it, and it absolutely did. the perspective of the man standing beside and in love with the hero interwoven with the tragedy of achilles and patroclus takes me right out and the passages that tumblr enjoys to quote from it have so much more impact in the full context of the narrative.

5. a book on my TBR:

OUR WIVES UNDER THE SEA by JULIA ARMFIELD — this poor book keeps getting knocked down on my TBR but I’m determined to read it this year. I’m intrigued by the horror of the protagonist’s wife ‘coming back wrong’ in a sense, and the recommendations based on its similarity to ANNIHILATION, but also the fact it seems to be a wlw scifi horror, too.

6. a book I’ve put down:

AFFINITY by SARAH WATERS — I wanted to like this one so bad, considering how often waters has been hyped up to me as The Author for historical lesbian novels and the fact it delves into victorian spiritualism, but the pacing felt so slow at getting to the point in the plot, and when it finally did, the twist put me off on finishing the end. it’s probably more of a case of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ but I def had to DNF it.

7. a book on my wishlist:

GHOST STATION by S.A. BARNES — space horror quickly became a fave niche genre that I got into last year, so I’ve been very excited for this release, too. I’m also a fan of how barnes writes atmospheric dread and I have high expectations for it.

8. a favorite book from my childhood:

WUTHERING HEIGHTS by EMILY BRONTË — it altered my brain chemistry as a teenager in high school and I haven’t been the same since I read it. I distinctly remember listening to ‘you said I killed you — haunt me then!’ read aloud and having to pretend like it didn’t make me feel so completely unhinged in the middle of class.

9. a book you would give to a friend:

PIRANESI by SUSANNA CLARKE — I was recommended this one by a friend to begin with, so it feels like an even more perfect book to pass forward. I think it’s one of those books that’s easy to get absorbed into even if it’s not a typical genre one would read, and it’s such a life-altering experience to go through with the protagonist, too. the underlying message that we’re all changed by our own trials and we’re never the same as we were before lingers with me.

10. a book of poetry or lyrics you own:

CRUSH by RICHARD SIKEN — it’s taken me so long to finally track down a physical copy at my bookstore but it was worth it because it remains my fave book of poetry to date. I could quote so many lines, after how hard they’ve hit me, and some of them have influenced my own writing or pairings in some ways.

11. a nonfiction book you own:

HAVANA NOCTURNE by T.J. ENGLISH — back in 2015-2016ish I went through a true crime phase in the prohibition era through the foundation of the US mafia, and this is a very informative book on how the mob became tied to cuba and how the revolution affected it.

12. what are you currently reading:

AN EDUCATION IN MALICE by S.T. GIBSON — I stumbled across this retelling of carmilla set in a late 60s massachusetts women’s college after reading gibson’s A DOWRY OF BLOOD and had to give it a try. I’m enjoying it so far; the prose is full of thick emotional yearning and electric chemistry, and the balance in the narrative of toxic mentorship, historical romantic and sensual attraction between women without shaming them for it, and vampiric elements is really fun.

13. what are you planning on reading next:

WHAT FEASTS AT NIGHT by T. KINGFISHER — I only found out the other day that the sequel to WHAT MOVES THE DEAD was even released but I’m so desperate for the next part of alex easton’s story (and how eerily kingfisher writes horror) that it shot up to my next read.

#childhood is a stretch but i only read like. where the red fern grows. as an actual smaller child #and honestly? who let me do that? i sobbed for weeks i can’t consider it a fave after how bad it shattered little dani’s soul #dani.txt #tag game

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matttgirlies · 5 months

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Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - drug use,, sexual refrences

y/nn = your nickname for anyone confused🩷

Chapter 7

The day before I was to leave for Germany, Matt took me aside and said, “Baby, as much as I hate to say it, we’re gonna have to face it. Our time is up.” I broke down and hung onto him tightly, burying my head in his chest.

“I’m not leaving,” I said, sobbing. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll call my parents and say I missed the plane.”

“C’mon, Baby. You think they’re gonna fall for that?”

“Then I’ll tell them the truth: that I love you and that I won’t come back.”

“Hey, hey.” He was trying to calm me. “You’re just gonna make it worse for the next time. I’ve been thinkin’, I always wanted you to see Graceland. But right now, I’ve got some business to take care of in Boston for a few weeks, and then I’ve gotta do another film. So if you go back and do well in school and behave yourself, maybe your parents will let you spend Christmas at Graceland with me and my family.”

I loved the idea, but Christmas was six months away. Anything could happen between now and then.

That night in bed Matt held me very close for a long time. I felt that he was doing more than just comforting me. He was telling me how deeply he cared.

And more than that: His deep belief in consummating our love affair only in marriage gave me hope for the future.

Later, our lovemaking had more feeling and intensity than ever before. Matt wasn’t going to let me go home without my taking a little of him with me. He didn’t enter me; he didn’t have to. He fulfilled my every desire.

“I want you back the way you are now,” he whispered just before dawn. “And remember, I’ll always know.”

I smiled and nodded. I couldn’t conceive of wanting anyone but him.

Matt didn’t walk me into the airport. We kissed goodbye in the limousine. It was a tender but excruciatingly brief moment. I didn’t think the pain could have been greater even if he told me I’d never return.

I walked onto the plane like a robot. I was in a daze that lasted throughout the eleven hour flight. I talked to no one and didn’t care who saw the tears constantly streaming down my face. My world had come to an abrupt end. Finally I closed my eyes and in my mind I relived every moment of my visit. Suddenly the stewardess was telling us to fasten our seat belts for the landing. The thought of freshening up before we arrived never occurred to me. I just sat in a daze, waiting for the plane to taxi to a stop. Then I listlessly gathered up my things and made my way out.

When I first saw my parents, my mother was crying with joy at seeing me and my father was wearing a big welcome-home smile. But as I came nearer, their expressions changed from delight to absolute horror. My father turned away angrily. For a moment my mother just stared. Then she reached into her purse, pulled out a mirror, and thrust it at me.

“Look at yourself! How could you walk off the plane like that?”

I glanced at myself in the mirror and immediately understood their response. Two weeks before, I had left them, a fresh-faced sixteen-year-old, wearing a suitable white cotton suit and innocent of anything but a touch of mascara. Now, not only was I wearing the heavy makeup that Matt liked, but my tears had smeared it all over my face. I hadn’t bothered to lift a comb to my hair, which was unkept and tangled. My parents were shocked and disappointed.

Too embarrassed to look at them, I put my hand to my face and nonchalantly tried to wipe off the residue of black mascara and liner. Then I said, ‘I’d like to go to the ladies’ room.”

“You’re going straight home,” my father snapped. “If you left it on this long, you might as well keep it on another hour.” He hardly said another word to me until we got home and I washed my face.

Christmas in the family was always a major production, but Christmas 1962 was one time I wasn’t concerned about presents. I was bound for the place that I had often dreamed about but never let myself believe that I would actually see—Graceland.

Getting there hadn’t been easy. The plotting and scheming had started one morning at 2:10 a.m., when I had sleepily answered the phone to hear Matt’s voice. He seemed in great spirits. Laughing and joking, he told me that RCA had sent him some horrible demo records for his next movie. “I’m listening to ’em, Baby, and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I have to laugh because if I don’t, I’ll start cryin’.”

I chuckled sympathetically, but I could hear the sadness in his voice. Then he said softly, “Little Girl, I want you here for Christmas. I don’t care how you arrange it or what you have to tell your parents. I’ll go along with anything you say, as long as you get here.”

I was shaking as I hung up the phone. I couldn’t imagine my parents allowing me to leave again—especially at Christmas—but there was no way I was going to let him down.

After a few days of silently avoiding the subject, I casually brought up Matt’s request to my mother.

“Absolutely not,” she declared. “It’s out of the question. Christmas is for the family. That’s the way it’s always been and it’s not going to change—not even for Matt Sturniolo.”

I wouldn’t give up. My poor mother was torn between making a dream come true for her daughter and doing what was right as a parent.

“When will this end?” she murmured with an anguished expression. Finally she agreed to speak to my father.

That was the breakthrough.

Again the pleas. Again the promises.

One month later, I was on a flight bound for the United States. Matt had asked James and Angela to meet me at La Guardia Airport in New York and escort me to Boston because he didn’t want me to travel alone.

By the time we reached Boston, I was both exhausted and exhilarated. We went to James’s home on Hamilton Drive, a short distance from Graceland. Matt had left explicit instructions that only he could drive me through the gates of Graceland.

A few minutes after we arrived, he called. His father handed me the phone. Before I could say two words, Matt blurted he was on his way. Minutes later the door flew open and I was in his arms.

Graceland was everything Matt had said it would be. The front lawn was adorned with a nativity scene and the white columns of the mansion were ablaze with holiday lights. It was one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever laid eyes on.

Inside the mansion a crowd of Matt’s friends and relatives all stood waiting to greet me. I felt relaxed and comfortable as he introduced me to everyone, because I had already met several of his friends when I was in Los Angeles.

Then Matt said, “y/nn, there’s someone special who’s waiting for you.” With a smile, he led me up the stairs and opened the door to his grandmother’s room.

“Dodger,” he called out. “Look who’s here. It’s little y/nn. She’s come a long way, Dodger, to be with little us.”

Using endearing terms like “little us” was his way of being affectionate. His mother had raised him on this sweet talk and Matt spoke it with those he cherished.

Dodger smiled and greeted me in her soft voice. “Good God, child, it took you a long time to get here.”

She was sitting in a high-backed overstuffed chair. I leaned over and she gave me a hug and patted me on the back. I was delighted at how good Dodger was looking, her hair, once completely gray, was now a natural looking dark brown. I noticed she wasn’t as thin as she’d been in Germany. At 18 Hauptstrasse, Dodger had presided over a busy household; at Graceland she had withdrawn to her room.

After Matt left us alone, I could tell something was bothering her and asked, “Grandma, how has everything been with you?” She looked at me and then down at the lace handkerchief in her lap.

“I don’t know, Hon. I’m worried about Matt and James. Matt is still upset over his Daddy’s marriage.” James and Angela had gotten married a year earlier. “He don’t spend much time at Graceland anymore and his Daddy’s worried. I hate to see the two of ’em upset like that. Lord have mercy. Matt didn’t go to the weddin’, you know. Matt is tryin’ hard, but when she comes over he just gets up and leaves the room. I don’t know if he’ll ever accept it.”

She reached for her snuffbox. It was an endearing habit that she tried to keep secret.

“But I don’t want you to go worrying about it,” she continued. “You go off and have a good time with Matt. That young’un needs you now.”

I nodded and kissed her cheek. “I promise I’ll take care of him, Dodger,” I said, feeling guilty leaving her. She worried too much, just as all the Sturniolo’s did. It was contagious.

She laughed softly and said with a smile, “Ain’t no one ever called me that but Matt.”

All that night, the guys played pool, watched TV, and hung around the kitchen badgering Pauline (“VO5”) while she played short-order cook.

I realized that there was no set routine at Graceland. Everyone came and went as they pleased. It wasn’t a home, but rather an open house, available to the guys and their dates all with Matt’s approval, of course.

The evening ended around 4 a.m., when Matt finally said good night to everyone and took my hand. I was really exhausted since, in anticipation of the trip, I hadn’t slept for two days. As I walked up the white-carpeted staircase, I closed my eyes and wished I was already in bed.

In his room, Matt gave me two large red pills, explaining, “Take these now, and by the time you come to bed, you’ll be nice and relaxed.” I really didn’t need anything, but he insisted, saying that they would help me sleep better and were a little stronger than what I’d taken before.

I didn’t recognize them. They were larger than I’d ever taken before. You’d have to be a horse to get these down, I thought, but I reluctantly swallowed them.

I went into the dressing room to bathe, and as I sank into the tub, my head settled on the edge. My arm was so heavy I could barely raise my hand; my eyelids seemed weighted. But I felt good and kind of silly.

The longer I soaked, the less energy I had and I only barely managed to get out of the tub. Trying to focus on the bed, I staggered over to where Matt was lying. Then I collapsed.

After that, I was occasionally awakened by the sound of distant voices. One time, I thought I saw Matt whispering to me. Another time I saw his father. I didn’t know if I was dreaming or hallucinating, but when I closed my eyes I could feel the room spinning around.

Then I felt a soft hand gently rubbing and patting my arm. “y/n? y/n? Hon, it’s Grandma, you all right?” Slowly I tried to lift my head, but it was too heavy and it fell back down.

“What’d you give this young’un?” I heard someone say. “You got no business givin’ her something she’s not used to. Son, maybe we ought to call a doctor. She’s in bad shape. I don’t think we should take any chances.”

I managed to focus my half-closed eyes on Matt and gave him a wink and a giddy grin.

He said, “Hell no, we’re not callin’ any doctor. Look, she’s comin’ to.”

Kneeling beside me, he held up my head, and I saw that I wasn’t in his room but lying on the white chaise lounge in his office, which adjoined the bedroom.

“What am I doing here?”

“I walked you in here after the first day,” he answered in a concerned tone. “We were trying to revive you.”

“But I just went to bed,” I said, slurring my words.

“Baby, you had us all scared. You’ve been out for two days on two goddamn five hundred-milligram Placidyls. Must have been out of my head giving them to you that way.”

“Two days! That’s two days off my trip. What’s today?”

“December twenty-third.”

“Oh no.”

“Don’t worry. We still have plenty of time.” He smiled at me and said, “I promise, Baby, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Merry Christmas,” Matt said proudly, handing me a honey-colored six-week-old puppy.

“Oh, Matt. He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and the smallest.” I gave Matt a big hug and heard a muffled yelp between us. “Oh, Honey!” I said. “I’m sorry.” I had unwittingly just named the pup Honey.

It was Christmas Eve. Matt had prayed for a white Christmas and—as if on cue—that night three full inches of snow fell.

The gathering around the tree included James and Angela, her three sons—David, Ricky, and Billy—the entourage and their wives, and a handful of Matt’s other relatives and friends. Everyone was pleasant and made me feel welcome, though it must have seemed strange to see me rather than Nicole sitting beside Matt. Nicole had shared Christmas with him the two previous years. Sometimes I couldn’t help wondering if he missed her. It wasn’t easy for him to let go of people. I knew that.

It was fun watching Matt open gifts. “Just what I needed, another jewelry box,” he quipped, unwrapping the fourth one of the evening. He looked over at Gene Smith, one of the few people who could consistently make Matt laugh.

“You give me this, Gene?” he asked.

Gene mumbled, “Naw, M, I didn’t give it to you.”

Then Matt reconsidered. “On second thought, I don’t guess you did, Gene. It’s got too much taste.”

“Ah, M, how can you say that?” Gene was mumbling in his slow Southern drawl.

“Easy.” Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Just look at you, Gene, a living example of ba-a-a-d taste.”

Pretending to be insulted, Gene walked away scratching his head, as everyone laughed.

Although there were lots of jokes, I sensed a sadness in Matt’s look as our eyes met, and I couldn’t help recalling what he’d once said to me in Germany: “Christmas just won’t be the same at Graceland without Mom. It’ll be hard for me, and I don’t know if I can bear the loneliness. But I guess I’ll manage. God will give me the strength somehow.”

“Oh, look, Matt,” I said, trying to distract him with a large, colorfully wrapped present. “Here’s one more you forgot to open.” It was my own gift to him, a musical cigarette case, which I’d purposely saved for last. I held my breath as he unwrapped it.

He opened the box and it began to play “Love Me Tender.”

“I love it! I really do, y/nn. Thank you.”

There was a twinkle in his eyes, and I wished I could always make him this happy.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

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a/n - longgg chapter again🎀

#matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturn #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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